:') Ow

:') ow

Whumpee getting a wound stitched up and then being suddenly forced to move/fight/run: they can feel every single stitch pull their skin and tear one by one, with blood slowly seeping through the bandages, knowing they'll have to get them fixed all over again.

Aaaand fuck you- it's good, it's accurate, but fuck you /pos

Content warning: ableism

Autistic whumpee things

Whumpee starts off barely verbal. Whumper wants to chat so they punish whumpee until they can spit out lines like "how was your day" "I'm fine how are you"

Whumper figures out that loud noise hurts whumpee, and they now start torture sessions with a harsh clap just to get that first flinch

Alternatively they could use light, touch, or also UNDER STIMULATION depending on whumpee's issues

Whumpee picking up on whumper's routines and analyzing their mood based on their patterns

Autistics tend to be visual thinkers. This means it could be easier for them to figure out the layout of the house based on sounds and where they're at. Escape attempts?

Whumpee being rational despite starting to go insane, making whumper think it's not working. Autistics are information-based thinkers so we often aren't even tuned into our feelings

On that note, whumper getting irritated that they can't provoke strong reactions at times

Whumpee being punished for not understanding something whumper told them to do

Executive dysfunction making whumpee just freeze when they're told to do something, cue punishment

Whumper getting their kicks on how "stupid" whumpee is, seeing how far it goes by testing their verbal comprehension

Changing up routine or forcing whumpee to speak and mask just to watch them meltdown

Using their autistic traits to show how "you could never cope without me, you need me"

"poor social reject, only I can truly understand you"

Augusnippets Day 2 - Hair Care

Content warnings for: (past) creepy/intimate whumper, (past) implied non-con

~~~~~

Caretaker was being gentle as they combed through Whumpee’s hair. They were constantly fiddling with the temperature of the water to keep it just right, monitoring every tiny bubble in the soapsuds to make sure nothing dropped into Whumpee’s eye. They were careful to avoid the scabbed over cuts in Whumpee’s scalp, and they apologized every time their finger snagged on the tangles and mats in his overgrown hair.

Whumpee didn’t make a sound throughout the whole ordeal - nothing to suggest that anything Caretaker’s finger were doing was actually hurting him, and no assurance otherwise. He sat stiffly in Caretaker’s hold, face stony, mouth pressed into a thin straight line. He was tense, coiled like a spring. Wary. Ready to strike if need be.

Caretaker had insisted that this was necessary, that the dirt and dried blood and dense knots that had accumulated during Whumpee’s time escaping and hiding needed to be taken care of. They promised Whumpee that he would feel so much better, much lighter and livelier, once the hair was clean.

Whumpee knew better. Whumper had always said the same thing, about nice, clean hair making Whumpee feel good. But the actual motives were clear. The way Whumper liked to card his fingers through Whumpee’s hair, and rub at his scalp and neck, was a much easier task withouts gnarls and clumps in the way. Pulling Whumpee’s head close for a deep whiff that always sent gooseprickles down his spine was pleasanter when the hair smelled of flowery shampoo rather than sweat and grime. Nestling his head into Whumpee’s shoulder was cozier when his face could rest against hair that was silken and smooth. Plus, Whumper liked to keep those fancy pillowcases clean.

Sure, so far, Caretaker had done any of those sorts of things that Whumpee had come to expect from Whumper. They’d been going out of their way ever since they found him to be light and gentle with their touch, and only place a hand on him with sufficient warning.

It was almost nice, to be honest.

But Whumpee wouldn’t be fooled twice. Whenever Caretaker did anything now that they told him would help him feel better, feel good even, Whumpee was on his guard. He knew what was coming, what Caretaker would eventually expect.

Still… for a moment… it did feel kind of good, for his hair to be soft and cool and clean again.

Or at least, it probably would feel good. If he could stop himself from remembering that this was how Whumper liked his hair too.

@augusnippets

what are ur fav tropes for stoic whumpees? love da blog

stoic whumpee tropes that are a 100/10:

"I'm fine" and then immediately collapsing in front of their loved ones in a bleeding pile, revealing a hidden injury that has festered for far too long

silent, muffled crying with shaking shoulders and a bloody hand clamped over their mouth because they view crying as weak and beneath them and they're stronger than this, they're stronger, they can take it--

the moment they close their eyes in defeat and it's all over and they fucking know it, and when they open their eyes again all that remains is a glassy-dead stare

adamantly refusing medical treatment even when they need it. Shoving away everyone who comes close to them, a choked sound in their throat, fighting back with everything that's left in them.

when they kneel at Whumper's feet, eyes on the ground, white-lipped and tense. The only betrayal of emotion is their clenched fists and tight breathing. In every other way, they're compliant.

refusing to talk about what they endured at Whumper's hands after they're rescued, but the scars tell the story for them. They don't have to say a word, but their team's pitying gaze follows them wherever they go

normally unaffectionate and distant but exhausted and defeated they rest their head on Caretaker's shoulder or Whumper's lap, just finally admitting--nonverbally-- that they can't take it

reversely, more willing to be tortured than to ask for help-- If I'm breathing, I'm fine

stitching their own wounds back up with an unsteady hand, painful stitch after painful stitch. Deep breath and pull. Working in a dimly lit apartment with bleeding clothes on the floor around them and the bed unmade

sacrificing themself for their team. "Take me! Do what you want to me. Not them." And their team watching as the torture takes its slow toll and Whumpee-- the one they look up-- falls apart.

I've heard about this. Never experienced it, surprisingly, but I've heard of it.

Stabbed

I got a bit of evening inspo and decided to act on it. So, here's my first ever attempt at nameless whump

Tagging: @tildeathiwillwrite @ashirisu

Warnings: Stabbed/ stab wound

----

Whumpee could barely process what was going on. Who's hands were pressing on the wound? There was no shape to them, only blocks of pain pushing into their leg. Who was shouting? They all sounded like distant echos, far away from whumpee.

They could feel the vibrations of the scream and the strain it put on their lungs, but they couldn't hear it. It was all hazy, as if a fog had rolled through whumpee's consciousness.

They had no energy to struggle, and yet they tried. It's all they could do. Part of them knew it wouldn't help, but they just kept doing it.

Their vision was a blur, full of sweat and tears. Whumpee could only make out vague shapes. One person pinning their upper body, their hands pressing into Whumpee's wrists, keeping them restrained. Another sat on their ankles holding Whumpee's legs still as they added the pressure. The horrible pressure.

Whumpee just wanted it to stop, so they struggled and struggled until the fog in their mind finally took hold and they felt free.

😭👍❤️

theatrical/comic relief/otherwise clownpilled whumpee who's last words are "alrighty folks, show's over. go home."