OOOOOOOO SHIT NOOOOOOO

OOOOOOOO SHIT NOOOOOOO

Eeeeeeeeey! It's meeeeeeeee!

Anyway, I hope you don't mind another request, as this popped up in my head just now!

A Whumpee in a hostage situation via bank/store robbery. Caretaker is outside the building Whumpee is in, begging to the hostage negotiators who were at the scene to let them in so they could save Whumpee (and apologize to Whumpee; they had a fight prior to Whumpee leaving).

They could only watch in horror as Whumper, one of the robbers, grabbed Whumpee and threatened them for everyone to stand down.

-- @whumperofworlds

Hello friend! I can definitely do this prompt for you. I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: hostage situation, gun, threat of death, gun shot, unclear character status, guilt, restraints, gag

"Please," Caretaker begged the hostage negotiator that stood in front of the truck that served as a command post. "Please, I need to go in there. Whumpee needs me. Please, I need to--"

"Caretaker," the negotiator said coolly, cutting off Caretaker, "you don't have the negotiating training."

"Please, I--"

"Caretaker, stop. You and Whumpee are a great team. You're great investigators. But neither you nor Whumpee have the negotiation training. I am in charge of this scene now. Let me and my team do my job."

Before Caretaker could try and beg for another chance, the negotiator walked off to the SWAT tent. Caretaker hung their head in shame. They had failed to convince anyone to let them go in after Whumpee.

Whumpee was in danger and this was all their fault.

They had called Whumpee reckless, called Whumpee an idiot, called Whumpee incompetent only an hour before Whumpee had gone into the bank by themself to interview the bank manager.

"Caretaker, I'm telling you, this bank is going to get hit next!" Whumpee had argued in the car as Caretaker drove through the city.

"You don't know that. Going in there will raise fear! We need to gather the evidence, Whumpee."

"Caretaker, I'm telling you, this bank fits the pattern. This is the next one. Please, believe me," Whumpee had said earnestly, their eyes bright and pleading.

"Whumpee, we need to do our jobs. We can't go off half cocked with no evidence. That's reckless. Don't be an idiot and waste time. We know the suspects are going to strike today, we don't want to waste what time we have left!"

Whumpee's face fell. "I am not going off half cocked. And I'm not an idiot. I know this is the one. I can feel it."

"Well your feelings lead to incompetence. We need evidence. We don't need to raise the alarm for some civilians for nothing."

"Let me out of here," Whumpee said softly, their hand already on the door handle.

"Whumpee, where are you going?" Caretaker shouted as Whumpee opened the door. They slammed on the breaks.

"You may not believe me, but I can't let this go. I'm right. I know I am."

And before Caretaker could shout at Whumpee again, they slammed the door and sprinted off towards the bank. "Whumpee!" Caretaker shouted out their window. But it was no use. Whumpee didn't stop or slow down.

And now Caretaker stared at the live footage the robbers had linked to Caretaker's team of investigators. Stared at the live footage knowing that Whumpee was right. And that Whumpee was in the bank with the other civilians without their gun. They had left the car without getting their service weapon out of the safe in the trunk.

Caretaker's mouth went dry as the lead robber dragged a bound and gag Whumpee in front of the camera. The robber pointed the gun at Whumpee's chest. "I want to talk to the person in charge. Now." The robber's voice was cold.

"HEY!" Caretaker shouted at the lead negotiator. "They know who Whumpee is. They know! Do something!"

The negotiator picked up the phone and called the line they had set up for the robber. "I understand you wanted to speak with me," their voice was calm and soft.

Caretaker couldn't believe the change in their demeanor. Did they think this technique would work? The whole reason the spree had lasted longer than normal was that the lead robber was cruel, calculating, and took no risk. They would just as soon as execute Whumpee on camera as listen to the negotiator. "Please, let me--"

The negotiator silenced Caretaker with a glare. "What can I do for you, my apologies I don't know what to call you."

"Whumper, you can call me Whumper."

"What can I do for you, Whumper? I would like to make sure everyone gets out of this safely."

Whumper shoved the gun into Whumpee's stomach. Whumpee coughed and gasped around their gag. "This one already tried that. Said they just wanted to talk and that they would help me. I don't need their help. I don't need your help."

"Well, it seems like you're stuck in there, so I'd like to help you out."

Whumper fisted Whumpee's hair and pulled them back up to kneeling. "You don't understand. I am in charge here. You will do as I say and maybe some of the hostages will make it out of here."

"I want all of the hostages to make it out of there, Whumper. Could we just--"

"You will stand down in the next five minutes or this one," they pointed the gun at Whumpee's chest once more, "will be leaving here in a body bag."

"Please, if you just let me--" Caretaker tried once more.

"You know it will take us more time to clear the scene. If we could just have--"

Whumper looked at their watch, "You have four minutes now."

Caretaker ran out from the truck. They couldn't listen to the incompetence of the negotiator. If the negotiator wasn't going to get Whumpee out alive, they would.

Two uniformed officers ran forward to bar Caretaker's journey. "You can't go in there, Caretaker."

"Please, Whumpee needs me!" Caretaker had to get in there. Had to save Whumpee. Had to apologize. Had to hold them and never let them go. Had to say all of the things they had longed to say but couldn't.

"Caretaker, we can't let you do that."

One loud gunshot rang out. The world went quiet as Caretaker froze. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. They were right there. Whumpee was right there.

"WHUMPEE!"

Delicious. Beautiful. Incredible!

I love reading kidnapping whump. However, the thing I really enjoy is reading the process of being kidnapped. Like, I enjoy the chase just before whumpee gets dragged away.

I really dislike when the story doesn’t describe how the whumpee gets captured or even “whumpee felt a prick and felt their eyes close”. I feel like a good kidnapping story needs to make my heart sink.. I guess I just like the juicy details 🥰🥰

Just something I wanted to share. Haha

Yes! YES! Honestly all whump is in the details; you just gotta find people that appreciate the same details as you. I 100000% agree that the process of kidnapping is overlooked all too often. 

We need more whumpers that are sadistic during the kidnapping, not just afterwards. Whumpers that like the chase and the power trip that comes with catching whumpee, not just owning them. 

They could make it quick. Stick them with something fast acting, manhandle them into place while the drug kicks in. They'd be done in minutes, no fuss or issue. 

 But what would be the fun in that?

So they don’t. When they finally get ahold on Whumpee, easily pinning their flailing limbs to the side, Whumper only injects them with a half dose. Not enough for them to escape, mind you, but enough for them to think they have a chance.

And then Whumper let’s go. And then they watch.

What does Whumpee do? From the moment the needle enters their body, they’re on a timer. Every beat of their terrified heart is bringing them closer to oblivion, makes the distance between danger and safety seem so much wider. There's nobody to help them, nobody in sight but their attacker. What can they do?

Does Whumpee try to fight back? 

They send an elbow back into Whumper as soon as the arms around them give way, whirling around with angry, terrified eyes. Fear sends their heart pounding as their gaze locks onto Whumper. They see those cunning eyes and lean muscles, see the shine of something metallic in their attacker’s hand.

Wumpee sees the emptiness around them, both vast yet horrible claustrophobic. There’s nowhere to run.

They’re terrified, they’re helpless. And in that moment, anger worms its way into Whumpee’s heart. It’s fueled by panic, a sort of prey rage bred from true helplessness, but it’s enough to spring Whumpee into action. In that moment, they realize the only way out is through Whumper. 

So they rush forward, lashing out like a cornered animal. There’s nothing graceful about their attacks. Each push does more damage to themselves than their target, most kicks don’t even land at all. Every swing is a flailing, pathetic thing, fueled by nothing but blind panic. 

And Whumper isn’t even fighting back. They block each blow with expert precision, not even bothering to restrain Whumpee’s movements. Whumpee’s putting everything, everything into their struggle, and Whumper isn’t even breaking a sweat. There’s no sign of effort or strain in Whumper’s movements, none of the desperate urgency Whumpee feels. There’s only that grin on Whumper’s face, cruel and mocking, like they’re enjoying it

A scream tears its way from Whumpee's throat. It’s full of frustration and terror,  a high pitched whine that comes out like a half sob. They keep fighting, trying to knock down the unmovable wall in front of them. 

But Whumpee can’t keep it up forever. They’re slowing by the second; with each beat of their heart, the sedative is spreading throughout their bloodstream. Each swing is weaker than the last, sloppier. They’re swaying on their feet within minutes, barely standing against the growing static in their mind. They can’t stop the world from tilting around them.

It only sends another wave of terror through Whumpee. They keep pushing. 

But terror can only take them so far. Whumpee’s heart freezes in their chest as Whumper effortlessly grabs one of their weakly swinging fits. They don’t let go. Whumpee pulls, and they don’t let go. They kick and whine, too exhausted to even properly scream, and Whumper’s hold stays firm. Each effort to escape only sends another wave of unnatural exhaustion through their body. 

The sensation of the drug working into their system is suffocating. It forces their pounding heart to slow, smothering their terror under a thick haze, sapping the energy from their limbs. The fear is still there, still overwhelming, but they just can’t react to it anymore. 

Swaying on their feet, all they can do is stare into the triumphant, predatory eyes of their captor.

Finally, they drop. Whumpee’s body tilts forward without their control, slumping into Whumper’s chest. They're caught effortlessly as their legs finally give out, pulled into a half-hug as Whumper supports their weight. Everything in Whumpee tells them to pull away, to bite or scream or anything. But they can't force their body to respond. But they can't form a plan, can't think beyond the haze clouding their mind.

The last thing Whumpee feels as their vision fades is their body being lifted into someone's arms.  They don't have the strength left to fight it.

Or maybe Whumpee runs?

They push away from Whumper the moment they’re free, taking a stumbling step away from their attacker. Before terror can kick in, there’s only surprise, maybe even anger. They turn to face Whumper on instinct, some angry rebuke already on their lips. 

Whatever they’d been about to say died in their throat the moment they look back. Whumper is simply standing there, as if they were waiting for something. There is no explanation in their expression. Not the anger of some scorned lover, not the frustration of a failed mugging. Whumper just stands there. Eyes sharp, eyes focused squarely on Whumpee, ready to strike at any moment. 

There’s something inhuman about it, about the absence if all expression but an animalistic intensity. It calls to something animalistic in Whumpee as well. Something that screams that Whumpee is staring down a predator ready to eat them whole. 

Terror comes to Whumpee slowly, like a pressure laying itself against their chest. As their expression morphs into terror, a grin splits Whumper’s face.

Whumpee’s running before they even realize it. Shoes slamming against the sidewalk, heart pounding in their chest in their mad dash to just get away. They don’t know where they’ll go, don’t know where they’d be safe. But anywhere, anywhere is better than with that monster. 

Their escape is graceless. They run half blind in the darkness, stumbling over obstacles in their mad dash. Tears are streaming from their wide eyes, mouth wide as they pull in desperate lungfuls of air. 

They can’t hear anything beyond their own ragged breathing. They don’t dare slow down, don’t dare turn around. They don’t know if they’d managed to escape or not, and so they keep running. 

The first wave of dizziness hits them like a truck, nearly sending them tumbling to the ground. It feels like the ground is shifting underneath them, tilting side to side like a boat in the ocean. 

They stop, not because they want to, but because they have to if they want to stay upright. Whumpee leans against the nearest wall, taking deep, shuddering breaths in hopes of chasing away the disorientation. 

It doesn’t help. With each inhale, it feels like their vision is growing dimmer, their body growing heavier. It’s not long until Whumpee is resting their full weight against the wall, barely remaining upright. Their attempts to collect their thoughts crumble as their mind wanders. Each wave of dizziness breaks their concentration, and it’s becoming harder by the moment to recollect themselves.

They’re exhausted. It creeps into them like a chill, and now that they’ve stopped moving the feeling is near overwhelming. 

Panic still flows through their mind, demanding that they move. But their body won’t listen. Whumpee’s limbs won’t move despite their fear. Their heartbeat has slowed despite their terror, a relaxed, sedated beating in their chest instead of the panicked drumming from moments before. Whumpee can feel their eyes closing without their consent, and it terrifies them. 

Whumpee can’t stop themselves as their legs give out on them. They fall like dead weight, head smacking against the sidewalk. All they can do is groan, a low pathetic keening that barely manages to creep past their lips. 

The pain is just enough to bring a spark of alertness back to their eyes. Just enough to bring back the memory of their attacker. The look in their eye, the expression that gave away no motivation but malice. The gleeful smile full of a hunger Whumpee couldn’t explain. 

The glint of something sharp and metallic on Whumper’s hands. The sharp pain in Whumpee’s neck seconds before they managed to pull away. 

The revelation makes Whumpee’s throat go dry. And suddenly that pain is the only thing they can feel, a pulsing ache from where they’d been stabbed. No, injected. They’d been drugged, and it’d taken them this long to realize it. 

In that moment, as Whumpee’s eyes finally slip shut, the faintest of smiles crosses their lips. It’s mirthless, almost angry. The broken smile of someone who's just realized all their effort was utterly pointless.

Whumpee’s not awake to hear the sound of even, confident footsteps approaching them. 

It doesn’t really matter what they do. Stay and fight, run and hide, it’s futile.

And that’s the point. The point is the struggle, the desperation that can only exist when there’s a sliver of hope left. Even when that hope is an illusion, even when that hope only exists to be mercilessly crushed.

What's the Bad News?

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, rescue, poisoning, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, unclear character status

"I have good news and I have bad news," the medic said to Caretaker as Caretaker came up to Whumpee's bedside. The room was darkened, and Whumpee lay still beneath a blanket. Caretaker could hear the slow, irregular beat of Whumpee's heart on the monitor. Caretaker watched as the IV bag dripped something into the tube that ran to Whumpee's arm.

The days of torture at the hands of Whumper had ravaged Whumpee. Their face was bruised and swollen, their hair matted and filthy. The skin of their wrists were raw and red from the tight cuffs that Caretaker had pried off only hours ago.

Whumpee had been barely conscious when Caretaker rescued them. Had been almost incoherent as Caretaker called for a medic to come. Had begun to convulse violently as a team of medics ran over.

Caretaker had watched in horror as Whumpee was whisked away to the medical tent just outside Whumper's compound. They were helpless and could only stand and watch as Whumpee was carried out.

"Good news first. I need good news." They sat beside Whumpee and took Whumpee's surprisingly warm hand in theirs.

The medic nodded. "I know what's wrong with Whumpee."

"What is it?" Caretaker tried not to sound excited. This was good news. If they knew what was wrong they could do something about it.

The medic frowned. "Well, that's....that's the bad news."

Caretaker looked up at the medic. Really looked. Their face was pale and drawn tight with worry. "What is it?"

"They've been poisoned." The medic wrung their hands and crossed their arms.

"What kind of poison?" Caretaker couldn't help but begin to panic. Whumpee was fading away just as they arrived to save Whumpee. Whumpee had to hold on a bit longer.

"Strychnine. I've done everything we can to keep them comfortable. I've got them on something that will stop the convulsions. But....that's all I can do. If they make it twenty-four hours, they'll be ok."

"And if they don't? You have to do something!" Caretaker stood up, their chair falling away.

The medic put up their hands. "I've done everything I can. We will know in just a few hours if what I've done has worked, if Whumpee is strong enough to survive. And if they make it to twenty-four hours, they'll be ok. I am sorry, Caretaker."

Caretaker sat back down, tears filling their eyes. "Are they in any pain?"

"I've given them something to keep them comfortable."

"Will they be in any pain?" Caretaker took Whumpee's hand once more. They rubbed small circles on the back of Whumpee's hand.

"I'm going to do everything I can to keep them comfortable, Caretaker. But the rest is now up to Whumpee. I've done everything I can."

As Caretaker sat, stroking Whumpee's hand and watching their every breath, Caretaker made a silent promise. No matter what happened to Whumpee, no matter if they lived or died, they would find Whumper. They would find and catch Whumper. And death would not be enough for Whumper. Death would be far too kind. Caretaker made a vow as they watched Whumpee's O2 stats begin to drop that Whumper would suffer every bit and more than Whumpee did. No matter what happened.

+Whump Writers!+

Let’s write something!

Hero/Villain Edition!

I’m gonna write a prompt-y sort of thing, and you’re gonna reblog it with an ending!

Write whatever you want and make it as long (or short!) as you want!

Ready? Let’s go!

————————————————————————

Whumpee sat on their knees, kept there by two goons which stood on either side of them, holding them by their shoulders. Whumpee’s hands were tied behind their back by thick ropes, and their mouth was sealed shut by layers of duct tape that circled around their head.

Whumpee wished they had enough energy to fume or struggle, but their fight with Whumper had zapped it all. Whumpee could feel the bruises forming now… ugh. They couldn’t believe they had lost to Whumper. Whumpee had felt so ready- so sure that this time, they would finally defeat Whumper. Instead, they had been captured. Whumpee almost preferred to be dead.

This was why, when Whumper sauntered over, Whumpee barely reacted- or tried not to. A reaction would give Whumper more to feel good about. Whumper chuckled.

“Comfy?” They asked. Whumpee only glared.

That’s when Whumper reached for their mask.

Whumpee’s mask- the only thing between them and the world.

Whumpee’s mask- the thin cloth shield between the evil of the world and Whumpee’s family.

Their mask- the last sliver of privacy and safety Whumpee knew.

Whumpee flinched back, but it was no use. Whumper had them pinned right where they wanted them….

Happy pride month!! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ Sorry about not posting for so long! Been dealing with just general health and mental health stuff, but I really didn’t want to miss doing my annual toothless pride posts so here it is :)

Might not be posting as frequently as I used to here but there’ll probably be some scattered art here and there when I feel like making some

The flags in order from top to bottom: Rainbow, Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Pansexual, Trans, Non Binary, Asexual, Aromantic, Genderfluid

I’ve also added all of these to my redbubble as prints and such, you can find them in the toothless pride collection there :)