#mentioned whumper | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unhonest-iago · 13 days

Text

Caretaker dealing with a more angry, combative whumpee. One that has destructive outbursts full of screaming and hyperventilating. All they can see is red. Angry at what whumper did to them. To the point Caretaker has to learn how to physically restrain them from further hurting themselves. Especially when whumpee turn their rage towards caretaker. They let a few swings hit but ultimately have to stop them. Holding their arms away from their body. Repeatedly apologizing as they do so.

Later cradling whumpee in their lap when they've finally exhausted themselves. Head tucked in caretaker's shoulder, hands clutching at their shirt. Begging caretaker to not leave them. 'I'll never leave you, just don't want you hurting yourself or me,' holding them just as tightly. 'You have every right to be angry at them. Whumper should've never laid a hand on you. You didn't deserve any of it.' Their voice was barely higher than a whisper.

#iago writes #whump #whumpblr #whump scenario #whump writing #whumpee x caretaker #caretaker #whumpee #mentioned whumper

302 notes · View notes

meraki24601 · 2 months

Text

Ring

“Whumpee, where did you get that ring?”

Caretaker had gotten used to Whumpee flinching. It seemed they hadn’t stopped since they were released from the hospital. Or, maybe it had started even before that. Before Whumper had taken them, or even further when they had first gone to file a restraining order. But they hadn’t expected them to flinch away from the curious question.

That was all the answer Caretaker needed. “You know, Whumper is dead. You don’t have to keep wearing their ring.”

“I can’t take it off.” Whumpee’s voice was small. They kept their head down as they stirred the pot of soup nearing boiling on the stove.

Caretaker blamed the fumes from the onion Whumpee had chopped up earlier for the tears forming in their eyes. “You’re safe now, Whumpee. I know I can never make it up to you for not believing you sooner, but I swear I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. You can take off the ring.”

“It’s stuck. I can’t take it off.”

“Oh.” Caretaker’s hands stilled as they placed the last spoon on the table. “Would you like some help?”

“Yes, please.”

Whumpee held very still as Caretaker approached and guided them to stand beside the sink. They didn’t shy away from Caretaker’s touch as the ring was slowly worked from their swollen finger but curled in on themselves and took three giant steps back the moment they were free. The mark left on the skin where the ring had sat dragged a whine from Whumpee’s throat.

The inside of the ring had been engraved. Imprinted into Whumpee’s skin were four letters:

M.

I.

N.

E.

Whumpee fell to their knees, holding the finger away from their body. “I’ll never be free.”

Caretaker wrapped a bandage from the kit under the sink around the possessive letters. Kissing Whumpee’s knuckles, Caretaker whispered, “You are free. Whumper is dead. I killed them. I swear on my life, no one will ever touch you again.”

#whump fic #whump #whump scenario #whumpee #whump writing #whump ideas #caretaker #whump tropes #oc #rescued #mentioned whumper #recovery whump #rings #stuck #possessive whumper

256 notes · View notes

avvail-whumps · 5 months

Note

hey, I know you just ended the series, but could you show us a little of Leo's Father reaction to Leo running away with Roy?

btw, anon shouldn't have jumped into conclusions like that, you left pretty clear in the cw about the stockholm syndrome theme in the series, and I believe most people understood that the ending is not a good one. Anyway, loved the series! can't wait for more of your ideas

When Sebastian woke up in the morning, there was a nagging feeling in his gut that told him something was very wrong.

He was never usually up this early, for one, but he found himself crawling out of bed and heading straight for his son’s room. It had been a while since anyone else had been living in the house aside from him, so maybe it was that familiar quietness that had worried him.

His knuckles rapped against the door. “Leo?”

There was silence. Sebastian shifted, and he found himself swallowing thickly. He knocked again, louder this time.

“Son, is it okay if I come in?”

Only three seconds passed before he was pushing the door open, and his panicked eyes were met with an empty bed. He immediately dissolved into hysterics. He ran his hands desperately through his hair and darted for his room, grabbing his phone.

He was shaking, he realised, because all of Leo’s stuff was gone and his son was missing again.

“No, no, no,” he muttered under his breath, pacing his room as his trembling fingers attempted to unlock his phone. “Please, God, not again.”

Sebastian paced the whole house, shouting Leo’s name, but he was only met with cold silence. Because his son had been missing for a year - a year of not knowing if he was alive or dead. A year of wallowing in grief and regret and sickening remorse.

Sharpe picked up the phone within four rings. “Sebastian, everything—”

“He’s gone,” Sebastian sobbed, hardly able to breathe. His son was missing again, his son who he’d just got back. “He’s gone.”

There was a curt pause. “Okay, Sebastian. Calm down; are you talking about Leo?”

The violinist hunched against the doorframe, wiping his forearm against his sleeve with a choked gasp. He just barely heard Sharpe’s voice from the phone.

“Listen. You’re going to have to take a deep breath. You’re going to have a panic attack.”

Sebastian stumbled back into Leo’s room, his mind in shambles. The empty bed just made his heart tear into pieces, and his breath clogged in his lungs again.

“He’s not here,” Sebastian wheezed, scrambling to steady himself against the wall. He was going lightheaded. “Please, I can’t do this again. I can’t do this...”

“Stay calm,” Sharpe snapped. “Have you tried calling him?”

His head cleared for just a moment. Call - that was a good idea. He hung up the call instantly, and his shaking fingers somehow managed to find Leo’s new contact, dialling it. The rings pierced through his head, making him dizzy. But after a few seconds, he picked up.

His son’s voice echoed down the phone.

“Dad?”

Dad. Thank the Gods, he was okay. He’d picked up his phone.

“Son,” Sebastian choked, gripping the phone until his knuckles went white. “Oh my god. Are you okay?”

There was a confused pause. “Yeah, I’m fine. You sound...are you alright?”

Sebastian ran a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to calm his rapid breathing, desperately trying to get the air back into his lungs. His shuddering silence had seemed to prompt his son to speak once again.

“Dad...?”

“Yes, son,” he choked, gripping his tight chest. “Where are you? I thought something had happened. I thought I lost you again.”

Leo softly sucked in a breath. “Did you not read my note?”

“Note?” Sebastian wheezed.

“Yeah. I left a—” He cut himself off, suddenly sounding gripped by guilt. “God, I’m so sorry. I know I should have told you.”

The sound of his son’s voice, the one he’d tormented himself over with voicemails and videos on his phone, was speaking to him. It was soothing that initial gut wrenching panic that had hit him. He sat on the edge of his bed, holding the phone close.

“I’m staying with Roy for a while,” Leo explained gently, and Sebastian swallowed.

“Roy?” He repeated. “Is that the man who helped you?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Was there something wrong here?” He desperately asked, tears stinging his eyes. “Did I do something wrong again?”

“What? Dad, no.” Leo’s voice sounded just as strained, melting with hurt. “Please don’t think like that. I’m an adult, you know. I’m allowed to live where I want, right?”

Sebastian stared absentmindly at the bed. “I thought you were missing. I-I thought...what if those men who hurt you had come back? I was scared, son. I can’t lose you. I don’t want it to go back to how it was.”

There was a defeaning silence, before Leo’s voice went small. “Have you been drinking?”

“What?” Sebastian choked. “Son, I’ve just...of course I haven’t.”

His son didn’t respond, so he softly wiped his nose, blinking away the blurriness in his vision. He tried to compose himself, clearing the thickness out of his voice before he spoke again.

“Will you call?”

Leo breathed out. “Everyday.”

He nodded. “Good. Good.”

“You’ll call too?”

“Of course I will,” he whispered.

“I’ll visit,” Leo promised, and Sebastian knew he was telling the truth. “Roy will drive me. We can have dinner together. We can play together. You can teach me something new, okay? I’d really like that.”

Sebastian enthusiastically nodded his head. His son couldn’t see how much he was crying, but he didn’t want him to. His heart ached at how much time had been lost between them. Even though Sebastian wanted his son to stay longer, there was nothing he could do.

“Of course,” he breathed. “Something difficult. Something I know you’ll love.”

Leo choked up. “I love you so much, dad.”

Sebastian smiled to himself. “I love you too, son.”

#ask #guns for hire special #guns for hire request #guns for hire #whump #whump writing #whump series #whump fic #whump drabble #whumpblr #whumpee #mentioned whumper #leo and roy #writing #my writing #avvail whumps #“is that the man who helped you”#sir your son is getting dicked down by the guy who kidnapped him

30 notes · View notes

danafeelingsick · 2 years

Text

sɪᴄᴋ sᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ #14

ᴛᴀᴋᴇᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʀʀɪᴅᴇ: DRABBLE

ᴀᴏ3 sʜᴏʀᴛ sᴛᴏʀɪᴇs ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

mentioned panic attack

“Calm down, B”, A said softly to a desperate B wolfing down their fresh takeout. “The food is not going to run away from you.”

B slowed down as they heard it, but never stopped eating, they couldn't. They had gone so long without food they weren't going to let any room for it to run away, even if it couldn't possibly do so.

A was admittedly happy to see B finally eating, having them in the safety of the backseat, eyes fixed on them as if they could just vanish into thin air. Their heart could finally rest easy knowing their belly was full and color was returning to their face. But seeing them this desperate broke their heart, knowing what B went through.

“You don't have to worry, there's plenty to go around”, A informed, trying again, landing a grounding hand on B's back, feeling their paper-thin skin shift under their clothes. “You can eat as much as you'd like.”

“I'm sorry, I couldn't help it...”, B said as they swallowed the last bite, not a speck of food left.

“I know... Don't apologize, okay?”, they cooed, gently patting them before putting the takeout bag aside, checking once more before they were set to leave for the road.

There was a long drive ahead of them, but A didn't mind it in the slightest. They would go through it a hundred times over if it meant helping B, by putting more distance between them and Whumper.

Poor B couldn't sleep a wink still, even if the drive took hours, as soon as their eyes landed close, they would shoot awake, gasping from a nightmare. A would do their best to soothe them with words, even offering to make another stop if they needed it.

B would always refuse, trying not to bother, then go suddenly quiet, color draining from their face by the second. A didn't notice immediately, the moonlight coming through the window left B under a slight blue hue, leaving them an unnatural pale they couldn't place. This should've been the first sign.

B thought they were hiding well, not allowing the sharp nausea twisting their insides to appear in their face, but it was clear. They were frowning deeply, their face scrunched, small short whimpers leaving them every time they lost concentration. Dizziness washed over them, making them breathe heavily, their throat overtaxed with clearing the saliva filling their mouth.

“B?”, A asked, eyeing them through the rear view mirror. They had asked it a little too late. “Is everything okay?”

“No... I–”, B sobbed in what looked like a sudden outburst, but it had been building up for hours on end. Their body jerked as they tried to contain the pitiful heave that cut through their sentence, a hand muffling their gags desperately. “A, I'm going to–”

They couldn't even finish their warning. Vomit spewed violently behind their hand, the sound of it so close to a spray can at first, quickly turning into garbled retches being choked out. It was everywhere, a lumpy watery mess cascading down their chin, then their shirt, and finally pooling over their lap where it gathered.

B's eyes went so wide it stung, they could see the yellow bits of chewed french fries among that brownish slurry, thickened by the bread and the meat of the burger they had just eaten. It looked as if someone had liquified the meal, mixed it with coke and salad, and B would've preferred to think of it like this, but the smell. Oh, that sharp rancid stench of their own disgusting bile, clinging to their clothes, making that unsightly mixture slimy and muddy, glisten under the light.

“Jesus, B! I'm– I'm pulling over”, A exclaimed, fighting not to take their eyes off the road and immediately attend to sickly pitiful B trying to keep quiet as they body nearly caved in.

B was seeing black spots at this point. Their mind was screaming danger, screaming shame, calling to tears, calling for help, but all they could do is shiver. Every muscle in them clenched painfully as if that would stop their stomach from turning itself inside out. Their throat was filled with chunks, obstructing their breath, but they couldn't even think about it. It was all too much. A hated them.

Hands were all over them, and B winced violently each time, sinking further into themselves, their arms nearly fusing to their torso.

“B? B?”, they heard, but the voice was distant, muffled even, sobs covering it with that pitiful noise. “Breathe, okay? Breathe, B. I'm right here. This is nothing, okay? We can clean everything. It's nothing.”

It's nothing. They repeated, breathing in and out with so much difficulty their body softened almost mechanically. Sharp hacking followed as just suddenly they snapped back, finding the need to breathe again and clear their throat out of seemingly nowhere.

B had been standing so stiff, with a steaming pile of regurgitated fast food soaking into their legs, A could've easily mistaken them for a mannequin. It was only when they coughed that they snapped along with them, moving to use a napkin to fruitlessly clean them when they unclenched their thighs, and the vomit came falling into the car's carpet.

It would've been useless anyway. B coughed and coughed as if their lungs wanted out, the sharp painful sounds giving A pangs of sympathetic pain. They winced along as B lurched forward, projecting out of them one last wave of vomit that bathed the console of the car between the two front seats.

Panting like a dying man, B was left whimpering, mumbling pathetic apologies between their efforts to breath. A managed to drag them out, albeit it gently, but B fell to their knees as soon as they hit the pavement, leaving A to hold them by the shoulders as they went back to heaving.

“Shhh... Shhh, it's okay. I'm right here B”, A informed, hushing them thoroughly as B continued to retch painfully, struggling to come up with anything else. “I'm not mad. I'm not mad.”

B didn't believe them. No matter how much they repeated it, they couldn't believe it. Their apologies would never be enough, but they kept mumbling, like a prayer, like a trance, unable to feel A's gentle touch on their cold skin.

B was out cold before they realized it.

41 notes · View notes

lumpsbumpsandwhumps · 4 months

Text

unpopular opinion but whump should and deserves to be messy

"Yeah duh there's plenty of scenarios with blood and tears--" no. I want more.

I want pink tinted spit dribbling out of Whumpee's mouth. I want strings of saliva connecting between their busted lip to Whumper's tongue. I want drool running down the corners of their mouths because of a gag that makes it difficult to swallow.

I want sweat making Whumpee feel sticky and clammy to the touch. I want their skin to be slick and soaking into their soiled clothes. I want them to squirm in discomfort of a dirty shirt clinging to their back from precious fluids that are going to risk further dehydration. I want their hair to be continuously damp and hanging in thick strands in their face.

I want the scabs to turn white with pus and black with infection. I want old wounds to tear open and bleed a thick red. I want the pink flesh underneath to pulse and quiver, the sight of yellow fat and cartilage. I want blood vessels and capillaries to burst and spread over an area, I want burns to start brown and peel away to a tender pink.

I want Whumpee to vomit out of their nose because their mouth is gagged. I want bile to reek on their clothing and on their tongue. I want them to grow use to the taste of bitter blood and burning chyme forever in the back of their throat. I want them to have to snort and hack to be able to spit out whatever was still caught on their tongue or risk swallowing it down.

I want their tears to remain unwiped and crusting over their eyes. I want snot to smear over their cheeks and leave their lips uncomfortably tacky. I want their face to remain blotchy and red because they just can't get it clean. I want dirt and blood and skin to build up under their fingernails to the point they risk infecting their own wounds if they try and mess with it. I want Whumpee to only be sprayed down with cold water and an old towel, never any soap and never in all the creases of their body.

I want their bodies caked in grime and viscera and bodily fluids. I want Whumper to never give them the luxury of feeling clean and in fact actively making them more filthy each time. I want Whumpee's clothes yellowed and their hair matted and their skin sickly. I want injuries to never properly heal so that the only option is to amputate the necrosis. I want Whumper to force Whumpee to clean up whatever kind of mess they made by licking it off the floor.

I want arteries to spew like a garden sprinkler. I want the exposed roots of pulled teeth to dangle freely in their mouth. I want Whumpee's hair, including all of their body hair, to grow to unruly lengths that are constantly tangled and ingrown. I want them to find comfort in starving because it means there's nothing to risk throwing up. I want them to scrub their skin raw and bleeding, uncaring how much it aggravates their injuries or how the soap stings, the first chance they're given for a real bath.

I want it to be nasty!!!!!!

428 notes · View notes

whumpy-daydreams · 9 months

Text

"You're not going to kill me. You're having too much fun for that."

Whumper pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at whumpee's forehead. "Are you sure about that?"

But whumpee didn't flinch. Instead they leaned forward, pressing their forehead into the barrel. "Go on then. Do it."

Whumper paused. And cocked the gun. But still whumpee didn't express fear. Their eyes were full of determination and challenge, lips twitching into a small smile despite their set jaw.

The seconds ticked past in slow motion, each staring at the other playing a dangerous game of chicken. Whumper caved first, dropping the gun to their side.

"Coward." Whumpee hissed

#whump #whumpee #whumper #tw gun #defiant whumpee #death mention tw

738 notes · View notes

kabie-whump · 2 months

Text

♡ Febuwhump Day 18: Too Weak to Move ♡

@febuwhump

Content: Intimate whumper, hand feeding, captivity, hair pulling

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"I'm back~" Whumper sings as they enter Whumpee's cell, a tray of simple food in hand. "Time to eat."

Whumpee says nothing, but Whumper pays it no mind.

"Brought you good stuff today, dearest. You were so well behaved yesterday I figured you deserve it. Real fruit and everything."

Still nothing as Whumper sits cross-legged on the floor in front of Whumpee. Whumpee is slumped against a wall, chin tucked to their chest, barely noticable shivers wracking their bruised body.

"What, nothing to say? Giving me the silent treatment?"

Silence from Whumpee save for quiet shuddering breaths.

"Rude."

Whumper moves in close, grabbing Whumpee's hair and yanking their head back. They stare at Whumper with half lidded eyes, a faint whimper escaping their throat, but otherwise they don't move a muscle.

"Oh. Did I play too rough yesterday? Do you need me to feed you?”

Whumpee still says nothing, but Whumper can see the flash of distain in their tired eyes. Oh, they hate that idea. Perfect.

"Don't worry, love, I'll take good care of you. Now open up."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

#whump #whump tropes #whump writing #whump community #whumpblr #whump scenario #whumpee #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday18 #febuwhump day 18 #whump ideas #captive whumpee #intimate whumper #hand feeding #food mention

295 notes · View notes

echoingalaxies · 8 months

Text

"Close your eyes."

Said Caretaker to dying whumpee, caressing their hair, trying to make their last moments as peaceful and comfortable as possible.

Said Caretaker to scared Whumpee, holding a knife to Whumper's throat, about to make sure they never lay their hand on Whumpee again but wanting to spare Whumpee from witnessing any more violence.

Said Caretaker to injured Whumpee, cupping their chin and guiding their head up, not letting Whumpee look at the wounds covering their body.

Said Caretaker to sleepy Whumpee, who fears falling asleep because of all the traumatic nightmares they know they'll have, but with Caretaker by their side, whispering all kinds of reassurements, they might be okay.

510 notes · View notes

whumpitisthen · 3 months

Text

"Darling..."

They crouch in front of him, drawling his name like a melody, all sticky and sweet like honey. His back presses that much harder into the stone wall behind him.

"Do you want me to gouge your eyes out?"

The nonchalance of their delivery has his shaky lungs gasping for air.

"N-No..." — He doesn't, he doesn't, please don't.

"Then be a dear and keep those pretty things closed." — Their hand lands over his eyes, gently guiding his eyelids closed. — "Don't let me catch you sneaking a peek, okay?"

They smile still; he can feel their teeth grinning through the void enveloping him. He nods against their hand cupping his cheek as they watch him intently, swallowing down every word that claws at his throat to escape him in case they decide letting him keep his tongue should become a luxury too.

They give a couple light pats, then stand, purring, — "Good boy."

<3

Masterist

244 notes · View notes

oddsconvert · 9 months

Note

Mute Whumpee having been forced into silence until they hear a certain “permission” code word.

Caretaker thinking that Whumpee is just mute from trauma now, and after about a week into their rescue they accidentally let that word slip and next thing they know, Whumpee is sobbing and apologizing and pleading-

Caretaker always liked the peace and quiet.

The sound of his own footsteps down an empty hallway, the creak of the floorboards beneath him, the soft whirring of the air conditioning unit in the corner. He liked the way the silence seemed to wrap around him like a blanket, shielding him from the outside world. He liked the way he could hear himself think, hear his own thoughts crystal clear when it was nice and quiet. When there were no distractions. When Caretaker could just be, without worrying about anything or anyone else.

Solitude is a blessing. Caretaker wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the whole wide world.

Caretaker used to like the peace and quiet…at least, before Whumpee fell into his lap.

The silence is now deafening, ear-piercing. The birds have stopped singing, the only sound is the wind rustling through the crunchy leaves scattered on the ground outside. The air is still and heavy, and the only movement is slow, steady drip of rainwater from the trees.

It is a silence that is full of fear and anticipation, and it is a silence that is waiting for something to happen. The quiet sounds like failure and disappointment. Another day blurs past in the blink of an eye - another day where he’s no closer to Whumpee speaking. Caretaker doesn’t even know the name of the man he rescued from the pits of hell, nor does he know his story. He doesn’t know the sound of Whumpee’s voice. If he has a family and friends, searching day and night to bring him home.

Whumpee is a mystery to Caretaker. And Caretaker is a mystery to Whumpee.

Caretaker peeks through the crack in the door, checking on Whumpee as he sleeps…on the floor. Whumpee lies huddled on the cold, hard ground, ignoring the perfectly made bed in the corner of the room. Like he’s not allowed to sleep in it. He writhes and flinches in his sleep, kicking his legs and whimpering like a dreaming dog. Whumpee is in there, somewhere, even if Caretaker can’t reach him just yet. He has tried everything he can think of, lost countless nights of sleep tossing and turning, and thought of every way to pull himself out of the darkness in his head, but nothing seems to work.

Whumpee suddenly awoke with a start, screaming and covered in cold-sweat, his eyes darting in horror around the room. Dark circles hang beneath his eyes, every inch of him vibrates in terror. When he spots Caretaker lingering in the doorway, he flinches and chokes on a sob.

“Hey, hey! Shhh, you’re okay!” Caretaker bursts through the doorway, rushing over to Whumpee’s side, “You were having another nightmare-”

Caretaker rubs Whumpee’s back as he heaves for air, “Would you like me to stay?”

Whumpee smiles, but it does not reach his teary eyes. His muscles tense like a spring about to bounce, and still he nods his head in agreement. Or submission.

Somewhere, somehow - Whumpee must understand and realise that this is safety. Caretaker is safety. His wounds and gashes are scabbing and closing, dark bruises fading into his pale skin. His belly warm and full. The dog collar strapped tight to his throat when Caretaker found him - long gone. Caretaker burned it.

“I’m so sorry. I wish I knew how to help -” Caretaker holds Whumpee's face, cupping his cheek.

There’s that damn silence again. Whumpee sniffles and wipes at his nose, refusing to even look at Caretaker now. He has all the answers, just not the words to reveal them. So close yet so far.

“I want you to know I will never hurt you, Whumpee. I just want to help… I just…I just want you to heal-”

Whumpee’s eyes go wide with horror, and he freezes like a statue. Caretaker can hear their heart racing in both their chests. Before Caretaker could stop him, Whumpee is kneeling at Caretaker’s feet, wrapping his arms around his legs, clinging like a baby koala and bursting into tears.

“Th-Thank you! Oh, thank you s-sir - thank god!” Whumpee wails, his voice deep, hoarse and scratchy. Caretaker can hardly believe his ears. It feels like a fever dream. Whumpee just spoke. What just happened?! What changed?!

“Whu-Whumpee?!” Caretaker gasps.

“I’m so sorry sir!!! I waited - and waited and…and I tried! I tried so hard to be good. I thought you’d never say it- I thought you'd never release me-”

"Release-"

"Heel. You - You told me to heel-" Whumpee slumps back onto the heels of his feet, sitting by Whumper's heels, his hands folded limp in front of his chest - begging. "My release word. I-I did good? I didn't speak, sir!!!"

"No…" Caretaker falters, "No, you didn't."

---

Drabble taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername @whumpsday @sparrowsage @whumperfully @wolves-and-winters @canislycaon24 @happy-little-sadist @darkthingshappen

#SORRY THIS IS BAD #AND THIS ASK IS FROM LAST YEAR #BUT INSPO STRUCK #whump #whump writing #answered asks #whump community #whumpblr #whump blog #whumpee #whumper #captivity #caretaker #pet whumpee #recovery whump #mute whumpee #scar mention #whump drabble #whump prompt

432 notes · View notes

abhainnwhump · 6 months

Text

Putting your characters in a kidnapping scenario is a great way to practice characterization because there are just so many ways you can take being kidnapped. Are they terrified and crying? Or calm and determined? Screaming and yelling curses or making jokes? How about begging for mercy? Immediately getting violent?

And when/if they break, how does their behavior change? You can have a character start calm and collected and turn paranoid after weeks or months in captivity. Iconically, take your defiant and cocky character and make them scared and meek. Take the sweet innocent character and turn them into a monster. How would your OC develop if they were in a problem like this?

My closing statement is, test your characters. Like a geode, you need to break it to see the gems inside.

#i saw this mentioned in a video I was listening too and wanted to make a post about it #whump #whump prompt #whump writing #whumpblr #whump tropes #defiant whumpee #broken whumpee #characterization #writing help #captive whumpee #captured whumpee #whumpee turned whumper #whumpee prompt #whump scenario #whump ideas #whump thoughts #writing thoughts #character thoughts

322 notes · View notes

unhonest-iago · 5 months

Text

Caretaker who doesn’t have the slightest clue of how to handle whumpee’s mental trauma.

Caretaker who suggests getting high or using an aphrodisiac to whumpee so they can experience an emotion that is something other than anxiety, panic, or paranoia.

Caretaker crossing their fingers that it isn’t a mistake or bad trip. Watching over them as the clock ticks by.

Whumpee who is grateful for the reprieve but at the same time, every positive emotions makes their nerves run cold. The opposite of molten lava.

Whumpee who’s so confused, scaring caretaker at first with their sobbing, not having experienced many positive emotions since leaving whumper.

Whumpee mumbling into caretaker’s shoulder, not meaning to spill what happened to them during the time they spent with whumper.

Caretaker trying their damn hardest to decipher what whumpee is saying as they hardly ever talk about whumper willingly. The one time they tried to coax into such an act, it caused whumpee to go nonverbal for half a month.

Caretaker who’s heart breaks, not knowing whether to be thankful for the high loosening whumpee’s tongue. Thinking of all the ways they could hurt whumper for what they’ve done.

#iago writes #whumpee x caretaker #whumpee #caretaker #whump scenario #whumpblr #whump writing #whump #mentioned whumper #cw intox #tw intox

42 notes · View notes

meraki24601 · 7 months

Text

Not Sick: Part 8

Whumptober day 13. This is the last part! I hope you enjoy. Prompt: “I don’t feel so good.”

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

-----------*-***-*-----------

Whumpee woke to a heavy weight holding them down. The pressure made it hard for them to breathe. Struggling to shrug off the final fingers of sleep gripping their mind, Whumpee fought to stay calm. Despite their best efforts, their heart rate continued to rise. Their eyes popped open, and their muscles tensed.

At some point, while they slept, Whumpee had pulled Caretaker on top of them.

They really should have expected this. Whumpee often woke with pillows or wadded-up blankets in their arms. Hopefully, they wouldn’t get Caretaker sick. They had worn a mask to bed, which was part of their breathing trouble when they woke, but Caretaker was already weak from their session with Whumper.

Trying hard not to wake their sleeping friend, Whumpee twisted to lay Caretaker on the bed beside them. Caretaker flinched in Whumpee’s arms. Whumpee paused, watching their gentle face scrunch into an almost pained expression. As they relaxed, Whumpee shifted again. This time, Caretaker let out a low moan. Their muscles twitched. Brow furrowed with no sign of relaxing. It was worrying.

Moaning again, Caretaker twisted their fist into Whumpee’s shirt. Their eyes moved under their eyelids, following things Whumpee couldn’t see. “Don’t… Don’t. Don’t. Please, take me.”

Now Whumpee understood. “Wake up. Caretaker, wake up. It’s just a dream. You’re alright. You’re safe now.”

Whumpee was almost impressed with how hard Caretaker flinched as their eyes opened. They would have said as much if the motion hadn’t slammed Caretaker down on Whumpee and knocked the wind out of them.

“Whumpee? Oh no. Whumpee, I’m so sorry. I should have known this would happen. I’ve always been a cuddler in my sleep. I’m really, really sorry.”

“It’s alright! Don’t worry about it, Caretaker. I’m the same way.” Caretaker slid to the side, and Whumpee was finally able to take a full breath. “I’m sorry for waking you. It seemed like you were having a nightmare.”

Caretaker ducked their head, “Don’t worry about it. I needed to wake up and change my bandages anyway.” They pressed their hand against Whumpee’s forehead. “I think your fever finally broke. How are you feeling?”

“I don’t want to talk about that. Can you tell me what you were dreaming about?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine. I don’t feel good at all. Every muscle in my body aches. I think if I tried to stand, I would puke, and my head and throat are throbbing. Now, were you dreaming about Whumper?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Look, if anyone is going to understand what you may or may not be feeling right now, it’s me. You don’t have to talk about it, but I want you to know you can. I know I haven’t built a reputation of being the best at listening, but please, I want you to come to me if you ever feel scared or angry or hurt or anything at all.”

Caretaker giggled. “Don’t want me to pick up any bad coping mechanisms?”

Whumpee shrugged, “If you do, I know what that’s like too.”

Instead of answering, Caretaker buried their head in Whumpee’s chest. After a comfortable moment, their head whipped up, eyes wide, “Wait. I’m so sorry, is this okay? I didn’t mean to just throw myself on you again. It’s just before you said-”

“It’s okay if it’s you.” Whumpee pushed Caretaker’s head back onto their chest, careful of their injuries. “I meant it then, I mean it now.”

“Why?”

“You’re safe.” Whumpee rested their chin gently on top of Caretaker’s head. “I didn’t know it at first. When I was rescued, nothing felt safe. I don’t know when things changed, but they did. Maybe, one day, I’ll be safe for you too.”

“You already are, Whumpee.” Caretaker yawned and snuggled in closer. “Thank you.”

As Caretaker drifted off to sleep, Whumpee petted their hair and whispered. “You saved my life, Caretaker. If all I can do to start making it up to you is to listen to your woes and hold you as you sleep, I promise to listen and hold on until the day we die. You mean more to me than you will ever know.”

"Deal." Caretaker's sleepy voice was barely more than a sigh, "And in return, I'll do the same."

#whumptober 2023 #no.13 #i don't feel so good #oc #whump fic #sickfic #whumpee #caretaker #mentioned whumper #falling asleep #sleeping together #just sleeping #no hanky panky #talking about mental health

10 notes · View notes

whumpy-wyrms · 2 months

Text

whumpee who’s supposed to be dead, but was kidnapped by whumper instead. maybe whumper faked whumpee’s death, or maybe whumpee did die but whumper is a necromancer and brought them back to life, and replaced their body with a fake. whatever could’ve happened, nobody else knows that whumpee is alive and trapped with whumper.

there are no missing posters, no news reports, no search for the beloved whumpee because they’re legally dead. whumper taunts whumpee by making them watch their own funeral, or visit their own grave. whumpee is stuck with whumper knowing that nobody is looking for them or would ever find them because everyone thinks their body is buried deep underground.

#perhaps this is based on silas and aspen. perhaps #wyrms whumps #whump prompt #whump blog #whump tropes #whump prompts #whump idea #whump #whumper #whumpee #whumpblr #whump scenario #whump community #captivity whump #kidnap whump #death mention

102 notes · View notes

ibims1seb · 5 months

Text

A little something about defiant Whumpee!

I know we like to see those feisty little boys crumble to the ground, utterly broken!

But, Let me pose you: A Whumper who likes the defiance. One who enjoys the sassy comments, rude remarks and sarcastic lines. Whumper who is amused by seeing Whumpee think they have some kind of power in the situation and they let them float in it, not really punishing them. And I hear you. That doesn’t really sound whumpy but now imagine that whumper snapping at Whumpee, who was just one tiny itty bitty bit above a nonexistent line.

Maybe they slap them hard across the face for a comment. The usual grin replaced by a frown and harsh narrow eyes. Or maybe they start yelling at Whumpee, the amused tone making room for a cold and not at all smug voice. Or Whumper doesn’t need to do anything, the dropped face being enough for Whumpee to shut up and know that they have crossed a line.

And now Imagine Whumpee, completely thrown back by the sudden change of emotions. They can do nothing but stare up at Whumper, all the defiance and sass erased from their eyes while they try to figure out what just happened. Where was that line? Was it just for fun or did they actually go to far? Who knows! Definitely not them. :)

And then Whumper’s smile returns again. But it isn’t the same! It’s a lot darker and creepier than what they usually wear. It is absolutely unnerving and terrifying for Whumpee.

So yeah, defiant Whumpee….

Please let me know where I can find something like this, thanks

Masterlist

#defiant whumpee #whumper #carewhumper #whump trope #whump prompt #whumpee #tw slap #tw mentioned yelling

187 notes · View notes

allthingswhumpyandangsty · 11 months

Text

a guilt-stricken caretaker who’s drowned in guilt and shame.

a guilt-stricken caretaker who cannot stop reliving the moment they angrily yelled at whumpee to get out of their sight when whumpee came timidly asking for caretaker to stay with them because they were afraid.

a guilt-stricken caretaker who keeps asking themself why they let a scared and trembling whumpee walk out of their front door that night.

a guilt-stricken caretaker who wishes they could turn back time and undo what they did.

a guilt-stricken caretaker who’s sitting next to whumpee’s bed at the hospital, where whumpee lies unconscious and is intubated. their body’s covered in deep wounds, because after caretaker yelled at them to leave that night, they did, and that’s how whumper got them.

438 notes · View notes