You can call me Pepper (fake name) and I use she/they pronouns.
This is my whump focused side blog, it’ll also have quite a lot of hero/villain stuff but usually in a whumpy context
I’m a big fan of these whump tropes:
- conditioned Whumpee
- creepy/intimate Whumper
- drugging
- exhaustion
- vampire Whumper
- fantasy whump
- pet whump
- hero/villain whump
- touch starved or touch adverse Whumpee (especially x intimate Whumper)
- Whumper x Whumpee
- female Whumper and female Whumpee
These whump tropes I’m not as big a fan of, I generally don’t write them but I’ll read them:
- character death
- excessive gore/violence/torture (branding, whipping, beating, etc just for the sake of it and not part of a larger story/dynamic that does have tropes I like)
Captive whumpee has their own room, or closet, or cage, and when they enter it whumper won't touch them. They are never restrained in a way that prevents them from fleeing to their place. Whumper will lure them out with food or painkillers, with undoing any restraints still on them, with the promise of a shower, and whumper keeps those promises. Whumpee comes to feel safe in their place, and knows that, at least in this one thing, they can trust whumper.
And then the rescue happens, and the rescuers drag whumpee out of their safe place to get them to actual safety.
I woke up this morning thinking about a whumper who keeps their whumpee locked up in a very cold environment when they're not with them. Not cold enough to freeze to death, but cold enough that when Whumper DOES come by to assault them, Whumpee just can't help themselves from pressing back into the body heat, desperate for the warmth even if they're horrified by what's being done to them.
i don't want this. whumpee thinks it over and over again, every time whumper comes to visit. i don't want this. i don't want this. whumper is spooning up behind them, their hands wandering whumpee's body, their heat a blissful relief from the awful cold that they can't escape any other way. whumpee's eyes are squeezed tight shut and they can't breathe right. they can't resist leaning into the chest at their back, skin on skin, the thick blanket that whumper always brings with them settled around them, holding their warmth in.
they don't bother to say it out loud anymore. they did, the first couple of times. whumper had laughed, groped their chest, pinched their skin, breathed heavily into the crook of their neck. "someone who doesn't want this would be fighting it," they'd said. they'd taunted whumpee about their neediness, pulled away suddenly and laughed even harder when whumpee whimpered and chased after the abruptly stolen heat.
so whumpee doesn't bother begging for them to stop anymore. they just close their eyes and cry and try not to think about what's happening. they try to focus on the warmth, putting aside everything else.
when they're rescued, and caretaker opens a blanket and their arms, offering whumpee warmth with a worried frown, seeing how cold they are, they stare for a long moment. and when they accept, pressing close to their rescuer's chest, they go still. they close their eyes. they try not to think about what's going to happen. (what's surely going to happen. what always happens.)
Chat you’ll have to forgive me for this one but I’ve been obsessed with Project Hail Mary, and of course I’m always thinking about how to make things even more whumpy than they already are, so I present to you: Box Boy Grace AU
In this AU, after Grace is blacklisted from work in the science field, instead of working as a middle school teacher, he’s unable to find a job. Eventually, with no money to pay rent, he loses his home. Now living on the streets, at some point he decides that even getting abused as a box boy is better than starving or freezing to death in an alleyway. At least he’ll be warm. He sells himself to the WRU. After a while in training, Grace is now up for sale on the website.
So you know how since the astronauts on the Hail Mary were giving up their lives, they packed a bunch of things (movies, that hologram room of nature, alcohol, etc.) on the ship to make the time after they solved the problem and before they all killed themselves more enjoyable?
Eva Stratt purchases a box boy for the crew. A box boy named Ryland Grace.
Cannon to the og universe, everyone else on the ship except for Grace die on the journey there. So now, Ryland Grace, who may or may not even remember being a scientist before selling himself to the WRU, is alone on a spaceship with no master, and no instructions. He’s completely alone, he’s terrified, and he’s lost without any orders. This is when he finds some kind of message to the crew, detailing what their mission was, since Stratt knew that when they woke up they would have temporary memory loss. Grace decides that this is as close to an order as he’s going to get and decides to try to save the world.
Multiple Whumpees but focused on the recovery stage instead of the whump stage. Maybe there's one Caretaker, maybe multiple whom all take care of the Whumpees, but care is split equally between the Caretakers. Either way, now Caretaker (I will be using only one for my ideas for this prompt) has to figure out how to deal with multiple traumatized Whumpees. Even better if they all went through the same trauma so Caretaker assumes they will all be similar but in reality they all act very different. Maybe you have one very open Whumpee and one stoic one, and the open one asks Caretaker to stop doing something and Caretaker does the same for stoic Whumpee but actually stoic Whumpee really liked what they were doing. So many delicious miscommunication options.
Whumpee who has a teammate that reminds them superficially of Whumper and has to deal with the fact that they’re afraid of their friend who hasn’t done anything to them
god i love this. i have a thread like this in my fic history rhymes and digging into this is one of the things i'm the most excited for down the line. this got a little long :)
--
"it isn't your fault."
teammate looks at whumpee strangely, not understanding what they're talking about. whumpee didn't say anything before that, didn't preface this with anything. the energy in the room feels strange and heavy. sad.
"i know you've noticed it," whumpee goes on. "the way that i... when you.... yeah."
that's not any less vague than their opener, but teammate knows, this time, exactly what they're talking about. of course they've noticed, of course they have. whumpee.. flinches. they've flinched a lot since whumper, of course, but not like this. not like they do with teammate. they flinch consistently with teammate, shy away from them, their breathing picks up when teammate is near. unlike the rest of them, teammate doesn't try to comfort them anymore, not after the first couple of times.
"yeah," teammate says. they try to keep their voice neutral. they try not to sound hurt or confused or upset, though they've felt all of those things in spades. they weren't the closest on the team before this, but they were- they were close. they trusted each other. and now it's just them that whumpee is like this with.
they've seen whumpee clinging to the others, is the thing. confiding in them. just sitting on the couch watching tv. they've even seen them sleeping in bed with someone else a few times, when they've been up at night wandering around, kept up by their own troubles. it's made their chest throb to see that. they'd- it's not their place. they don't get to decide how whumpee heals. they don't get to force themself into a role that whumpee doesn't want them in. but... but they'd be lying if they said that they didn't wish it was their door whumpee came to when they felt unsafe. it would be something they could do to help their friend. there was nothing they could do before, nothing they could do when whumper was- but there's nothing they can do now, either, apparently.
"it's not your fault," whumpee repeats. they're not looking teammate in the eye. "i just- you deserve to know. because you... the way that i- look you just- you look like them. that's all."
"i look like..."
"like whumper. yeah."
teammate hadn't thought about it. they really hadn't. not until now. but as soon as whumpee says it, they can see it so clearly. they really, really do. fuck. fuck, they really do. they look like whumper.
they look like their friend's rapist.
"and i've been just hoping it would stop, that it would just go away, but it hasn't, and i just didn't want you to think you were doing anything wrong."
it's.... that's really fucking sweet, is what that is. teammate stares at whumpee, eyes wide and their heart feeling bruised in their chest. "i'm...." all they can think of to say is, "i'm sorry."
"it's not your fault."
"no, i just- i'm sorry that you have to live with that reminder. that's all. i wish i could... i don't know. if there is anything i can ever do, just tell me. i can dye my hair, i can cut it, not much i can do about most of... me, i guess, but. if you ever want me to, i'll try something. whatever i can."
now whumpee looks at them. the expression on their face is unreadable.
"there's one thing, actually," whumpee says. "one thing i'd- one thing i want you to try, if that's okay?"
whatever it is, teammate knows that they're immediately going to agree. change their hair, get a half dozen facial piercings, whatever it is, they'll do it.
"i- will you hug me? i think... i might flinch. but i... i don't want you to stop. i just. i want to see. i..." whumpee breathes in deeply, their shoulders rising and falling. caretaker just watches, speechless. "i miss you. so, uh. do you think you could? maybe?"
give me stories where the villain is doing terrible things because it's the only way anyone will listen, like they've tried petitions and protests and polite letters and nobody cared, nobody looked, nobody changed a single thing, and so they start breaking windows and burning buildings and holding the world hostage because attention is the only currency that matters, because you can't fix a problem nobody sees, and the hero spends years chasing them, hating them, calling them terrorist and monster and psychopath, and the villain lets them, encourages them, because every headline about the villain is a headline about the cause, every battle with the hero is a conversation the world finally has to have.
and the villain knows they're making themselves the villain, knows they're sacrificing their own humanity so that the real issue can wear their face instead, and they die with the hero's hands around their throat or a blade through their chest or a bullet they could have dodged but didn't, and only then, only then, does the hero find the documents, the evidence, the proof that the villain was right, that the system was rotten, that people were dying in silence while the world looked away, and the hero realizes with sickening clarity that every crime they stopped was a distraction from a bigger crime, that every person they saved from the villain was still doomed by the thing the villain was trying to expose, that the villain wasn't stealing the money, they were redistributing it; wasn't destroying the lab, they were freeing the prisoners; wasn't threatening the city, they were forcing the city to look at the poison in its own water, and the hero was the weapon used to silence the only person telling the truth.
now imagine this. hero standing in the aftermath with the villain's blood on their hands and the truth in their ears, watching the world finally wake up, finally march, finally change, all because the villain made themselves the sacrifice, made themselves the monster, made themselves the story that eclipsed the real story just long enough for the real story to become undeniable, and the hero has to give interviews and accept medals and smile for cameras while knowing that the person who actually saved everything is the one they killed, the one they called evil, the one whose last words were probably something the hero mocked, something the hero used as proof of their insanity...
and now those words are graffiti on every wall, are chanted at every rally, are the name of the movement that changes the world, and the hero can't say anything, can't confess, can't tell the truth without destroying the very thing the villain died for, because the movement needs a hero, needs a clear narrative, needs the villain to stay the villain so that the cause can stay pure, and the hero understands finally that the villain knew this too, that they planned for this, that they chose to die misunderstood so that the truth could live clean and unburdened by their complicated methods, their necessary violence, their stained hands, and the hero lives the rest of their life as the face of a revolution they didn't start, wearing a halo the villain forged in their own blood, and every time someone thanks them they hear the villain's voice saying you're welcome or i'm sorry or make it worth it or just a simple please. and they smile and nod and go home and stare at the mirror and wonder if becoming the villain's opposite was just another way of becoming their continuation, if the hero the world needed and the villain the world deserved were always the same person wearing different masks, and the only difference is that one of them got to choose when to take theirs off and-
whumper's rules being so insidious and that they conditioned whumpee to fear normality. 'Pet' all the time but Whumpee's name during punishment. Always on their knees unless they were being lead somewhere Bad. Allowed to eat at a table only when they were about to be lent. Given permission to speak only when they're made to beg for punishment. Taking care of their wounds only as a way to hurt them.
whumper who would keenly watch out for things whumpee liked so that they could snatch it up, because they loved to see the split second of devastation on whumpee's face, before they'd try to cover it up. depriving them of any and all comforts.
so once whumpee has been rescued, they always do their very best to hide their joy when something they find lovely is within reach. even though whumper would eventually realise when they liked something too much, maybe these people won't. they haven't known whumpee for as long as whumper did, after all.
when caretaker tries to query after whumpee's preferences, they clam up and give the answers as vaguely as possible— anything other than neutral and detached will be used to hurt them, honestly, but they'd eat a hundred of that wretched broccoli dish if it meant they could get a bite or two of their favourite every once in a while.
one day, caretaker reached out to gently ruffle whumpee's hair, and they have to stand so still in order to stop themself from leaning into the warm touch. they are almost overwhelmed by their longing to press back, but that will only make caretaker realise how much they love this, and then they might start pulling at their hair with the pretense of ruffling it. whumpee would undeniably fall for it.
so they shut up. they don't move. and they keep hoping that caretaker won't notice and put an end to it.
whumpee that’s autistic and just tired. whumpee that’s going through autistic burnout and just lets whumper do as they please because it’s too difficult to do anything, even beg to stop the pain.
or alternatively caretaker that saves whumpee, but the burnout is still there. caretaker taking whumpee out to cafes and watching movies but it feels almost worst than the torture, because whumpee knows caretaker is (unconsciously) expecting them to mask and smile and even just sitting is too tiring. atleast whumper let them collapse and ‘rest’ on the floor
Did you know that you're not supposed to pet birds under their wings, or they might believe you're mates?
Anyway. Winged Whumpee who VASTLY overestimates their relationship with ace+aro caretaker.
#372
content: nonhuman whumpee, winged whumpee, avian whumpee, rocky recovery, recovery fic, emotional whump, past trauma, bad caretaker because you really should've looked up bird stuff before taking in whumpee
Whumpee was sitting on one of the chairs in the kitchen, swinging their legs back and forth, watching Caretaker prepare a meal of assorted seeds for them. Their wings were tightly tucked behind their back so they wouldn't bump into the back of the chair, and they were quietly humming to themself. They felt happy. Who knew that right after the tragedy of having been kidnapped and kept in a zoo for months on end, the people who rescued them would place them in a home with someone who would become their mate?
Caretaker had never officially said it out loud, but did they need to? It was obvious from the way they gently scratched Whumpee under the wing, in their gentle touches, their soothing words. So Whumpee was happy.
"Here," Caretaker said with a smile, placing the seeds in front of them on the table.
"Thank you," Whumpee chirped, and they blushed a little at just how high-pitched their voice sounded. Caretaker could still embarrass them with such simple acts of kindness. As their mate, they really should've gotten used to it by now. "Will you eat with me?"
"Ah, no. I'm kinda in a rush. I just put together your food and now I'm off to work."
"Oh." Don't sound disappointed. Don't sound disappointed. Don't sound disappointed. "I see! Well, I hope you have a wonderful day. But our date tonight still stands, right?"
Caretaker furrowed their brows and let out an awkward little laugh. "Our date?"
"Yeah, in that take-out restaurant you keep mentioning. You told me you'd take me out?"
"I did, yeah, but it's not… It's not a date."
Whumpee blinked. But when mates went out on outings like that, they called that dates, didn't they? Maybe Caretaker was just uncomfortable with Whumpee being so direct. It'd make sense, given Caretaker was too shy to even call them their mate so far. "Oh. Right. Not a date. Just an outing."
"As friends," Caretaker added, kind of emphasising their point. Whumpee froze entirely.
"I don't understand," they said quietly, rejection blooming in their heart like a bush full of of thorns. "But we're mates, aren't we?"
"Whumpee— What? No. I don't— I'm not interested in you like that," they said gently. "I'm not interested in anyone like that. I'm ace."
"What's that mean?"
"Asexual, like, not interested in anyone sexually. And aromantic, not interested in anyone romantically. But especially not you."
Oh. Especially not them. "What do you mean…?"
"You're traumatised and vulnerable. I would never take advantage of that." Well, that made the previous statement a little better, but it still stung.
"It's not 'taking advantage' to court someone and then enter a relationship!" they insisted. They loved Caretaker. It not being reciprocated was shattering the tiny world they'd managed to rebuild.
"When have I ever courted you?" Caretaker asked, baffled.
"You do things only mates would do! Like petting me under the wing! And I let you, because I felt safe with you, and I wanted it too, and, and—"
"Oh." Caretaker rubbed the back of their neck awkwardly. "I think… I think there's a misunderstanding here. I never thought of that as courting."
"But—"
"I don't know a lot about your culture, admittedly… I didn't know, okay? I didn't know that was like a romantic thing for you. Look, I really have to rush, we'll have this conversation after work, okay?"
"But—"
"Be good! I'll be back in a few hours!"
Whumpee watched them rush out of the apartment, and they were left there, all alone. They had been left alone plenty of times in the apartment, but this was the first time they really felt alone.
"Okay…" they mumbled to themself, pushing their plate of seeds away. They weren't hungry anymore.
Mind control that doesn't go away. Sure, they're out of Whumper's hands, but for whatever reason, the control doesn't lessen entirely.
It's not noticeable at first, but something is undeniably happening.
Their face will go blank sometimes, and they'll snap to attention.
They only speak when spoken to, and even then, they're much too quiet.
Offhand comments are followed to the letter, they let themself be touched and handled and do whatever they're told, no complaints.
When (if) their team figures this out, it complicates things. They can't be as casual around them as they'd like to be, have to monitor everything they say to make sure they don't take advantage of Whumpee.
Carefully phrasing questions to make sure they aren't misunderstood as orders, always leaving comments open for questions or objections... the vulnerability of caring about someone who can't consent to... anything, right now. Even the seemingly normal things.
When the whumpee is exhausted and really should be resting, but they’re stubborn and not listening to their teammates, so their teammates come up with a plot to make them stay in bed. One of their teammates picking them up and carrying them to bed against their will, and another of their teammates settling a third, injured teammate on them as soon as the whumpee is in bed. The whumpee arguing and struggling the entire time they’re carried, but going still and silent as soon as the injured, sleepy teammate is placed in their arms. The injured teammate curling into the whumpee, and the whumpee having no choice but to stay in bed holding them. The whumpee drifting off to sleep within a few minutes once they’ve been forced to stay put, and sleeping there with their injured teammate for hours, which causes the rest of their team to keep this strategy in mind for the next time the whumpee won’t rest.
Human Hero, cursed with regeneration powers, is enslaved to Vampire Villain's coven. Maybe Hero gave themselves up to protect the city. Maybe Hero woke up drained and bleeding in Villain's arms, betrayed by their team "for the good of the people." Maybe, just maybe, Hero hopes that with enough blood loss, they can finally die.
