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@bunny300
A God Whumper kidnaps Whumpee into another realm where nothing can reach them and tortures them there. After some days, weeks, or maybe years (maybe time passes differently there, way faster than in the real world), during yet another torture session, Whumper stills suddenly, is quiet for a moment, as if listening, and then bursts out laughing.
”Seems like Caretaker finally realised you have vanished,” Whumper says between amused chuckles. ”They’re praying to me to keep you safe.”
thinking about a whumpee on a forced march through rough terrain
hands tied in front of them, on foot while their captors are mounted, sleeping out in the open, forced to beg for adequate food and water
maybe they're barefoot, a captured royal in silken robes
maybe they're in a torn suit or soldier's uniform
maybe they were stripped at the start, increasing the exposure to the elements, the humiliation
are they a terrified mess from the beginning, or do they try to endure with dignity? how long before they're stumbling, barely putting one foot in front of the other? how long before they fall?
Whumpee held strong. Whumpee never broke. Whumpee never said "stop", never said "please", never shed a tear. When the law enforcement rescued him, he made sure to give as many valuable details on Whumper as he could recall. Officers tapped him on the shoulder, saying "Good job, champ."
And then Caretaker came. And hugged him, ever so gently.
Two seconds, three, five. "Ok, ok, I'm alright, you can let go now," Whumpee say. Caretaker nods and keeps holding. Fifteen seconds in Whumpee's arms raise to hug Caretaker back.
And thaaaat's when the dam breaks. First the lip begins shaking. "I'm alright, really," he says and the voice cracks. He finally cries.
"I got you," Caretaker replies softly and holds him through screaming, and ugly crying, and eventually sobbing quietly. Caretaker's vest gets wet with tears. "I got you."
whumpee who doesn’t feel safe sleeping
whumpee that will only sleep in small, hard to find spaces
whumpee that scares caretaker half to death by not being anywhere to be seen when they wake up, only to be tucked away in some nook or cranny, barely asleep
After the whump happens, Whumpee does a complete identity change. New name, new look, new (fake) backstory. Maybe they’re hiding from Whumper or maybe they just wanted some change. The old them is dead now.
Eventually, the team/their friends find out about the existence of Whumper, and more specifically they find out about the horrific things they did to a person going by a name they’ve never heard before: Whumpee’s old name.
Whumpee doesn’t want to speak up. This’ll pass and the team will assume their alter ego died or something and Whumper will be forgotten. They just have to push through it and ignore how they feel when they hear their friends commenting on the situation like Whumpee wasn’t a part of it.
Of course, the truth comes out eventually. Whumper recognises them, or someone else on the team points out a distinct, unique similarity between Whumpee and that person. Everyone’s horrified.
They’ve known for months about this terrible, terrible thing that happened to someone. Hell, one person made a pretty tasteless joke about it over brunch. But all of it feels scarily real when now they know it wasn’t just something that happened to some unknown mystery person.
It happened to Whumpee. Their Whumpee.
"hey..." whumpee says, ducking their head to look at caretaker. "you know I don't blame you for anything that's happened to me, right?"
"why not?"
the moment whumpee realizes they’re in deep shit
“you can scream if you want. no one will hear us out here.”
“don’t you dare touch me.” “oh, you’re going to wish all i did was touch you.”
whumpee notices a suspicious stain on the floor. “is that…?” “aww, did you think you were my first?”
“i feel kinda… dizzy.” “mm, it’s about time. that stuff is supposed to work faster than this.”
“you don’t have to do this. you can stop now, and i won’t tell anyone. we can pretend this never happened.” “you think that’s what i want? to let you walk away like nothing happened? no, sweetheart. i’m going to make sure you never forget this.”
“stop—stop! i don’t want this! i said i don’t—” “i know, whumpee. and i wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“whumper, please! i thought we were friends!” “oh, we’re about to be so much more than that.”
“please don’t do this. please.” and whumper’s only response is to lean in and kiss their tears away.
The progression of a defiant Whumpee from:
"Screw you, fuck-face, I'll never do what you want."
to:
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, PLEASE-"
is just the best.
caretaker who warns whumpee, "this is really going to hurt," as theyre resetting a break/pushing a dislocated shoulder back into place/etc.
whumpee who doesnt flinch and doesnt seem bothered at all. in fact, theyre more confused by the warning than anything.
caretaker who is now also confused at the lack of reaction until whumpee goes, "what? ive had way worse. thats nothing."
"you knew what they were capable of..." whumpee whispers, back turned to caretaker. "and you still left me alone with them."
Whumpee is finally free!
After almost a year of captivity, relentless horrors, an unexpected rescue, emergency surgery, months of hospital care…
They’re now in recovery and struggling with the most innocuous of triggers.
After so long trapped in a windowless space, they are desperate for fresh air. It's a primal urge. Yet, leaving a window even slightly ajar is terrifying; easier for whumper to find and recapture them.
The stress is overwhelming, mentally flicking between the two things they need: air and safety.
Cue another meltdown.
touch starvation
too scared to ask for affection
testing the waters with “casual” brushes
“please, don’t go…”
meeting a naturally physically affectionate person and being thrown for a loop
freezing up when receiving physical affection and not knowing how to react
being uncomfortable when they do receive affection
seeking out hobbies associated with physical contact (dancing, wrestling, …)
watching someone hug and feeling envy
taking long, hot showers to simulate touch
hugging self in bed to self soothe
trying to replace human affection with animal companions
learning to ask for hugs and cuddles
once they feel comfortable with it, they become insatiable for touch
(is also sometimes called “skin hunger” and i just think that’s sick)
(Whumpuary 2026, Day 29: Touch Starved)
Thinking about how fucking scary a really bad illness would be back when doctors and medicine weren't an easily accessible thing and there was really nothing to fall back on. I'm thinking fantasy scenarios here, but historical works too and whatever. Just the stomach-dropping realization that this is a bad one, and they (sick person or their caretaker) are in for a long day/week, their life on the line. Just a lot more terrifying for everyone involved!! The Fear, which leads to bedside vigils etc. So good
"You... hurt me. That wasn't punishment, wasn't correction, it was just... cruel."
"Hurt you? I made you. You should be grateful. Without that pain, you'd be nothing."
Every. Single. Time I have to open his cell door he forgets he's chained to to the wall and immediately lunges at me like a wild dog. I can tell he's going for my neck. And every single time I easily avoid him by taking a single step backwards, and the only person he ends up choking is himself. How many more times until he learns resisting me is only going to end up hurting him, do you think?
characters raised to be tools
Weapons. Trained, tested, forged in steel and fire. Failure is an inevitability that ends in death. Pain should not be felt--it should be recognized, familiar, and inconsequential
Martyrs. In the form of servants and princes, of leaders and underdogs. If blood is necessary, the martyr will lift their hands and offer it all
Shields. Like tempering a sword, but only to bear and not to lash out. Wounds are medals--not symbols of pride, but symbols of worth. A pretty shield is useless; scars mean a job well done
Experiments. Raised on the cold comfort of a lab table. Restraints are only necessary when they're not in their right mind. Is it honorable, to be twisted beyond recognition? Or is it just a necessary evil?
Monsters. Cruelty, caution, and regarding one as a creature beyond reasonable thought is tempering in its own right. But if you keep a leash at the right length, perhaps the massecre won't reach you. One can hope.
Idols. Pretty face, pretty name, pretty hands around their shoulders and throat. There to seduce, manipulate, force any feeling to come to the surface and twist it to their favor. Any genuinity stays locked behind the guilded cage that surrounds their pretty little heart
Trophies. Status and wealth and the traditions that keep someone at their heels, on their knees, to display and serve and decorate one's ballroom.
Sacrifices. Drenched in honorable clothes, prepared and adored and cleansed. The gift of hope at the cost of one's life. Is it taken with no fight? How can you escape the ropes you were born in?
