
titsay
will byers stan first human second
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
$LAYYYTER

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@saccharin-simper
Caretaker goes to rescue Whumpee only to find that they’re not the only captive. Naturally Caretaker gets them all out but is upset because they definitely do not have enough beds for all the whumpees. Cue one of them saying something like, “ oh don’t worry, I haven’t had a bed for years! Anything is better than a cage”
Caretaker ends up pulling all the mattresses together cause they don’t want to be split up, so they all end up in a big cuddle puddle in the middle of the living room floor.
Collar
CW: Shock collar, degradation, humiliation
Shock collar that activates every time Whumpee talks, until they're terrified to make a sound.
Then after they're rescued, Caretaker is horrified to discover that the chatty Whumpee they knew has turned completely mute and refuses to speak even after the collar is removed
Having to find new ways to communicate while trying to teach Whumpee to talk again
Permanent burn marks ringing Whumpee's neck
Power-suppressing collar around a super's neck
The Villain clawed and spat and yelled, now they sit in shame, their greatest asset stripped from them
Subdued Hero paraded around like a party favour by the Villain after turning them harmless (or the other way around)
A bejewelled collar covered in rhinestones that cost tens of thousands, but Whumpee would do anything to get rid of it
Or maybe they wear it with pride
"There now, you should be grateful I spend so much on you." "Yes, Master."
Living Weapon/Monster!Whumpee collared so they don't hurt themselves or others
Collar so tight it chafes, leaves bruises, maybe even cuts off Whumpee's air supply
Pet!Whumpee who is fiercely protective of their collar, feels exposed without it, so when Caretaker tries to convince them otherwise it only makes them more distrustful
Team gets captured and Leader is dragged out and collared in front of them, the leash tight in Whumper's hand as they smile down at Leader
Prisoner/guard dog Whumpee who wears a collar as a mark of identification with their number/owner on the tag
The whumpee casually referencing torture and abuse. When the caregiver goes sets down a plate of food, the whumpee off-handedly mentions how they were only allowed to eat once a day. It takes the caregiver a few weeks to notice that the whumpee never uses hot water when they’re by themselves, because they’re “not allowed.” The caregiver is horrified as more details come to light, crying themselves to sleep because they don’t know how to make it better.
this is actually still my favourite prompt I’ve written so if anyone wants to fill it I will be eternally grateful
does anyone wanna read the first specifically whump scenario I ever wrote?
@promptsforyourwhumpfic say no more!
[Lost, hypothermia, open ending]
[Character] went missing days ago. At first you were frantic, calling in the emergency services and screaming at the phone when they told you the near-impossibility of finding them. When [character] left, they had their phone with them; you tried to reach them frantically, day and night, stacking a funeral pyre of missed calls. Gradually, you started to lose hope; but today, finally, your call goes through. The reception cuts in and out, filled with static. You fire non-stop questions down the line. Where are you? Are you okay? What happened? But their answers are vague and nonsensical, their voice quiet and slurred. Gradually, your words change: hold on, I'm here, I'll find you, it'll be okay, just keep talking. I won't leave you. I'm here. I'm here. Hold on for me. "It's... cold." Their voice is halting, little more than a whisper. "And I'm tired." It's the closest they get to lucidity. More than once, the phone goes dead quiet and dread almost chokes you. Maybe the reception's just cut out again; maybe you've heard their voice for the last time. You keep talking, resorting to nonsense. Childhood nursery rhymes. Describing your house. They're not responding to you any more, but maybe they can still hear your voice. Eventually common sense takes over. This could save them; the signal could be traced. Ending the call feels like cutting a lifeline, though you've already watched them drown. Later, you find them curled in the snow, frozen fingers still gripping the phone.
'Its the closest they get to lucidity' OUGH THIS SLAPS
And the questions moving from demands to comfort is such a subtle-but-effective way to show the transition from shock to worry as the caretaker begins to rationalise the events and put a plan into place.
'Later, you find them curled in the snow, frozen fingers still gripping the phone.' I. LOVE. THIS. IMAGE.
Stomme and the Princess, Part 2
CW: slave whump, royal caretaker/carewhumper/whumper, a perpetual miasma of fear, and some dehumanizing language.
We get another person's perspective on Princess Rayana, I wonder what conclusions people shall draw~
*** Part 1 *** Masterlist *** Overseer Yan had not punished her, which was equal parts distressing and so merciful Stomme could cry all over again from it. Maybe he'd pitied her, seeing her come to him red faced and already crying and shaking like the leaves in winter. He'd spoken to her kindly, promising that he knew she was a dedicated worker, and he was willing to write this off as just a fluke, and she could consider going to bed without supper punishment enough for this. He'd ordered her to bed early, even, stating that now that the princess was back, they'd be out in force the following day, and she should be well rested for it.
Which, he was right. With the princess had come the castle's entire army, Stomme somehow not connecting the dots that there hadn't been any guards hanging around before. But they were here now, soldiers and knights (and she didn't know which ones were knights, but she knew at least some of them would have to be) filling the well appointed training ground and armory and the entire southern wing of the castle, which was now reopened again and Stomme and the other servants dutifully cleaning it out.
"Yeah, they were all out on the hunting trip with Her Highness," Dandelion, a servant girl who cheerfully chattered with Stomme despite the differences in their rank, told her when she hesitantly asked about it. "She goes out monster hunting every summer on Count Shelley's behalf, and comes back mid-fall most years. She's early, this time, which is why we hadn't cleaned out this wing ahead of time. Didn't anyone tell you?"
Well, no, but Stomme was just a slave and also hadn't asked.
hey now im going to report animal abuse
Uhhh smth smth alt ver of Barb fight idk dude I just wanted to draw smth crazy
Whumpee who's always been super helpful to their friends and feels uncomfortable asking for help themselves, but after being assaulted and trying to act like everything's fine their friends tell them, "You've always been there for us, let us be here for you."
ouuuuuoouough yeah that hits that really REALLY hits. it hits so good.
there's the culmination of the love they've shown - love they've never asked to be paid back for, asked to be returned. they've cared for their friends and shown up for them because they wanted to, but now they're in their worst moment and they have no choice but to need help. they just can't do this on their own. they're physically hurt or emotionally devastated and the trauma is unbearable.
but their friends are their. it's their turn now. "you never judged us for a minute," whumpee is told. "do you think we're going to think less of you now? do you think that little of us?"
the reflection of their own care shown back to them. that's a moment i'm always crazy about in role reversal type stuff - just. oh. oh, is this how they felt? is this what it was like to look at me when they opened the door and i was there to help?
ideally this ends in a sobbing breakdown <3
A whumpee on their knees with their hands chained above them please nod if you agree
Couples therapy is expensive but beating the shit out of each other is free~
For Day 1 of Tamlin Week 2025 - Forgiveness / Change | @tamlinweek
Caretaker watching whumpee sleep after rescuing and patching them up, tears steaming down their face because oh my god, oh my god, they’re back, they’re alive, they’re here.
They don’t want to close their eyes, don’t want to let whumpee out of their sight for even a second. When it’s finally impossible to stay awake, Caretaker crawls into bed next to Whumpee, gently taking their hand.
They had to be sure they would still be there when they woke up.
Slave whumpee being gifted to a royal that they haven’t seen yet. They clean empty rooms, tend fires for no one, dust knock knacks for no one to look at.
It’s both the safest they’d felt in a long time and also the most afraid. Dread haunts them for when the royal finally does show up, but in the meantime, they’re taking orders from someone else, someone without the authority to really hurt them.
They try not to let themselves slack, but one day, they struggle to keep up. Their head is pounding, everything aches, and they find themself curling up on the floor in front of the fireplace “for just a moment, swear it” because they’re just so cold…
Waking up to a blanket draped over them, a pillow tucked under their head, the royal they’d been given to sitting in an armchair watching them thoughtfully.
Stomme and the Princess, Part 1
Stomme was just barely small enough to pass muster. Brown skin tanned darker from laboring in her last owner's fields, her shoulders broad even without the muscle, her dark brown hair bleached from the sun so it was scarcely darker than her skin, hands wide and cracked and calloused and rough, her chest and rear flat enough it'd spared her the roaming hands and eyes that other women of her rank would have to deal with. Ugly enough she was still untouched (if you didn't count scars and whip marks as touched), plain enough that she could still be considered for her new role.
Her new role in a palace.
Yaaaay.
Slave whumpee being gifted to a royal that they haven’t seen yet. They clean empty rooms, tend fires for no one, dust knock knacks for no one to look at.
It’s both the safest they’d felt in a long time and also the most afraid. Dread haunts them for when the royal finally does show up, but in the meantime, they’re taking orders from someone else, someone without the authority to really hurt them.
They try not to let themselves slack, but one day, they struggle to keep up. Their head is pounding, everything aches, and they find themself curling up on the floor in front of the fireplace “for just a moment, swear it” because they’re just so cold…
Waking up to a blanket draped over them, a pillow tucked under their head, the royal they’d been given to sitting in an armchair watching them thoughtfully.
Enough
Big fan of just the word ‘Enough’. Mostly said by Whumpers.
In a soft voice, to his henchmen who are torturing Whumpee for him. Signalling for them to stop. For now.
To a Whumpee, also in a soft voice just barely cutting over them, when Whumpee is just a babbling mess trying to get out their begging and Whumper just holds up a hand. “Enough.” And Whumpee immediately falls silent.
This time in a loud voice as Whumper gets tired of Whumpee’s struggles and fighting and he stops toying with them, beating them down perhaps with a single punch and a roared ‘Enough!’
A Whumpee who has been subjected to torture for hours, days, weeks. And they break with a whisper: “Enough…: (I’ll tell you what you want, do what you want).
Maybe a Caretaker, who thought they wanted to hear what Whumpee has gone through but halfway they can’t take it anymore and just whisper in the smallest voice “Enough…”
we should torture princes more. and make their knights watch but be unable to help. we should lock them up in cellars but make them unable to touch. all they can do is talk. the knight is quite terrible at comforting people with words but god he cannot bear to hear his prince cry any longer.
dear god please picture the knight's hand (still gauntleted) reaching just enough through the bars of their prince's prison to stroke his tear-streaked cheek, and the prince leaning into it
“It— It hurts. Gods, it hurts more than I—“
“I know, majesty,” the Knight whispers. The setup is simple, but effective; two adjacent cellars, separated by a simple pathway of stone. It’s cruel, to be this close, and unable to touch…
The Knight has never been touchy-feely, if he is honest. Even as he walked alongside his Prince, he was always sure to keep a respectful distance— two paces back, one to the left. He is sorely regretting his chivalry now.
For the nth time, he extends a gauntleted hand through the bars of his cell. He cannot… quite… reach, but the Prince extends his hand too, as much as it pains him to do so, and they are able to grasp each other in the middle.
“I will get us out of here. Do you understand me?” The Knight says, voice humming with grit. He may not be good at comfort, but he still has his armor. That must mean something.
The Prince sighs a horrible little note of pain. It’s easier, when he’s straining himself like this, to see his wounds— lashes in the stomach, in the sides, in the back. They aren’t particularly severe or deep, but they burn a painful red. The Knight would give anything to switch places with him.
Which is what their captors want. Gods, what a simple, perfect trick. The Knight will have to tell the executioner about this when they get back.
He is snapped out of his own thoughts by the sound of the Prince shuddering in pain. The smallest gust of wind must irritate the hot wounds. “Knight,” he whispers, and the Knight’s heart jumps, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” The Knight hisses, almost angry at the apology. “You have done nothing. Less than nothing, you have endured a pain I should’ve protected you from. I am the one who should be apologizing.”
The Prince chuckles. “So… selfless. All the time. I simply regret…” He pauses, takes a low breath. The Knight waits for him to speak more, but the Prince’s head has slumped forward against the bars, unconscious.
“Prince,” he whispers, squeezing his majesty’s hand. “Prince, my dear, are you alright? Please, you have to wake up. What did they— Gods, please, please, Prince—“
His words echo silently off the cool walls of the prison.
whumper recording whumpee all the time and making whumpee watch recordings of their own torture is always something i love. but imagine - whumpee being saved and caretaker seeing the sheer amount of recordings that exist, unlabeled or only labeled with dates. Caretaker opens up one of the recordings, not knowing what they are at first, and realizing with horror what all of them contain.