Riley stepped into the kitchen to find that the whumpee had been restrained to the ground, their hands twisted behind their back as the sniper’s boot dug painfully into their spine. He paused for a fraction of a second, the sniper’s head tilting towards him as he hung up the call, and tossed his phone on the kitchen counter.
Riley’s eyes trailed down to the writhing whumpee, who was yelling and panting violently through the fabric stuffed inconsiderately into their mouth. His lips pressed into a thin line as he pocketed his phone.
“So,” he hummed, feeling slightly uncomfortable. His hands slid into his pockets wearily. “Why’d you call?”
The sniper ground his heel into the whumpee’s back just to feel them squirm, before his dark eyes met Riley’s, the mask concealing the bottom half of his face. His hands moved smoothly, making Riley squint.
“Want you to hold them still,” the sniper signed, pointing to the whumpee on the floor. “Want to try something.”
Riley stayed planted where he was, his expression wrinkling slightly as he tried to follow the motions of his hands, before shaking his head and sighing sharply. “You know I don’t understand what you’re saying, right?”
The sniper’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Riley rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, avoiding those eyes. He had said he’d keep trying to learn, but it wasn’t easy when he’d been so busy helping the sniper with…these kinds of things. He cleared his throat, taking a hesitant step forward.
“You need me to…get something?” He asked, and the sniper shook his head, pointing at the whumpee again. Riley hummed.
“Hold them?” He guessed, and the sniper nodded his head once. Riley grimaced, but he had no choice but to do as he was told when he took his boot off their back. They immediately started squirming against the kitchen tiles, and Riley crouched down to gently grab their arms.
“Hang on, stop moving,” he murmured softly under his breath, trying to somewhat console the sobbing whumpee in any way he could. His grip almost gave way when they thrashed violently, and he tightened his grasp with a small frown. “Fuck.”
His eyes trailed up to the sniper, who signed a subtle “idiot.”
“Careful,” Riley scoffed. “I know what that means.”
He focused on trying to hold the whumpee down so they didn’t slip away, knowing that would end up in a bloodbath on the carpets, and the sniper would make him clean the stains.
Riley begrudgingly watched the sniper, who had taken out a glass and a rolling pin, and winced when he smashed it against the counter. He only stopped when they were tiny little shards, and gathered them up in his gloved hand.
When he began making his way back towards the whumpee, Riley felt his stomach twist in dreaded realisation.
“Sniper, that’s going to make a mess,” he grit out, his face paling slightly when the gag was ripped out of the whumpee’s mouth, choosing to ignore him. Before the whumpee could even take a deep breath, the sniper was pushing the glass shards into their mouth, covering it firmly to prevent them from spitting it out. With a few applications of pressure on their own throat coaxing them to swallow, he finally removed his hand.
Riley felt them hacking violently, each garbled intake of breath tearing their throat and their mouth up even further. He heard the tickle of some shards hitting the ground, surrounded in an ever growing pool of blood, their body writhing and frantically convulsing.
Riley squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head aside as he kept a firm grip on their arms, not giving them a chance to move as they shook with choking shrieks.
“Shit,” he whispered shakily under his breath, his own throat swelling with this phantom pain as they continued to gag and heave mouthfuls of blood. He hated that it had lasted for so long, too, until he felt the moment their body slumped forward, the occasional sickening drip drop of blood from their lips hitting the tiles.
The sniper had watched the whole thing contently, and when Riley finally found the strength to lift his head up, his eyes landing on him. Despite the mask, Riley could see he was smiling in satisfaction.
The idea of "sewing a zipper onto whumpee's mouth to keep it shut" was discussed in the whump server and it inspired me to make this sketch of a variation with piercings and rope/lace.
Whumptober Day 5 - every whumpee’s needs | blood loss | running out of air | hyperthermia
content: major character death, stabbing, begging
tell me if i missed anything!
———
“I’m sorry for leaving.” Whumper doesn’t pause. “I’m so so sorry for leaving. I won’t do it again, I swear.” The words leave Whumpee’s mouth as fresh tears leave their eyes when they see Whumper raise the sledgehammer again. They promise that they’ll be good now, so very good. No, Whumper, no need to break the other leg. Please, there’s really no need. They’ll behave well, they will. Please please please don’t.
The hopelessness doesn’t stop them from trying. But Whumper doesn’t care. Whumper barely notices as they raise the sledgehammer again and again and again, and Whumpee’s screeams slowly die out as their vocal cords can take it no longer. What good will it do, anyway? An abandoned warehouse with no one nearby merits no chance of a rescue.
“You lost that chance, Whumpee. You lost it when you ran away. I’m not looking for defective toys, you’re nothing to me now.”
They nod frantically, trying so hard to appease the person holding a weapon above them. Please, they’ll do anything. Please, make it stop.
“You want it to end, don’t you?” Whumpee’s eyes dare to light up with hope. That expression falls and gives way to pure terror when Whumper pulls out a knife. “I’ll grant your wish.”
There is no voice left to scream when Whumper starts stabbing, and stabbing; an insanity borne from fury driving their actions. Eventually, they stop, straightening their clothes and drying the knife.
They smile, before turning to leave. “I’m sure Caretaker will be glad to see you again.”
—
An eternity of pain came, never leaving, never ending. They waited. For what, they weren’t sure. Whumper had left them to suffer alone. To die alone.
Why had they mentioned Caretaker? Had they killed them too? No, they couldn’t think that way, they couldn’t. Then, there would really be no hope left in the world.
Whumpee heard frantic footsteps, getting louder and louder. Had Whumper came back for them? Did they regret what they did? They almost snorted; Whumper was too self-assured to ever regret anything. To ever feel guilt.
“Whumpee, can you hear me?” Huh, that’s funny. It sounded like Caretaker. “Whumpee, please. Please tell me you’re still here.”
Slowly, they opened their tired eyes. If they squinted, it kind of looked like them too. Only a little bit though, their eyes were blurred by now. They couldn’t make out any distinct features even though the person was right above them.
A hand touched their shoulder, and they flinched. The hand pulled away quickly.
Wait, was that…real? A real hand from a real person, could it be?
“Caretaker?”
The figure nodded, quickly quickly quickly. The hand reappeared on their shoulder, and this time they didn’t flinch. Caretaker’s voice cracked. “Yes. Yes, Whumpee, it’s me. Don’t leave, I’ve just found you again.”
“Your clothes…they’re gonna get bloody.” Whumpee’s voice was soft, gentle. They couldn’t speak any louder, anyway.
“They don’t matter. My clothes don’t matter so, please.”
Whumpee smiled weakly. They knew there was nothing they could do. “I’m sorry, Caretaker.”
Whumpee wraps their hands around the bowl of soup, shivering a bit as the ceramic, almost too hot to hold, touches their frigid skin. “Get some of that in you,” Caretaker says, gentle as they wrap the blanket around their shoulders a bit more tightly. “Thank goodness I went out to check the mail...”
Whumpee mumbles some non-word reply and tucks the bowl closer, shifting to hold it in one trembling hand and the spoon in the other. It clatters against the rim, making them flinch, making them remember, but they push it away, focusing instead on the life-saving food in front of them.
They fill the spoon with the thick, savory liquid, careful to get a few chunks of chicken in with it, and bring it to their lips. The hum of contentment is more sound than they’ve made in weeks, and they spoon in another mouthful, then another, closing their eyes until the bowl is empty.
Newly drowsy, feeling safe in this warm place, Whumpee sets the bowl on the coffee table and curls up on the couch, dropping into a deep sleep.
So a few days ago I was inspired by this lovely prompt by @make-it-whumpier
A whumpee is disguised to look like the enemy, whether it’s through magic, technology, or something else, they look and sound exactly like the enemy of their team. Their team quickly captures them and despite the whumpees pleas for the team to believe them, the team thinks it’s some kind of trick. The whumpee never knew their team could be so ruthless when it came to getting information until the first torture session started.
I wrote a little something for that and you can find it [here].
This is the continuation for that.
contents include: team dynamics, found family stuff, generic leader and generic whumpee, betrayal, COMFORT, nightmares, managing to insult the Villain’s and the Leader’s banter at the same time,
----------------------------------------------
“Hey, are–uh. How you feeling this morning?” Leader decided they had to try and say something, anything, even if the sound of their voice still made the younger hero flinch. Nervous, blood-shot eyes only met Leader’s for a moment before finding refuge again in the pancakes. Piled three high and covered in syrup. Just like Whumpee liked it. Just like nothing had happened.
They hadn’t been touched yet. A fork was picked up and bites were idly moved around the plate without actually making any attempt to eat them. Their only answer was a subdued shrug.
Leader couldn’t stand it. Whumpee’s face was still bruised from where Leader’s knuckles mercilessly pummeled into it, asking over and over for information they literally hadn’t possessed. The marks left purple and yellow banners all over Whumpee’s cheek and jaw, flags that seemed to stake territory Leader had never wanted to claim. The red, swollen line of a split lip and a gash near Whumpee’s temple hadn’t even begun to heal yet, and they wouldn’t be able to use their left hand for a few weeks. Not with the fingers still splinted. Needless to say they were out of commission for hero work for the time being, but it wasn’t like this was the first time they’d taken a sound beating.
This was just the first time that beating had ever come from their Leader’s own two hands.
Leader sighed and then took a seat at the kitchen table, scooting as close to their team member as they dared. (That was actually pretty close, since Leader made a living out of taking dares--Close enough to reach out a gentle hand and lay it on a thin shoulder.) They felt it tremble slightly under their touch and their stomach rolled in shame. Couldn’t win ‘em all.
“Listen–I’m… I’m sorry. I know I said it before but I gotta say it again. And I’ll keep saying it till you believe me–”
Whumpee’s fork smacked down onto the table by their plate, making everything rattle. “It’s NOT THAT–” Their voice rose for a moment before they stiffened and took a deep breath. Let it out again. “It’s not that I don’t believe you. I… I know you. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose. I know that whatever the enemy did, it disguised me so well that even you couldn’t see through it till the effects had worn off. You thought I was... one of THEM.” If there was bitterness in their voice for a moment, they couldn’t help it. “But I just… It’s like my brain knows but the rest of me doesn’t. And… And I HATE it!”
They smacked the table again, this time with their fist (the only hand they could still make a fist with) and tore away from the table. Stalking over to the fridge and giving it a swift kick with one booted foot.
“I HATE feeling this WEAK around you! I hate feeling this SCARED around you! I’ve never felt this scared around anyone in my entire LIFE. I hate–” They cut themselves off and gave the fridge another kick before storming out of the kitchen all together.
Leader sat at their spot at the table still, looking dumbly from the fridge to the uneaten pancakes, to the place where Whumpee had been. They sat in a stunned trance until he heard the door to Whumpee’s room slam shut.
Whumpee was scared of him… But didn’t want to be. The thought hurt just as badly as Whumpee’s silence had, but along with the pain and the guilt now came the spark of an… idea. That idea gradually coalesced into something firm and real; a decision. Maybe a bit of a risky one but... Leader wanted Whumpee feel safe around him. To trust him.
And Leader made a living out of taking dares.
__________
With a ragged shriek Whumpee threw the covers off their bed, followed by their kicking legs and flailing arms, till all of them lay crumpled in a shivering heap on the floor. Their heart still raced from the nightmare they’d just clawed their way out of, beating so hard in their chest they could feel it against their skin. They pressed a hand over it. The fingers were shaking. The arm was shaking. No matter what they did they couldn’t unstick the image of–
“Whumpee?” Leader was standing in the open door to their bedroom, figure carving out a solid block against the yellowish hallway light. They were so tall. Imposing. Impressive.
Whumpee scrambled off the floor because from that angle Leader looked like something else entirely.
“M'fine.” They turned away, facing the bed and mumbling. They really didn’t want to deal with this right now.
But then Leader was right behind them. There was a hand on their shoulder and–
“Stop!” Whumpee practically sobbed the word out and wrenched away, taking a couple wandering, clumsy steps till the bed knocked into their knees. They sat down on it hard and then just crumpled into themselves. “I’m sorry… I’m s-sorry I know y-you’re safe b-but I–” They bowed their head down to their knees as the tears came, streaming down their face with hitching breaths and sharp, painful coughs as they tried and failed to hold it in. Whumpee couldn’t hold it in anymore. They couldn’t hold it together. Their entire world had been tipped upside down and the one person in the world they really trusted had spent hours making sure they screamed louder than the sound of their bones breaking.
They didn’t feel “betrayed”, that didn’t seem like the right word. They felt like they were walking around with no ground underneath them. Like nothing made sense anymore and nobody--nobody--could be really trusted.
They felt lost.
It was even worse to know that Leader felt bad about it. It was even worse to know the fear they couldn’t control was just creating more and more pain.
When they felt Leader’s arms wrap around them they tried to push away again, good hand and forearm of the bad one against shoulders that were much stronger. But gentle hands held him fast. Secure. Not tight like iron, but warm and soft like a blanket tucked around them just right.
They keened louder against Leader’s chest, some kind of wall seeming to break when they weren’t being allowed to run away anymore. Crying out their misery and their shame at not being able to trust again and, deep deep down, their bitter, broiling anger.
“HoW C-COULD Y-Y-YOU IT WAS ME GODDAMMIT IT WAS ME!! THE WHOLE TIME! I P-P-hnnn--I begged you. I nEVER BEG. And you looked m-me RIGHT IN THE FACE and HURT ME ANYWAY I HATE YOU.”
The last couple words rang out loud enough for the whole base to hear. Loud enough to crack across the dark room like a slap to the face. Leader flinched around Whumpee’s sobbing, broken form, but took it. Leader knew they deserved it and just…
Took it.
Kept Whumpee tucked in tight in their arms, hands carding soft, whispering paths through their hair. Murmured next to their ear that it was okay, it was alright to hate them, it was alright to be scared. “I’m not gonna leave you though. I’m not gonna hurt you so bad like that and leave you to deal with it all alone. I’m here and I can take whatever you dish out. It doesn’t change–”
Leader’s soft words were interrupted by Whumpee’s fist against their chest. Using one fist to try and fit every molecule of hurt, wounded rage in their body and pound it all against the solid (safe) mass that held them, until they finally went limp. Exhausted, hollowed out. Tears dried up.
That’s when Leader took Whumpee’s face in their hands. Tilted Whumpee’s chin up–so careful of the bruise there–and touched their foreheads together. Whumpee closed their eyes when that face came close and that nose bumped against their own.
“It doesn’t change the fact that you’re part of this team. You’re part of this family. And your home is still right here. Even if it takes a while for the monkey in the back of your brain to realize it.”
Whumpee gave a couple tired snuffles, their hands soft in their lap, their entire weight leaning forward into Leader’s hands. They didn’t fight anymore. They understood, and it was as if the floor reappeared underneath them. The world turned itself back up off it’s head and the room didn’t seem so full of dark, alien shadows.
Whumpee was home. They realized that with a sigh of surrender, while Leader ran thumbs over their bruises and soothed reassurances over their heart.
“I promise I’ll never hurt you that way again. Never ever. Neeeever gonna hurt you again, buddy.”
Their head had already known this but now, sitting there wrapped up in Leader’s arms, their heart finally had the proof it had been screaming for. No matter how Whumpee felt they knew Leader would be there to help them through it.
“I AM going to hurt Villain though. Gonna kick their ass.” Leader mumbled against Whumpee’s hair, eliciting a wheezing laugh from inside the protective circle of their arms. “Oh no, you think I’m joking? No amount of witty banter is gonna save them this time.”
Surgery | Stitches | Being Monitored | “It’s for your own good”
Contains: generic whumpee and caretaker, needle mentions, mild blood, surgery aftermath, nonconsensual drugging, bedside vigil
Whumpee woke slowly to the sound of rhythmic beeping. It took a moment for them to pry their eyes open, and another to orient themself with where they were. Turning their head, they found Caretaker slumped in a chair next to the bed, dozing with their mouth hanging open.
The pain wasn’t as bad as they thought it might be. Probably had something to do with the IV drip attached to their arm. Pain or no pain, though, they couldn’t keep lying there. This fight wasn’t finished. Just because they got injured didn’t mean that they could stop, there was far too much to do that was way more important than their health.
Trying to stay as quiet as possible, they pushed themself up off the pillows and swung their legs over the side of the bed. The injury on their stomach felt tight and strange, but not really painful. Caretaker’s head moved slightly, and they froze, but they remained asleep.
The problem was that they were going to have to disconnect themself from the monitors, and they didn’t know what would happen then. There was no other choice, though. They carefully pulled off the wire, and the room filled with a deafening, high-pitched shriek, sending Whumpee scrambling for the machine.
A hand gripped their arm, pulling them back onto the bed. “Whumpee! What do you think you’re doing?”
“Sorry!” They winced in apology as they sat back down. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
Caretaker leaned over to push a button on the monitor and silence it before turning a glare back on Whumpee. “Why are you up? Have you lost your mind? You just had surgery, Whumpee, you’re going to tear out your stitches and start bleeding again!”
“I’ll be careful!” Whumpee protested.
“No, you’ll lie back down and stay there until the doctor says you can move.”
They scowled. “I can’t just lie in bed while everyone else is still out there risking their lives. I have to help.”
“You already risked your life, and almost lost it, remember? You’ll be of no help if you collapse or bleed to death. You have to heal first.”
Whumpee shook their head. “There’s no time for that.”
They stood again, but Caretaker did, too, grabbing them by the shoulders to stop them. “Whumpee, please. Don’t fight me on this.”
Raising their arms, Whumpee attempted to push them away. “Let me go! I need to help!” They could feel the surgery site pulling, but paid it no attention.
Unfortunately, they were still weak from blood loss and sedatives. It took Caretaker very little effort to push them back down onto the bed, only letting go briefly to punch a button before pinning them down again. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’re giving me no choice.”
“Let me go, Caretaker!” They were so busy fighting to get up that they barely noticed someone rushing into the room. It definitely caught their attention, though, when the nurse picked up a syringe and held it to their IV port.
Somehow they had a feeling they knew what was in that syringe. “No…no no, don’t!”
“I’m sorry, Whumpee,” Caretaker sighed. “It’s for your own good.”
Seconds after the drug was dispensed, Whumpee’s eyelids began to grow heavy. “Please,” they whispered, the fight leaving their body. “I need…I need to…”
They were asleep before they could finish the sentence.
Blow to the Head | Slurred Words | “I can’t think straight”
Contains: generic whumpee and caretaker, concussion, dizziness
“Whoa, Whumpee, what happened to you?” Caretaker took them by the shoulders, trying to catch their gaze.
“Nothin’.” Everything was…sideways. Like when they were a kid, spinning until they couldn’t spin anymore, then collapsing on the floor and feeling the whole room tilt underneath them. That’s what this felt like. Somehow both Caretaker and Whumpee were tilting, spinning, swinging, but not falling. “’m…f-fine.”
“No, I really don’t think you are.” Caretaker’s hand came up to touch their cheek. “Your pupils are uneven. Did you hit your head?”
“Um…m-...m-maybe?” Whumpee scrunched up their face to think, but that made pain stab through their temples. “Ow. I don’...don’ really…r’member…’s hard to…”
“Okay, okay. It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” They were pretty sure Caretaker was smiling at them, but it was hard to tell when their face wouldn’t stay still. “Let’s just go find somewhere for you to lie down.”
“‘kay.” Whumpee was pretty tired, so they weren’t going to argue. “Soun’s good.”
