I love a dazed, out-of-it, purely broken whumpee. One who is so gone and dead to the real world, they don’t notice a single thing going on. Perhaps it’s a learned coping mechanism to get through the torture. Whumpee, who is pliant to whumper’s will and clocked out to the pain not because they want to, but because it’s the only way they get through it all. Perhaps it’s what whumper was waiting for—finally breaking them into an impossible, unrecognizable shred of a being doing barely more than living despite it all.
Whumpee, so mentally broken and having physically given up so completely that they are numb to anything happening to or around them. They see and hear and feel nothing.
Not whumper.
Not whumper’s continued torture.
Not even caretaker who’d only just rushed in, ready to fight for whumpee, hoping and praying that whumpee hadn’t yet perished, only to see them doing little more than staring up at nothing, eyes dull and unseeing, with their head rolled back, barely reacting more than the involuntary flinches of their body’s nervous system and not because the feel anything happening to them. Looking more dead than caretaker ever thought a still living being could be.
Dazed. Unresponsive. Gone.
And make sure a friend or loved one sees how broken they’ve become.
“Darling, is something wrong?” Emmrich was gazing at her with that sweet, worried look. “You don’t have to drink the wine if you don’t wish.”
“No, no it isn’t that,” Rook said, waving her hand. “I just…I didn’t know this was a date.”
Words: 1,103
Notes: throwing my hat in the ring of “writing fanfic for something that isn’t even out yet”. yes i’m also smitten by the gentleman necromancer and his skeleton companion.
Yes, obviously she felt bad for misunderstanding his request. In Rook’s defense, Emmrich had asked if he could “steal her away” for a night when the team wasn’t running left and right dealing with world-ending problems. And given Emmrich’s propensity for speaking so “proper” (which was evidently rubbing off on her a bit), that could have meant any number of things!
No it couldn’t.
Unfortunately she realized that too late, which was why Rook was currently seated in the kitchen of the Lighthouse in a full suit of armor, while Emmrich was dressed in a handsome white button-up, vest, and trousers. His usual coat was missing, but Rook wasn’t about to complain about seeing more of his slender yet poised form.
When she walked into the kitchen, expecting a quick conversation or something to do with Manfred, she was startled to find the kitchen had been transformed. The lamps were dimmed, the counters were lined with candles meticulously lit and arranged, and the little table now had a vase with a single embrium flower.
Emmrich stood beside one of the chairs, wringing his gloved hands together. When she had started to explain her attire, Emmrich just wore that lovesick smile on his face.
“Yes, you do look every bit as magnificent as you do when you’re wielding that axe and cleaving through darkspawn,” he’d sighed.
So Rook took her seat (after Emmrich had pulled out her chair for her, of course). Manfred walked over from his place in the corner. He wore a bow tie around his bony neck. As he walked, the two wine bottles nestled in his pelvic bone clinked together.
He pulled the two bottles out and waved them enticingly, tilting his head.
“Yes Manfred, thank you,” Emmrich replied. “White wine for myself, and a red for the lady?”
Rook shrugged and gave an apologetic look. “I’m not much of a wine drinker myself.”
“Then you could give it a try tonight,” he suggested. While he spoke, Manfred filled the glass Emmrich held, then the glass in front of Rook. “A nice red is a great place to start, but you’re welcome to a sip from my glass as well.”
The conversation flowed as easily as it always did in Emmrich’s presence. She hardly noticed when Manfred brought out their dinners—a pasta dish Rook was certain she wouldn’t be able to pronounce but would probably sound delightful coming from Emmrich’s lips.
It was lovely. And Rook couldn’t help but feel like she’d somehow tricked Emmrich into thinking she was the kind of person that was “wined and dined”. Yes she’d made a mistake in showing up in full armor, but even if she hadn’t misunderstood, it wasn’t like she had anything fancier to wear. The alternative was the casual clothes she wore under her armor with blood and sweat stains that still didn’t come out.
“Darling, is something wrong?” Emmrich was gazing at her with that sweet, worried look. “You don’t have to drink the wine if you don’t wish.”
“No, no it isn’t that,” Rook said, waving her hand. “I just…I didn’t know this was a date.”
His brow raised. Emmrich set down his fork and wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin.
“My dear, I deeply apologize for the misunderstanding,” he explained. “I should have been more clear. You must think me a horrible cad. I can walk you back if you’d like to go…or perhaps you wouldn’t like that—“
“No I didn’t mean…that isn’t what I…” Rook sighed. She rubbed her face with her hands; everything she said always came out sounding boorish next to Emmrich. With a clumsy hand, she gestured to her attire. “I was trying to explain, that’s why I showed up in full armor. I mean, not that I have anything better.”
“Ah.” Emmrich visibly relaxed and resumed eating. “You hardly need to explain yourself to me. I certainly wasn’t going to complain.”
“But you went to all this work! You lit all these candles, you decorated, you made dinner—“
Bones rattled angrily in a dark corner of the kitchen.
“Ah, sorry,” Emmrich said, holding up a hand. “Manfred made the dinner. I ran out of time while I was lighting all the candles. And…I’m not the best cook, though it shames me to admit.”
A breath of laughter escaped her lips.
“You put in a lot of effort,” she continued. “And I haven’t had that before. And I showed up in the same rusty armor I wear for days at a time. And I don’t know how to show you that I’m entirely out of my element but I really appreciate all of this.”
Rook drew in a long breath after her ramble.
“And I like you. A lot.”
Emmrich’s face lit up, his expression rivaling his excitement when they stumbled onto the ruins of a catacomb weeks prior.
“I admit I’m happy to simply be graced with your company. Perhaps I also…quite enjoy the sight of you in that armor,” he said. “But if I could dare ask for more, I’d rather like to walk you to home.”
After dinner, he did just that; he took her hand on his arm and walked her the whole fifteen feet to the door of her room. They stood in front of the closed door silently for a few moments. Rook shuffled from foot to foot.
“You know, you could come in if you like,” she offered. Then she made a face. “I guess coffee is back in the kitchen…I don’t know, it seemed like the thing people say after a date.”
Emmrich chuckled. “I’m afraid I have to decline; it would be improper after a first date.”
“Even if a lady offers? You’re nothing if not a gentleman,” Rook replied, grinning. “Very well. Could I at least give you a kiss?”
Before he could reply, Rook leaned over and pressed a kiss to Emmrich’s cheek. His face visibly flushed.
From the doorway of the kitchen came the sound of bones knocking together as Manfred clapped happily.
“Manfred, please,” Emmrich groaned. He turned his focus back to Rook, taking her hand and kissing her bruised knuckles. “Good night, my dear.”
She watched Emmrich walk away, Manfred ambling on behind him. She still wasn’t sure how she’d caught the attention of the handsome necromancer, nor how she’d managed to hold his attention long enough to convince him she had something worthwhile to give in return. But if he still liked her after tonight, she certainly wouldn’t argue.
She’d just…double check next time he invited her to dinner.
When Whumpee misconstrued one of Caretaker’s questions/concerns/casual comments to be something they are sorry for/ should be apologetic about or that Caretaker meant for them to stop doing that thing or was being demeaning about it.
“You’re bleeding!” “Sorry! I’m sorry! I won’t get it on anything!”
“Does your ankle hurt?” “I can still do the [thing Caretaker asked if they wouldn't mind doing]. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”
“You’re sniffling…. Are you crying?!” “I promise I won’t be loud! I just can’t stop! I’m sorry!”
“You’re breathing a bit loud. Is your rib hurting again? … WHY ARE YOU HOLDING YOUR BREATH?!”
“Your room was a bit warm today. Is that how you like it? I sleep hot so I would end up sweating all night with my heater on that high.” (A few nights later) “C-Caretaker? Is.. is it alright if I t-take the blanket from the couch to m-my room t-tonight?” “Of course! How are you still cold when you're room is so hot? Are you feeling well?— WHY ARE ALL YOUR WINDOWS OPEN?! ITS WINTER!!”
“You sure are hungry! Looks like your appetite is coming back.” “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take too much. I won’t eat tomorrow to make up for it.”
“Your hair looks different!” “I know… I'm sorry. I didn't really like it in [old-Whumper’s-favorite-style] so I changed it. I’ll change it back though, 'cause I know it makes me more pleasing to look at. I’m sorry.”
"Why are there bandage wrappings in the garbage?" "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to take your supplies without asking! Its just that one of my stitches opened up and it wouldn't stop bleeding."
A whumpee pleading and crying and shaking and trembling and sobbing, looking like they’re seconds away from throwing up from their panic, and trying desperately to fix their mistake through it all: “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please! I’m so sorry! Please! Pleeease!”
And a horrified caretaker, unsure how to react to this spiraling whumpee, and who wouldn’t have thought twice about the spill on the floor and realizing just how horrible whumper must have been to cause a reaction like this for something so… humanly normal as an accidental mess.
When the funny character who only ever cracks jokes—even in the face of certain doom— stops cracking jokes.
That’s when you know you’ve got ‘em.
Maybe that last bit of torture worked. Can’t joke when you’re choking on sobs.
Or maybe it was leaving them on their own for months on end without no one to joke to. Laughing at your own jokes in the suffocating silence just doesn’t work as well.
Or maybe it was when they were shown just how desperate the situation was. How completely futile having hope was. It’s hard to joke when there’s no hope left at all.
I love when it’s Whumpee’s seemingly-irrational fear towards something that the team/Caretaker thinks is normal/mundane that suddenly gives team/Caretaker a small look into the absolute horrors that Whumpee had experienced while with Whumper.
Bonus points if the team/Caretaker had no idea (or very limited idea) of what happened to Whumpee while with Whumper and Whumpee refused to talk to them about it. And now Whumpee’s panic towards certain things was their first understanding of Whumpee’s horrific experiences.
Or perhaps Whumpee had been good at hiding their fears and panic attacks before but a particularly bad day had them breaking down and pulling them into horrific memories as the team/Caretaker helplessly watches them fall apart, finally realizing how badly Whumper truly affected them and start to understand Whumper had done more to Whumpee than they ever could have imagined.
Mentioned/implied under cut: non-con, water torture, lap whump, needles, drugging, pet whump, gagged, punishments
---
Whumpee scared of loud/sudden noises? A dropped bowl? And book set down too loudly? Loud voices? - Whumper didn’t like noise and punished Whumpee for every noise they made and if they ever dared to speak or talk back they were gagged
Horror when someone ELSE holds a knife to make dinner? - sharp objects in the hands of others usually meant pain for Whumpee
Won’t take/make themself food without asking someone first and gets nervous even when they’re given a plate? - they couldn’t eat without Whumper’s permission and certainly not the same kind of food as Whumper ate
Whumpee panics if they make even a minor mess or freaks if a room is a bit too messy? - anything less than spotless perfection meant Whumpee was punished and forced to clean while still in pain from the punishment
Panic at doctor appointments/medical settings? - Whumper had an affinity for using drugs and needles during the whumping or they were in a lab-whump scenario
Whumpee afraid of showers/baths? - Water torture of some sort, repeatedly had their head forced under water and almost drowning as punishment or non-con while naked and vulnerable
Whumpee terrified of sleeping in a bed or sitting on furniture? - (pet)Whumpee not allowed to use ‘human’ furniture or perhaps more non-con whenever Whumpee was ‘allowed’ in bed
Scared to fall asleep at all? - Whumper never allowed them to rest or they’d wake up to awful things happening to or around them
What about a Whumper who knows Caretaker is getting too close. Knows they’ll find Whumpee and them soon. Knows that they won’t be able to win against Caretaker when they do. Whumper knows Caretaker will get Whumpee back.
So they sow as much fear and mistrust towards Caretaker as they can into Whumpee before they do. One last ‘F- you’ to Caretaker when Whumpee is terrified and mistrusting of them during (and well after) the rescue.
Or maybe Whumpee knew Caretaker before and were friends but now Whumper makes sure Whumpee associates awful pain and fear with the fun things Caretaker and Whumpee used to do as friends. They make it so Caretaker may get Whumpee back at Whumper’s expense, but they never really get their Whumpee back.
