Maybe they're in too much pain, or they need to undergo a medical procedure or maybe they're violent after being rescued, holding onto the "fight to survive" state of mind.
Imagine Whumpee thrashing around, pushing doctors away, putting up a fight while screaming and crying, begging to be left alone.
Imagine Caretaker grabbing their wrists or legs to keep them still and shushing them, risking to get hurt as well by Whumpee's wild behaviour.
Imagine Whumpee slowing down, struggling to keep their eyes open, and one last sob dying in their throat as they finally lose consciousness.
Past Whump, Female Whumpee/Male Whumper, Violent Whumpee, PTSD, referenced/implied past noncon, gaslighting, alcoholism, violence, bad caretaking, good caretaking, restraining, rocky recovery.
After everything she went through with Whumper, Whumpee has indeed, gone more then a little crazy. Chugging whole bottles of liquor and then breaking the bottles, drunkenly fighting anyone who touches her, biting and scratching like a feral animal type while screaming incoherently about rape and torture and men being evil and don't you dare fucking touch me type of crazy.
Whumper's been using this to his advantage and pointing to her mental instability as an sign that she's delusional and her word is unreliable. He feels bad for Whumpee, honestly. Between the drinking and the rumours she's been spreading, it's clear to anyone she needs help. The stories she's telling about him are way too horrific and out there to be true. "Straight from the mouth of a crazy person."
"Crazy bitch, she fucking bit me!" Says the person who was trying to hold Whumpee down in one of their out-of-control binge drinking episode, recoiling in shock and disgust. All Whumpee can think is, serves you right, don't try to hold me down if you don't wanna get bitten that badly
Bad Caretaker threatening Whumpee with involuntary lockup if she doesn't' stop acting so fucking crazy, especially in public. Whumpee crying and screaming by herself, how could the only person who cares about her would threaten her with this. She doesn't have much after she got away from Whumper but she has her freedom and now they want to take that away too. Nowhere is safe.
Caretaker pinning Whumpee down. They don't want to, but Whumpee's ten drinks in, out of control and they're worried. They might get bitten or bruised but it's a small price to pay to make sure Whumpee doesn't hurt herself. Whumpee body going slack when she realizes she can't make Caretaker let go, her hissing and spitting cursing giving way to whimpering, her eyes shining with tears. "Don't hurt me." She pleads in a small, terrified voice. Caretaker murmuring comforting nothings to her, it's okay, I'm just worried about you. I don't want you to get hurt.
Being treated as if she's crazy becoming Whumpees biggest trigger, enough that it can prompt screaming matches even when dead sober at merely perceiving someone is implying she's being unreasonable
Caretaker being the first one to seriously listen to any of Whumpers drunken incoherent ramblings and realizing they're not actually that incoherent at all. She's been through something unimaginable and the the alcohol makes the unspeakable horrors speakable. This is the only way she knows how to speak the truth of what happened.
Caretaker understanding that Whumpee was fighting everyday to feel like they have some sense of agency over herself and her body, even if it means getting the shit kicked out of her in a bar fight. At least this time she's choosing it. Caretaker's the first person to ask why she was doing it.
"I'm not crazy. No matter what he says." Whumpee cries to Caretaker, pleading to be seen. "I did what I had to do survive. Everybody loves him and he's a fucking monster. Nobody believes there's anything wrong, except with me."
Sobered up Whumpee catching a glimpse of the scabbed over teeth marks on Caretakers hand and for the first time, feeling remorseful for having bitten someone who was trying to hold them down.
The accusatory "You think I'm crazy." after fully disclosing the full details of what Whumper put her through to Caretaker and they've been stunned into silence by the sheer brutality of it. Caretaker telling Whumpee, no, absolutely not. This is the sanest possible reaction you could've had to what you were out through. Whumpee fully breaking down and sobbing in Caretakers arms. For the first time, someone sees her
Carewhumpee’s little sibling, Whumpee, was captured by Whumper. To save them, Carewhumpee has to show a dangerous side of themselves they’ve been hiding in fear of pushing others away. Their reluctant allies are already distrustful of them, and they’re certain this fit of protective violence will drive them away, leaving Carewhumpee alone to fend for themselves in a dangerous situation. But Whumpee is all they really have left… They can’t leave them alone in the hands of Whumper.
whumpee is a bigger violent threat than carewhumper is.
carewhumper has the power but whumpee isnt afraid to hit and kick and bite. carewhumper finds this habit amusing and fun, and does nothing to change this habit.
Hello hello! Did you know that among the many aptitudinal tests they made me to before allowing me to become a white collar slave (and there were many, really too many) there was one that was meant to test my levels of resilience? Well reader, my results were off the roof, which is why after having spent a few days wallowing in my sorrows at is it my right, I have decided that the solutions to bad writing is simply to write more. You are very welcome. This is a snippet on which I’ve been working for a couple of christmases already, as the subject matter is what I’d be inspired for in the aforementioned period and no other, and so this year I decided to push through it and finish it for you all. I hope you enjoy it, and upwards and onwards 💪🏼
CW: long term captivity, mention of past torture and conditioning, mention of non-con (not explicit), collar, compulsion, religious themes and religious erasure, identity erasure, golden cage, slavery, angst, forced to kneel, murder threat.
The truth was, Kai didn’t even notice the passing of the first Christmas in captivity. Harsh as his conditions were down in the dungeons, he had no way of knowing what day it was, kept chained and strung up in perennial stress positions as he was. For Kyriel did his very best to isolate him from the world in that first year, to make him forget himself and whoever he’d been before him. So that Christmas Day passed like a torture day like another, Kai writhing and sobbing as his bones were snapped, the rope tightened around his throat.
The second year was different already, once Kyriel had brought him to the belly of the Tower and allowed him to crawl alive out of the mud. The captivity had moved above ground then, more about training and reconditioning for the day Kai would eventually be allowed outside the circle of the runes to fight. So that Christmas Day passed differently this time, Kai spending it on his knees with his arms behind his back — the collar tight around his throat, Kyriel lording over him as he forced him in between his legs where he sat at his desk. Kai’s only mean of taking note of the passing of time was the snow he could spy falling from his window, the tally of days he carved on the wooden side of his bed every time Kyriel allowed him back into it and did not keep him in his.
The third year, when Kyriel’s leash had relaxed enough to let him go out on his own in the Tower, after Kai had set fire to half of it and faced its consequences — Kai noticed the Yule tree at the centre of the square in the angel’s capital, visible from the balconies of the Tower he was now allowed to roam.
“Why don’t we have one of those in the Tower, Magister?” Kai asked that night, coughing after Kyriel had finished abusing his throat. The boy’s nails digged in his palms, his mind frantically clinging to whatever kernels of light he’d found on the day to keep himself sane. “Your people have decorations outside.”
Kyriel caressed the boy’s cheek, watching with satisfaction how he’d swallowed and recovered himself in less than a minute. A wondrous improvement from the hate and vitriol he might have expected just a few months prior, his pupil’s resilience awe inspiring and terrifying in equal measure.
“Our people, sweet,” he corrected, but there was no bite in his chiding. “And why should I celebrate the birth of a rival god?”
Kai startled, taken aback.
“Yule is about the cycle of seasons. It’s not—“ he started, the old human part of him that had believed in such things resurfacing from his youth. Silly, really — but then, he knew from his studies, there had been places when Christianity had co-opted the ancient pagan traditions of his people for its purposes, covering it with a coating of its own lore. And before then…
“You could take it over.” He suggested, calming down, thinking of logs and fire and celebration and how beautiful that time of rest had been once. “The Romans did it with their sun god.”
Kyriel only hummed, brushing gently the boy’s hair away.
It was so that the fourth year of Kai’s captivity a big Yule tree was erected in the Throne Room, to the secret delight of the Fallens whose humanity had not yet fully been ripped out of their bodies. Kyriel presenting his pupil with a new set of clothes in the morning, fine gold thread woven over a bed of red velvet, and with a vibrant green belt adorned with precious stones to match his collar and a new pair of golden bracelets. Nevermind that they were all too reminding of manacles — Kai accepted them gratefully, wariness in his every movement, lest his captor found a reason to hurt him instead.
“Happy Yule,” Kyriel smiled, the angel dressed himself in a deep blue velvety tunic, diamonds sparkling over his shoulders like a starry cape slowly reaching down his navel. “I have another present for you, sweet.”
Kai only hoped it wouldn’t be slaves, given how poorly it had gone the last time Kyriel’s had thought of gifting him some.
He was left to wonder, unease twisting and growing in his gut, as the angel let him out of his rooms and down the large marble stairs leading to the lower floors of the Tower. The corridors through which they walked were adorned by golden decorations that slaves must have spent the whole night putting up, candles and everywhere the eyes lay everything sparkled, catching the streaming morning light coming from windows frosted with ice. Kyriel’s courtesans, those who they encountered on their way down coming out of their rooms, bowed and moved aside as they walked — all dressed in a similar festive way to theirs, velvet clothes matching Kai and Kyriel’s own while being careful not to be quite as fine as their emperor’s were.
Kai could feel their curious eyes on him, realising Kyriel was taking him out to court without a muzzle on him. Without chains, a leash.
The Throne Room, when they finally entered it, was magnificently adorned. Kyriel’s throne shone crystal black among the twinkle of candles and the silver and gold of lights magically levitating in the air, the Yule Tree enormous and almost reaching the heights of the cavernous space where it was placed at the centre of the hall. It too, like the rest of the room, was covered in bright silver garlands and small balls of crystal and bone twinkling and reflecting the many lights shining across the room. And at its bottom, in a pile that kept growing with every member of the court approaching to deliver a package of their own, was tribute — for Kai wouldn’t dare call it presents when he doubted they were freely given. Not when Kyriel wanted to put up a show, not when the consequences of refusal were worse than death for him and anyone else in that room.
Kai wondered, once again, what each of the Fallens thought. If they were truly content, believing Kyriel their god. If they even had a chance of free thought, given how absolutely the angel controlled them all.
“Welcome!” Kyriel’s voice was loud, magically amplified, when he addressed the crowd from the top of the dais and his throne. “Welcome, all.”
Kai kept his face composed, the boy summoning some feigned boredom to plaster on his features. A mask to hide his true feelings, when he felt the eyes of the fucker’s court hungry on him — Kyriel’s Council, who he saw almost every night, but other nobles who had only ever seen him scream at parties. And others, who Kai had terrified the last time he’d set foot in the Throne Room with a sword — those who had escaped the slaughter by running like cowards, that was.
The boy let a small smirk ghost the outline of his lips, satisfaction at the memory of how they had all screamed. He let them see a sliver of the predator, of the caged thing only tamed by Kyriel’s presence next to him.
He was going to kill them all one day, after all. He had sworn it.
“Today is a day of celebration,” Kyriel continued, the angel lifting his arms to address the crowd. “Yule, rejuvenation.”
There was a cheer, the rising of glasses from the Fallens in the hall at the words. Their clothes were splendid, crystal in their fine hands and hair — the contrast stark with the attire of the slaves standing almost invisibly at the sides of the room, dressed in rags and with trays of refreshment ready in their hands. Kai’s people, the boy always aware of them wherever he was.
“As you know, I have declared this day to be a holy one. To merge the recent traditions of the indigenous land with the more ancient immortal ones. To allow for the wisdom of the betters in our society to guide the hearty traditions of those who shall return to the mud.”
Kai felt a faint feeling of nausea rise into his gorge, the boy remaining expressionless and obedient at Kyriel’s side as he talked.
“But as much as it is my pleasure to celebrate this time with you all,” the angel smiled, and Kai’s hair rose behind his neck even though the angel had not looked at him yet, “there is another reason why I would like to command today as a day of celebration across all lands. Another cause for rejoicing and worship, for all.”
Kai braced as best as he could, four years of captivity having taught him not to expect anything good.
“Today it’s my prince’s birthday!” A pause, as a ripple of surprise run among the crowd. “And we shall celebrate as it demands his rank.”
More cheers, more celebrations suddenly so shrill they couldn’t be but forced ones. The crowd turned to look at each other, barely hidden surprise on their faces — howling their joy like perfect sycophants after a beat, loudly stomping their feet in the ground and clinking their cups around. For Kyriel’s court might walk around without a collar around their throats, but there were no doubts as to where the power lay in the room — Kai doubting, after he’d spent years killing their own on the other side of the battlefield, after he’d culled half of the court just a few years prior, than any of them held any love for him at all. The boy too stunned by Kyriel’s words to react as the false cheers washed over him, the crowd crying out as one.
Today, notably, wasn’t his birthday at all.
“Now.” Kyriel smirked, rising his voice to be heard above the crowd, “I too have a present from my pupil. A present to welcome him back at court, after he proved himself to be civilised enough for it now.” He smirked again, raising a hand. “A word of warning, though. He is allowed to bite back if attacked.”
There was an uneasy ripple of laughter, the court shifting as they all remembered what exactly Kai was capable of.
Kyriel snapped his fingers, Kai’s runes blazing under his clothes.
“On your knees, love.”
And perhaps there was some kernel of truth in the angel’s words when he’d said Kai had proved himself to be civilised enough to be brought out at court, for the boy didn’t even think about digging his heels and try to resist the command this time around. And why should he, when Kai had violently tested the boundaries of his constraints enough times already, and with them faced the painful consequences of refusal? The boy chose to keep his dignity about him, obeying without a sound — only kneeling with deliberate slowness over the marble floor at Kyriel’s feet, taking all the time he could without looking like he was frustrating the command.
There was no choice. No battle to be had, when Kyriel gave him a direct command.
The boy closed his hands into fists, the chill of the marble floor seeping into his knees. He lifted his head up to spy his master from under his lashes, trying not to show the apprehension he felt in his gut.
His stomach flipped, Kyriel looking at him with an all too fond smile. One of those that promised violence — the violence of when he was proud.
“My gift to my prince.”
The angel lifted his hands, familiar darkness beginning to form in between his fingers with the thunderous sound of clashing storms. Sparkles shone from deep inside the dark, like thunders contained into his hands — the summoned mass twisting and shuddering as if it held within itself the multitude of a roaring universe. Kyriel moulding it and shaping it to the startled awe of his court, the strength of his magic such that they all took at least half a step back — Kai, too, wincing where he knelt at the angel’s feet, but knowing better than to inch away or flinch.
It was a beautiful thing, savage and delicate at once, that Kyriel finally forged. A crown, made of glittering crystal of the same dark material of his throne, of the collar around Kai’s throat.
“A crown for a Prince.”
The cheers were genuine this time, Kai thought with faint lightheadedness, as the shouts of the crowd exploded through the hall as Kyriel placed the crown over his brow. The thing surprisingly light, solid and digging softly into his head where its shaper edges lay — the angel smiling down at him, Kai looking up surprised from where he knelt at his feet.
Part of him still braced for the moment when the runes would lit up around him, for his captor to make him scream.
“Happy Yule, love,” the angel murmured, softly, so that only he could hear among the cheers of the crowd. “Let’s start putting to use that popularity of yours. Let them worship you as my pupil, the silver prince came to save them all.” He winked at him. “It is a good idea indeed — to steal the bones of previous worship for our own. As part of my pantheon, that’s it.”
And Kai, even as it finally dawned on him that he might not be made to hurt this time around, as Kyriel took his hand in his and lifted him to his feet to the roaring cheers of the crowds, he dizzily realised what his captor had done. How he’d taken his birthday, made it into a public celebration — and in doing so stripped it from him, another piece of identify unceremonious taken away without mercy or care.
“Drinks! Drinks for all!”
Because Kyriel had made clear all along he’d use him as he saw fit, hadn’t he? And what was Kai’s history, a thing as small as his birth, if not something for him to mould and repurpose? As if it didn’t matter that it had been the day his mother had held him, the day he’d been loved by his family as he came into the world. As if the angel even knew their names, as if he cared.
“Drinks for my prince!”
Kai felt himself grow dizzy, the boy numbly accepting the gold cup Kyriel pushed into his hands. For he knew better than to refuse him, knew better how useless it would be to make a scene — even though there was a faint, roaring part of him that clamoured for him to scream.
Today was the winter solstice. And there was power in the day, for Kyriel to claim that his god-prince was born on the night of the rebirth of light. For him to make it a symbol of the conquest of the champion of the human lands, a nod to those who still resisted him and worshipped Kai. A sign, an inequivocabile political message only strengthen by religious lore, that their silver god was where he was meant to be — at Kyriel’s side, forever more.
Kai took a mechanical sip of the drink the angel had given him, the taste sweet on his lips. The crown dug into his brow, its weight unfamiliar on his neck as he watched the crowd begin to dance and sing at the bottom of the dais — Kyriel smiling happily next to him, towering on them all with his height alone.
“You are a bastard,” the boy murmured, unblinking and without changing expression an inch, voice so low that only the angel would hear among the celebration. “A fucking bastard.”
Kyriel didn’t blink either, the monster continuing to smile at his court as if nothing was wrong.
“Drink, Kai,” he ordered. “It’s Yule, and it wouldn’t do for the crown to fall on the floor because of the slap you’d deserve now.” He turned, the angel lifting his cup to Kai’s own. “I’ll straighten you out tonight. For now, relax.” He smirked. “It is your birthday, after all.”
And Kai, knowing all too well what would happen if he protested, if he too did what Kyriel would deserve in turn — if he lounged at him, closed his hands around his throat and choked him until he was no more — took a deep breath and allowed himself to drink from his cup. Deeply, gulp after gulp, the boy savouring the luxurious taste of champagne in his mouth.
It was his birthday indeed, after all.
“Huzzah,” the boy smiled, his tone sligly gasping when he emerged from his cup. Because fuck it, he might as well enjoy what was good of his captivity, since it wasn’t like he could get out of it. “Merry merry Yule, Magister.” He lifted his eyes, silver eyes shining in the Christmas lights. “May this year bring light to us all.”
They both knew, as Kyriel snorted and lifted his cup to Kai’s, that the boy’s smile promised death by a thousand cuts. That the twinkle in his eyes wasn’t joy, even though his kept his face perfectly composed — but hate, as cold and deep like the pit of hell itself.
The angel smiled, relishing the sight of his collared beast.
“Merry Yule indeed, pupil mine.” He leaned forward, softly placing a kiss to his cheeck. “And may you be as good as you have been for me this year.”
Whump/angst where whumper kidnaps whumpee and mind controls them into attacking their friends, but then something snaps and whumpee starts attacking everyone without prejudice. They don’t care who they attack. They’re too far gone to care.
But not everything is as it seems.
The mind control never worked in the first place. Whumpee, due to some unresolved issues prolly, just decides to go with it and act like they’re under control. Then during the fight they’re like ‘wait I don’t just have to fight these people. I can fight EVERYONE.’
Whumpee just lets loose. And my god it feels great to finally do so. After scaring whumper away, they pretend like they just snapped out of the control when their friends come to check on them. Little do they know…
