Whumpee sniffled, weak arms clinging to Caretaker as tight as they could. They were exhausted. Their eyes bloodshot and struggling to stay open, their legs barely able to keep from buckling beneath them. It wasn't long before Caretaker was the only thing holding them up, with their arms wrapped tightly around their waist and upper torso as they continued their attempts to soothe them.
It was a few more minutes before they felt Whumpee's lips brush against their ear, attempting to whisper something only to them but too sluggish to control their movements. Before they could even get the words out, their head had gently slumped back against their rescuer's shoulder; prompting Caretaker to move their head closer so they could still talk with some privacy.
"You feel real," Whumpee whispered. Their thumb travelled absentmindedly up and down Caretaker's collarbone as they struggled to keep their eyes open. "Your skin is warm and soft... 'n' your arms are putting so much pressure on me. It's nice." They could feel the arms around them immediately loosening and were quick to reassure them. "I hallucinated that you had come for me so many times in that cell. It's been so hard to tell what it real and what isn't..."
they sniffle yet again, burrowing their face a little deeper into Caretaker's shoulder. "But it's real this time. At least, you are. You came for me."
(cw: dehumanization, brainwashing, it/its pronouns, implied violence and death)
Weapon adjusted its grip on the scythe. In the five years since Weapon had finished its training, it had never hesitated. Not once.
Weapon was good at its role. It had spent its whole life being honed by Whumpee- a grueling twenty years of training alongside the Other weapon.
A neverending night directed only by Whumper’s instructions, Weapon’s existence held constant only by the Other’s presence. Weapon and Other learning to be lethal, obeying Whumper’s every whim, until they didn’t even need Whumper’s commands to know what to do.
Weapon and Other had practiced on each other, plenty of times. Of course they had. They needed to be able to act without things like emotions getting in the way. To remember that loyalty didn’t exist in any context, except in their complete devotion towards Whumper.
But now.
Weapon could tell this different.
Other was huddled on the floor. Other’s face had finally broken out of the conditioned neutrality. Weapon barely recognized it, Other’s features marred by terror that was utterly unbecoming of their position.
Weapon looked over its shoulder, like Whumper would still be in the room- but Whumper were gone already. “Weapon,” Whumper’s voice echoed through the room, and that one word was enough to make Weapon’s body snap into position.
Weapon forced its body to hesitate. Before it could take the swing, Weapon needed to be sure. It raised its hand to the sky.
Weapon held its hand out flat, then clenched it into a fist. Hurt, or kill?
“I told you,” Whumper’s voice boomed. “Other has proven that it is not loyal.”
Other desperately grabbed onto Weapon’s leg. Weapon looked down at it slowly.
Other’s eyes were open wide, begging silently. Then Other opened its mouth, and creaked out a broken, misshapen word- “Wea-pon…”
Weapon recoiled. Weapon didn’t know that their mouths could speak-
Weapon felt its body take control, before it could think any more- its arms swung the scythe, slicing cleanly through Other’s neck.
(cw: possession/ mind control, flashbacks, amnesia, gaslighting, implied violence)
Whumpee stared at themself in the mirror.
They recognized the face: the dead eyes: the skin marred by thick, dark scars. But they didn’t recognize themself.
As always, they couldn't help but wonder who they were...what had happened to them. Whumpee began again to prod at their memory, hoping maybe this time they would unearth something…
Leave it, Whumpee, came the voice in their mind.
“I just want to know,” Whumpee grumbled, speaking aloud to the reflection in the mirror.
Whumpee felt the muscles move on their face, and the reflection’s expression turned disappointed. I’m your conscience, it reminded Whumpee, I’ll guide us. Remember?
“You already know that I remember.”
Then trust me. It’s for the best.
“So I just get no memory at all?" Whumpee demanded. “I don’t need every single memory. Even just one or two- anything!” Whumpee looked down at their body. Their eyes caught on a particularly thick braid of scar tissue on their abdomen. Their fingers reached out to touch the tough skin-
And suddenly Whumpee remembered- the knife slicing through their skin, shoving deeper, the pain, the blood, the pain the screaming the begging the fear the pain the pain the pain the-
Whumpee was on the bathroom floor, shaking, sobbing.
Whumpee’s body felt even less connected to them. The body was still running on adrenaline, and it started dragging Whumpee across the floor and into a corner, where it could tuck its knees up against its chest and rock and rock and rock
That hadn’t felt like a memory, just now- it felt like reliving it. The aftershocks of pain were still tingling in Whumpee’s body, electrifying Whumpee into a desperately buzzing ball of fear. Whumpee wimpered.
See? Whumper’s voice reverberated through Whumpee’s head, drowning out all the noise. That's exactly what I’m holding back for you.
Whumpee murmured pathetically, “T,,tthank you."
That’s more like it. Whumper said, pleased. We’ll have to remember this, yes? You know, when you ask me for memories… it gets so hard for me to keep them all back. Some of them just… slip through.
Whumpee distantly felt their arm move. Suddenly, the back of Whumpee’s own hand brushed against their cheek. Whumpee jumped. Whumpee recognized the contact point in both their cheek and their hand, but neither sensation felt like it was theirs.
We got lucky this time… Whumper continued thoughtfully. There are far, far worse memories up here. The hand moved away from Whumpee's face. It landed on Whumpee’s shoulder, arm stretching across Whumpee’s body like a straightjacket.
Trust me.
“Okay." Whumpee took a shuddering breath. "I trust you.”
(someone wanted to be tagged on my stuff !! omg hiiiiii)
here's more possession/ internal whumper for u >:3 @funwithmydem0ns
Whumpee’s hands were shaking so hard, they didn’t think they could hold the knife if they wanted to.
But Whumper managed to navigate Whumpee's trembling body just fine, grabbing the knife’s handle and spinning it deftly with Whumpee’s usually clumsy fingers.
Whumpee watched helplessly as their own hands moved the blade closer, until the tip was pressed against Whumpee’s stomach.
Whumpee sobbed. Please don’t, they begged inside their mind. Please. I’ll do anything, just-
“Oh, you will?” Whumper asked, amused. Whumper’s tone turned more serious, though Whumpee could still feel every drop of sick amusement Whumper got as it spat, “Then keep begging.”
Whumpee pressed their lips together. Whumper used the body’s teeth to bite down on the flesh of Whumpee’s lips. Whumpee whimpered. Whumper bit harder, until Whumpee tasted blood.
“What did I say?” Whumper demanded, and Whumpee swallowed their pride.
Please, they tried again, desperate. Please, I- I know you’re in control, I know it now. You’ve proved it. You don’t have to-
“I know that I don’t 'have to',” Whumper snapped. “I don’t have to do anything.”
Then, then why-?
“Oh, please. You already know 'why'. I know you do.” Whumper tightened Whumpee's grip on the knife handle.
Don’t-
Whumpee felt Whumper react to the attempted instruction, slicing the blade through Whumpee’s skin. Whumpee screamed, but Whumper kept the mouth jammed tightly shut.
And Whumpee’s own hands began, slowly, to carve Whumper’s insignia into their flesh.
Give your whumpees nightmares that correlate to their fears without being flashbacks.
Abstract, weird, nasty dreams that aren't actually flashbacks are great ways to display character fears without mentioning them outright. A whumpee dreaming that they are in a cycle of being killed and brought back to life is a much cooler way of showing their fear of being stuck in the same situation indefinitely than just, saying it.
Its great because you have so much creative liberties! The metaphors and symbols here are so much fun to create!
My favorite trope, hands down — is the bond of found family, especially when one of them dies and the others feel it.
Not in some dramatic, supernatural way, but in those small, gut-deep moments that make you stop and think, something’s wrong.
I'm addicted that kind of connection.
The kind that isn’t about blood, but about the people who choose each other — the ones who stick around through every scar, every bad joke, every night spent pretending things aren’t falling apart.
It’s a natural bond built out of trust and survival, out of love that feels quiet but runs deep.
For example; When one of them dies — when Character A is gone — it’s like the world shifts a little off its axis.
One of them drops a cup, hand shaking without knowing why.
Another wakes up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, the kind of fear that doesn’t have a name.
Someone else just stops walking for a second, because something inside them hurts, and they can’t explain it.
None of them can.
But deep down, they know. They don’t need to hear the words to feel the loss — it’s already there.
That’s what I genuinely love most about found family. It’s not just about being close — it’s about being connected.
When one heart stops beating, the rest still feel the echo.
whumpee's all but blocked out their trauma. when they try to think back on those months (years?), they can't find anything.
but then, whumper finds them again. and whumpee doesn't react. they don't recognize whumper. don't remember the sound of their voice, or the smell of their laundry detergent.
the only thing that seems off is the way whumpee's hair stands on end when whumper's around.
until whumper gets close enough and puts a hand on the small of whumpee's back and everything comes rushing back. and whumper chuckles and leans in close.
cw: religion/ cults. implied violence and brainwashing
Whumpee knew they were the most devout believer who had ever walked the Earth- how could they not be? Whumpee was chosen specially. Being a conduit of the powers was a privilege, the greatest calling a human being could possibly have.
Everything had been leading up to today. Whumpee had been waiting for this their whole life. All the training, the suffering, the blood and the tears, it would all be worth it, when Whumpee got to see the Temple.
Whumpee was deep in meditation on the Rites they would be receiving today. “Whumpee.” Whumper’s voice made Whumpee jump. Whumper was already in long, black robes.
Whumpee's chest erupted with emotions and anticipation, but they managed to nod evenly at Whumper. Whumpee tried to focus on being present, on being a good conduit, as they began to prepare for the sacred rite of entering the Temple.
The Helpers dressed Whumpee in the ceremonial garb, careful not to touch them. Whumper stood silently, observing Whumpee as they got changed. Whumpee was careful to be good, moving evenly and smoothly.
Whumper led the way outside into the Citadel, where the Temple towered above them. It didn’t feel real to Whumpee, as finally, finally, they got to climb the giant marble steps.
Whumpee’s steps faltered as they entered the building- it was enormous, gold-painted and shimmering in ways Whumpee hadn’t known were possible. Whumpee barely managed not to stop and stare, only muscle memory keeping them moving. Whumpee was beginning the Holiest of Rites... now was not the time to stumble.
Holy People lined the walkway, all watching Whumpee serenely. The Speaker was beginning the sermon- beginning the ceremony. Whumper led Whumpee to the center of the room, then stopped.
Whumper turned back to Whumpee, and held out their hands. Whumpee poured the oil into their cupped palms. Whumpee lowered their head respectfully.
Whumper’s oil-coated hands came to rest on Whumpee’s head- it was all Whumpee could do to not gasp.
Whumpee had never been touched before, not that they could remember- it was too much, and Whumpee couldn’t help the tears that sprang to their eyes. They felt like they were flying. They was absolutely dizzy with the sensation of it, the Holiness, the strength of it overwhelming their nerves-
Whumper’s hands retracted, and Whumpee swallowed back the whimper. Whumpee knew that was just a taste of the Holiness they would experience, once Whumpee completed their Rites.
Whumpee knelt on the ground. In Whumpee’s periphery, they saw the Anointer preparing, but they kept their gaze obediently on Whumper.
Whumper was looking back at Whumpee. For the first time that Whumpee could remember, Whumper’s gaze was not entirely blank. Whumper looked…fond? proud?
The Anointer raised their arms to the sky. Beneath the drone of the Speaker’s voice, Whumpee heard Whumper chuckle.
“What a good little lamb,” Whumper murmured, and Whumpee’s chest filled with pride.
Whumpee looked at his friends. They were laughing, bumping shoulders as they teased each other about their conflicting music tastes. It was all so…normal.
Whumpee hesitated, just for a moment, and Whumper seized the opportunity to creep back in.
“You know how selfish it is, to keep worrying them,” It said, amplifying the shame already reverberating inside Whumpee. “Always a bother. Never can just join the fun, can you?”
Whumpee frowned. He pushed back at the force in his mind, arguing, They’ve told me- they want me to tell them, when I need help.
“Because they’re good people, who deserve good friends. But you only stay friends with people if they enjoy being around you. If you don’t always-“ Whumper’s voice cut off, reacting to the emotions bubbling inside Whumpee. “Oh, but look, you already know all this, don’t you? You know it’s true.”
Whumpee could feel Whumper’s words whipping up a whirlwind inside him, and he stifled the urge to whimper. Violent emotions battered against the wound in his side, making him feel nauseous.
I’m gonna throw up, he thought, and Whumper purred, “No, you’re not. You’re fine.”
Whumpee swallowed it back.
I- I need to tell them.
“Then do it.”
Whumpee opened his mouth. He tried to speak, but a thick wall of shame and fear and regret blocked his throat.
I can’t!
Whumper hummed. “Dont blame me for that.” They gestured to the burning emotions. “It seems like you just know that I’m right.”
Whumpee didn’t know what to believe. His mind felt like it was slowing, his thoughts becoming slippery as he tried to grasp at them.
Fear began to spark in his belly. I need help, he thought desperately. I’m going to bleed out…!
It's the sounds that come with the whumpee collapsing:
the breathless gasp for help
the slam of a hand on a surface
the frantic scrabbling as they try to find something to hold themselves up
the thud as they hit the floor
the thud of several other items hitting the floor
the sudden silence as everything settles
and then running footsteps over hard ground, shouting that increases in urgency with every step, rustling as clothes are adjusted to see the wound, calling out to those they can for help, for a doctor, for anybody, and then finally, as sirens sound in the distance, the quiet reassurance of hey, it's okay, I've got you
Whumper cradled Whumpee’s head gently in their hands. “Are you ready?” they asked, voice nearly a whisper, careful not to let the heavens overhear the moment of consideration.
Whumpee nuzzled into Whumper’s hands. “Yes, Lord,” he murmured.
Whumper tutted, withdrawing their hands. “Is that how a pious Body would respond?”
Whumpee clamped their mouth shut. They shook their head no.
“You understand... being part of the Greater Body now, you will be giving up certain earthly temptations, and committing to higher privileges.”
Whumpee closed his eyes as Whumper talked, letting the gospel wash over him. He bit back the urge to respond with the previously-encouraged Yes Lord. He was ascending now, he no longer needed something as worldly as speech.
“Let’s try again. Whumpee, are you ready? Do you commit yourself to your place in the Greater Body?”
Whumpee nodded enthusiastically.
“Very good.” Whumper’s hand returned to Whumpee’s face, holding onto his chin firmly.
Whumpee felt the needle pierce through his bottom lip. His body reacted without his permission, jumping at the pain and going to turn away from Whumper-
Whumpee caught himself. Somehow, through the haze of sharp pain, he wrangled his trembling body back under his control. He forced himself to lean towards Whumpee, instead of away.
Whumper’s soft, steady hands didn’t alter in their path. Their thumb caressed softly over Whumpee’s cheekbone, and an instant later, the other hand drove the needle through Whumpee’s upper lip.
Whumper pulled the needle upwards, pulling the thread tout between Whumpee’s upper and lower lip. That hurt more than either of the initial stitches, the thread pulling through the wounds and tearing roughly at the flesh as it was tightened.
Tears needled at Whumpee’s eyes. He choked back as much noise as he could, but each inhale and exhale betrayed a not-quite inaudible whimper.
The pain was purifying in its sharp intensity.
Here, being guided by the wisdom of Whumper’s knowledgeable hands, Whumpee almost felt holy.
