"Hey, look at me... LOOK AT ME!
You're going to be ok.
Just hang in there.
I've got you."
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@firemind411
"Hey, look at me... LOOK AT ME!
You're going to be ok.
Just hang in there.
I've got you."

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Whumpee recieves a text;
"If you're not going to come to us,
Then we're coming for you."
Whumpee's hand shakes as they delete the message, then pushes it aside in their mind and carries on with their day.
He’s barely holding onto consciousness as it is — eyes glassy, breath strained, body still twitching from the last surge of static running through his nerves.
His head keeps dropping forward, then snapping back up in tiny, desperate jerks, like he’s fighting sleep in the middle of a nightmare he can’t wake up from.
Someone grips his jaw.
“Hey. Stay with me. Talk to me.
He tries...
He drags in a shaking inhale, lips parting, words delayed — like he’s pulling the words from the deepest part of himself.
“I… I don’t… feel—”
His voice cracks, thin and shredded.
He swallows hard, forcing the rest out:
“I think I’m— I think—”
Another tremor hits — small, sharp — surging through his neck and chest like a loose wire sparking inside him. His breath stutters. His eyes go wide, like he suddenly realizes something’s about to go very, very wrong.
“I—wait— I can’t— I’m—”
His whole face drains out at once.
The sentence dies halfway out of his mouth.
His pupils blow wide.
His jaw slackens.
His breath catches in a broken half-syllable that never finishes:
“I’m—”
Then he drops.
Like the power went out.
His head slumps, chin hitting chest.
His body goes heavy in the restraints, dead weight.
The straps hold him upright, but he’s already gone.
“Hey. HEY!”
A hand vigorously shakes his shoulder...
Nothing.
He’s out cold, mid-word,
sentence abandoned,
breath glitching into silence.
The last thing that leaves him is the ghost of the unfinished sound still hanging in the air:
“…m—”
Then he’s gone completely.
Still.
Slack.
Unresponsive.
Just hanging by straps, limp and lifeless — while the room errupts around him.
Sprawled on the ground like a ragdoll, a shadow moves over him.
He’s dazed, breath stuttering. His fingers twitch like he’s trying to push himself up — but his arms don't work. They shake under his weight and collapse again.
Someone exhales above him.
Cold and annoyed...
Like he’s an inconvenience for still being alive.
“Didn’t tell you to get up.”
He barely turns his head before the next hit slams into him.
A boot — full force — drives into his ribs with a dull, sickening thud that radiates through the room. His body folds around the impact, a gutted sound breaking out of him.
He coughs once, sharply, fresh blood paints the floor.
He tries to curl inward — instinctively — trying to protect what's left of him, but the boot comes down again, this time into his shoulder, flattening him back out, pinning him down flat.
He gasps.
“Look at me,” the voice growls.
He tries.
His vision blurs.
Half of what he sees is floor...
The other half is darkness seeping in from the edges.
Another hit — a knee, this time — drops into his back, driving the air out of him in one brutal shove. His chest slams into the ground. His forehead collides with the floor with a crack.
He goes still for a second.
Too still.
Someone taps his cheek with the toe of their boot.
“You awake?”
He tries to answer.
Only manages a faint, broken noise — something between a breath and a whimper he didn’t mean to make — It just — falls out of him.
“Thought so.”
The boot lifts.
Then slams down again — His world flashes white... Then black.
Then... nothing.
He goes limp instantly — body limp, face slack, breath silent... besides the the twitch of a one finger, he is completely out.
Say, they're restrained, captors want to move them to a new location. They sedate their captive, who's willpower is rdiculously strong.
Their captives learn this the hard way, they drive the needle into the side of their neck, fluid released. —They wait impatiently...
Their captive's eyes remain sharp, shifting around the room, spitting curses, hands struggling under retraints — still alert.
Captive stays defiant, continues to fight. Pushing against the sedative.
Staying awake, by willpower alone.
After another dose and a half, the captive's head becomes heavy, fingers limp, finally their chin drops to their chest...
— And it's time to move them.

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The sedative finally takes hold. He goes from fighting with everything he's got — to falling limp against the ground.
The weight from his wrists are slowly released, the two men who were holding him step back.
The main man still has his boot firmly planted heavy on the guy's chest.
He doesn't move his foot — he's skeptical, as he studies the slack form below him. Finally, after a few moments... he's satisfied the sedative has taken full effect — he slowly lifts the weight off.
Leaving a faint tread mark on the guy's chest.
With a venomous smirk, the main man mutters,
"Game. Over."
"I'm turning myself in, I'm not bringing this chaos to the ones I love. If any of this shit happens to one of you I will never forgive myself".
Caretaker who is built like a bouncer, blocks his path shouting,
"What do you think they're going to do!? Throw you a party?? They nearly killed you last time."
Whumpee doesn't even give it a thought - still determined - he launches for the door.
Caretaker tackles him to the ground and manages to wrangle him in place, grabbing his wrist and pulling his arm up tight against his back.
Caretaker forgot how high whumpee's pain threshold is, whumpee is still trying to leave and still fighting... so he pulls tighter... They both start to hear a cracking sound in his shoulder. Finally, whumpee cries out.
"Ahhh... FUCK! OK! Ok... ok."
His voice softening with each "ok."
After escaping a horrific ordeal, they're finally in the arms of safe friends — They're not in a good way... delirious, exhausted, words fragmented – not making any sense, can't carry their weight.
The group holds them and watches over. Speaking quietly, trying to figure out how to bring them back — slowly and gently — to somewhere steady.
Whumpee who’s so tired
Caretaker finding rescued whumpee passed out in strange places
Whumpee who falls asleep during a torture session (Whumper is PISSED)
Whumpee who is being forced by Whumper to stay awake
Whumpee who is forcing themself to stay awake (nightmares)
Whumpee who can’t sleep because they’re in so much pain
Rescued Whumpee who can’t stay awake because of pain meds
Whumpee who pleads with Whumper to just let them rest for a few hours
Whumpee who agrees to lie on whumpers lap as long as it means they’ll finally get a moment of rest
Rescued Whumpee who needs someone to lie down with them to feel safe enough to sleep, but is too embarrassed to ask
Tired Whumpees
Whumpee finally breaking down.
Entirely, deeply and profoundly. Exhausted from being in a long-standing, brutal situation they never asked to be in.
They can't hold it together anymore. It's not tidy, it's not graceful... It's been coming for too long.
They curl up and for the first time & just let themselves cry and break into pieces.
Alone or with a Caretaker or with Whumper... you decide what's better.

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"You only ever listen to me when I hurt you."
A broken person feeling a soft hand placed gently between their shoulder blades.
That is all today.
Breaking Point.
Stumbling backwards, spine hitting the wall, a long slow slide down to the floor. Tears roll. Eyes go glassy. *Footsteps* someone moving closer, trying to help.
Their hand shoots out on instinct. Fingers splayed, shaking... A hard, wordless "don’t touch me".
They curl inward, trying to disappear through sheer will alone.
He comes home after days, gone. Visibly battered... different shades of bruises paint his skin, eyes glazed in a mix of rage and brokeness. He doesn't say a word as he passes his housemates/caretakers.
They cringe when they see him, all knowing something horrific unfolded – and they all feel the sting of guilt that they couldn't help him.
It's not the first time.
They know the drill, he'll patch himself up and talk — when he's ready.
The sedative finally takes hold. He goes from fighting with everything he's got — to falling limp against the ground.
The weight from his wrists are slowly released, the two men who were holding him step back.
The main man still has his boot firmly planted heavy on the guy's chest.
He doesn't move his foot — he's skeptical, as he studies the slack form below him. Finally, after a few moments... he's satisfied the sedative has taken full effect — he slowly lifts the weight off.
Leaving a faint tread mark on the guy's chest.
With a venomous smirk, the main man mutters,
"Game. Over."

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Mentor!Whumper pins Whumpee to the wall by their head, gripping their hair to stop them from twisting out.
“It’s useless,” Whumper snarls. “Trying to teach you. You’re a lost cause. Over and over again, I tried.” They scoff. “I tried, but you never did. Did you?”
“Of course I did!” Whumpee cries out. “I’m not a lost cause! I’ve already improved! I—“ They don’t get to finish their sentence before Whumper throws them to the ground and puts a boot on their chest.
“Yeah?” they mock. “Improved? You couldn’t save your team. You couldn’t save your lover.” Their boot slams down and Whumpee howls with pain. “You can’t even save yourself. Too independent, too stoic. Too in your head, too emotional!”
Whumpee’s vision gets blurry somewhere along the way as Whumper beats them, again and again. Finally, when Whumpee is little more than a begging, bruised, bloodied mess, Whumper crouches down and lifts them by their hair.
“So, Whumpee. Are you ready to finally learn?”
“Learn?”
Whumper smiles. “To be a weapon, not a soldier.”
And Whumpee learns.
(Whumpuary 2026, Day 27: “i tried”, pinned to the wall)