All The Whump You Dont See Enough

No, no, fuck. No—

Whumpee scrambles back, eyes wide and breaths shallow. “Don’t— don’t..” They stammer, every muscle tensed with adrenaline and fear. Too close— too close now! They scramble to the side, dodging past Caretaker and team and making a beeline for the door. They can’t think, can’t breathe can’t anything when all they see is that door. Away from these people. Then suddenly they’re on the floor and there are hands hands hands pulling at them and touching their face and patting their leg but they can’t think of that. Just out. They need to get out— up, away from them. They struggle and try and get up, hardly comprehending where they are, just that they have to get away.

Give me caretakers that no one dare interrupt when they're on a warpath.

People actively move out of the way when the caretaker is storming the halls like a marine to get to the whumpee, and give them the care they need.

Daily Drabble #152

This had been sitting in my inbox since June 1st, 2025. Anon if you're still here this is for you lol

Whumpee believed in faeries, and despite how dangerous they knew they could be, they spent a large portion of their free time seeking them out, hunting for them. They knew all of the things you should avoid, so if they just followed the fae rules… how dangerous could it really be?

When Whumpee finally finds one, they’re so overcome with joy they forget to hold onto that sense. Caution went out the window as their guard was dropped, and the faerie was able to easily capture them. Now Whumpee was reduced to them and all their fae friends’ human pet; their entertainment.

thank you so much 🥺💕 and yes omg. LOVE me a touch-starved whumpee.

CWs: referenced childhood abuse/neglect — creepy/intimate whumper taking advantage of that — touch-starved, very confused, and self-blaming whumpee — mentions of dissociation — mentions of noncon touching — implied future pet whump and future noncon

x

"What are you doing?"

Whumpee opens their eyes, and they're not sure. They're never really sure, anymore, if they ever were in the first place. Everything that's happened since they were taken—even being taken—has felt like a dream, like it didn't really happen to them.

They realize, then, as Whumper removes their hand, the same hand that had just backhanded them and then for some reason tried to soothe the sting...

They'd been leaning into it. Into that hand. Into Whumper.

Prompts List | Masterpost

Prompts: "Don't lie to me." | Last Wish | Hidden Injury | Stabilization

Word Count: 300

Tag List: (message me to be added or removed) @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion @scaewolf

@the-ellia-west @melpomenelamusa @juneofdoom

CW: blood loss, fainting

----------

"You don't look well."

Whumpee blinked and sat up slightly straighter, though the seatbelt in the transport didn't allow for much range of motion. "What make you say that?"

Caretaker's eyes narrowed. "You're white as a sheet."

"Like I said before," Whumpee snapped, "I'm fine. A little banged up, but the medic's got worse to deal with."

"Whumpee...."

They sighed. "Fine, fine, I'll let them look at me when we get to base. Happy?"

"Don't lie to me."

Whumpee rolled their eyes. "Caretaker, I'm not lying. I'm fine!"

Caretaker opened their mouth to argue, but before any words came out, they snapped it closed, eyes wide. In a blink, they undid their seatbelt and launched themself across the transport walkway to Whumpee.

"Caretaker, what the hell---?"

"You're bleeding!" Caretaker pushed aside Whumpee's arm---once pressed tightly against their side---and prodded at the dark fabric of their uniform.

Their fingers came away sticky with blood.

"Medic!" They shouted to the back of the transport. "Got another one!"

Whumpee stared at the blood on Caretaker's hand as they reached over and pulled off their seatbelt, panic rising in their chest.

"Eyes on me, eyes on me!"

Whumpee obediently pulled their gaze away from the blood---their blood---and looked up at Caretaker. Grasping their hand, Caretaker yanked them to their feet.

The transport swayed sharply beneath them, and Whumpee staggered, trying to keep their footing.

"I got you, I got you, come on, walk. Let's walk. Just a few steps." Caretaker's voice in their ear.

Encouraging them.

"Who's... messing with the... the lights...?" Whumpee mumbled, the transport seeming to grow dimmer with every second.

"No one! Just stay with me!"

But all the strength left Whumpee. Their knees buckled, unable to support their weight any longer. They looked up at the ceiling as if through a gray haze, and saw a vague shape.

They’ve been in the dark all this time, curled up in a corner. Interrogated, chained, tortured for information, but they never gave it up. They put on the act and never once dropped the mask.

And now it was going to pay off, but they could hardly bring themselves to believe it. Were these people really trustworthy? They couldn’t even see their faces in the dark. They could only be led blindly through the damp tunnels, lit by one of the rescuers blinding flashlights. They’d found Whumpee in their cell, the only room in this abandoned hell-hole that was occupied. Whumpee had no idea what this place was used for in the past, but they never wanted to find out.

Their wrists were still shackled together, which was fine. Whumpee was used to it and couldn’t even remember the last time they could move their arms individually instead of as one unit. Their supposed saviors had claimed they hadn’t brought any tools that were safe enough to cut so close to Whumpee’s wrists. So they’d just snapped the chains off the cuffs with bolts, pulled Whumpee up under their arms, and now here they were, shuffling along down the corridor. Everyone’s feet were booted but Whumpee’s, bare and bloodied, so the one with the flashlight took care illuminating the ground for any dangerous objects not to be stepped on.

“I can’t believe we really found you in here,” the one to Whumpee’s right said. They sounded like they were about to cry. Their arm under Whumpee’s shoulder was trembling. Whumpee could barely lift their head to acknowledge the comment. “We looked everywhere these last couple years. Turned the whole town upside down. Even the sewers.”

Whumpee grimaced at the thought, but it went unnoticed in the darkness. Then they realized what the voice had said. Two Years.

Suddenly the party halted. There was the sound of metal turning, groaning, and then there was—

Light.

They had to squeeze their eyes shut. Whumpee couldn’t believe it. Had the world always been that bright? In their memories it didn’t feel that way. It never felt so blinding.

They moved forward, Whumpee’s head ducked. Their feet stepped from the cold pavement to something softer, warmer. They flinched, unable to open their eyes to see what they were stepping on until a distant memory came blooming to the surface.

Grass. Dirt. Land.

With terrible effort, they peeled open an eye. Green everywhere, as far as they could see. Forget light, they had forgotten what it was like to know color.

“Sweet freedom,” said that same voice on their right.

They lifted their head to gaze out toward the horizon. They were in an endless field atop a massive hill. Behind them was the giant empty building they had been kept in. It seemed so foreign from the outside. Nature had taken it over, vines climbed over every wall. They had no idea what it may have once been. There was no telling.

But in front of them, the sky was on fire. The sun was setting beyond the crest of a hill and it lit the world in orange, pink, gold. Clouds shimmered, iridescent. A breeze caught through the grass, trembling through leaves on the trees, blowing softly against their skin. They could hear birds singing, calling across the field to signify the days end.

And in the light they could see the faces of the people who had saved them. Their friends. Their friends who they’d been protecting all this time. Who they’d never betrayed, no matter how Whumper cut and sliced and beat them.

“Oh, God,” Whumpee croaked, their voice was foreign to them. Weak and painful. “Oh, my God.” If they weren’t being held by the two under their arms they would have collapsed with relief. Tears began to leave thick trails down their cheeks, burning their face.

It was really over. They were free.

The warm voice on their right spoke again. Caretaker. “It’s good to have you back, Whumpee.”

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.

It was meant to be temporary, or for there to be people checking on them and taking care of them.

But then something happens. Whumpee's people are under attack, there is a natural disaster, some glitch put everyone in lockdown, or just anything bigger is happening and keeping everyone away from Whumpee. As a result, Whumpee is left alone, where they are locked up.

Maybe Whumpee was delirious or possessed or is amnesic, and now wakes up alone and confused, with no one answering. Maybe Whumpee knows that something is happening and fears the worst for their friends. Maybe they are unaware that the others have a good reason to be kept out, and so Whumpee thinks they have been abandoned or are being punished.

The whumpee tied up, refusing to scream because it would spell doom for their allies. Whumper grins and says, "Oh, I'll make you scream for sure..." before they began to torture the whumpee. Beating them, slashing them up with a knife, whipping them, you name it. The whumper wants them to scream loud and clear to lure their team to the whumper.

Post whump

Content: comfort, Post captivity, bruises, lashing out, PTSD

Whumpee wrapped up in a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate. "Aren't you going to drink that?" "No. I think I'll just... sit here with it."

Hugs. Whumpee numbly walking into caretaker's outstretched arms and squeezing their eyes shut as the arms gently embrace them.

Waking up with a nightmare and patting the comforter, slapping the bed, walking around touching every wall, every piece of furniture, reminding themselves of where they are. Not there, not anymore.

Dyeing their hair after being forced to leave it down, tangled, uncut, for months in captivity.

Watching bruises fade from red and purple to green and yellow. Green becomes whumpee's favorite color, because they never got to see it when whumpers was in control of them---bruises were always fresh. It's a symbol that the pain is there, but it's going. And it will heal, just like the bruises.

Maybe they lost their whole friend group because their friends couldn't handle what happened to them. And now they're making new friends in caretaker's friend group. People that understand and don't mind.

the whumper who did it guides them through the room while being too touchy, even to the dazed whumpee. they meet some of their mutual friends along the way.

"don't worry, whumpee went a little overboard with the alcohol," whumper laughs it off and everyone believes them, because whumper is a great friend and an even better liar, "i'll take care of them."

whumpee cant protest, their mouth not forming the right words. even if they could speak, it'd sound like mindless rambling. whumper wouldnt do something like that

they take slow, seemingly heavy steps towards whumpee's corner, their hands outstretched to display the lack of any implements. whumpee shudders and shrinks into a tighter ball. that has never protected them, before.

there are words, but they can't really make them out over the roaring fear. they are grabbed and pulled to their feet. the chains are unlocked. whumpee stares at them, feeling untethered. they want them back.

then they are being led away. what is this? the question loops around their head, over and over, as they are bundled up and put into an ambulance. they are asked questions but their words are no longer theirs. the anxiety has them awake and alert even as their body droops with exhaustion.

It was drilled into Whumpee very early on to never wake Whumper up, no matter what. It was also drilled into them to not make a mess of any kind. So, being tied up at night and needing to go to the bathroom was an all-night torment.

They could try and hold it in with great discomfort, and struggle to sleep. Or, they could wet themself and stir in the embarrassment— as well as face Whumper’s wrath in the morning.

That's not even mentioning how uncomfortable it would be to sit in their own piss all night... but holding it in didn't exactly feel much better. Especially next to how cold the room was, and how numb their wrists had become from the pressure of the rope that held them.

yeah seeing the injuring is fun but the aftermath can be just as good...

character(s) racing through a building—prison, stronghold, base, hospital, etc.—in the hopes that behind one of the hundreds of doors lining the long, dark hallways is their captured companion...

without the knowledge that their friend is even alive, even within the limits of successful rescue, run render themselves ragged and their arms numb by tearing open each and every door.

perhaps there's a time constraint...only a few minutes until the guards see through the diversion they'd created, or a fire has started somewhere in the bowels of the building. either way, they have to find their taken friend, and soon.

finally one of the group mates shouts, their frantic call echoing down the halls. their missing companion has been found. the squad convalesces to find the crumpled body they'd come for.

bloodied, beaten, and barely conscious, their friend isn't able to register exactly who it is that's touching them, running shaking fingers along the underside of their neck. they think it's the one who put them in this state. the only face they can see is of their cruel, relentless assailant.

taken companion begins to scream, to fight back with what little strength they can muster—perhaps injuring one of their rescuers in the process...they bite or kick or punch or choke someone they love dearly.