The Whispering Whumper

"how are you standing right now?" medic asks, horror splashed across their face. it feels like a dream.

vertigo hooks its claws in whumpee's side and makes them sway. they try grabbing at the nearest fixure— which is caretaker. but no, touching only gets them hurt. the next nearest thing is the stool. they miss.

"how are you standing right now?" medic asks, horror splashed across their face. it feels like a dream.

vertigo hooks its claws in whumpee's side and makes them sway. they try grabbing at the nearest fixure— which is caretaker. but no, touching only gets them hurt. the next nearest thing is the stool. they miss.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know what you mean,”

Helpless Caretakers. Forced to watch Whumpee suffering and unable to intervene because:

They're separated by a physical barrier (cell bars / reinforced window / forcefield)

Doing so would mean breaking their cover and putting whumpee/the rest of the team/the mission at greater risk

Societal structures/laws don't allow them to.

They're held back by restraints / whumper's henchmen.

They're too injured/weak/otherwise disabled to be able to effectively intervene

They know that any efforts to intervene will make things worse for the whumpee long term.

They're watching a recording/live-stream.

Whumpee's suffering is necessary in some way (Ritual, activation of powers, powers)

They don't have the medical training / equipment / resources to treat whumpee

“Dude, you were literally kidnapped and locked in a basement.”

"It's okay, I've been through worse."

Whumpril day 28 - Sobbing Uncontrollably

CWs: Past panic attack, hurt/no comfort

Kevin was crying. That's all he does. He just cries and cries and cries. While the rest of his friends dealt with stress in more healthy ways, Kevin just holed himself in his room and sobbed.

His parents asked him if he was okay, but he didn't want to tell them. It was stupid. He was crying over something stupid.

It was just a party. He was supposed to be having fun. Sure, he got overwhelmed and anxious, but he should've calmed down and had fun with everyone, right? Why did he have to ruin it with his obnoxious crying?

He tried to take deep breaths. He tried to calm down, but he couldn't. He couldn't control the heaving gasps. He couldn't control his racing heart, the nausea, the shaking... Why was he so weak?

Why weren't his friends there for him?

CW: Restraints, muzzled, collared

Whumper keeps Whumpee in an excessive amount of restraints (can’t move an inch for chains, collared, muzzled) to ensure that they won’t break out - even if Whumpee is completely cooperative

Whumpee who does fight back, who bites, claws, scratches, does everything they can to cause as much damage to Whumper as possible

Whumper who “has to” keep Whumpee constantly sedated

Whumpee is a danger to themself, intentionally or not, so Whumper has to protect them before they fatally injure themselves

Nonhuman Whumpee is percieved as dangerous and muzzled/shock collared before they can plead their case, if they even can

Caretaker who is scared of Whumpee!

Stranger Caretaker arriving to rescue Whumpee after defeating Whumper but hesitating when they realise who or what Whumpee is

Whumpee’s hope turning to dread as they see this, and silently begging for mercy

Whumpee who lashes out at Caretaker, who hurts then one day, and guilt hits them at full force

Whumpee who believes they’re a danger to Caretaker and takes it upon themself to remove themself from the equation

Caretsker who flinches when Whumpee moves suddenly

Whumpee wakes up after being rescued, filled with relief - only when they try to move they notice the chains, and the muzzle

Or Whumpee wakes up in a hospital but is restrained to the bed “for their own safety”

Whumpee is a living weapon or villain and everyone is scared of them - except Caretaker’s child

Something that made Caretaker's chest sink and feel heavy and painful

When Caretaker saw Whumpee for the first time after disappearing for a long time, he was very weak and even unconscious,

When Caretaker saw Whumpee lying still on his bed, too sick and tired to even open his eyes and make a sound,

When Caretaker saw Whumpee's weak hand, he moved around looking for Caretaker's hand because he didn't want to leave it,

When Caretaker saw Whumpee, who struggled because he was uncomfortable, he tried to remove the medical device while he was in a semi-conscious phase,

When Caretaker saw Whumpee, who had to be helped even just to drink,

When Caretaker saw Whumpee screaming in fear in the middle of the night,

When Caretaker saw Whumpee, who was uncomfortable while sleeping, moving restlessly in his delirium

When Caretaker saw Whumpee's blank stare,

When Caretaker bathing and putting clean clothes on Whumpee,

When Caretaker saw Whumpee crying silently,

When Caretaker saw Whumpee, who was confused about the things he had forgotten due to trauma,

When Caretaker heard Whumpee groan in pain while sleeping,

When Caretaker heard weak words from Whumpee's mouth, like "Hurt" "Water "Help me" "I can't breathe" "My body feels heavy" "My head feels spinning",

When Caretaker felt Whumpee's weak and thin body in her arms,

When Caretaker saw Whumpee's body, which was covered in bandages and bruises,

When the beating was over, Whumper dragged them to the basement by their hair and deposited them in The Box. The punishment reserved for only the worst transgressions.

Whumpee’s hands were bound behind their back. The handcuffs were standard. But after Whumpee had once scratched their fingers so raw on the hardwood walls that Whumper had been forced to take them to an actual hospital afterwards, they had started wrapping their hands in duct tape as well. The gag was more typical. The kind that most people used for more desirable activities. But still adequate enough for Whumper’s purposes. They claimed they couldn’t hear Whumpee’s screams through the floorboards when they had it on.

Whumpee had never completely believed that. They could hear everything that went on outside The Box when they were in it after all. Except for the time that Whumper had stuffed cotton in their ears and tapped over them to throw them into total sensory deprivation. But that had only happened once. Even Whumper had admit they'd gone too far that time.

This time, Whumpee had only been in The Box for a few hours (or so they assumed) before the typical sounds of Whumper walking around and talking on the phone were broken by crashing and yelling, and sirens.

Whumpee was free! It was finally over! The police had come and Whumper was gone! And they were going to find Whumpee, and rescue them, and take them home!

Home.

That singular thought had run in Whumpee's head like the steady bong of a church bell. Constant and all consuming. A feeling that filled their chest and shook the last tendrils of their energy into focus around one singular mission.

They did the best they could. Kicked against the walls of their tiny prison. Screamed through the gag at the top of their lungs until their throat was raw and they couldn't swallow for lack of moisture. They kicked. Screamed. Shook. Sobbed.

But it seemed Whumper hadn't been lying after all. The original noise of the invasion died down. Decreasing foot steps shook the floor. The frantic talking started to die down. And then pick up again. And then die down. In an eb and flow Whumpee couldn't predict or follow.

People were looking for them. They couldn't hear entire conversations. But their name stuck out often. At first people had been calling it. Screaming as loudly as Whumpee thought they were. But after a while the voices grew quieter, and they could understand less of what was being said besides their own name.

At first the conversations were calm. But were growing more desperate by the minute. Hour? Day?

Whumpee had no idea how long had passed. Their limbs had cramped a long time ago. Gone numb from lack of blood flow and movement. Then their stomach began to grumble, then cramp, then go silent.

All that they were used to. Pain. Starvation. In barely registered as a problem in the confines of their well trained mind.

It was the thirst that made them spiral. They had been thirsty before. But this was all consuming. They could barely think of anything else but their all consuming need for water. Even a glass of it would do.

They could barely keep their eyes open now. Not that it helped anyway in the pitch black of The Box. They didn't have the energy to kick the walls anymore. And no voice to yell with. The chiming of that hopeful bell in their chest had grown so silent they could barely hear it anymore over the subtle beating of their fluttering heart.

They'd always known that The Box was well hidden. And had long now accepted that their would-be rescuers had not heard their cries for help. But surely Whumper had told them where they were.

No matter how mad Whumpee had ever made them, no matter how bad the punishment got, they'd never forgotten to give them water. Starved them? Yes. Beat them within and inch of their lives? More times than Whumpee could count. But Whumper had never let Whumpee get to this level of dehydration. They'd always been so careful about that.

Even now. They would never let this get this far.

Why would the police leave them here? Why weren't they resucing them and letting them out? What had Whumpee done to make the police so mad that they deserved to be punsihed like this? To be left in here for so long?

The bell in their chest stopped chiming as Whumpee realized with a sinking feeling that they were never going to be let out of here. They were going to die in this coffin. And their body wasn't going to be found until long after they'd been mummified by the arid air and dust. Or else eaten by the insects and mice that crawled on the other side of the floorboards. They'd become nothing more than a curiosity to put in a museum, for passers by to read about and wonder: What did they do so bad that they deserved this?

Maybe that answer would be put on display for onlookers. Maybe it was obvious to the rest of the world. But as Whumpee's consious slipped ever closer into oblivion, only one explaination could swirl in the drain at the center of their reality.

"it hurts," the other gasped, too breathless for more than a whisper of words. "please make it stop - "

the leader looked from their teammate's wan face to the bloodstained mess of their clothes, and the worried expression of the medic who was still tending to them.

"it'll be over soon," they said. they leaned down, pressed their cheek to the sweaty forehead of the other, wished there was more they could have done.

all they could do now was hold their teammate and wait, their mind racing in a frantic prayer and desperate hope - let them be all right, please, please.

"it'll be over soon," they said again.