#exhausted whumpee

[jordanstrophe]

I feel like I don't give exhaustion whump enough credit.

Whumpees still awake and aware of their surroundings, but can't do anything about it. They could be drained from lack of sleep, fighting back too hard for too long, running for hours and are in danger if they stop. 

When they finally get to rest, they don't move at all; not even to adjust if they've crumbled to a heap on the floor

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Whump prompt: Whumper saying, "aw, all tuckered out" to a Whumpee that exhausted themselves trying to get free from their restraints.

[chaotic-orphan]

A quick prompt

“Please…” Hero wheezed, clawing their fingernails desperately into the dirt, trying to pull themselves forward, closer to Villain who was so heart wrenchingly close if Hero could just reach them. “Please d-don’t…”

Villain tilted their head at the exhausted Hero with more pity than sympathy, and a little bit of awe at how even when beaten, even when eating dirt, Hero still didn’t know when to quit. Maybe they were born without a survival instinct.

“I told you before Hero,” Villain said.

Hero’s grip in the dirt turned their knuckles white and they cried out a strangled scream of frustration and helplessness as they pulled their limp body towards Villain.

“You can’t save everyone, everywhere, at all times and expect to get away with it.”

“Yes…” Hero panted, dragging themselves an inch closer. “I can. As long as I draw breath, I can save the world.”

“Sweetheart,” Villain cooed, clicking their tongue against the roof of their mouth. “You can’t even save yourself.”

Hero heard, more than saw, Villain push the button on their remote and froze. It was as if the Earth took a sharp inhale of breath — the world turned slower, nature grew quiet, all Hero could hear was the ringing in their ears and the thundering pounding of their heart in their throat — the ground rumbled beneath Hero and they had just enough strength to push their head up to watch as everything they knew turned to ash.

The fire burned hot, as if Hero was in it instead of beside it, looking down at it, and no matter how much they wanted to Hero couldn’t tear their eyes away from the flames or the screams or the smoke or the sirens or the death and destruction they could have prevented if they had just been stronger.

Hero flinched as a hand settled on the nape of their neck, rubbing soothing circles over the skin. “It was a valiant effort Hero, I want you to know that. There is nothing you could have done. Although you did come the closest to beating me. I had to even the playing field a bit, what with your borderline obsessive tenacity.”

Villain’s words sent a shiver up Hero’s spine. “Don’t worry, this is only the beginning. I told you we would change the world, didn’t I?”

They did. That was the first thing Villain ever told Hero. At the time it sounded so attractive, so endearing. It was so easy for Villain to convince Hero to follow Villain after that because they wanted the same things.

Hero just didn’t imagine that in order for the world to change, so many needed to die.

“Come on now, let me get you back to bed. We can start rebuilding tomorrow. That’s when the real work begins.”

[chiharuuu22]

How about this one?

Whumpee is saved by Caretaker. His clothes were in tatters, and his body was covered in blood, bruises, and dirt. A conscious Whumpee is too tired and weak to make a move to let Caretaker do anything to him.

Caretaker laid him in the bathtub and carefully said she would clean his body. His unfit clothes were removed one by one. Whumpee is uncomfortable being seen naked, but he still lets Caretaker wear latex gloves in front of him. Slowly pouring warm water on him, rubbing his dirty body with soapy water mixed with antiseptic, trying to remove all the dirt that sticks to him one by one, cleaning his hair with shampoo, saying excuse me when the Caretaker is going to rinse it, even helping him brush his teeth.

Whumpee, who had finished cleaning, was carried to his resting room. Caretaker will dry his body with a soft towel, comb his hair, which she has worked so hard to soften again, and treat all of Whumpee's wounds painstakingly before finally dressing him in proper clothes.

Whumpee was tired but felt happy and grateful because the person who took care of his body, which was full of wounds after so long, was Caretaker. The last thing Whumpee saw before closing his eyes to end his long suffering was the Caretaker's sweet face smiling and telling him to rest without thinking about anything.

[whumpdaydreamerx]

Magic Whumpee needing to perform a huge spell for whatever reason and it requiring a significant amount of life force. It starts to take a toll on them, starting to sway and lose their balance — yet never stopping.

Caretaker sees them continuously becoming more and more unstable. As Whumpee stumbles backwards, Caretaker reaches out to steady them, placing a hand on their shoulder and one on their arm.

Even as blood slips from their nose, Whumpee continues the spell, but nods their thanks and reassurance to their worried Caretaker.

[whumpupthejam]

when whumpee is super weak, whether it’s because they’re drugged or they’ve been beaten or they’re over exhausted etc., and whumper keeps touching/grabbing their face and they’re trying to jerk away but they’re just too weak to escape the touch 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[baughtio]

Whumpee who gets kidnapped by whumper, but they don’t really mind being put in a cage, bound up and collared because they don’t like their own life. Maybe they are unemployed and struggling to make ends meet, maybe they have no friends and family. Isn’t physical pain and degradation better than the despair that comes with being free?

[whumpandthewild]

whumpee who can't stop pushing themselves to the limits. physically, mentally, they just have to. it's been like this for such a long time, they don't mind anymore.

and then caretaker appears, warm and caring, and suddenly whumpee's will melts away in mere seconds.

[whumblr]

What if you wrote a scene where zayne is about to go at it (lol) and jays so tired and wrung out he just breaks down in tears? :0

Here we go!

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

-

Cycle of abuse

Jay barely made out the glint of the knife before he was shoved back and he crashed into the wall.

Pain flared through him; all cuts, every bruise on his back lighting right up, all at the same time, mingling sharp stabs with dull throbs. The cuts seared through his skin, bruises pulsed so deep he swore the blood pressed against bone.

The air forced out of him in a sharp but cutoff yelp of pain. Tears sprang to his eyes. And not just from the pain. He only wanted to rest after a long day. Just wanted to be alone. Not deal with the pain, the aftermath, picking himself back up. He just wanted to stay dow—

He didn't even attempt to clutch at Zayne. Made no effort to keep upright. And before Zayne noticed and could grab him by the shirt or his arms, he slowly slid down the wall. His hands covered his face, the burning tears, and his trembling lips, but he still turned away in shame hoping Zayne wouldn’t see. He couldn’t stop it. Took a deep halting breath hoping to steady himself – didn’t work – and he just sat there on the floor, caught in-between Zayne’s legs and the wall.

His shoes came to a rest against the toes of Zayne’s boots and he folded in on himself, elbows resting on his knees, shoulders shuddering along with his frantic breaths.

"Wait. Are you..." A hand clasped his shoulder and shook him lightly but he swatted it off. "Are you crying?"

"Fuck off," Jay snarled from under his palms.

Zayne, in his awkwardness, lashed out. “Fuck’s sake, don’t be such a vajayjay.” This time he did curl a hand into Jay’s shirt to pull him up. But before he could, Jay sprang to his feet, shoved Zayne aside and shot past him, making his escape to the bathroom.

"Oh, come o--"

The harsh snap of the lock cut him off. And the other lock to the hallway, to ensure his safety and just to make a point. Mainly just to make a point… Zayne had already demonstrated that bathroom locks were useless.

But as Jay backed away slowly, fully prepared and keeping an eye on the lock, there was no pawing at the door, no clacking of the knife, and the lock didn’t slowly turn.

He sank down on the toilet, fully bending over, elbows on his knees, fingers combing through the short strands of hair until they clawed at the back of his head.

Deep breaths, come on, deep breaths.

He hadn’t meant to burst into tears like that. But like most breakdowns, he hadn’t been able to stop it either. The waterworks just turned on, as if the energy that usually was allotted to keeping emotions – and breakdowns – at bay was completely spent. He was drained. Battery completely empty.

And so he let it happen. Let it out. Didn’t try to keep his face straight, his lips from trembling. There was nothing to hide here. Yet he still did so; burying his face into the crook of his elbow, and keeping his sobs to a minimum volume.

It did calm him down. Probably also because his exhaustion level now peaked…

He brushed a sleeve over his cheekbones, wiped the salty splashes from his glasses, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Zayne, unfortunately, hadn’t left yet, and sat waiting for him on the couch. He looked up, with a somewhat awkward expression.

“Do you want a hug?” he asked, but without much enthusiasm and he didn’t make any moves to get up.

“No,” Jay just said, somewhat indignant, and Zayne shrugged. “Would you want a hug from Emery?”

Zayne actually recoiled lightly at that and threw him a disgusted glance.

“Same thing, really,” Jay said, his time to shrug. Also, Emery would never offer a hug.

“Do not compare me to him.”

“He makes your life miserable, you make my life miserable. It’s the cycle of abuse.” Uncaring for any consequences, Jay just slumped down in his chair and dragged his laptop into his lap.

For a while, they sat in silence. Even though Jay could see Zayne struggling for words, opening his mouth every now and then, sitting up and pointedly glancing at Jay when he thought he’d found the words, but just backed out of it again.

Then he got up, and as he left turned to Jay. “Okay, but if you had to choose… between me or him.”

“I already have you both in my life and there isn’t much to choose.”

“No, idiot. For a hug.”

Ugh. Well, a hug was barely more intimate than being bodily pressed against a wall with a knife to your throat so… “Then you, I guess.”

-

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[zoethehead]

A whumpee who was turned into a dangerous monster after being forced to transform. Their body warps and transforms painfully into a mindless beast that can only heed the words of their captor.

-

Until one day, when the Whumpee's fighting a group of people, the caretaker uses some magic on the whumpee, thinking that it's just another being made of darkness; when surprise, surprise. The whumpee shrieks out in pain as they painfully turn back to their human form and collapse to the grass beneath them, passing out as their world grows black before their eyes again.

-

The caretaker rushes over, picking up the whumpee, seeing the poor state that they were in; half conscious and covered in bruises and cuts. The whumpee's carried off somewhere safe where they can maybe fully heal from the extent of their injuries.

[delicateprincepaper]

Exhausted whumpee Ideas

When a whumpee is too tired to fight back and doesn't even react when someone grabs them.

When a whumpees words start to slur as they become more and more exhausted.

When they try to look defiant but they're too tired to glare.

When somebody releases them from their bindings and they just crumple to the floor.

[jordanstrophe]

They've broken the lock to whumpee's cell. Light floods the room for the first time in what felt like eternity. Whumpee tries to lift their head to meet their rescuers, but they don't have the strength to; their head giving way and collapsing against the floor in a pitiful display of what strength they have left.

[patheticlittleguy]

caretaker tenderly patching up whumpee as they get progressively sleepier from exhaustion. caretaker keeps nudging them awake so they can finish patching whumpee up. the moment theyre done whumpee lays their head on the crook of caretakers neck. caretaker holds them and they sink bonelessly into caretakers arms. (sleep takes them swiftly, mercifully)

[biggest-whump-fan]

I'm not that kind of talent ch 12

I told u guys, this manhwa is FULL OF WHUMP 😩🤌🏻

[chiharuuu22]

When Whumpee was with Whumper, Whumpee never experienced such a thing as sleeping peacefully. He was made not to sleep for days until he experienced severe hallucinations, or when he finally managed to sleep, Whumpee would be forcibly awakened. That's why you can see black eye circles like a panda on Whumpee's face. Don't ever think Whumpee sleeps in a good place. Just getting a flat and dry floor, he was already grateful. The temperature of the place? It's too hot that it makes you sweat from your hair to your feet, or it's too cold that it makes you shiver to the bone.

After being rescued, Whumpee experienced the first time he fell asleep comfortably without worry in Caretaker's arms and woke up again (after who knows how long) in a much better place. No one forced him to stay awake; he even fell asleep many times in the middle of the conversation. When he woke up in the middle of the night, Caretaker gently told him to go back to sleep. Whumpee will wake up slowly without being shocked to eat, take medicine, or clean his body. The place to sleep was clearly very good, on a comfortable bed with soft sheets, some soft pillows, a warm blanket that is always fixed in position if it is shifted by the Caretaker, and even several plushies that the Caretaker placed to accompany Whumpee. What's the room temperature? The caretaker always keeps the air conditioner on at the right temperature so that Whumpee sleeps soundly without getting too hot or cold.

[whumpdaydreamerx]

Couch Whump Visual that I Love

An injured Whumpee laying on the couch. Their legs sprawled over the cushions. One bent at the knee resting against the back of the couch, while the other hangs off the side. Whumpee not bothering to lift it up to rest with the other – or not having the energy to.

Their chest rising and falling rapidly with heavy breaths from the pain they're in. Maybe one of their arms resting on top of their forehead and eyes. Perhaps a hand gripping the back of the couch, or a hand reaching over their shoulder holding onto the arm rest for dear life.