#hidden whumpee

[leyswhumpdump]

Hidden Whumpee Prompts

Whumpees whose fear response is hiding.

A caretaker who has to go looking for whumpee every single time something scary happens. Or when nothing seems to have happened, but a quick movement or a sharp voice sends whumpee scurrying away before caretaker can call them back

A whumpee who’s injured (or ill), hiding their wounds and therefore their vulnerabilities. Or hiding their whole self, and caretaker has to follow the trail of blood to find them

A whumper who knows all of whumpee’s hiding spots, so whumpee can’t even hide from them

Caretaker joining whumpee in their little place of safety, trying to reassure them

Whumpee dragging caretaker into their little place of safety (bonus points if there’s no objective reason to be hiding)

The classic “bear behind the lamppost” of terrible hiding skills

Whumpees who are skilled at camouflage

Whumpees with invisibility powers

Whumpees hiding in dangerous places, perhaps unknowingly (e.g. a dumpster that’s about to be emptied, a room with limited oxygen, a teapot for a tiny whumpee)

Whumpees hiding in oversized clothes

Whumpees hiding tattoos, scars or brands from whumper, caretaker, their team or wider society

Whumpees hiding food

Whumpees hiding their comfort items

Whumpees hiding other whumpees

I personally love the hiding trope because it allows whumpee some agency, but also does a great job of showing how timid and vulnerable they are.

[whump-or-whatever]

I absolutely love when a character is trying to hide injuries or just how sore they are by moving around like normal. They’ve perfected walking without wincing, ignoring the pain as they sit down or stand up, maybe even running.

But then as soon as they’re out of sight, the second they make it home and the door closes behind them, they just collapse to the floor in tears.

[nat-1-whump]

"Caretaker, I'm f-fine. It's only a little cut. I can..." Whumpee wobbled, losing their grip on the wall they were leaning on. "... I can fix it myself."

Caretaker was already opening the medical kit, rummaging around for some scissors to cut through Whumpee's shirt. "No, you're not 'fine!' You're covered in blood! Now sit down, or I'll make you."

"I never said it was... All my blood..." Whumpee mumbled, as they slid down the wall into a sitting position on the floor.

Caretaker knelt in front of them, peeling back the sticky, reddened fabric to expose the wound on Whumpee's chest. Their jaw tensed. Somehow, it was even worse than they thought. They'd be lucky if it wasn't already infected. How long had Whumpee been hiding the damn thing?

"It's not that bad, I pro---mmph!" Whumpee's eyes widened as Caretaker stuffed a roll of gauze into their mouth.

Caretaker shot Whumpee a pointed glare and set to work trying to stem the bleeding. "Shut it. I don't want another word out of you unless it's an explanation."

[jordanstrophe]

Caretaker opens the trashcan and finds dozens of blood-covered rags, the med kit's been moved with supplies missing and whumpee's been lying in their room all day.

-Que caretaker bursting their door open yelling "WHAT did you get involved in NOW?"

[cpt-winters]

*That Hidden Injury Trope*

Leader forced the grimace off his face, expression neutral as he pressed his hand to his side, head kept down as he opened the door.

Of course, Teammate was still there, arms crossed and eyes glued to him.

"What do you want? I'm tired." He sighed, brushing past the other.

"I want to know that you're okay."

Leader momentarily paused, pursing his lips as he kept a steady pressure on his side. "I don't need this right now. I'm fine."

"Come on boss," Teammate pleaded, taking the silence as their queue to push. "The whole team's worried about you. You won't even look at us! And you've- you've barely said a word since-"

"Since I got Youngest killed?" Leader finished for them, slow to swallow the lump in his throat. "There's nothing to say."

"...What?" Teammate's voice was little more than a whisper. "How can you even say that? It wasn't your fault!"

Leader shook his head, gritting his teeth as he fought the urge to say something.

"You did everything you could. Everything."

"Yeah, well it wasn't enough!" he finally snapped, a wince swift to escape him as he turned too quickly.

Teammate stilled, immediate words dying in their throat as their eyes fell on Leader's hand still cradling his side. "Are you.. are you hurt?" they started, voice torn between outrage and concern.

"It's nothing." Leader took a half-step back, the stumble doing nothing to further his point. "Just leave it." The blurring figure closing the distance paid no heed to his instruction, a cold hand lifting his damp shirt before he could swat it away.

"Leader-! What th....-ell?"

Leader's brows furrowed, Teammate's voice muffled as they pulled back red-coated fingers. He lifted his gaze to the other, their mouth moving, but no noise reaching his ears.

"Jus.. drop it," he insisted, vaguely aware of the hands shooting towards him as the ground rushed to greet him.

2/3 (Part One, Part Three)

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee hid any mistakes they made from the caretaker, just like they used to do with the whumper. The whumpee would hide injuries as well, which often meant that the caretaker would find them when the injuries where at their worst, anxious about how the injuries had gotten there in the first place.

[friendlesscat]

A whumpee that's so used to pain they don't realize they're hurt.

They've been so accustomed to the constant wounds and torture that they gradually grew numb to it. Or maybe to them, pain is a constant state of being, there's nothing unusual about it. And so, there's not much of a difference wether it hurts a bit more or a bit less.

Perhaps, when they've been rescued and getting accustomed to ordinary life, they might get hurt. But, since it's just a dull ache, it's fine, right? After it doesn't get better for a while, they might mention it to someone and receive the advice to visit a doctor - only to find out that the injury is major and that a person normally wouldn't be able to function at all, much less brush it off as a "minor inconvenience".

That would probably make their companions wonder about what they could have gone through to become like this. Perhaps they knew it wasn't good, but never to this extent. :D

[whumperofworlds]

Caretaker: Why is there blood on the carpet?!

Whumpee, who has been hiding their injury:

[fern-writes-whump]

Hi <3 I’ve been thinking of more reasons for a whumpee to hide their injuries✨️

they're still in the middle of a mission and they don't have any time to get medical attention either way so there's no reason to distract everyone else from their tasks

they don’t know! the adrenaline of the fight still hasn’t faded so they won’t know they’re bleeding until someone else sees the stain quickly spreading on their clothes

whumper wants them to be “perfect” and marks are an easy way to be “discarded”

Plain old “they believe they deserve whatever happened to them”

Another whumpee is injured and they’d rather use the limited supplies on them.

They know they won’t make it and they don’t want their last moments to be filled with people panicking and crying

[the-broken-pen]

Six months ago, when the protagonist had first appeared in the middle of the villain’s compound, scrawny and half feral, the villain hadn’t thought much of it.

And then it happened again.

And again.

The villain thought something of it.

“Let me work with you,” they had begged. The villain was almost certain the protagonist was homeless. “Please, I have powers, I can—”

The villain said yes.

Maybe it had been whatever remnants were left of the villain’s stupid heart. Maybe it was the chocolate donut they had that morning. Maybe it was the desperation coming off the protagonist in waves.

Maybe they were just bored.

They paid it no mind.

The protagonist did have powers, but they were minor. The kind you see in small children, the first in a bloodline to mutate powers. Their great grand children would wield enough power to level buildings, be heroes and villains and everything in between. But for now, they sat in preschool classrooms and summoned the tiniest spark of flame.

The protagonist, trembling like a fawn, sweat slicking their brow, seemed to be one of those children. Albeit an older version.

Not useless, exactly. They had a startling affinity for picking locks—which explained the ability to get into the villain’s compound—a willingness to fight anyone, and a lack of fear. But they weren’t exactly the most useful sidekick the villain could have picked.

The villain wouldn’t trade them for anyone else, though.

Their stupid, half dead heart, it seemed, cared for the protagonist.

So, when the hero set out to kill the protagonist, the villain knew they would do anything to keep them safe.

They caught the hero’s hand, twisting to shove them backwards a step, and they felt rather than saw the protagonist wince.

“Violent today, aren’t we?”

The hero was seething, and it unsettled something in the villain. The hero was unstable, yes. But the villain had never seen them try to kill someone before; they hadn’t even considered the hero might try.

They dodged another blow, the hero’s power blasting apart a building behind them. Their spine prickled, and they dropped to avoid the next hit.

“Just itching to go to prison for homicide, hm?”

When the hero didn’t even attempt to respond to their half-assed banter, the villain’s gut roiled.

“Protagonist,” they said between breaths. “Leave. Now.”

“No.”

They managed to throw the hero to the ground, risking a glance at the protagonist. They were covered in dust, supersuit dirty and torn across one calf, but their feet remained planted, shoulders set. “You heard me. Go back to the compound—“

The protagonist’s eyes widened, and the villain knew they had turned away for too long.

The villain went down hard, ears ringing, as the hero shook out their fist.

“Stop it,” the protagonist’s voice cracked. They took a step forward, wavering like they weren’t sure if they should run or fight.

“Go,” the villain coughed, and the protagonist flinched. They rolled onto their back, struggling to stand as the hero’s power flickered dangerously.

The villain knew, innately, that the next hit would kill them.

The villain sucked in a painful breath.

The hero lunged.

And the protagonist, voice wrecked with fear, screamed, “Dad.”

The villain’s heart stuttered.

There was a flash of light.

In front of them, panting for air like they would never get enough, was the protagonist. The hero’s fist was planted against their chest still, and the villain could tell it had been a death blow. Anyone, even the villain, wouldn’t have survived.

And yet—

The protagonist stood, unharmed.

“Dad,” they said again, and the hero didn’t quite flinch, but it was close. “Stop.”

The silence was deafening.

Something in the hero’s jaw tightened.

“Move,” the hero said lowly. The protagonist didn’t falter.

“No.”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“What exactly will you do to me if I don’t listen,” the protagonist gave a sharp laugh. “Hit me? You tried that already.”

The hero sucked in a breath.

“I am your—“

“You are my nothing,” the protagonist corrected. “Certainly not my father. You lost that right when I was eight.”

The villain managed to push themselves to their feet.

“That was stupid,” the villain murmured, but it didn’t have any heat to it. “You couldn’t have known that would work. You had no idea if you could survive a hit like that.”

The protagonist very pointedly did not turn around, shoulders tense.

“I did,” their voice was strained. “He lost the right to fatherhood when I was eight, remember?”

The hero didn’t say anything, but the villain thought that might have been shame creeping its way across their face.

Oh.

Oh.

The hero—

The villain had been harboring the child of the most powerful being on the planet for six months. A child the hero had tried to kill, or at the very least, hurt.

Their heart stuttered.

They had been harboring the most powerful being on the planet, their mind corrected. A drop of blood slid its way down their spine. Power grew with every generation, and with the hero already so powerful, any child they had would be something close to a god.

“You said you had mild telekinesis,” the villain said numbly. The protagonist half turned to look over their shoulder, eyes shiny.

“My mom,” the protagonist. “I got it from her. The rest…”

From the hero.

The protagonist scanned the villain’s face.

They were searching for signs of violence, the villain realized. The protagonist wasn’t afraid of the hero anymore; no, the protagonist had seen the worst they could do. But somehow, the protagonist had begun to care for the villain. And they were terrified the villain—the person they trusted the most—was going to hurt them over a secret. The villain could see it all, scrawled across the protagonist’s face clear as day.

The villain was going to kill the hero. Painfully.

“Protagonist,” the villain kept their voice even. Gentle. Slow. “I’m not mad. And I’m not going to hurt you.” Their eyes slipped past to the protagonist to the hero.

“Him, however, I will be.”

The protagonist worried their lip between their teeth, and the villain watched as their power—their true power—sparked along their shoulder blades.

The villain stepped forwards—

“Don’t,” it was little more than a whisper.

The villain stopped.

The protagonist slid in front of the villain once more. “Just,” they raised a hand, as if taking a moment to choose their next words. “Stay.”

The villain stayed.

When the protagonist’s attention turned back to the hero, it was bloodthirsty. It spoke of war, and hatred, and revenge.

“You’re going to leave,” the protagonist’s voice was sharp enough to cut skin. “And you aren’t going to come back. I don’t care if it’s because you don’t want to, or because you know that if you do, I will kill you and I’ll like it—you won’t come back.”

The hero swallowed.

“The city needs me.”

“You are a plague to this city, and I am ridding it of you. Get. Out.”

The hero stumbled a step backwards, as if they had been hit. Their expression twisted.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” the protagonist seethed.

They all knew the protagonist meant it.

The hero was halfway down the block, news vans and reporters scrambling their way onto the scene with cameras raised, when the protagonist called after them.

“Oh, and Dad?” The cameras snapped to them, and the protagonist grinned. It was vicious—it looked like the villain’s. “Parents who abuse their children don’t get to be heroes. Especially not you.”

They waited a beat, two, three.

The press exploded.

Above the din, power crackling around them, the protagonist mouthed two words.

“I win.”

[thechaoticfanartist]

Whumpee that hides their symptoms/injuries but knows they should probably tell someone that they don't feel good, they just don't want to worry anyone

[feverdreamsanddelusions]

prompt ask game — kidnapping

[tw kidnapping, needles, noncon drugging, betrayal, captivity, threat of murder, knives, guns, hidden in plain sight, intimate whumper, conditioned whumpee, stockholm syndrome]

25 scenarios and 25 dialogue prompts :)

scenarios

chloroformed rag to the face

attacked from behind

attacked by someone whumpee knew and trusted

attacked while fumbling with the keys to their front door

shoved into the back of a van

tranquilised via a little dart

drugged with a syringe to the neck

held at knifepoint

held at gunpoint

threatened into complying

knocked unconscious with bare hands

whumper was in the backseat of their car

whumpee has to pretend everything is okay and they're not currently being kidnapped

waking up in the trunk of a car

waking up in the backseat, tied up and possibly gagged

waking up in a dingy basement

sensory deprivation (noise cancelling earphones, blindfold, gag etc) so whumpee has no idea what's happening

held for ransom

held for information/interrogation

there are multiple whumpers making sure whumpee is not going anywhere

whumpee knows there must be people looking for them

whumpee knows nobody is looking

stockholm syndrome

lima syndrome

whumpee is told exactly how many days their captors are willing to keep them. the literal deadline is approaching

dialogue

"shh, not a sound."

"hush now– you don't want to get other people in trouble, do you?"

"relax, the drugs will kick in soon."

"so feisty... should i tighten the restraints even more?"

"i already know everything i need to know about you, whumpee. do i need to visit your dear friends/family first for you to come with me?"

"this can be very easy or very difficult for you. choose wisely."

"my contract says preferably alive. keep that in mind."

"stop squirming, unless you want me to hurt you more than i intended."

"you're outnumbered."

"get in the car."

"nobody has to get hurt if you comply."

"so... do you think caretaker will pay?"

"wakey wakey, time to talk."

"don't beat yourself up. i promise this would've happened no matter how cautious you tried to be."

"oh, don't be silly. nobody is coming to save you."

"the cops? honey, we have two officers on our team. the cops won't do shit."

"let go of me! let me go!"

"i don't have anything to tell you, you have the wrong person!"

"please, i won't tell anyone– i won't call the police–"

"is this– is this for ransom?"

"they'll be looking for me! you're fucking done for!"

"please, at least... loosen the restraints a little? it hurts so much."

"c-can i go home if they pay?"

"we don't have that kind of money! please, this is impossible!"

"what... what do you mean for fun?"

[whump-go-brrr]

A whumper who’s new to torturing and doesn’t really know how much a person can take. They’ve tied whumpee down and gotten out all their toys but whumpee is just laying there lifelessly. Whumper hurts them just a little bit to see if they’ll respond but whumpee doesn’t seem to notice. Whumper starts to think maybe they went too far when whumpee stiffens up and starts to seize.

[whumpshots]

Whump ABC #8 - Hidden Injury

Based on the results of this poll.

_

Caretaker grits their teeth as they get up from the chair, the dizziness almost making them sit down again. But they take a deep breath, straighten their shoulders and walk out of their office. Team leader catches up to them on the hallway, placing a hand on their shoulder which makes them flinch.

The sudden movement hurts, the pain immediately shoots through their body, exhausted and almost shaking as their painkillers slowly but surely stop working. But caretaker bites their tongue and hides the agony they are in - there are more important things to do right now. Resting would set the whole team back, they can't risk it.

"Hey, we need you upstairs," team leader says and eyes them for a few seconds. "Lookin' a bit pale, you good?" Caretaker manages a nod and tries to shake off the pain that won't stop throbbing through their whole body, trying to casually lean against the wall as their knees feel like they almost give in.

"Are you sure you are okay? You seem-" but team leader stops in the middle of their sentence to catch caretaker by the arm and guide them softly to the ground as the collapse, feeling hot and cold at the same time. They try to struggle against the hands lifting their shirt, revealing blood soaked bandages around their abdomen.

"How long have you been hiding this?", team leader asks, eyes widened in concern. "Hey, hey ... stay with me, okay?" But caretaker mutters an excuse and feels the pain take over.

[jordanstrophe]

Hidden injuries with protective caretakers:

Whumpee hides illnesses, injuries, names of people who hurt them. But not because they’re worried about what caretaker will think-

-But worried about what caretaker will do. They'll hunt the people who hurt them, burn buildings for them, kill for them. Whumpee doesn’t want anyone else getting hurt. 

Anyone else but themselves. 

[cpt-winters]

Sudden Collapse *Team Leader Edition*

Come on, pull yourself together.

Leader leaned his hands on the table, squinting at the map sprawled across it and blinked a few times as it blurred in and out of focus.

"Leader? You were saying..?" Teammate Two prompted.

"Right," he started again, ignoring how the room span as he lifted his hands from the table. "So if we plant charges on...on the..." his voice trailed off, his thoughts slipping through his mind like sand. He dug his nails into his palms, willing himself to concentrate.

"You alright, boss?" Teammate One asked, their brow creased as they stepped closer.

"Fine," he dismissed as the team exchanged confused and concerned glances.

Just wanting to get through the briefing, Leader took a slow, deliberate breath before continuing. "If we plant charges on the w...west generator, that should... should buy us- enough t-time to... to..." Leader stumbled through his words, his sluggish mind unable to navigate the fragmented thoughts as another wave of nausea rolled over him.

He vaguely registered a muffled shout from Medic.

"'m fine," he slurred, reaching out for something to stabilize himself as his body swayed dangerously. He hadn't even realized he was falling until his head slammed against the floor.

"-oss? Boss!"