#malnourished whumpee

[martyr-inthedark]

Make your Whumpee tired.

Whumpees that have been deprived of sleep by Whumper, so much so that they don't remember how to walk in a straight line and can't figure out whether the recent appearance of little black bugs in their cell are real or a hallucination.

Whumpees that can't get a full night's rest. They doze off, only to be jolted awake by their own anxiety of not knowing when Whumper would come back. Perhaps they are awakened by phlegm-coated coughs induced by their illness. They are awakened by nightmares, or by Caregiver who is worried they may succumb to hypothermia, or by a thunderstorm, or the rough blanket scratching their open wounds, or so on.

Whumpees who pull all nighters to protect their friends or lovers.

Whumpees whose eyes burn when they finally can close their eyes. Whumpees whose muscles twitch, who can't stop yawning no matter how hard they try to stifle it. Whumpees with dark, glassy eyes. Whumpees who are slow to react or have a hard time keeping up with the conversation. Whumpees with throbbing headaches. Whumpees with brain fog and memory loss.

Whumpees who have been on the run and have over exhausted their bodies. Their muscles and joints continue to scream long after its over. Whumpees with extensive blood loss. Whumpees who are malnourished.

Whumpees whose survivor's guilt keeps them awake, wondering what they might have done differently, whether it was all their fault, or why they were the ones to live.

Whumpees whose bodies are in chronic pain or illness and who have to hide it, causing muscle and mental fatigue. They keep going with a smile until they collapse or pass out.

Whumpees who break down in tears, begging to be left alone so they can rest. Whumpees who sob when they are told that the bed in front of them is theirs to use whenever they want.

[feral-jackdaw]

Into the Light

(late) day 7 of Zukkaweek @zukkaweek - touch starved

‼️tw captivity, malnourishment

--

“Appa!” Aang calls out, rushing to hug his friend. Katara and Toph soon join him.

After so many days of searching, they finally found their bison friend. Of course, Sokka is just as happy and relieved as everyone else, but something just doesn’t feel right. He looks around the room, the dark underground cell, and his eyes land upon something that looks like a curled up figure in the corner.

“Guys,” he says.

After everyone’s eyes turn to him, he just points to the end of the room.

Katara lets go of Appa and comes closer; the others follow.

“Who’s that?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” Sokka replies. “But it looks like Appa wasn’t the only prisoner here.”

“What should we do?” Katara asks.

“We can’t just leave them here,” Aang chimes in.

Sokka knows that he’s right. No matter who the other prisoner is, they most likely do not deserve to be left in this horrible place.

“You guys stay back,” he commands. “I’ll try to talk to them.”

He slowly approaches the corner, trying not to startle the person.

“Hey there,” he says softly as he approaches them.

The figure turns around and looks up at him. Even in the dim light, Sokka can clearly see a very prominent feature of theirs - a familiar looking scar on one side of their face. Zuko.

For a moment, their eyes meet. Sokka takes a few steps back, shocked and confused. Zuko buries his face in his hands, as if he was trying to hide.

“No, no, it’s okay” Sokka soothes as realization hits him. The person in front of him may be Zuko, but it’s not the Zuko he knows anymore, not after everything he’s been through. When Sokka looks at him, all he sees is a scared, traumatized person that needs to be saved.

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” he assures.

Zuko reluctantly looks up at him again. He doesn’t even look like himself anymore; he’s pale, skinny, his weird ponytail is replaced with short, messy hair. Sokka can’t help but wonder, how long was he in there? Is that why they haven’t seen him around since the North?

“We’re gonna get you out of here, okay?” he says. Then he turns to his friends. “Toph, can you help with the chains?” he asks.

Zuko looks anxiously at the earthbender as she approaches him, but he allows her to work on the chains. Soon, they get broken and slip on the floor with a quiet clang.

Zuko looks up at Toph; he doesn’t say anything, but it’s pretty obvious what he is thinking. Sokka decides that now it's not the time for explanations; first, they need to get out of here.

“Can you get up?” he asks Zuko, offering him his hand. Zuko grabs it and tries to stand up, supporting himself against the wall with his other hand. But as soon as he is standing upright, he nearly collapses; Sokka manages to catch him and helps him sit back down.

“Okay, that’s fine,” he reassures. “I’ll help you. Just grab my neck and hold on,” he instructs. He wraps ne of his arms around Zuko’s back and slips his spare hand under the boy’s legs.

With Zuko clinging on to him, he slowly gets up; it breaks his heart a little when he realizes how little effort it takes to carry him.

“Alright guys, let’s get out of here,” he commands.

--

The outside world is bright, too bright. Zuko keeps his eyes closed most of the time; he can’t handle the light after spending so much time in darkness. At least it’s a bit warmer in here, though Zuko feels like he was in the cold for so long that it stuck to his skin, becoming a permanent part of him.

The escape was successful, and now he’s sitting on the back of a sky bison, surrounded by the Avatar and his friends, with no idea where they’re going or what is going to happen to him. He keeps clinging onto that Water Tribe boy. It feels like if he lets go, he will be back in the underground prison and the whole escape thing will turn out to be just a dream. But now, with the boy’s arms wrapped around him, it feels so real, he feels real for the first time in so, so long.

“It’s all over now,” the boy reassures. “You’re safe with us.”

Listening to his soothing voice, Zuko slowly drifts off to sleep.

The first thing he realizes when he wakes up is that they’re no longer up in the air; he can feel steady ground benath him. He can also feel the light weight of something soft draped over him. Someone must have given him a blanket.

“I don’t know, Sokka,” a female voice echoes in the distance. “He doesn’t have any serious injuries, but he’s malnourished, dehydrated and generally exhausted. He’ll live, but he’ll need really good care to make a full recovery.”

“So what should we do?” a familiar voice asks; the Water Tribe boy. “Can he stay with us?”

So his name is Sokka, Zuko realizes.

“I don’t see why not,” the girl replies. “But we need to be careful. We shouldn’t give him too much food at first. We need to have someone watch him all the time. And one more thing I’m worried about... we don’t really know what he’s been through and what effects it had on him. I mean, on his mind,” she enumerates. “The good thing is, he already seems to trust you.”

“Look, I’ll do whatever it takes to make him better,” Sokka replies.

Zuko tries to open his eyes and realizes, to his relief, that it’s gotten a bit darker outside. He starts looking around, until his eyes meet Sokka’s.

“Hey,” the boy says, smiling softly at him. “Did you sleep well?” he asks.

Zuko nods in response.

“Good,” Sokka replies. “Is there anything you need? Food, water, more blankets..?”

Zuko reaches out, gesturing at the boy to let him hug him. And Sokka does; he scoops Zuko, still wrapped in his blanket, up right into his arms.

“Can I just give you some water?” the girl asks. Zuko turns to look at her; it's the Water Tribe girl, the one that kicked his ass back in the North Pole.

He nods in response.

The girl starts to bend some water into small droplets, making it easy for him to drink. His throat is so dry that it hurts to swallow, but at the same time he is so, so thirsty; he just drinks and drinks until he can’t no more.

“You did great,” Sokka praises, rubbing his back reassuringly.

“Let us know when you’re ready to eat something,” the girl says.

Zuko nods in response. Then he closes his eyes and cuddles up closer to Sokka. He still feels too weak to move, his body is still hurting from being chained up, he still feels like he is going to wake up back in his prison cell... and yet, right now, for a moment, everything is okay.

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee: “I was a captive. I was locked in a basement for weeks, isolated, starved, mistreated.”

Caretaker: “You say that like it’s not as bad as me making you get out of the house, walk, talk and hydrate.”

Whumpee: “It’s positively dreadful.”

[whumpshaped]

Also, way too hungry for the bingo pls 🥺

masterlist bingo card

tw vampire whumper, vampire whumpee, multiple whumpees, semi-starvation, malnourishment, conditioning, torture mention

Days. Weeks. Helle had no idea when they'd last fed from a human. The thought was quite appetising, given they still had the scent of fresh human blood in their nose from the hunt earlier — the reality, well... less so.

Lady Marie never allowed them to feed on a live human. Aside from that one time on their very first hunt, they'd only ever been granted scraps; small animals and dead humans.

There were no drawbacks, not for her. She would get a moderately strong vampire, able to charm and talk their way into the largest of gatherings to grab the most delectable of humans. But to them, it was torture. Kept on the edge of malnourishment, almost sick, their head filled with cotton and whatever thoughts of food they could conjure.

Dead humans tasted vile, like goddamn acid. It was nothing like the sweet, sweet taste of fresh blood, the memory of which was growing more and more distant with each day. They could almost taste it, whenever they walked past a thrall in the corridors, or captured a new human to bring back. It was so tempting. So goddamn tempting.

They brushed past one such human on their way to the parlour, and they couldn't take it anymore. They grabbed the mindless thing and slammed him against the wall, fangs bared and ready to bite into his neck.

But someone grabbed their hair and yanked them away, eliciting a displeased whimper in response. The thrall barely reacted to any of it, merely resumed his journey to whatever part of the mansion he had business in. "The lady would flay you alive for such an offence," Nikolai said quietly, and Helle went limp in his hold.

"She has so many of them– these thralls," they whined. "Must I live on the blood of pigs and squirrels? When will she allow me to feed again? Actually feed?"

He let go of them and crossed his arms, and Helle felt like they were about to be scolded for being hungry. But as they looked into his eyes, they could see a surprising amount of empathy. "Never," he said softly. "Possibly. I cannot remember my last decent meal. And as far as I am aware, Isabella has given up hope in this matter."

Helle frowned, unable to comprehend such a heavy statement. "What? She cannot simply– that is–"

"It is well within her right as our sire, is what it is. I would advise against holding a grudge. It only makes the lashes sting more. But worry not, you will learn restraint and discipline, as we both already have." He nodded towards the end of the corridor. "Shall we? I assume we have all been summoned."

They nodded in a daze, but then ended up grabbing onto their sired brother's shirt to keep him just a moment longer. "Would the lady actually do that?" they whispered, their quiet voice full of terror. "Would she flay me?"

He glanced back at them, then quickly averted his eyes again. "I have made the very mistake you were about to." He paused, and Helle had a feeling that maybe the torture they had endured so far was in fact not the worst of it. "The lady would do a great many things to ensure we all abide by her rules. Now, let us not waste any more time. Perhaps I am wrong, and she will give us all an opportunity to earn ourselves a splendid dinner tonight."

As if. The words had no hope or reason behind them; they both knew Lady Marie probably just had some guests over and wanted to parade all three of them around for their entertainment. Helle's stomach rumbled loudly, and they placed a gentle hand on it, as though they were trying to calm a feral beast.

They weren't going to spend the rest of eternity so hungry. They were either going to get out of here, or die again trying.

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries

[sideblogformindtrash]

Can’t post the full one I think

ref

[charred-entiity]

“Need a hug? C’mere.” for ocs of your choice

YIPPEEE YIPPEE YIPPEEEEEEEEEEEEE

tws: paranoia, fear of recapture, mentions of past torment, PTSD, panic attack

The days after Vin's rescue were gruelling. Every moment was spent with the creeping feeling that this wouldn't last, that soon he'd be whisked away back to that dingy cellar with the familiar smell of old blood and disinfectant. He found himself left with the notion that he was surely dreaming, and the thought of going back there made him sick.

"Oh Vinny, you know I'll always catch you."

Remembering those words made him feel sicker.

He got out of the too-soft bed and stepped onto the cold floors, walking so the wood floors wouldn't creak below him. Vin walked into the kitchen, fully intent on getting a glass of water. Before he could even open the door to get the Britta out, something caught his eye.

In the cold silvery metal of the refrigerator, he could almost make someone out in the reflection. His black hair was long and thin in a way that spoke of malnourishment, eyes and skin reflecting the same treatment. grey hair made itself visible in the glint of the moon. He looked gaunt, almost ghostly, and he could see his own cheekbones. Was this really him? He'd never been given a mirror, and when you're constantly being tortured looks aren't exactly the most important. Well, sometimes they were— he felt like crumbling into a million pieces, mouth suddenly much drier than before. He stumbled back suddenly, catching glimpses of the scars that now marred once clear skin. What the hell happened?

Footsteps came towards the kitchen. Shit he was in so much trouble! He clattered to the ground like porcelain, finally breaking under what felt like fifty tons of pressure.

"Vin?" A voice asked blearily, approaching him with the speed of a dozen snails, likely to torment him and maybe slam his head into the tile for his insolence. He didn't dare look up, he simply sat and cowered like he was supposed to. Instead of a blow, a figure sat down in front of him. A familiar figure with a familiar face. Keirin looked him in the eyes, suddenly holding out her arms.

"Need a hug?" She asked, looking at him with no visible malice. He nodded slowly, hair falling slightly in front of his face. "C'mere," She said leaning forward. Instantly he was on her, renewed sobs wracking his body as she comforted him.

[delicatewhumps]

whumpee’s legs finally give out.

they’re weak, exhausted, maybe been starved or malnourished. what have they escaped? or have they been let go?

one hand might be held to the gaping wound on their side, but they’ve lost so much blood, and their feeble pressure isn’t making much of a difference.

they stumble. they buckle. they hit the ground.

let’s just hope to god they’re somewhere safe…

[whumping-valentine]

We use being cold, hungry, and tired a lot in our writings, and that makes sense! Those aren't pleasant feelings, but what's not used enough is all of the other symptoms that can occur under those conditions.

Being malnourished not only causes the feeling of hunger, but can give you headaches, and make you feel weak, faint, sick, cold, and tired. It makes you irritable, unable to concentrate, and can even cause wounds to take longer to heal, while brusing much more easily. After a while you even develop an aversion to food, and don't want to eat. You feel nauseous just thinking about it, and breaking a fast isn't something you can do with a flick of your fingers. Your body isn't used to eating, and it may not sit well with you.

Not eating can also cause your blood sugar to drop, which is a whole entire thing in and of itself, and you don't have to be a diabetic to experience it. Low blood sugar is horrible 0/10 do NOT reccomend (but definitely do in whump!)

As for being cold, it can not only be uncomfortable, but it can make you feel physically ill. Especially when paired with a lack of vitamin D from low sun exposure. You just constantly feel sick, and may even begin to feel hot. It is absolutely FREEZING in my room all the time and I always feel sick. Horrible. Do it to your whumpees and tell them if they're good they can go outside and lay in the sun. That's shit's awesome when you're cold.

And of course, with sleep deprivation, it not only makes you drowsy, but it basically screws everything up. Your ability to think, your coordination, your strength. All you wanna do is curl up into a ball and go to sleep, no matter where you are. There's so much you can do with a tired whumpee.

The most fun thing about all of these is that they can generally go together all at once, inflicting symptoms of the others in an endless loop of torment. So yeah, go nuts! It's miserable!

[whumporama]

Caretaker escaped with Whumpee, but they're not out of the woods yet. Whumpee is not doing good, and as they flee, Caretaker needs to half drag them to places, keeping to the shadows and off the main roads. They're being hunted; but Caretaker won't let them catch them again.

Caretaker needs rest, but they can't. They spend the night awake, guarding Whumpee at any moment, too scared and alert to even consider sleeping. Whumpee sees Caretaker get worse; the shadows under their eyes getting darker per day, but Caretaker won't stop.

Eventually, they reach a save place. And finally, Caretaker allows themselves rest. Curled up next to Whumpee, who stays awake and watches over them.

Whumpee might be the more injured of the two, but they won't let Caretaker get hurt. Caretaker got them out, took care of Whumpee when they were sick and hurt, and made sure they weren't captured again. As Whumpee looks down on them now, their body malnourished, injuries still fresh, but alive, the rush of emotions is almost overwhelming.

They made it out.

They're alive.

[justwhumptypethings]

tw: implied intimate/nsfw whump, mentions of lingerie and past sexualization

caretaker couldn’t stand seeing them in that kind of clothes. it makes them nauseous. the first thing they do when they get home, before helping them figure out the shower or feeeding them, is getting them clothes. The entire time they had been going home, whumpee had had their arms wrapped around themselves like they’re trying to protect themselves.

the first thing they do is find them new clothes- soft, unassuming cotton undergarments that caretaker had leftover from when their sister stayed over eight months ago, the smallest t-shirt they own, and a hoodie and sweatpants that practically dwarf whumpee, outlining their bony figure farther.

when caretaker hands whumpee the clothes they stare at them, their eyes wide. they look up, their voice so unobtrusive and quiet when they ask tentatively “w-what do you want me to do with this?”

caretaker’s face twists into a frown. of course they don’t understand. “Those are for you, whumpee.” whumpee’s eyes widen to saucers, and they look down at the clothes. after a moment of staring, they pull the clothes to rest against their chest lightning fast, almost clinging to them. They’re looking up at caretaker with tears welling up in their eyes, never falling. whumpee’s voice is still so quiet. “T-thank you, caretaker.”

when whumpee has the clothes on, caretaker can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief. Sure, the clothes absolutely dwarf whumpee in a way they would never have before, making them look even more malnourished and sickly, but at least, now, they look like they’re at home. not in that skimpy shit caretaker knows whumpee would never choose to wear willingly.

[whump-place]

When a Villain Whumpee is shown off at a heroes party.

They are a trophy, a symbol. A reminder to the city that it doesn't matter how bad things turn out, the heroes will always be there to save the day.

Whumpee knows they deserve it, but still.

No one can see their malnourished body under those expensive clothes the heroes got for them.

No one can see the bruises on their ribs, the dislocated shoulder that aches under the soft coat they were given.

But what's even worse.

Whumpee knows that even if someone did actually notice, they wouldn't care.

No one would care for a villain like them, after all.

[whumper-whimsy]

@augusnippets day 20

Homemade meal / Quenched thirst / Favorite treat

Past captivity, mostly just fluff

tried to do a dialogue-centered snippet :)

°

Whumpee sniffed the air, his mouth watering. Caretaker was cooking, and it smelled great.

He carefully ventured into the kitchen, kneeling at Caretaker's feet. "Sir?" He murmured shyly.

"Yes, dear? And remember— you can just call me Caretaker."

"Your food smells very good. What will I be eating?"

"Stir fry— same as me."

"Wait, what? But... what did i do? I mean, how do I deserve this?"

"What else would you eat, love?"

Water and bread— maybe milk if you thought i deserved a treat."

"Mmmh, so that's why you're so malnourished. Whumper was not feeding you well."

"..."

"No need to worry— i have plenty of meat and veggies here..."

"But why?"

"Because you're human, Whumpee. And you need to eat like one."

[martyr-inthedark]

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tiny drops of water continuously fell from the pipe Whumpee's chains were attached to. The metal tube was old, rusted, and bent following many weeks of Whumpee struggling to free themselves from the icy iron shackles and the dank basement. The water drops were a new feature in Whumpee's misery, only appearing after a tiny hole broke through the now-brutally-angled metal pipe.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

At first, Whumpee was thrilled to have a source of water not meticulously controlled by Whumper, and to have made some progress in their escape. Hope bloomed in their chest that maybe they could brute-force their way out of their hellish predicament. This only lasted a couple of days, though.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The water fell often times directly onto their head and neck, in a near perfect rhythm. It made it difficult to sleep, and so, difficult to heal in between torture sessions. Not to mention, Whumpee became dreadfully aware that their current place of residence was mapped directly underneath Whumper's shower.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Once, sometimes twice, a day water sprayed from the tiny hole onto the crown of Whumpee's head, drenching their hair, and reaching down the back of Whumpee's shirt. At night Whumpee would violently shake and sob as the moisture cooled their joints and made it impossible for their blood-drained and malnourished body to regulate its internal temperature, while tiny drops of water continued to leak. Guttural coughing forced its way out of Whumpee's throat as mold spread across the wood frames on either side of them for them to breathe in.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Where once Whumpee thought they had a chance of escaping upon noticing the busted pipe, Whumpee now dread the day that Whumper stormed down stairs, burst into the molding room with a sheet of paper listing the much-too expensive water bill that Whumpee no doubt had been the culprit of.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

[whump-or-whatever]

You know that feeling you get when you’ve spun around in circles for too long? The one where the whole world is unsteady and you are physically incapable to remaining upright or walking in a straight line?

Yeah. Make your whumpee so sick/malnourished/dehydrated/concussed that that’s all they feel. Make them stumble from side to side, slam into walls, find themself on the floor without knowing how they got there, and try to crawl but only manage to flop pathetically before collapsing outright and closing their eyes against the nauseating experience.

[whumpshaped]

i know. i understand. if people liked the trope or wanted to write about periods and cramps at all, i'd see it cross my dash at least sometimes.

BUT LISTEN. EVERY TIME IT HAPPENS TO ME I CANT HELP BUT THINK ABOUT HOW ABSOLUTELY FUCKED UP AND HORRID IT IS. if i was a whumpee i'd be so fed up.

i mean, the bleeding in and of itself is fucked. now whumpee has to find something to stop that from inconveniencing them too much. if they're alone, i guess they're just fucked. if they're captive, have fun telling the captor! hopefully they want whumpee and the surrounding area clean more than they want to avoid the pink tax.

the obvious: the fucking cramps. once again, i'm sure they'll have fun asking for painkillers from someone who gave them none for a broken leg. the random aches all over their body! the moodswings! getting into 10 fights a day, none of which they can actually finish because they're wriggling on the ground like a worm! the cravings! i'm sure it's very fun surviving on 2 bowls of oatmeal when they want to demolish a whole dessert shop AND a bakery!

for 7 damn days every month. whumpee is honestly glad when the malnourishment and the stress finally makes it just... stop.

[the-sleep-paralysis-demon]

Whump prompts based off of the fanfic I’m currently writing in no particular order

Caretaker finds a malnourished body curled up and shaking in the middle of a room with blood stained walls. And they immediately recognize the outfit.

Whumpee thinking that they now belong to there friend group once rescued and not understanding why there being treated they way they are

Caretaker being overjoyed when Whumpee finally responds to a question, even though it’s just a simple head-nod

Whumpee finally has the guts to touch Caretaker and quickly becomes clingy

Caretaker thinking the reason Whumpee started crawling is they are having trouble walking, not because Whumpee has been taught to crawl

Caretaker leaving Whumpee with there previous friends in an attempt to get them to bond again

Whumpee not understanding why they’ve been given new clothes and consistent food