#whumpee character types

[whumpster-dumpster]

Hi Red! I hope you’re doing okay! I wanted to ask you what are the kinds of Whumpees, like “Stoic Whumpee”, for example. Can you make a short list?

There are many kinds of whumpees because every one's personality is different, but some of the community's general favorites are:

Stoic Whumpee, who may be more reserved and internalize or suppress their emotions

Defiant Whumpee, who holds onto their anger, spite and snark to stay strong

Soft/Cinnamon Roll Whumpee, sweet, kindhearted, possibly naïve, a contrast to the cruelty they endure

Comic Relief Whumpee, the one who uses lightheartedness and humor to hide the pain

Pet Whumpee, treated like they're meant to owned, made to act like they're beneath others

Nonhuman Whumpee, who could be anything from a mercreature to an angel to an alien to a mutant to a robot, etc.

Magic/Superpowered Whumpee, who may be exploited and exhausted for their special abilities

Tiny Whumpee, who, true to the name, is smol and typically has a tol counterpart caretaker or whumper

Broken Whumpee, who has given in, given up, who feels hopeless, unsure if they have the strength to survive

Caretaker-Turned-Whumpee: the usual helper and healer ends up needing someone else's aid

Whumper-Turned-Whumpee: the usual bringer of pain ends up getting a taste of their own bitter medicine

[whumble-beeee]

You Can Check Out Any Time You Like, But You Can Never Leave

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 14

Content: kidnapping/captivity, noncon drugging, recreational drug use, disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, past captivity references

* * * * * * * *

Excerpt from: The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for villains and bounty-hunters

[It’s a tale as old as time. You see it so very often in movies, books, YA love stories; The phenomenon known as Stockholm Syndrome, where a captive starts to develop positive feelings for their captor. However, Stockholm Syndrome is not a thing to be feared! Humans are very social creatures, after all, and control over another’s emotions is one of the most powerful thing’s a person can possess, super or not!

This is why you, villain, need to beware it’s the lesser-known counterpart: Lima Syndrome, where the captor becomes sympathetic or develops feelings for their captive. These disorders often develop side-by-side, so be wary and be vigilant! Developing Lima Syndrome may lead you to make rash decisions about your captured hero, cloud your judgment, allow your hero to take advantage of you, or even allow them to escape! Do not let your captured hero control you like you control them. You are jailor and prisoner. Nothing more.]

* * * * * * * *

Declan gawked at the Villain Brand tattoo staining Stan's back. The one he could finally see unimpeded now that he'd literally pinned the guy down and stripped him. The one Stan had fought so hard to hide.

“Holy shit…”

The ID number. He knew that number from so long ago. And Level 4 super. Manipulator power type. Social Designation Black.

Supervillain: Incarcerated for power-related crimes.

… and blue.

Test subject.

He fucking knew it.

He knew it.

It was that girl. That one from the raid that happened, what… ten years ago now? Longer? The one he’d found hiding with the toddler. One he saved, one he couldn’t. Fuck, man, he’d risked everything for that toddler. A little sister. A moment of weakness, or what some would call a moment of strength.

Stan had a little sister. Chloe. That was her name. That was the toddler’s name too.

She was still safe. She was still alive.

Thank fuck. 

Declan hadn't even realized at first because, well, the guy was a dude now. And an adult. There were no records on him, period, so he couldn’t go back to look before now, and his superiors certainly never deigned to tell him anything. Thanks Lana, fuck you Vaughn.

Though he’d been suspicious for a while. It all just clicked into place with that last piece of the puzzle: why Stan had no records, why he didn’t legally exist, the way he fought back no matter how impossible the odds were, that nagging feeling that he knew this kid from somewhere, the similarities between his and the girl’s powers, not to mention those weird looks he kept catching out of the corner of his eye, the way Stan has said something about protecting ‘her’ in his fit earlier, the concealment of his transness, the recognition in Stan’s eyes since the start–...

Oh.

Declan smiled.

Oh, Stan already knew. 

He knew, and he kept it to himself.

On purpose.

That conniving little fucker.

 “What? What holy shit?” Stan squirmed weakly under Declan, demanding his attention back as always, stuttering like he did always did whenever he got scared or angry. He even tried briefly to twist around to look at the man seated on top of him, only before immediately giving up and laying his head back down on the floor.

Declan rolled his eyes and held back a chuckle at the poor little guy as he tossed out some half-assed excuse he didn't even bother remembering, then grabbed his phone to take a picture of the brand. He’d definitely have to bring the uh… dishonesty up. But later. Stan was much too high for any of that right now. 

Though it did feel a little bit gross to take a picture of Stan like this while he was drugged, especially with how much he’d fought Declan about the brand earlier and especially after Declan had forcefully stripped the guy. But Declan needed proof.

None of it even mattered in the long run, anyway. Declan still had a job to do.

“Yeah… maybe you should…” Stan retorted loosely into the floor. “Not… Aheh, uh, throw me… to–... walls anymore…” 

Declan nearly burst out laughing.

Yeah. Maybe.

Maybe Stan should consider that next time he's being a little shit.

He pulled the white shirt back over Stan's head with some large amount of difficulty, and probably much more swearing than necessary since Stan may as well have been a floppy fish weakly squirming against the floor at this point. Then picked him up with one arm under the stomach, tugged the oversized white shirt down over his skinny little twink body, and then, with a sigh, let him drop unceremoniously back onto the floor and went to retrieve a plastic water bottle from his little plastic grocery bag, patting himself on the back for a job well done. He’d successfully de-bindered Stan without seeing the kid’s stupid man tits. Hooray! All that work to specifically pin him down on his stomach so they'd be hidden from Declan’s gaze, all because of Stan’s incessant fighting about it before. The things I do for my captures, he thought.

He was not looking forward to the indefinite amount of time he’d have to keep doing this.

“We don’t know how long, love,” Lana had said over the phone, “That fiancé of his doesn’t believe he’s dead, and you better believe he'll raise hell about it, the poor man. There’s probably going to be some extra ‘convincing’, paperwork, you know how it is. He can’t be here. Just hold onto the little guy until we get everything cleared up.”

So that was that. No argument. Just indefinite babysitting of a very unwilling baby.

Declan walked back over to hold the bottle out to Stan before he even fully agonized himself back up off his stomach, and yet somehow, miraculously, he still managed to do that skitter backward that he always did when Declan got even remotely close to him

He crouched down and shoved the bottle into Stan’s hands. “Drink,” he ordered. “Not too fast though.”

Stan looked in bewilderment at the bottle. Almost like he couldn't believe something so sacred could just be thrust within his grasp like that. Then his brow furrowed. He popped open the cap and sniffed it, then glared angrily at both the container of liquid and the person who’d given it to him. “Don’ want your stupid–”

“It’s not drugged. You haven’t drank water in almost three days, you’re gonna die. Drink it, NOT–!”

Half the water already disappeared, drained down Stan’s throat. Declan scrambled and snatched the water out of his grasp. “Not too fast! Christ, you’re gonna throw up!”

“But– But…” He smacked his lips, shook himself off like a dog from the water that spilled on him from Declan’s snatch, then gaped for a moment around the room as he once again seemed to remember the concrete and the chains that held him prisoner. “Fine. Who cares? Protein bar’sss-ssstupid anyway.”

Eh. Fair enough. To be honest, after the like, eight protein bars Declan’d had over the past few days, he was also pretty sick of them. He’d get them both some actual food later. 

With that task half-done, he stashed the half-empty bottle in his back pocket. “You can have the rest in a bit,” he told the wet cat of a human he was still inexplicably in charge of. Stan’s shoulders drooped. He just nodded, eyes affixed to one specific spot on the empty opposing wall.

Declan looked around at the mess of torture implements strewn about the room. Anything else he needed to do before they left?

Oh… 

Yeah, right.

“You need to go to the bathroom, runt?”

Stan's eyes shot up to his captor, then settled there for just a moment. Then drifted away into the middle distance for a longer moment. Narrowed his eyes slightly. Declan just about took that as a signal that he needed to save Stan from an apparant stroke when his head shook a slow and conspiratorial ‘no’. 

Declan rolled his eyes, already producing a hairpin out of his hair to click open Stan's ankle fetter, then pulled him to unsteady feet and guided him out the door to the dinky little bathroom at the end of the hallway. Stan didn't even struggle as Declan held him up, too busy ogling at the apparent novelty of being out in the hallway without running for his life.

“Five minutes,” he told Stan, depositing the vacant-stared man in the bathroom. Then he shut the door, started the count somewhere in the back of his mind, and went back to the torture room to clean up so they could finally head home.

God, he felt like shit.

Almost as bad as the kid looked, actually, which was saying something because little Stanny looked pretty fucked.

He was just tired. They both were, actually, that's why Stan had to be drugged. Sure, Declan enjoyed putting him in his place, but after the fifth time, after nearly three days of this, after almost two nights of no sleep, another prospective sleepless night of driving, double the usual amount of G to compensate for that, probably not enough food or water himself, and Stan still testing his patience at every turn… yeah, Stan needed to stop. For both their sakes. Mostly his own, if he valued still having at least one working knee.

Declan meandered over to Stan’s shredded former grey button-down and swooped it up off the ground, inspecting the damage Vaughn caused with those shiny steel surgical scissors of his. The shirt couldn’t even be recognised as a shirt anymore. Just a mess of crumpled fabric lying miserably on the floor, kinda like Stan had done for most of time he’d been here.

Vaughn was gonna rip that poor kid apart.

It wouldn’t be neat and clean like the persona that creep worked so hard to maintain, either. He usually waited until at least the drop-off before shining his true colors as a giant fucking creep in the safety of his creep-ass torture lab. Never directly in front of Declan, and certainly not outside of his jurisdiction like this. Sure, Declan was a piece of shit, but that man’s shittiness truly defied all modern interpretations of physics.

Although…

Declan pulled out his phone to stare at the picture of the hero brand again. Proof of his suspicions. Proof of identity. Proof of both their past misfortunes. Proof that also happened to contain evidence of the brand new abuse Declan had caused over any old scars that had long since faded. With Stan’s now bare back sporting a very mottled score of blacks and dark, painful blues and tender purples and even some fading greens and yellows and reds of all kinds: dark, smeared, and caked burgundy blood, or the bright, raised welts. Definitely a couple of broken ribs in there too. Not to mention all the distress peeking out from under that damn collar, the probably several concussions, the emotional turmoil, the mental distress that danced across his face every time Declan so much as stepped in his direction.

All of that was his doing, huh? Not Vaughn’s, save the missing shirt and the single clean slash running along his jawline. 

Declan.

He twirled his gun around his middle finger, relishing the way it fell so cleanly back into his grasp, the thump of the wooden grip against his hand and the shining, perfectly balanced metal.

Oh well.

Those were just their roles;

Hero and villain. 

Predator and prey.

Bounty hunter and captive.

Stan knew the rules of the game. He'd been given a choice to comply every time. Every time. And every time, he chose to fight. 

So Declan didn’t feel all that bad about it.

Four minutes gone by.

He needed to get back.

He did one last check over of the room, put the chain away, placed the chair back, got all the rope and weapons and even Stan’s crapped-up shirt, and put it all in his plastic bag. Then he went ahead and put on his hat and bandana again, because he’d be damned if he broke any more of the rules that kept him alive in this business for ten years and counting. Then headed back down the hall to the bathroom.

And to a not-at-all-surprising Stan who was agonizingly slowly and painfully and single-mindedly mading his way down the hall. Step by wall-assisted, unstable, limping step.

Did he even go to the bathroom?

Declan wasn’t going to check that. Stan could suffer if he didn’t.

“Stan! Really, runt?” he called out, tromping over to the captive. Stan jolted violently and loosely spun around with a loud squeak, except his feet forgot to move along with the rest of him and sent him crashing and clawing into the wall for any semblance of support. A look of pure unadulterated fear cascaded down his features. No defiance. No anger. Just wide-eyed, breath-taking, heart-pounding, fist-clenching fear.

Declan didn't even say anything. Stan stumbled backward as Declan got closer and landed wrong on his bad leg, enough to cause a cry of pain that almost unbelievably slowly turned into a battle with gravity that ended with Stan crumpled on the floor. Stan groaned and yelled in frustration. Then slapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide, shaking. For a moment, Declan could only see the lurching of his body as he curled in on himself, then the shaking turned more into heaving, shallow, impossibly quick breaths, and as Declan got closer, it became very clear that it wasn’t just crying or whatever, but laughing, quietly cackling while clutching at his bad knee, whispering “ow, ow” to himself in between giggling heaves.

Declan took a deep breath. He didn’t have the heart to punish him about the escape attempt, if you could even call it that. Or the energy. Pick one.

Stan’s gaze shot up to him, straining against the stupid collar that rendered the admittedly very powerful super helpless. Tears shone in his red and dilated eyes, sparkling in the fluorescent light, a smile stretched and cracking across his face like a long-rotted jack-o-lantern still left out three weeks after Halloween.

Then dropped completely.

“Please don't hurt me,” he whispered, shuddering.

No.

No, he begged.

Like something out of a horror movie.

Some weird sense of subdued panic and revulsion wove through Declan’s chest, a feeling he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. Then just a sense of overwhelming weariness at the pitiful sight.

They both needed a break, didn't they?

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he conceded softly, pulling the half-empty water bottle back out of his pocket and placing it into Stan’s shaking hands. “Not now, anyway. Drink the rest of this, yeah?”

Stan simply clutched it, never once moving his unfocused and bloodshot gaze from his jailor. Declan sighed, grabbed the bottle and carefully twisted the cap off, and even more carefully lifted Stan’s death grip up to his lips so he could drink. The whole ordeal reminded him of taking care of a drunk friend, way back when. Except they weren’t friends. 

After a tentative pause and an immensely encouraging and monotone “it’s not poisoned, don’t drink too fast,” from Declan, he swallowed the first tentative sip. 

His entire body untensed, practically melting into the wall. He drank until the entire bottle disappeared in his shaking hands, head lolling all the way back to let gravity gift him those last few drops as it crushed to practically nothing

“Ya done?” Declan asked languidly. 

Stan nodded.

“Good. I’m gonna tie your hands behind your back now, and then we’re goin’ out to my car, and we're leaving.” He explained slowly. “If you can behave yourself, you can sit in the passenger seat. Otherwise, you’re goin’ in the trunk. Agreed?”

“B-but-but–”

“Agreed, chiquito?”

Stan looked around the room as if desperately searching for the answer. Then nodded.

“Great. Also, that's what she said,” he chuckled

Oh, he was definitely delirious.

Stan didn’t even fight him this time as he yanked the man up and turned him around to cuff him. He barely even stood, practically limp, swaying on his feet, with the only thing keeping him standing being his single locked knee and Declan’s occasional shoves that kept him from leaning too far in any one direction.

Declan didn’t like drugged Stan. Even if it was funnier, easier. He'd rather Stan fight him, because that'd at least show he's able.

Though the real Stan would be back in another 12 hours or so, and by then he’d probably be missing drugged Stan just as much.

He pressed the captive into his side for support without even checking if he could walk on his own, because he obviously couldn’t, then made a mental note to get Stan a temporary cane later. He felt so small, so… nonconcrete, pressed into Declan’s side, forced to rely him to do something as simple as walking. 

So squishy. Fragile. Breakable. He almost couldn’t believe that the person giggling and drooling into his precious leather jacket was the very same as the one he’d spent night and day staking out to find the perfect way to capture, making sure he accounted for every detail, everything that could possibly go wrong, because in every scenario if things didn’t go exactly according to plan, Stan would absolutely crush Declan into a fine paste before he let him get anywhere near him.

He couldn’t dwell on those differences now. He couldn’t mourn the fates of all the people he captured. It broke the rules, the rules that kept Declan alive, and it wouldn’t be fair to all the supers that came before Stan; Those who never had anyone to mourn them, and those forced to continue living in a special type of hell even as their loved ones mourned their deaths, accepted it, and moved on. Even as their own selves died, and yet their bodies kept on living anyway.

He couldnt dwell on it unless he wanted to become one of them himself. Metaphorically. Literally. Who even cared anymore? He was too tired for this. Not thinking sounded like a great idea right about now.

Declan shoved Stan into the passenger seat of his truck, practically threw him, actually, then rummaged through the glovebox until he found the little baggie filled with those special little white pills and popped one in his mouth

Wonderful. Great.

He buckled Stan’s seatbelt for him after a brief confusion when Declan told him to, but he realized he couldn’t and got very upset and scared and started shaking again before Declan just went ahead and did it for him.

Declan slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition, relishing the rumbling sound of the motor reverberating through his chest as it roared to life. His head already felt clearer. The world a little brighter, despite the bright crisp orange of the setting sun dyeing the sky an ever-darkening, gorgeous mixture of hot pinks and burnt oranges and burning reds, spanning unimpeded except by whisping grey clouds breaking the harmony of the dusk-washed light. Then the stars, near invisible speckles, sparse at first, teasing even, until they slowly and inevitably beckoned forth the darker violets and deep indigos and what looked to be the purest of blacks broken up by the sprinkling of the purest white stars, soon to be a cavalcade too numerous to ever count.

So big, all-encompassing. 

Light years away, unencumbered by the existence of humanity.

Even Stan couldn’t help but stare in the silence.

Deeby let out a deep breath.

“Alright, bud. Let’s head home.”

* * * * * * * *

Next

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@paperprinxe | @tippytappytyping | @chaotic-orphan | @notactuallyluska | @lumpofsand

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees | @whumpwhittler | @thelazywitchphotographer

(A special thank you and welcome to all the new people who joined the taglist! Y'all are genuinely so wonderful :D If you'd like to be added or subtracted from the taglist, don't be afraid to ask!)

[sk1nand-b0nes]

Sneak Peak

[lumpofwhump]

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Scalding

...AKA, more Lighthouse Whump

Whumpee abruptly jerked awake as his chair tilted under him, crashing backward onto the floor with enough force to make him bounce before his head hit the floor. Through his swimming vision, he saw Whumper standing over him, staring down with cold fury.

"I hope you enjoyed your rest," she spat. "Thanks to you, there's a shipwreck down on the rocks."

Whumpee's eyes went wide and his stomach dropped even further than it already had from the fall. "W-what? I'm… I'm sorry, I -"

Whumper bent down and yanked him up by his now long and unkempt hair, bringing him only inches from his face. "Do you think that matters to any of the people out there?"

He whimpered in pain and cringed before her fury. "No! I just - I couldn't help it! I, I can't…"

"Do you think I want to hear your excuses?" Whumper snapped, shaking him in her tight grasp by the head. This only added to his dizziness. "All you had to do is keep the light burning, and make sure the ships could see the rocks."

And clean, Whumpee thought resentfully. And mend your clothes. And fix anything that breaks. And…

"It really isn't much to ask for saving your life," Whumper continued, as if reading his thoughts. "And for not turning you over to Her Majesty's Navy." She let him fall to the floor again without warning, prompting a frantic yelp. "You wouldn't have stood a chance if you'd been transported."

He looked down, knowing she was right.

"It's already midday. Go boil the water for lunch, and then we'll talk about how to make sure this won't happen again." Whumper's tone suggested that this conversation would not end well for him. He swallowed, beginning to shake despite his best efforts, but nodded and backed away toward the stairs to go down to the kitchen. He didn't dare turn his back on her, not when she was in this kind of mood.

Waiting for the water to boil just gave him time to think about what this "discussion" might end with. If he was lucky, he'd just be locked in his tiny room without meals for a few days while Whumper carried out his duties, if only to prove how expendable he really was if hi proved to be too much trouble. If he was unlucky…

His had ran over a cluster of scars on his shoulder from when she'd slammed him into a window hard enough to crack the glass. His room had never been particularly warm, but since then it had been too drafty for him to get a good night's sleep.

His shoulders tensed as he heard footsteps coming down the spiral staircase, and only then did he realize that the water had already reached a rapid boil.

Whumper entered with a look of disgust, shaking her head.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad this time, he tried to reassure himself. At least he hadn't burnt anything…

"Would you like soup or -" he started, but broke off as Whumper strode over and grasped him tightly by the arm and thrust his hand into the boiling water.

He had a long second before the pain hit to realize what had happened and dread how bad it was going to be. And then he started screaming.

He tried to wrench his hand out of the pot, but Whumper was stronger, holding his arm in place for one second, two seconds, three, four, five, as his skin started to blister grotesquely under the bubbles. Finally she let go, and he pulled his hand out, gasping as tears streamed down his face. He couldn't bear to make himself look at his hand, so instead his eyes involuntarily drifted over to Whumper. He whimpered at seeing that she was hardly less angry than she'd been a moment ago.

"The other one," she commanded, reaching out her own hand.

He shook his head with a sob and pulled away on quivering legs. "N-no, no please, Whumper, I can't. You know I need to… please…"

"What did I say about excuses?" she asked in a low, dangerous voice.

Still, Whumpee couldn't make himself move.

Whumper's eyes lit up in fury at his disobedience, and she grabbed for the pot, lifting it and preparing to throw its contents on Whumpee.

He cowered and scrambled away, but she continued toward him, backing him into a corner. He raised his trembling, as-yet-uninjured hand in self-defense and then surrender with a defeated whine. She gave him a stony glare and a long moment of anticipation before roughly dragging him and the pot both to the table and thrusting his hand into it as soon as she'd set it down.

This time there was no delay between the scalding and the screaming.

As soon as she let go of his arm, he pulled away sharply, so much so that he spilled the rest of the pot onto his legs. His sobs turned into still more shrieks of pain as the boiling water made contact with the ragged remains of his pants and shoes. His legs gave out under the shock of the pain, prompting yet another scream as his burns made contact with the floor.

Whumper watched him impassively, eventually shaking her head at this display. "Get up," she said contemptuously.

"B-but my hands…" he said weakly, only to be met with Whumper's narrowed eyes. He bit back another whimper as he put his burnt and bubbling hands to the floor up onto his blistered, reddened feet, stumbling forward and nearly collapsing.

"And get those off," she snapped, gesturing to his pants. "Because of your carelessness, they'll need to be replaced."

Whumpee sniffled and staggered off to his room to clumsily peel the pants off his scalded legs. For once,the cold wind blowing in through his broken window felt something like comfort.

That night, Whumpee pushed through the agony of every task, and for that matter every movement. Trimming the wicks. Keeping them lit. Cleaning the floors and windows till they were spotless on burning hands and knees. There were no ships to guide to safety that night, but Whumpee stayed awake all the same.

Next

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Taglist (Let me know if you want on or off):

@whumpsday @whither-wander-whump @skinofafish @badthingshappenbingo

[silversanimewhump]

Five Things I Wish I Knew Before I Started Watching Anime

Info and Resources

—There are sometimes little scenes at the end of an episode, before or after the credits. You have to fast forward and look for it in every episode, because it’s random and sometimes it’s only in one or two eps. If you don’t look, you’ll never see it.

—Subbed anime can have better and longer dialogue.

—Most anime can be found at wcostream (it’s free and no ads interrupt the show. When you search you just have to type it in exactly as they have it in the system).

—You can search for anime with the amazing anime-planet browse by tag system (just click the “tags” button and scroll, you can include and exclude things from your searches, it’s -chef’s kiss-). You can also search for characters by tag (e.g. male, black hair, blue eyes, main character, scars).

—Also with anime-planet, you can click “see all recommendations” for an anime you like, and find ones that other people think are similar to the one you enjoyed.

Feel free to add to this list to help those new anime lovers out there (:

[whumpyourdamnpears]

if you’re into whump and personality typing, do me a favor and leave the personality types of your whumpees vs. your whumpers in the tags and their dynamic. I want to see something

[whumporama]

Whumpee who is usually carefree, a comic relief type of character. They go through something horrible, but even once they're being rescued, they crack jokes. "Oh, my very own hero coming for me, how romantic!" - "Sorry the place is a mess, if I knew you were coming I would've cleaned up."

When they're back at home/a save place, they still keep up the facade. They smile and grin, just happy to be back. But they also use it to hide the reality of the situation. Because this is who they are. This is who they're supposed to be in the group; they make the others laugh. People don't worry about them, they're always fine. They can't stand the pity on their faces, the worried looks. So they smile and laugh and joke, see? They're fine!

Until a few days later, when Caretaker has left the house and Whumpee is alone for the first time since their rescue. And without anyone to pretend for, they break down. They fight against it at first, but the reality of everything that happened catches up with them, until they're sobbing, face buried in their hands.

Caretaker comes back and sees them like this, and Whumpee instantly tries to smile, or make a joke to brush it off and deflect. But the words won't come. They see the worry on Caretaker's face, and they can't stop the next sob from escaping them.

Caretaker doesn't judge, they're not even shocked. They knew Whumpee was hiding their pain, it was only a matter of time before it came out. So they sit next to them, wrapping an arm around their shoulder and letting them cry, telling them it's okay.

Whumpee let's out all the pain they've been hiding, the trauma and the loss of self they've been experiencing.

After, they feel a bit better. The road to recovery will be a long one, but with Caretaker by their side, they think they can handle it.

They smile at Caretaker. It's not the same smile they wore before everything happened, it might never be the same, but this time, it's genuine.

[teine-mallaichte]

We need to expand our use of dilirium within the whump community I think.

When people see the prompt "dilirium" or "dilirious" in a whump event most jump to fever, illness, infection. And that's fine. That's valid. But there is SO MUCH MORE to dilirium.

Delirium is a complex psychological state that can indeed be triggered by illness and fever, but it can also result from a wide array of other causes. It’s a state where cognition and coherence deteriorate, where reality may start to frey at the edges leaving the whumpee confused, disorientated, maybe unable to even distinguish reality.

You can drive a character into a dilirious state without any external factors. A characters cognition and coherence can be picked to the brink by so many things.

1. Extreme Sleep Deprivation: this is a favourite of mine. A whumpee kept awake for days on end, their cognitive functions begin to deteriorate, the boundary between wakefulness and sleep blurs, leading to fractured and disjointed thought processes. The mind starts to struggle to maintain coherence, resulting in hallucinations and a profound disorientation.

2. Substance Withdrawal: Not one I've explored much, but can totally count. The body and mind in chaos, craving what they can no longer have. The physical symptoms can be brutal, but the psychological torment can drive them into a state of delirium, where reality becomes a shifting, unreliable landscape.

3. Psychological Torture: Another one I tend to gravitate to. Intense psychological manipulation, sensory deprivation or overwhelm can also drive the mind into delirium. Continuous gaslighting, isolation, or exposure to disturbing stimuli can erode a characters grasp on reality, leading to a state where they can no longer distinguish between truth and illusion.

4. Emotional Trauma: this a mental breakdown. Severe emotional trauma pushing a whumpee into a to their mental limits. The overwhelming stress and fear fracturing their mind, causing confusion, disorientation, dissociation, hallucinations as their psyche tries to protect itself and struggles to make sweetheart if what's happened/happening.

5. Overwhelming Physical Pain: Pain, just pain, if relentless and severe enough, can lead to delirium. A whumpee in constant, excruciating pain might find their mind breaking under the strain, leading to confusion, disorientation, and a detachment from reality.

6. Fever: and just because it can't really be left of the list, fever. Infections, illness, etc. But did you know there is more than one kind of dilirium? Yes there is the sick whumpee who is too weak too most and admits all their insecurities and secrets in a slurred disjointed major. But there is also the type of dilirium where the character becomes energetic, erratic behavior, pacing incessantly and speaking rapidly, refusing to rest. Frustrating and worrying for those trying to help.

And this is just the ones of the top of my head. There's so much potential here! And yes this is a very self indulgent and selfish post that I wrote while writing a fic where I am inducing dilirium in a character through acute stress and an identity crisis 😅 but in short - I want to see more varied portrayals of dilirium in whump.

A similar post about hallucinations A similar post about fever

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

🎃➷ 13 Scary Prompts for Friday the 13th ☾ 𓆩☻𓆪ੈ✩

1. whumpee is trapped in a dark forest with caretaker or whumper (your choice). doesn’t matter if they’re friends or enemies, they both have to work together to find a way out before midnight, because that’s when it awakes and begins to hunt.

2. two characters who are enemies are trapped in an abandoned asylum. they soon learn they aren’t alone in the building; or, patients who are locked up here — when the staff suddenly fled one day — are in fact murderous cannibals.

3. characters throw a Friday the 13th party, everything goes well until someone — an old friend — shows up, an old friend who’s been dead for years.

4. there’s a myth that goes “something bad will happen within 7 days if you kiss someone under the moon on Friday the 13th”. character A and B think it’s bullshit and do exactly that. they’re about to find out the hard way that the myth — the curse — is real.

5. whumpee gets killed on Friday the 13th and wakes up amongst the dead, all of them have also been murdered on Friday the 13th.

6. whumpee is kidnapped. in order to save their life, caretaker has to kill 13 people before midnight of Friday the 13th.

7. on the night of Friday the 13th, caretaker finds a black stray cat at their front porch and decides to adopt the cat. it must be a coincidence that people in the neighborhood start disappearing after this mysterious cat shows up.

8. every Friday the 13th, character A is visited by a ghost who claims to be their lover from the past life. the ghost can only communicate with them when it’s Friday the 13th.

9. character A is immortal… unless they died on Friday the 13th. their enemies know this. so all character A has to do is stay alive until midnight, easier said than done. it doesn’t help that they happen to have a lot of enemies.

10. character A is cursed, so every Friday the 13th, they will be possessed by a demonic entity whose goals are death and destruction of innocent people. to try to prevent this, character A has to chain themself up and lock themself inside their house. but the devil is smart.

11. the purge. I don’t need to say more, but every Friday the 13th, murder and all type of crimes are legal in this town.

12. a group of tourists visit a small village located deep in the woods. it’s a lovely, peaceful village with nice villagers. only that they all turn into bloodthirsty murderers every Friday the 13th at nighttime. too bad our tourists don’t know about this, they’ll find out soon enough though.

13. Character A summons a demon on a dare. they don’t expect it to work, but it does. only character A can see the demon, turns out it just lonely and wants a friend.

[whumpgifathon]

Hello! And welcome to my brand new whump gifmaking challenge! I'm your host @aceofwhump and I'm excited to bring a whump challenge specifically created with gifmakers and visual artists in mind.

The challenge begins August 1, 2024!

Rules:

All gifs posted must be made by you. Do not just post gifs using the gif keyboard and claim them as yours and do not repost other people’s gifs. No AI-generated content please.

Various mediums are welcome! So long as the visual art aspect is the focus you can make whatever you want. Yes this is primarily a gifmaking challenge so everything is geared towards that but any visual art is welcome. If you draw, make moodboards, edits, videos, etc you’re welcome to participate!

You can use the prompts however you like. There is no wrong way to use a prompt. Feel free to interpret them however you wish. If you think it counts as whump? It's whump! Make it! Angst, comfort, emotional whump, small things, big things, it all counts so no need to over think it.

Tag all potential triggers (things like emeto, gore, nsfw, blood, eye whump, rape/noncon, etc.) When in doubt, tag it.

Tags to use when posting so I can find your ppst: #whumpedit, #whumpgifathon, #whump gifs

Please try to include the show/movie title, character names, and episode number (if applicable) somewhere either in your tags or in the post caption. This way anyone interested in watching it can find it easily.

An example of a way you can caption your gifsets:

@whumpgifathon | Day #: "prompt description" Show/Movie title, episode number, character name

And here's the prompt list!!! I hope you guys like it and find it inspiring but not overly challenging!

Remember that this is a relaxed event!!! I just want to offer my fellow visual artists some inspiring prompts and an opportunity to have some fun. So sit back, relax, and have fun!

Text version below:

Whump Gifathon - August 2024 Prompt List

Day 1: Space Oxygen Deprivation | Time Loop | Experiment

Day 2: Feeling Sick Fever | Infection | Delirium

Day 3: Environmental Earthquake | Storm | Hypothermia

Day 4: Captivity Chains | Caged | Rescue

Day 5: Water Shipwrecked | Drowning | Waterboarding

Day 6: Skills Try out a new technique you haven’t tried before using your favorite whump trope as inspiration!

Day 7: Emotional Crying | Panic Attack| Fear

Day 8: Hospital Ambulance | Intubation | Waking Up Disoriented

Day 9: Battlefield Explosion | Gunfire | Field Medicine

Day 10: Temporary Effects Blinded | Amnesia | Poisoned

Day 11: Recovery Sling | Pain | Seeking Support

Day 12: We All Go A Little Mad Sometimes Straight Jacket | Forced Injection | Hallucinations

Day 13: Aesthetic Highlight your favorite whump aesthetic

Day 14: Sleeping Nightmares | Exhaustion | Passing Out

Day 15: Trapped Impaled | Buried Alive | Locked Inside

Day 16: Western Cauterized | Bitten | Hanged

Day 17: Comfort Hugging | Blankets | Gentle Touch

Day 18: Broken Broken Bones | Emotional Breakdown | Broken Spirit

Day 19: Relationships What is your favorite type of whumpee/caretaker relationship? Platonic? Romantic? Familial? Show me!

Day 20: Blood Bloody Hands | Bleeding Out | Covered in Blood

Day 21: Fantastical Nonhuman | Resurrection | Magical Healing

Day 22: A Knock to the Head Headache | Knocked Out | Bloody face

Day 23: Travel Gone Wrong Car Accident | Plane Crash | Train Delrailment

Day 24: Magic Magical Exhaustion | Cursed | Possession

Day 25: Period Drama Pick a time period of your choice and highlight the whump!

Day 26: Everything Hurts and I’m Dying Grief | Resuscitation | Presumed Dead

Day 27: Superheroes Overused Powers | Powers with a Side Effect | Villain

Day 28: Torture Beaten| Flogging | Choked

Day 29: Restrained Zipties| Rope Leash | Medical Restraints

Day 30: First Aid Ice Pack | Stitches | Bandages

Day 31: Colors Highlight a specific color in your art

Alternate Prompts:

"Stay With Me" Begging Heat Exhaustion Bedside Vigil Self Surgery Taser Scar Reveal Collapsing Protective Electrocution

[whumpmasinjuly]

Now introducing the prompt list for Whumpmas in July 2024! 

Thank you for patiently waiting! As a reminder, we will not be reblogging any creations on this blog and will instead keep this blog as a space to only post the prompts, tags, and relevant information. We will post the tag for each day, and we ask that you use two tags when filling prompts this year so that others may find your creations easily:  Tag 1 —> #wij24day__ (Fill in the blank with the appropriate day number for the prompt you are filling! For example, if you are doing the prompt for day 21, make sure to tag your post with #wij24day21.)

Tag 2 —> #whumpmasinjuly2024 Be sure to also tag @whumpmasinjuly-archive if you would like your posts reblogged to our new official archive account! Of course, feel free to use any other relevant tags too! You can also find a banner that you can use in your posts (if you want, not required) under the #wijbanner tag.

The prompts are divided into three categories: community (red boxes), question (green boxes), and creation (white boxes). Everyone is free to participate as much or as little as they want–there’s no completionist requirement! This list provides a preview of the prompts, but on each day a more detailed post will be released with more context and additional suggestions for each day’s task. Similar to previous years, all prompts and other important information will be found under the #infowhumpmasinjuly tag and #infowij24 for ease of access. This blog will also use the tags #wijquestion , #wijcommunity , and #wijprompt respectively for each post so that you can filter and find the type of prompts you’d like to do. 

Below the cut is a text list of this year’s prompts:

1. (Re)Introduce yourself 2. What are your top three favorite whump tropes? 3. "______ deserved it" 4. Post a whump prompt for someone else to fill on Day 28 5. Share a TV show, movie, or any media that gives you the whumperflies! 6. Left Behind 7. Post a link to your favorite whump fic of all time! 8. Describe your favorite type of whumper 9. Mind Games 10. Check out a new whump blog and drop them an ask 11. What songs/playlists are perfect for whumpy daydreaming? 12. Caught 13. Share some of your favorite niche whump tags! 14. Describe the ideal fic you've always wanted to read, but have yet to find/haven't written yet. 15. A Soft Reprieve 16. Create a whump meme! 17. What has been your most recent whump obsession? 18. "Or else" 19. Create a list of some of your favorite whump blogs to share! 20. What character do you wish to see whumped more in canon/fan-made media? 21. Abandoned 22. Find a story/author you've never engaged with before, and leave some nice comments! 23. What is your favorite type of whump setting? 24. Denial 25. Share a sneak peek of something you're working on 26. Describe your favorite type of whumpee 27. Delirium 28. Fill someone's whump prompt from Day 4 29. When did you get your first whumperflies? 30. "I'm here" 31. Who is someone in the whump-creating world that you admire and why?

[justwhumptypethings]

tw: murder, blood, and isolation mention, loss of hope

living weapon whumpee that used to be a sunshine character

they weren’t naive or stupid, they weren’t blind to the world, they just chose to see the best in it, and always tried to strive for peace. a real aang/izuku/frodo type character.

and the next time caretaker sees them, they’re so distinctly different from the person they knew. that smile that they used to give out so freely is just gone, replaced by a permanent hard grimace. It’ll take upwards of half a year to even see a ghost of it.

whumpee had lost hope. whumpee had had some bad draws before, difficult things, they’ve lost their hope before, too, and fought hard to choose to hold onto it. But nothing, ever, like this. the abject cruelty of whumper. whatever the content of their whump was- their training and punishments. all the people who were witness to their cruelty and didn’t look away, and didn’t do anything.

they’re rendered into a weapon. A tool to destroy, a shield if necessary. the blood of so many people weighing on their overly empathetic heart. they hate themselves and what they’ve done, what whumper has turned them into. they remember each and every single victim. it renders them completely numb after a while. they do their jobs, the servants attending to whumper try to clean their hands, and then they are put back in storage, alone, until the next battle months later.

the swing of the axe or the blade becomes muscle memory. they know exactly what it feels like to cut clean through the bone and marrow of someone’s neck. internally, they are still the same person. overly empathetic to anything and anyone; soft hearted, despite what anyone might want. they remember the faces of each and every victim, despite the fact that the memories get fuzzy for a while and they can never bring themselves to quite ask for the people’s names out of fear of punishment.

they’ve stopped being able to cry a long time ago.

[mj-iza-writer]

This story was requested by @electrons2006 with inspiration from a recent post by @tender-traps . It was about Whumper not talking to Whumpee or talking for a while to Whumpee, but ultimately stopping. Which I did a reverse of that idea, and Whumper ends up talking at the end.

The difficulty with this type of story is keeping a silent character moving.

Warning: lab rat. Heavy language.

Whumpee's home was the lab. It's where they grew up. It's where the professor and other scientists kept them safe from people wanting to misuse their blood's healing properties. So they thought.

After a while though, the professor was losing interest in the lab. They were ready to retire.

Whumper bought the lab and rights to Whumpee. Quite a few of the scientists left after the professor retired, but still, a small few remained.

It seemed now with Whumper in charge Whumpee's blood was often drained to dangerous lows. They were only left alive to make more.

"Hold still Whumpee", Connor, one of the original scientists, worked to take more blood from Whumpee's arm, "we need to take another few viles for samples."

"You've already taken five though", Whumpee whined, "I already feel sick from all of that blood loss, and you want to take more."

"I know, unfortunately, one of the new idiots spilled the viles, and I still need to do test", Connor fought, "stop moving before I destroy the vein."

Whumpee whimpered, "I-I want to keep some of my blood today, please. I'm not being given enough time for my blood to come back in between blood collections. I feel so sick all of the time."

"I'm sorry, but you don't get a choice", Connor frowned.

Whumpee moved away again before a hand came out of nowhere and grabbed the side of their face. Whumpee's head was then slammed to the metal table.

"Ow, ow, ow", Whumpee screamed.

"Go ahead and take the blood", Whumper looked at Connor, then down at Whumpee.

"Please let me go", Whumpee pleaded, out of the corner of their eye. They could see Connor sticking the needle into the their scarred skin, "please, I won't fight them, you're hurting me."

"Hold still Whumpee", Connor warned, "it seems you're in enough trouble as it is. Don't add more."

"How can you tell. This freaken ass hasn't said crap to me once since taking over. I don't even know what to call them", Whumpee complained tiredly, "h-how much more blood do you need?"

"One more vile", Connor frowned, "maybe if you'd stop being so disobedient, they would be nicer to you. You're why the professor quit, you know that right?"

"He-he said he liked me at one point. I-I didn't know he hated me", Whumpee whispered, "I-I thought..."

"It doesn't matter anyway", Connor frowned as they took out the needle, "with Whumper in charge, this lab may actually be on a breakthrough with studying your blood."

Whumpee winced as Whumper let them go. They rubbed their sore arm.

"C-can I have a bandaid an-and juice... please?", Whumpee looked cautiously at Whumper then at Connor.

"I guess", Connor sighed.

Whumpee was placed back in their cell with a juice box and a bandaged arm.

"I miss the professor sometimes. At least when he liked me", Whumpee frowned as they sat down on the floor of their cell, "at least I didn't have to give so much blood when he was in charge. He never acted like he hated me."

Whumpee rested their head against the wall and fell asleep. They were so tired from the blood loss.

"Whumpee, what the heck did you do?", Whumpee jumped when they heard yelling.

They felt their pants were soaked.

"Earth to Whumpee. Did you pee?"

Whumpee turned to see Connor squinting in at them, then opening the cell door.

Whumpee looked down to see why they were wet.

They looked up nervously as Connor towered over them.

"I-its my juice", Whumpee frowned, "I couldn't stay awake."

"Such a waste. Waste of juice, my time, we have to clean all of this", Connor complained loudly.

"I-it's not my fault", Whumpee shrunk back, "I'm so tired from all of the blood being taken. I can't keep my eyes open."

Whumper came in and grabbed Whumpee by the back of the neck and dragged them out of the cell into the hall.

Whumpee was drop kicked across the room. When they landed, they rolled a few times until the wall stopped them.

Whumpee gasped as they looked up. Whumper was already walking toward them again.

After a few more punches and kicks, Whumper turned and walked back to Connor.

Connor watched the beating with his jaw to the floor.

"I'm sick of their shit", Whumper frowned at Connor, "don't look at me like that."

Connor looked past to see if Whumpee was still awake or alive.

"Right, but they still need to be alive for this study to work. I didn't tell you about this opportunity for you to come in here and kill them. Their blood is our link to healing people", Connor frowned, "we probably should give them a few days to recoup their blood supply. Their levels are very low right now."

"Let's take out everything they own and let them learn their place that way. They're a good for nothing lab rat, that's all", Whumper glared at Whumpee who squinted weakly at them, "they will need to earn things back. They have too many belongings for a lowly rat."

"They get to keep two items. I will fight for them to keep two items", Connor argued, knowing Whumpee had two items that if lost Whumpee would lose it.

"Fine", Whumper turned and stormed out.

Connor cleaned the spill, and started to clear Whumpee's room of their belongings.

Whumpee watched from the end of the hall where Whumper left them. They whimpered as their mattress and other furniture was moved out.

Connor knelt down beside them and patted their back.

"I am truly sorry, I didn't know Whumper would go that far", Connor sighed.

"I-I already earned all of that", Whumpee whispered, "I-I didn't do anything wrong. I just had an accident and asked if my health could be considered at least once in a while."

Connor sighed, "he uh, we let you keep your stuffed toy and blanket at least. So that wasn't taken from you."

Whumpee whimpered, "why do you even care? Since Professor left, you've been just as cold to me. Did you mean it when you said you invited Whumper to be here?"

"Uh yes, I-I couldn't risk losing this testing. We are on the brink of great things. You are helping so many people. You'll be a hero."

Whumpee chuckled hatefully, "at the expense of my well-being. At the expense of my freedom. Fuck them all that will use the products you made from me. I won't be a hero, they won't even know I exist."

Connor looked at Whumpee with frustration.

Whumpee's glare softened, "please don't hit me. Can I just go back to my empty...", Whumpee felt a tear slip from their eye, "my empty cell. I need help."

Connor nodded, "I'm not going to hit you, I think Whumper did enough."

"You think?", Whumpee groaned as Connor helped them up.

Connor sat Whumpee down and helped them lean against the wall of their cell.

Whumpee looked around sadly, "everything is gone?", they looked at Connor sadly and sniffled.

"It is... I'm sorry", Connor reached for Whumpee's favorite blanket and covered them up, "I'll try to at least get the mattress back, but you may need to behave for a few days."

Whumpee nodded sadly, then looked at their stuffed toy.

"Here", Connor reached for the toy and tried to hand it to Whumpee.

Whumpee only looked at it and started to cry.

"It isn't fair", Whumpee blubbered, "this is supposed to be my home. My safe place. I learn that my caregiver actually didn't like me. Everyone who took care of me left. Now I'm being taken care of by two people who only want my blood. That's not how it was supposed to be. Yes Professor studied my blood, but I wasn't ever treated like this. All of the stuff I earned is now gone. Everything hurts, and, and I feel sick", Whumpee yanked the toy from Connor's hand, "and I'm expected to be happy."

Connor frowned, "I'm sorry Whumpee. If it makes you feel any better. The professor was tired of being a scientist and retired. He may not have left fully because of you."

Whumpee sniffled, "then why did you say that they left because of me?"

"Because I'm mean, and an idiot. Look, is there anything you want to eat for dinner that will make you feel better", Connor felt so guilty.

"You're an ass, that's what you are", Whumpee glared.

"I'll take that", Connor agreed.

"Can I have pizza? Like good pizza, and uhm, and ice cream", Whumpee looked at them longingly, "please."

"I can make that happen. I'm going to give you a few days as well to build up your blood supply. Those samples were really weak." Connor turned to leave.

After some complaints from Whumper. Connor served Whumpee their pizza and ice cream.

After a few days Whumpee was taken to give blood samples.

"I can definitely admit I didn't miss this the last few days. Though I did miss getting to leave my cell", Whumpee frowned as they looked at the needle.

Whumper stomped into the room.

"Are you being mouthy?", Whumper glared at Whumpee.

"N-no I-I'm being good", Whumpee shuddered, "good Whumpee see", they offered their arm to Connor quickly.

"Ymhmm", Whumper walked away.

Connor chuckled as they started to draw the blood, Whumpee breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's not funny", Whumpee frowned, "I want my mattress back. That floor hurts so bad. Especially since I'm already sore from them hurting me."

Whumpee paused, "wait they actually talked to me. That's a first."

"Don't get use to it", Whumper walked by again, "you have to earn it."

"Wow, a second sentence", Whumpee whispered.

"Whumpee don't make me laugh, you sarcastic pain in the ass", Connor tried to focus back on the blood draw.

"What? I'm just saying", Whumpee frowned.

Whumpee was taken back to their cell. They were surprised to see Whumper inside.

They took quick glances around the room, making sure their stuffed toy and blanket were still there.

"I... is that my mattress?", Whumpee watched Whumper slide it against the wall.

"Yep", Whumper frowned, "don't make me regret this. We just had a breakthrough, so you earned it back."

Whumpee looked at it happily, then at Whumper.

"I don't know what I appreciate more the bed or you finally talking to me."

"Like I said. Don't get use to it", Whumper smirked, "you're still a lab rat. Just not as useless."

"I'll take it", Whumpee nodded.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @sunglasses-in-the-bentley

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie

[redd956]

(@urlocalwhumper)

hey dawg thanks for feeding us living weapon whumpee enjoyers

i know that generally the vibe for living weapon whumpees is like the stoic "unfeeling" supersoldier type, but how are we feelin about living weapon whumpees that are like. off the shits feral.

more of an attack dog than a super soldier, weapons of mass destruction built into them cybernetically, because their masters aren't looking for efficiency, they're looking to send a message. for everyone around to know that if you don't bow to their rule, they'll send their monster to destroy you and everything you hold dear.

(and ofc the "monster" themself is kept in a constant state of suffering so they're always agitated and the pain clouds their mind too much to question what they're doing and why)

I love the way you think!

I never really thought of that character trope as a living weapon, but you aren't lying, it would count. (My brother and I's ocs would count then Ig) Also ties into monster whumpees :D

Here's some ideas I bounced off of this

Guard Dog Whumpee

CW: Pet Whump Sorta, Classic, the whump community should bring these up more

Whumper having more than one, forcing them to compete with one another. The most brutal earns their medical treatment.

Dangerous whumpees who have to be muzzled and mitted because whumper doesn't have them under control fully. Gentle carewhumpers being able to coerce whumpee into muzzles.

Non-guard dog whumpees equally trapped under whumper's boot being terrified of the guard dog. Sharing space with one is like sleeping on the shore of alligator infested rivers.

Scarred whumpees with dangerous animalistic features bared, backed into a corner with a tail in between their legs. Caretaker is trying their best to appear nonthreatening.

A guard dog whumpee failing its job. It showed no fear to its enemies, but the same cannot be said as they returned home.

Monster Living Weapon Whumpee

Say that three times fast

While rampaging after whumper's enemies whumpee broke the device keeping them confined to whumper. Quickly a symbol of destruction becomes a confused, hurt, and whimpering creature.

Whumpee always thought they were uniquely a monster. Whumper told them so everyday, rewarding them for their monstrousness, telling them they're alone as a creature of evil. Whumpee always thought this until they met caretaker.

Monster whumpees that despite being living weapons show rage in their failures, and pride in their kills. They don't see that whumper's treatment of them is subpar, because they're "partners in crime" of course. Caretaker would never treat whumpee that way if they were their weapon.

Killing Machine

They know what they're capable of, and they don't want to be that

Maybe they wanna do things their way, maybe they're ashamed of being a killing machine. Whumper could care less.

Killing machine in disguise has been living the everyday life, perhaps even an extravagant one. Whumper found them out, and no one has seen whumpee since, until the destruction started.

Killer Machine Villain -> Supervillain meets Villain with the promise to make them more powerful -> Extra Murderous Killer Machine Villain (Unstable)

Robotic whumpee that is just doing what they're told. Whumper was great, whumper was life. Robotic whumpee who sees whumper returning home with the newest model. Whumper who won't stop boasting about how much more efficient and deadly the new one is.

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Whump Prompts Masterlist

A place for all my prompt lists and advice! If you happen to see one that isn't already up here, please send me the link. i will love you forever.

Dialogue Prompt Lists

False/broken promises

Random

Phrases of Comfort

Whump Prompt Lists

Back pain

Begging

Caretakers

Crying

Environmental whump

Heat whump

Multiple Whumpees

Muzzles

Neurodivergent characters

Non-con + Slavery

Older whumpees

Possible Trauma triggers

Punishments

Recovery

Recovery + Bathing

Restraints

Strangulation/Asphyxiation

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Water Torture

Whumpees

Whump Dynamics

Sadistic Whumper + Carewhumper

Creepy/intimate whumper

Defiant Whumpees

Angry whumpees

Whump Things

Mer whump

Non-human whump

Whumpees & The Result Of Captivity

Comfort Items For Your Whumpee

Touch starved whumpees

Rescue scenes

Whump Aesthetics

Feet/shoes (non-kink)

Responses to asks / Other advice

How to hurt a whumpee who isn't affected by physical pain

Ways To Keep A Whumpee contained

Types of nightmares/dreams Whumpee might have during and after captivity

Little things Whumpee might do to let Whumper or Caretaker know that they're having a panic/anxiety attack

Quirks/habits your whumpee might develop as a result of trauma

Common household items to whump your whumpee with