I Have a Whump Blog Now. Whump Blogs are Cool.

Asking for Help

Contains: generic whumpee and caretaker, flashback, panic attack

They couldn’t breathe. The images of the past had them by the throat, pounding into their mind with a force that left their head spinning and chest aching. It wouldn’t stop, one memory after another, every horrific moment, all of the sounds and the fear and the pain right there as if it was happening all over again.

It took what seemed like ages for the present to come back into focus. Took even longer before Caretaker could coax normal breaths out of them, before the tears stopped pouring unchecked and the shaking in their limbs calmed to small tremors.

Even then, they didn’t speak for several minutes. Caretaker sat patiently with them through the whole thing, touching only when Whumpee was ready, at which point they moved so that Whumpee could lean their head on Caretaker’s shoulder. Together they drew in deep breaths, staring silently off into the distance.

“I think…” Whumpee began at last, their voice weak and exhausted. “I think I need…help.” 

They’d tried for so long to deny it, to be strong and handle everything on their own. But they were tired of fighting. Tired of being alone through all of this. They were just…so, so tired.

Caretaker’s hand found theirs and gave it a tight squeeze. “Okay.” They sounded a bit choked up. “Whatever you need, Whumpee, I’ll make sure it happens. I am right here for you. Always, okay?”

Whumpee turned their face in to Caretaker’s shoulder. “Okay,” they whispered. Somewhere deep inside them, underneath the layers of fear and fatigue, a little flame of hope flickered to life.

Fatigue | “Who said you could rest?”

Contains: generic whumpee and whumper, leader whumper, forced labor

Whumpee stumbled, catching themself with their shoulder against the wall, and quickly set down the heavy load in their arms before they ended up dropping it. Exhaustion weighed heavily on their body. Leaning their head against the wall, they shut their eyes, feeling their insides practically tremble.

“Excuse me?” Leader’s voice echoed down the hall, and Whumpee flinched, immediately struggling to straighten. “Who said that you could rest? Do you realize how much work still has to be done?”

How much work you still have to do, is what they meant. Because it was all Whumpee’s job, according to them. And after this job, there’d be another. And another. It was never ending.

“I just needed a second,” they mumbled, knowing already that it would do no good. Bending, they heaved up their load again, nearly falling over but managing to right themself.

“We don’t have a second,” Leader snapped, predictably. “Quit being lazy and speed it up.”

Whumpee didn’t have it in them to respond. All of their focus had to go into putting one foot in front of the other without collapsing.

Denial | CCTV | Exposure | “They caught me red-handed”

Contains: generic characters, abuse by a leader, team whump, corporal punishment, self-deprecating thoughts

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Whumpee insisted. Their calm exterior gave away nothing, or at least so they hoped. Inside, their panic was growing by the second, clawing up their throat and threatening to choke them. 

“Do you hear yourselves? You’re talking about Leader. They…they’re a good person. They wouldn’t hurt anybody.” Not unless they had a really good reason. 

Teammate frowned, crossing their arms. “So you’re saying Leader has never hurt you. Not even a little bit.”

Whumpee sputtered. “Not on purpose!”

A moment passed in which the creases in Teammate’s expression grew even deeper. Finally, they waved a hand at Techie. “Show them.”

Sighing, Techie spun around in their chair and clicked a button on the computer. The screen came to life with a low-resolution, black and white video of a hallway Whumpee recognized. Their heart dropped into their stomach. This couldn’t be what they were afraid it was…right?

Laboratory | Muzzled

Contains: generic whumpee and whumpers, lab whump, restraints, defiant to broken whumpee, dehumanization, captivity

“Get your hands off me!” Whumpee snarled, fighting against the hold on their arms as hard as they could. “I’m not your subject, I’m a person! You can’t do this!”

It took half a dozen scientists, but they managed to drag Whumpee onto the cold metal table, clamping restraints around their ankles and legs despite their furious kicking and eventually shoving their torso down to secure with even more restraints. Their head was held in place by metal across their throat, but that didn’t stop them from continuing to shout and snapping their teeth at the next scientist who brought their fingers too near. 

“We’ve got a biter,” they called over their shoulder, not sounding all that concerned. “Bring the muzzle.”

Nightmares

Contains: generic whumpee and caretaker, strangulation, panic, caretaker whump

Whumpee was having a nightmare. Caretaker knew they got them sometimes, but they’d never actually witnessed one before. But tonight the two of them were sharing a room, and Caretaker woke to the sound of whimpering and thrashing.

Concerned, they swung their feet to the floor and leaned forward, eyes squinting to see through the darkness. “Whumpee?” they whispered. “Whumpee, wake up.”

There was no response. Whumpee groaned and tossed their head, and Caretaker’s stomach sank with sympathy. Standing, they crept over to the other bed and reached out, gently touching Whumpee’s arm and shaking it a little.

“Whumpee! It’s okay, just wake up!”

Surgery | Stitches | Being Monitored | “It’s for your own good”

Contains: generic whumpee and caretaker, needle mentions, mild blood, surgery aftermath, nonconsensual drugging, bedside vigil

Whumpee woke slowly to the sound of rhythmic beeping. It took a moment for them to pry their eyes open, and another to orient themself with where they were. Turning their head, they found Caretaker slumped in a chair next to the bed, dozing with their mouth hanging open.

The pain wasn’t as bad as they thought it might be. Probably had something to do with the IV drip attached to their arm. Pain or no pain, though, they couldn’t keep lying there. This fight wasn’t finished. Just because they got injured didn’t mean that they could stop, there was far too much to do that was way more important than their health. 

Trying to stay as quiet as possible, they pushed themself up off the pillows and swung their legs over the side of the bed. The injury on their stomach felt tight and strange, but not really painful. Caretaker’s head moved slightly, and they froze, but they remained asleep. 

“I never knew daylight could be so violent”

Contains: generic whumpee and caretaker, captivity, rescue, blindfold

They’d longed for light, those long days locked in the cell. There were no windows, and the few times the door did open there was only more darkness beyond. Whumpee’s eyes had adjusted to it as best they could - not that there was much to see in the cell, anyway. But they’d dreamed of the sun, of basking in its rays and taking in the beautiful, colorful sights of the world once more.

Rescue came, at last. The cell door opened for the final time, and Whumpee finally got to stumble through it, following the gentle hands that guided them down the dark hallway toward freedom. It was so close. Their battered, weak body moved a little quicker, ready for fresh air and sunlight.

But when the door to freedom was thrown open and the daylight flooded in, Whumpee cried out and threw themself backward, trying to escape it. They closed their eyes, but even through their eyelids it hurt. With their back to the door and their arm slung across their face, they tried to catch their breath, involuntary tears from the sudden strain wetting their eyelashes.

They were finally free, and they couldn’t even enjoy it. Couldn’t even take the last few steps to leave this place behind. They tried again to look, squinting, but everything was blinding white and they couldn’t hold their eyes open against it.

“Here.” Caretaker placed a hand on their shoulder, then something soft touched their face. “Is it okay if I tie this around your eyes? It’ll help until we can get you somewhere that’s not as bright.”

Reluctantly, Whumpee lowered their arm, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and allowed themself to be blindfolded. “It’s just…temporary, right?”

“Of course,” Caretaker reassured them. “We’ve just got to take it slow, alright? We’ll introduce a little bit of light at a time.”

Public Display

Contains: generic whumpee and whumper, whipping, humiliation, mild blood, mild gore, corporal punishment, restraints

“Let all who witness this be warned - thus shall it be done to those who disrespect His Imperial Highness!”

The late autumn air was cold against Whumpee’s bare back, but the hundreds of eyes on them that they could feel without looking had them heated with shame. No one out there cared a thing about them. They didn’t care that the charges were trumped up, didn’t care about the pain that Whumpee was about to experience. They just wanted entertainment, in the form of blood and punishment.

Pressing their forehead into the rough wooden post, Whumpee waited, tense with dread. Any second now, the whip would come down on them. They had no way to anticipate what it would feel like, they’d never been whipped before. 

There was a slight rustle behind them, then a whistling sound, and suddenly a line of fire was painted across their back. Whumpee jerked in their restraints, crying out, and the crowd raised a cheer. 

Whumpee was determined after that not to make any more noise, not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction. It didn’t matter, though. Their audience roared out the number of each stroke as it fell, clearly enjoying the spectacle. On lash five, their din rose even higher. It wasn’t until Whumpee felt warm blood trickling down their back that they understood why. 

By the end, Whumpee was practically dangling from their wrists, which had started to bleed, as well. The noise of the crowd faded in and out with their vision. Their entire back felt shredded beyond hope of ever being put together again. 

“The criminal shall remain here throughout the rest of the day, as a reminder to all.”

Bleeding Through Bandages | Reopening Wounds

Contains: generic whumpee, knife wound, mild blood, stitches mention

Whumpee’s side was killing them. All this activity really wasn’t recommended for recovering from a knife wound, but what choice did they have? They were being attacked. Fighting wasn’t optional. And running for their life through the woods wasn’t, either, despite the fact that the pain got worse with each step. 

They hoped, with what thought they had to spare from surviving the present moment, that the stitches they’d put in would be strong enough to hold up. Somehow the amount of pain didn’t give them a lot of confidence, though.

Finally they’d gained enough distance from their enemies that they felt safe collapsing to the leaf-covered ground, at least for a few minutes. For a moment they just lay there on their back, the branches overhead spinning slightly as they panted for breath. Then, with a wince, they propped themself up on their elbows and carefully peeled their shirt back.

What was once a white bandage was now soaked in red. Not just spots, either - clearly they’d busted quite a few stitches at some point. That could explain both the pain and dizziness. 

Groaning, Whumpee fell back into the dirt. Their medical supplies were gone, and the people who wanted them dead were still out there somewhere, searching for them. They couldn’t stop right now even if they did have the means to stitch themself back up. 

There was only one thing they could think of to do. Using their knife, they sliced the sleeve off their shirt and tied it around their middle as tight as they could, biting their lip to keep from crying out as the pressure on the wound increased. 

Then they stumbled to their feet, blinked away the wooziness, and kept going.

Tattoo Gun

Contains: generic whumpee and whumper, nonconsensual body modification, captivity, restraints, possessive whumper

Whumpee shook their leg up and down as best they could while tied to the chair, all their muscles tense. Their breaths were jerky and uneven, hitching in their chest. 

It was ridiculous, they supposed. They’d had so much worse pain than this while in Whumper’s grasp, so they should be able to handle this, right? It was just that the pain kept going, so repetitive and tedious. 

And mostly, it was because they wanted to cry, knowing that what was being done to them was going to haunt them even if they ever did make it out of there. 

After an eternity, the incessant buzzing finally cut off, and Whumper sat up, stretching their back. Whumpee kept their head tilted up to the ceiling. They didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see the smug grin on Whumper’s face, or their handiwork.

“All done,” Whumper announced. “I have to say, it turned out even better than I’d hoped. Here.” They turned and grabbed a hand mirror, holding it up in front of Whumpee. “See for yourself.”

When Whumpee continued to refuse to look, Whumper sighed, reaching forward to grab them by the hair and force their head down. Their hands gripped the arms of the chair as they finally caught a glimpse of their own reflection.

There, spread across their chest just underneath their collarbone, was Whumper’s signature, permanently inked into their skin.

Whumper’s smile grew wider as they watched Whumpee fight back tears. “Now everyone can see that you belong to me.”

Emotional Angst | Shoulder to Cry On | “It’s not your fault”

Contains: generic whumpee and caretaker, crying, comfort, referenced abandonment, self-blame

“I don’t know what I did wrong.” Whumpee stared hard at a piece of artwork across the room, determined to look anywhere but at Caretaker. If they looked at Caretaker, they would start crying, and that seemed like the worst possible thing right then. 

“But…it had to be something, right? There has to be a reason that they hate me. That they…abandoned me. I keep racking my brain, trying to figure out what it was, if there was anything I could have done differently, but…maybe…maybe it’s just…me. Maybe I’m just unlovable. Maybe I’m just so messed up, so not right, that they couldn’t stand to be around me anymore.”

“Hey. Whumpee.” Caretaker’s voice was soft, but their tone was firm. “You can’t do that to yourself. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“But there has to be!” Despite their best efforts, tears were burning at their eyes, and they blinked rapidly to try to stave them off. “Either that, or I did something to make them hate me, because -”

“It’s not your fault, Whumpee.”

“Then why?” Their voice broke, and they breathed out a sob, both their posture and expression crumpling. “Why did they leave me?”

“Come here.” Ever so gently, Caretaker’s arms slid around them, pulling Whumpee into themself. “You need to let it out.”

They didn’t want to let it out, but they had no choice at that point. The dam was broken, and all the pain and anguish came flooding out of them as they fell apart in Caretaker’s arms. 

Caretaker let them cry for as long as they needed to, rocking slightly. “It’s not your fault,” they repeated in a whisper. “It’s theirs. You’re good, okay? There isn’t anything wrong with you, you’re good, and you’re loved.”

Blood Trail | Abandoned Cabin

Contains: generic whumpee, blood loss, waiting for death, escape attempt, cold and snow, hopelessness

They were leaving a trail. Whumpee spared a thought to acknowledge the fact, but there was nothing they could do about it. They already had their hand pressed to the wound, catching as much blood as they could, but there were still bright red drops falling to the ground, glaring and brilliant against the pure white snow. 

Honestly, they might as well have quit walking right then and there. Curled up under a tree and waited to see whether their hunters would find them before they succumbed to the frigid cold.

But they couldn’t give up, not now. Even if it was hopeless, even if this excruciating hike through the woods was all for nothing, they had to press on. They’d been through too much to just lie down and accept their fate now.

Loss of Identity

Contains: generic whumpee and whumper, royal whumpee, implied torture, referenced slavery, restraints, mild blood, defiant to broken whumpee

Whumper’s eyes were cold as they stared down from the throne. The crown that sat on their head looked just as wrong on them as they did sitting there. 

Usurper. Murderer. That’s all Whumpee would ever see. 

“Still you refuse to bow?” Whumper’s smooth voice questioned, one eyebrow raising.

There were heavy chains around Whumpee’s wrists and ankles, the little clothing they’d been left with was filthy and torn, and dried blood caked their body. Still, they stood tall, lifted their chin, and met Whumper’s gaze straight on.

“I am Whumpee, Sovereign of This Kingdom. I will never bow to you.”

Whumper gave an disinterested hum and a flick of their hand, and the guards descended on Whumpee yet again, gripping their arms with bruising force. As they were dragged mercilessly back toward the doors, Whumper mused, “Never is a very long time, my dear.”

—

The guards shoved Whumpee forward, and they stumbled to the foot of the steps, vacant eyes trained somewhere on the floor in front of them. Seconds passed as they swayed in place. Then slowly, with pain etched into their expression, they lowered themself to their knees, head bowed and shackled hands resting in their lap.

Up on the throne, Whumper’s smile was victorious. “Tell me, slave…who are you?”

The answer was barely audible, Whumpee’s voice hoarse from endless screaming. “I’m…no one. Your Majesty.”

Whumper laughed aloud. “That’s right! You are no one. And now you are ready to take your place, serving your Sovereign. Kneeling by my side, where you have always belonged.”

Painful Hug

Contains: generic whumpee and caretaker, implied whipping, hidden injuries

Every little movement was painful. Whumpee’s clothes wouldn’t stop rubbing against the marks on their back, lighting their skin on fire each time they walked or turned or moved their arms or leaned forward.

But it was fine. They could grin and bear it, pretend everything was okay just like always. No one needed to know about their pain. They’d be in so much trouble if anyone found out, but as long as they didn’t react, their secret was safely hidden beneath their modest clothing.

“Oh good, Whumpee, you’re here!” Caretaker exclaimed, hurrying over. Whmpee saw their arms moving, knew what was coming, but what could they do? Run away? Duck? Come up with some crazy excuse as to why they didn’t want to be touched? They’d given so many excuses to cover up their injuries before, and it seemed like Caretaker believed them a little less each time.

Left for Dead

Contains: generic characters, collapsed building, mild blood, abandonment, trapped

The shriek of metal scraping, the deafening crash of concrete and wood, the dust billowing into the air seemed like it was never going to end. 

Then it did, and somehow, Whumpee was still awake.

Somehow, they were still alive.

Their entire body was alight with pain as if it was on fire. Tipping their head back, they opened their mouth to scream, but their throat was coated with blood and dust and all that came out was a fit of coughing that felt like it was ripping them in half. 

“Whumpee!” 

The voice echoed from somewhere above the rubble. Again, they tried to force out words, a scream, something. Anything to let their teammates know that they were still alive down there. 

“Teammate, we’ve got to go!” That was Leader, their voice just barely audible. 

“No, but…Whumpee! They’re in there, we’ve got to -”

“We can’t. I’m…I’m sorry, Teammate. There’s no way they could have survived that, and we have to get out of here. It’s not safe!”

No, please don’t…don’t leave me down here! I’m here, I’m alive, I can hear you!

“I can’t just leave them!”

There was a distant rumble, followed by more crashing. The impact vibrated the ground underneath Whumpee. 

“Teammate, please. It’s too late for Whumpee. Let me protect the rest of you.”

Whumpee strained to hear a reply, but was met with only deafening silence. 

They were trapped and alone. 

Starving

Contains: generic whumpee and caretaker, implied past captivity, recovery

The bowl of food was set in front of Whumpee, and their eyes went impossibly wide. A split second later, they were snatching up their spoon and shoveling food into their mouth faster than should have been possible.

“Whumpee. Whumpee!”

Caretaker’s hand came toward them, and Whumpee suddenly caught the bowl up in their arms, hugging it to themself. There was a wild look in their eyes that took Caretaker’s breath away.

For a moment they both stayed frozen like that, watching each other. Then Caretaker slowly pulled their hand back toward them.

“It’s okay, Whumpee. You’re safe now, remember? No one is…no one is gonna take your food from you. I just want you to slow down so you don’t choke or make yourself sick.”

Whumpee continued to stare at them, but after a minute they relaxed ever so slightly, setting the bowl back down on the table. Caretaker forced a smile. Still wary, Whumpee began to eat again, slowing down a little but still keeping their eye on Caretaker and the room around them.

It wasn’t long, though, before their expression changed. First they started to look uncomfortable, then ended up staring down at the bowl as if they might cry over it at any second. Shakily, they stabbed the spoon into the food, wanting to take another bite but clearly not able to.

“Whumpee?” Caretaker ventured. “You shouldn’t force yourself, okay? You don’t wanna get sick.” Their hands itched to reach out and comfort, but they didn’t dare. “It’ll still be there when you’re ready for it. And plenty more food like it, too. Whenever you’re hungry, okay? Just let me know and I’ll get you more.”

They took a deep breath, blinking back their own tears. “You don’t have to go without anymore.”

Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don’t even exist”

Contains: generic whumpee, homelessness, isolation

They moved through the city like a phantom, haunting the alleys and back doorsteps where few others ever ventured. Sweeping in and out of an area like a whisper of wind, finding what they needed and moving on before they could be noticed.

No one had noticed them in a while. And that was okay, that was their plan. Being invisible was safe. It meant that they hadn’t talked to another living soul in so long that they weren’t sure they remembered what it was like, but it also meant that no one could hurt them.

They were a ghost. Ghosts didn’t have friends. No one but the brick walls and dumpsters knew they even existed anymore, and they wouldn’t share the secret with anyone else.

It was better that way.