@boneywhump / boneywhump.tumblr.com
Reunion lovemaking. Whumpee and their loved one absorbing each other’s warmth, tasting each other’s quiet tears of release and relief, breaths hitching as recovering injuries strain against the motions. Just glad that, after everything they’ve gone through, they’re still here to complete and hold each other.
The caretaker brushing their fingers through the hair of a sick, feverish whumpee, feeling sweat stick to their skin as they move. Heat seeps into them from the whumpee’s body to the point of discomfort, but they can’t bring themself to move away.
The room is quiet enough that they can hear it when the whumpee lets out a whimper.
“Shh,” they say. “Just rest. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”
- The whumper pinning the whumpee down and lazily wrapping their hands around the whumpee's throat; squeezing just enough to make their breathing labored; watching the whumpee's eyes go wide and panicked.
- The whumper pinning the whumpee to the wall by the throat; the whumpee is either conditioned enough to fall silent and go limp, or they struggle violently and claw at the whumper's hands as they slowly tighten.
- The whumper repeatedly choking the whumpee, waiting until they are delirious and on the edge of conciousness to start the real pain.
- The whumper shutting the whumpee up with a hand to the back of their neck; not enough to cut off their breathing but enough to serve as a threat.
- C o l l a r s. The whumpee clawing at it and hyperventilating as they realize they can't get it off. The whumper dragging them backwards by the collar and the whumpee choking as they scramble to find a foothold.
- The whumpee being terrified of having anything near or around their throat after being rescued; scarves, turtlenecks, anything that reminds them of the whumper's hands.
- Having scars around their throat from past torture by the whumper. Constantly self conscious about them; the whumpee does everything they can to cover them up in public.
- Waking up from dreams sweaty and delirious, clutching their neck, fighting away hands that aren't there
- Caretaker gently rubbing disinfectant or lotion over damaged skin, whumpee's breath hitches but caretaker is slow and soothing
- Caretaker buys or knits a soft, long scarf in whumpee's favorite color for them to wear whenever they feel self conscious
- Whumpee becoming comfortable with caretaker seeing, touching, massaging, kissing their neck after weeks, months, or years of recovery
- Their breath becomes shallow when caretaker goes near their neck, but they trust caretaker, and caretaker is patient and kind
- But sometimes they have bad days too, where they need to hide, they feel ashamed, but caretaker makes them their favorite food and they talk about mundane things until whumpee wakes up the next day, remembering that they're safe now
A recent rescued whumpee cannot hold eye contact with caretaker. Their pupils continuously drop to the ground averting their gaze, whumper never let whumpee look them in the eye. Even though caretaker reminds whumpee that they are safe they still struggle to lock gaze. One day caretaker mumbles on in conversation, turning around, they see whumpee staring at them shaking, breath hitching.
That is growth 😭❤️
old blankets washed to cloud-softness, long enough to be pulled up around cold ears
hair still smelling of scented shampoo and faintly damp as someone presses a kiss just above the whumpee’s forehead
the dotted line of sunlight that comes through the blinds, slanting across the bedcover
the steam from a mug of tea on a tray
dirt washed out from under fingernails for the first time in days
balm on cracked, chapped lips
slightly too large clothes, baggy sleeves folded up above thin wrists
a lamp on the bedside table, soft golden in the nighttime, with Caretaker’s familiar silhouette against it; the whumpee sighs and lets themselves slide back into dreamless sleep again, feeling safe at last
😍😍😍
The whumpee sitting in a tub with their knees close to the chest and shivering as the caregiver tries to give them a bath. They slowly relax and lean into the caregiver’s gentle touches and maybe even fall asleep as warm water is poured over their back.
Rael (@boneywhump ’s supportive elf boy!!) is always there to help take care of a recovering Dav.
Whumpee has been conditioned by the whumper to associate torture with certain words. Just as they’re starting to show progress in their recovery, Caretaker unknowingly lets one of the trigger words slip and turns to see Whumpee in a ball on the floor, shielding their head and pleading hysterically. “No, please, please, not again! I’ll be good, I’ll be nice, sir, I promise, please –”
Table.
The whumper had quickly gotten tired of the whumpee and their pleading. They stopped talking to them, stopped mocking and threatening them. They only tortured them.
Somehow, the silence was worse.
It was just a few words that broke it, all of them commands. Eat. Stand. Kneel. Sleep. Don’t sleep.
Table.
The last one was the worst by far. It didn’t refer to a kitchen table -they weren’t allowed to sit at that one- but a metallic torture table. The whumpee had to lay on it as soon as they heard that word, and from that moment on, everything was pain.
They were tortured for hours on that table. The whumper used to talk to them, sometimes to explain exactly what they were going to do so they could watch the whumpee despair as they squirmed in immovable bonds.
But now it was just their own screams they heard. And when the whumper got sick of them, too, they gagged the whumpee. And then it was only silence, but for the sound of the whumper’s tools and the muffled cries that the gag couldn’t completely silence.
After rescuing and taking them in, the caretaker was the first person to talk to them. Really talk to them. About the whumpee’s injuries, the weather, some book. They didn’t like the silence any more than the whumpee did. Or perhaps they could sense the whumpee’s unease in a completely quiet room.
Soon, the whumpee began to speak, too. It was always just a few brief words, but the caretaker would still smile and praise them for it every time.
And then the whumpee would speak more. They were even beginning to enjoy talking to the caretaker. Every time they rubbed their shoulder lightly and said “keep it up!” the whumpee promised themselves they would keep it up.
It was all so great, like a dream. They should have known that they’d have to wake up, eventually.
“I brought your favorite!” the caretaker called from the door while they removed their shoes with one hand, a plastic bag in the other. “You just sit down at the table, I’ll-”
They were cut off by a loud noise.
Rushing to the kitchen, they found the whumpee standing there, completely still.
They had been washing the dishes at the time, after insisting that they didn’t want to sit in their room all day anymore, they wanted to be useful too.
Their hands were bloody, and there was a broken plate in the sink, but the whumpee’s eyes were fixed on the caretaker.
“You’re bleeding,” the caretaker said with a frown, and took a step forward.
The whumpee flinched and moved away, their back finding the wall.
“[Name]? What’s wrong?” the caretaker asked, stopping in their tracks.
The whumpee slid down the wall and hugged their knees, doing their best to make their thin body look even smaller. Blood smeared their pants as they pressed their palms against the light-colored fabric.
That word did not match the caretaker’s sweet, oh so very sweet and gentle voice, and yet the memories wouldn’t stop. They could see them, the whumper, like they were right in front of them, getting closer now, too close, they could see them and, and that table–
“N- No, don’t…” the whumpee whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Please…”
They knew they weren’t supposed to speak, and they were only making this worse, but they couldn’t help it. The caretaker had kept telling them to speak. They could finally hold a proper conversation, and they enjoyed talking to the caretaker, why did they have to stop now?
Why did they have to stop again?
The caretaker watched them silently, their mouth wide open in shock, but useless. They couldn’t think of anything to say, let alone utter it.
“I’ll be nice this time, I promise! I’ll be good, and I- I won’t call you by your first name again,” the whumpee said in a trembling voice.
It had been a real struggle to convince the whumpee that it was okay to call them by their name and without honorifics. The caretaker hadn’t realized that it still bothered the whumpee this much.
“And I- I’ll sleep on the floor, like I’m supposed to, and I won’t ask you for food again, I… I’ll do whatever you say, just please, please don't–”
The caretaker took their hand, and only then did the whumpee realize that they had approached them and were now crouched on the floor next to them.
“Don’t what?” the caretaker asked quietly, feeling stupid and utterly useless. “[Name], what did I say?”
What did I say wrong?
“I’m sorry,” the whumpee said, mistaking the caretaker’s question for impatience and shakily getting back on their feet. “I’ll- I’ll get to the table. I’m sorry.”
The caretaker also stood. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to…” they said with a frown, trying to keep their tone as gentle as possible.
The whumpee looked like they could barely hear them by now. Their whole body was trembling violently, and the caretaker still had no idea why.
“Sh- Should I get on the… the kitchen table?” they questioned quietly.
They didn’t want to be tortured. And they didn’t want to be tortured by the caretaker of all people. They had promised they wouldn’t hurt them, but the whumpee should have known it was all a lie. It was their fault, they should have known.
For some reason, the whumpee still couldn’t bring themselves to hate them. They owed the caretaker way too much for that…
“You can just sit down on the chair, if you don’t mind,” the caretaker muttered, still trying to figure out what it was they had done wrong.
The whumpee still looked like they were lost in their own head. Their lips parted, and there was a pause before they whispered, “May I please ask what I am being punished for?”
The caretaker blinked. “What?”
“So that I’ll know not to do it again,” the whumpee said.
They felt miserable asking that, but they had to know. The whumper had always made sure they knew what they were punished for. Even if they were punishing the whumpee on a whim, the whumper still told them.
But the caretaker wasn’t like the whumper. Surely they wouldn’t punish the whumpee without a reason. The whumpee had to know what it was, so that they could make sure they wouldn’t do it again, ever.
And maybe if it didn’t happen again after today, they could just forget about it and keep living with the caretaker in this beautiful dream, as if nothing had ever happened…
“What do you mean?” the caretaker asked. “[Name], you haven’t done anything wrong! I only asked you to sit down so we could eat.”
The whumpee looked up at them, clearly confused. “Really?”
“Of course!”
What else could they possibly have meant when they said…
“I won’t be tortured?” the whumpee murmured warily in obvious disbelief.
Oh.
“Oh. Oh. Oh, god, [Name], no!”
The whumpee flinched at the their tone, but the caretaker couldn’t stop. “How could you think that I would ever, ever lay a single hand on you?!”
The whumpee shivered and slid down the wall again, as if their legs couldn’t hold their weight anymore. They curled up into a ball and apologized desperately, “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t-”
The caretaker cut them off by pulling them into an embrace. The whumpee panicked and struggled at first, but then finally surrendered to it as the warmth of the caretaker’s arms overpowered their fear of being hurt.
“It’s okay. You’re safe now,” the caretaker whispered, rubbing the whumpee’s back soothingly. “When I took you in, I promised I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?”
The whumpee nodded mutely against the caretaker’s shoulder.
“I’m not going to hurt you, ever. And neither is anyone else. I’ll make sure of that.”
The whumpee nodded again.
“And you don’t have to call me anything but [Name], understand?”
Another nod. “I understand.”
“Good. Now, are you hungry? If you don’t like eating at… in the kitchen, let’s eat on your bed, okay?”
I’ll be allowed to eat, even after all this…
“It’s fine,” the whumpee muttered, their eyes finally focusing on the caretaker. “The t- t… the t- table’s fine.”
“No, that’s okay. You can go upstairs and get comfortable, I’ll bring trays.” The caretaker smiled. “I got you your favorite from that place we ordered from the other day.”
They stood up and offered the whumpee their hand.
“O- Okay,” the whumpee said, getting back on their feet with the caretaker’s help. “Th- Thank you, [Name].”
Once the table was out of their sight and they were sitting safely on their bed, the caretaker sitting across from them and making cheerful talk about this and that, the whumpee felt like they could finally breathe again.
Maybe this was more than just a dream, after all.
(after the whumpees been saved and brought back home)
Whumpee trying to reach something from a shelf but their arms hurt so much from the torture they endured that they can barely move them above their head
Caregiver offers to get it for them and Whumpee gets annoyed, asking why they cant just leave them alone for 2 seconds
Caregiver has to choose between giving them some independence and watching them suffer or getting it for them
bonus if the caregiver leaves them to it and the whumpee breaks down after several attempts and never manages to get it, cursing themself for being so weak
The caregiver might hang back a second, a little hurt, but they understand that whumpee has just been through a lot. Whumpee just wants things to go back to normal, and they aren't ready to accept that it'll take time and a little bit of help.
They're quiet as whumpee grabs a stool but they take a step closer, watching whumpee carefully. It's still a struggle, but whumpee grabs what they're looking for while balancing precariously on recovering legs. They're doing well until they lose their balance while trying to step off the stool, but caregiver is there, steadying them and guiding them back to the ground. Whumpee had made a surprised huff when caregiver caught them but was otherwise quiet, leaning on caregiver slightly as both feet make it back to solid ground.
Caregiver smiles, not that whumpee sees it, eyes downcast as they are, and they give whumpee a small pat before walking away.
But whumpee calls for them. Caregiver turns around, still smiling. "Yeah? What's up?"
"Can you..." they're holding the jar in shaking hands, still looking away from caretaker. "Can you open this for me? My hands are..."
Caregiver is back at their side before they finish, holding their hand out so whumpee can hand them the jar. "Of course," it takes a bit of pressure but they pop the jar open, then hand it back to whumpee. "I'll always be here to help." A small wink. "When you need it."
A lot of unspoken words pass between them, but none of them need to be said. Whumpee's small "thank you" says it all.
A caretaker finds the whumpee in horrid shape. They’re malnourished, clothes stained in blood, and their hair is a greasy tangled mess. They help them back home to take care of them, and the first thing they do is get the whumpee their favorite meal. However, the whumpee politely declines it stating that they’re not hungry when it’s obvious they are. They then lock themself in their bedroom, and refuse to come out, refusing to take any food from the caretaker.
I love this trope, too!
One of my fave variants is the idea that the whumpee is returned/rescued after being imprisoned. But while they were captive, they weren’t allowed to use beds, blankets or pillows unless they earned them - maybe by giving up info, or enduring torture, or obeying humiliating commands - and they haven’t been able to break out of that mindset yet.
So the caretaker, maybe the tired stoic leader type who can’t sleep without reassuring himself that the whumpee is safe, sneakily checks up on them in the middle of the night. Caretaker quietly opens the door to the whumpee’s room to check on them and is shocked to find them curled up on the floor, as far from the bed as they can get, shivering and clearly uncomfortable. Maybe even bleeding from a wound that they’re lying on on the cold, hard floor.
Oooh, a fun variant on that variant: the whumpee has been back with the team for long enough that they’ve more or less recovered from their conditioning. However, they still have tendencies to view the bed or other soft surfaces as rewards - something they’ve tried to keep hidden from the team.
Perhaps they’ve slowly requested, over months at a time, for their plushier chairs or surfaces in their quarters to be replaced by harder surfaces. Their once-fancy ergonomic and comfy desk chair is replaced by a rigid and bare bones metal chair. Their couch has been removed and a modern (enough not to raise suspicion) bench has replaced it. They asked for their mattress to be replaced with as thin a mat as they dared request and got rid of one of their extra pillows.
Then the whumpee still reverts to sleeping curled up on the floor as far from the bed as possible on occasion. Namely when they feel they’ve fucked up. But even sometimes when they don’t - they just have episodes when they can’t sleep if they try to sleep on the bed, but they sleep fine curled up far away from it. Maybe they even sleep in the chair or on the bench occasionally.
Bonus round: the whumpee gets sick and, in their feverish/ill/addled mind, they reveal to the team just how fucked up they’ve gotten. Though the team tries to keep them on the (”what the fuck? what did they do to the bed?”) bed while wrapped up in blankets, they keep pushing off the bed and curling up in the corner, abandoning the blankets. They eventually give up trying to get the whumpee to the bed and just try to pile blankets/pillows around them (”huh? didn’t they have more pillows than this?”), but the whumpee keeps shifting them off and pushing them away. All the while, the whumpee is just completely out of it, not really knowing what they’re doing.
Bonus-Bonus round: the uncomfortable confrontation with the team when the whumpee gets better. The bleeding heart of the team is crying, thinking they’ve failed to help enough. The rough-around-the-edges can’t understand why the whumpee isn’t more bothered by their seeming lack of progress in recovery. The fierce one is raring to find someone bad to fuck up over it. The leader is trying to get everyone to calm down. The medic and/or second caretaker is/are trying to keep in context that the whumpee’s mostly recovered but still recovering and it hasn’t been that long yet.
And through all this, the whumpee is desperately trying to express how they are better, but there’s just some things and habits that are gonna take longer to die out - or may never die out - but that they’re safe now and that’s what matters. Plus the mat really is comfortable, and they actually prefer firmer surfaces now - better for their back. But it’s really sweet how everyone’s worried, but please... they’re kinda making the whumpee feel like a freak.
The whumpee is up and about again but still recovering. They’ve been down for a while so their energy has a tendency to give out at short notice… which means their teammates find them casually hanging out in the randomest places. Other people’s beds in the middle of the day, asleep in the corner of the sofa, draped against the back porch railing, and most memorably two-thirds of the way up the stairs. “Oh, you know, I was just thinking and sitting…”
Their teammates have all taken a turn carrying them back to bed by now, against their weak protests.
One of the things I like the most in whump is recovery after the dehumanisation.
The whumper used degrading names like mutt, bitch, dog, pet, etc., used collars/shock collars, muzzle, etc. The whumpee starts out with defiance but slowly starts to believe them.
The whumpee being conditioned to address everyone using ‘Sir’. The whumper used to punish them severely if they didn't use the word ‘Sir’. They address their friends/team using ‘Sir’ despite countless reassurances that they are safe, they do not need to use the word ‘Sir’ anymore because they are utterly terrified of the punishment.
The whumper making the whumpee believe that their team is not looking for them because it has been months and they still haven’t rescued the whumpee.
The whumpee was forced to say ‘Thank you, sir’ after every beating/torture session.
When the team rescues the whumpee, they just lie there, trembling with fear, curling in on themselves, flinching from any touch and noise and whimpering. After they heal physically, they still can’t look anyone in the eye because they were not allowed to do so.
The caretaker gives the whumpee food and water, but they don’t even touch the food. When the whumper first provided them with food and they immediately started eating it, the whumper took away the food and water and punished the whumpee mercilessly. They then denied the whumpee food and water for a few more days because how dare they touch the food without permission?
The whumpee doesn’t know what to do now that they are free because the whumper kept them on a strict timetable. Having nothing to do, they follow the caretaker around everywhere. There is a time when the caretaker is very stressed due to some reason. The whumpee is following them around like usual when suddenly the caretaker snaps and yells, “Can you quit following me around like a fucking dog for one goddamned second?” The whumpee panics and immediately scrambles back towards the nearest corner they find and sink down. They raise their hands in a defence position expecting to be punished. The caretaker stays shocked for a moment before realising their mistake and running towards the whumpee, apologies already forming on their tongue, but the whumpee just pushes themselves further back into the wall and starts sobbing, muttering heart-breaking pleas and apologies and promises to be good. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, sir…please, I’m so sorry…Please, please don’t punish me…I swear I’ll be-I swear I’ll be good! I swear! Please- just please…sir, please…I’m so sorry…” The caretaker’s heart is breaking into a million little pieces as they fight the burning in their eyes.
Consider also, when the victim takes everything the caretaker says as an order… but they learn fast enough what they do/don’t like that the caretaker doesn’t realise it’s happening.
They’re nervous with taking food, the caretaker tells them to eat. They internalise this as a rule: eat what you’re given. The caretaker asks if they like it. They venture ‘yes’ because it feels like the safer option. The caretaker is pleased. New rule: act enthusiastic about any food you’re given. And they’re a good actor, so the caretaker has no idea that sometimes they’re just pretending.
The caretaker asks them to call them by name instead of ‘Sir’/etc. New rule internalised. Don’t ever forget to use their name, don’t ever call them ‘Sir’. Remembering is difficult because of the previous conditioning. But they try really hard. It stresses them out all the time.
“Can I touch you?” It would be defiant to refuse, so they say ‘yes’. And the caretaker seems to want them to lean into it, so they do. And they keep letting the caretaker touch them, even initiating touch, even though they hate the physical contact. Because they’ve learned that it is good behaviour.
“Shhh, don’t cry.” is heard as: No tears, ever. “I’ve got you now,” intended as comfort, is interpreted as a claim of ownership.
They seem like they’re recovering really fast, because they’re learning that faking signs of recovery is what makes the caretaker happy, and that’s all they want. But inside they’re still walking on eggshells, scared all the time, struggling under the stress of pretending happiness when they’re still messed up and broken inside.
something I love is sudden dependence. a level of illness where the sufferer unarguably needs assistance in some capacity or another.
someone too weak to stand or walk without someone to cling to. maybe they’re humiliated that so simple a task is too much for them at this point, or maybe they’re too out-of-it to care.
a caretaker’s hands guiding a glass of water to a sufferer’s lips because their own hands shake too much to support the glass alone
help undressing because their movements are uncoordinated
help bathing when there’s concern they may pass out in the tub or shower
just a point of weakness where they can’t manage basic daily tasks by themself and have no choice but to rely on somebody else
Two words: bed bath.
Rael (@boneywhump ’s supportive elf boy!!) is always there to help take care of a recovering Dav.
they are!! so precious!!
Prompts dealing with various types of recovery in various stages and situations. A lot of them are angsty but what can I say.
***Possible trigger warning. Nothing is mentioned but I’m putting the warning here just in case since some could imply certain things.
“Asking for help doesn’t make you weak. It takes a certain kind of strength to accept your shortcomings.”
“You don’t have to feel like this for the rest of your life. There’s always recovery.”
“I don’t know what will be left of me if you take my pain and suffering away and that scares me. That’s why I don’t want to get better.”
“I wanted to get better. I tried to get better. But maybe I’m not meant to be better.”
“Recovery doesn’t mean you don’t still have bad days.”
“I don’t expect you to suddenly get better overnight. I know it takes time. I’m just asking you to try.”
“It’s okay if you’re not okay all the time.”
“What if there is nothing left of me but pain and suffering? If I lose that, then I will have nothing left.”
“You made a mistake. It spun out of your control. It happens, even to the best of us, but this doesn’t have to be how your story ends. You can change it.”
“I’m afraid of getting better. I’m afraid of losing this pain.”
“I don’t know if I want to get better. Some days I want to but…..”
“Is it so wrong for me to want to save you?”
“You may not believe me- I didn’t believe it when I heard it from others either- but it will get better.”
“I…..I don’t want to be this person anymore. Please help me. I’m ready this time.”
“When the urges hit, all your pretty words you’ve filled my head with lose their meaning.”
“I can’t imagine a life without this illness. I suppose that’s why I’ll never recover.”
“Will you help me get better?”
“I’m ready. I’m ready to change.”
“I’m not there yet, but I’m closer than I was yesterday.”
“I believe in you. I believe you can get better.”
“I’ll be with you every step of the way so don’t be afraid. I know you can do this.”
“You’re here so you can get better. You’re here so you can learn to live.”
“I don’t know what will be left of me if you take my pain and suffering away and that scares me. That’s why I don’t want to get better.”
“It’s okay if you’re not alright you know. You can be honest.”
