Cuffed

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, forced to watch, unclear character status

Caretaker stared at the cuffs around their wrists. Stared at the chains that connected to a ring on the floor. Stared at the restraints that prevented them from moving. Stared at the restraints that kept them from helping Whumpee.

They couldn't think about the things they had watched. Couldn't think about the things they had heard. Because the moment Caretaker started to think about the pain that Whumpee had had to endure, about the suffering Caretaker was a witness to, Caretaker could think of nothing else.

Caretaker could think of nothing else but the pain. Nothing else but the rage they felt as they were chained in the corner. Nothing but the helplessness they felt as Whumpee screamed and cried out. Called for them.

Caretaker couldn't think about these things. Because if they did they would also have to think about what happened. And what they had failed to do. And Caretaker couldn't bear to think about that.

And so they stared at the cuffs. Because that was the only thing they could do.

Tags: @wollemi-whump

A character who can only lie in a specific position- having been flogged and needing to lie on their stomach with their back a flayed-open mess; propped semi-reclining up on pillows the better to breathe through wheezing congestion or take pressure off injured ribs; only able to sleep on a certain side in order to keep a wounded arm uppermost; confined to their back due to cumbersome bulky splints or bandages or to the need to keep a leg elevated; and so on...

A Rope That Could Never Be Removed

Content: Scars, Death Scare, Shitty Teammate, Caretaker x Whumpee (maybe? idk)

@whumperofworlds told me to write this after I came up with some scraps of an idea, so here we are. I'm much better at concepts, ideas and frameworks than I am at actually writing so it's not great, but I hope it's still enjoyable.

~~~~~

Caretaker rushed into the cell, breathing heavily. Looking around frantically, they spotted Whumpee, a crumpled figure in the corner. Dropping to the floor, they cradled Whumpee’s limp, lifeless form in their arms. 

“Hey, Whumpee? H-hey. You’re okay. We’ve-we’ve got you.”

Whumpee didn’t respond. 

Brushing Whumpee’s ratty hair out of their face, Caretaker desperately tried to spot signs of life. Eyes flitting beneath their lids, a small twitch of their nose, anything. But there was nothing. Panicking, Caretaker shifted, moving the ropes wrapped around Whumpee’s neck to the side, and, far too easily, lifted Whumpee until their ear was against Whumpee’s chest.

“Nonononono. C’mon, c’mon. Please-please be okay. Please.”

There. There. A heartbeat. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but there. Whumpee was alive. Thank fuck. Sighing, Caretaker slumped back with relief, then gently caressed Whumpee’s cheek. 

“Hey… Whumpee?”

Whumpee shifted slightly, then whimpered. Their eyes fluttered open, tiredly glancing around before locking onto Caretaker’s face. A tiny, weak smile slowly appeared on their grimy, bruised face. Whumpee tried to speak, but could only manage a sputtering, gravelly cough.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. You’re okay, baby. Don’t speak, save your voice. We’re-we’re gonna get you out of here.” Caretaker murmured softly to Whumpee, reassuring them.

“Let’s-let’s get these ropes off you.”

As Caretaker struggled with Whumpee’s bonds, Teammate slinked into the cell.

“Hey hey. Whumper’s taken care of, Caretaker. We’re all clear.” they said, peering over Caretaker’s shoulder at Whumpee.

Caretaker had already managed to get the ropes off Whumpee’s neck and ankles, and were working at the bonds around their wrists.

Frowning, Teammate scoffed. “Really? Look at that. No injuries, no nothin’. We went through all this trouble to save someone that didn’t even bother fighting back? Not worth it.”

Caretaker blanched, horrified. “Stop it, Teammate.” As they worked the last of the rope off Whumpee’s wrists, they continued to admonish Teammate. “How could you say something like that? They’ve been through–”

Caretaker trailed off, and Teammate gasped, as the ropes fell off Whumpee’s wrists. As the two finally took a good look at Whumpee, they realised that Whumpee did fight back. The scars proved it. 

From the old, smooth, rubbery scars that twined around their ankles to the gnarled, knotted scars that marred their forearms, it was clear Whumpee had fought. They had struggled against their restraints, tugging, pulling, twisting, trying to get the ropes off.

And now, even after they had been removed, everyone would forever be reminded of the horrors Whumpee had gone through. The scars on their ankles and wrists could be concealed, but the thick, silvery, twisted scar that encircled their neck was too visible. A permanent mark of Whumper’s possession.

A rope that could never be removed.

The whumpee had become bitter and aggressive after they were rescued, hiding layers of insecurity and fear under ego and aggression. A part of them feels bad for driving people away, but they can’t stop themselves, they’re too scared of someone getting to them like the whumper did before.

Whumpee awakens curled in the backseat in someone's arms.

They look down, their entire torso is drenched with blood.

They start to panic, but someone holds them tightly. "Shhh, shh sh, it's okay, go back to sleep. Close your eyes." Someone grabs a blanket and covers their chest with it.

"You're going to be fine, I got you. Go back to sleep... Please."

A hand brushes over their face and closes their eyes. Whumpee finds themselves doing what the voice tells them to.

I love time loop stories. Really, I do.

But I'd love to see a story about what happens after you emerge from the time loop.

When, after months or years of repetition, you have to learn how to live with a choice you can't redo tomorrow.

When you meet someone new for the first time and have to figure out how to navigate this brand new conversation.

When you reach for the same day's clothes and realize that you can't wear them because they got dirty. Your laundry, your dishes, your body, your teeth, all the tasks that reset with the loop are suddenly stacking up and you need to set aside time to do them.

When you reach that first weekend and your schedule radically shifts and you don't know what to do with yourself, which is terrifying but also exhilarating in ways you can't explain.

When you casually drop facts learned from those books you spent a dozen loops reading, and you realize you retained something worth keeping.

How your memory gets weirdly good all of a sudden, despite not having all that repetition to fall back on, because suddenly every experience is fresh and new.

And when the seasons change, and your hair grows long enough that you want to cut it, and when you realize it's shocking because you didn't think you'd ever see something as incredible as the passage of time.

Caretaker wants to comfort tortured Whumpee by gentle touches to remind them such thing exists, but they're hesitant because they can't seem to find an uninjured spot on Whumpee's broken body - it's all covered in burns and cuts, at very least badly bruised.

There's a small untouched area on Whumpee's outer thigh, and Caretaker holds their palm there and rubs the area tenderly with their fingertips. Even after Whumpee begins to heal, it's the only place they're not afraid of being touched, and Caretaker is the only one who is allowed to.

Hmm... thinking about when the team has been split up for an extended period of time for whatever reason, and when they get back together, they're all vaguely aware of where most of them were in that time/what they were up to. Except one, no one knows with them. And they're being a bit cagey about it maybe, and sometimes the rest of the team sees them flinch at quick movements, or caught them having nightmares or avoiding sleeping at all... and slowly, they begin to piece together that the character's been hurt. One of their own has been hurt, and they weren't there to help, or stop it, or look after them.

I want to see characters being taken care of in an explicit and worshipful way. Home-cooked meals. Hair brushed and braided by gentle hands. Little gifts just because.

I want to read about characters who are not used to kindness being bombarded by acts of service. This trope works romantically and platonically. Give me found family and acts of service - all the ways a character is wrapped up in wordless, explicit care after years of cruelty and having no idea how to handle. I need it.

They are still lying on the floor, barely alive. They are shaking and wheezing, all covered in blood and dirt. The only thing that keeps them alive is the sheer determination not to die in that cold, dark, miserable place.

There’s a dull noise and the usually locked door is opened.

They lift their arm, trying to shield their tired eyes from the light coming from the door, but suddenly that light disappears and a shadow looms over them, menacingly. 

They gasp as they see a figure on the doorstep, so they try to crawl back, but their arms are too weak. The figure enters the cell, walking slowly towards them. 

“No! Please….. p-please…. i-i-i… d-don’t…. i-i…. dunno…. w-where….. t-they are…. p-please…..” They beg, sobbing. They don’t want to be hurt again, never again. 

The figure, cloaked in shadow, crouches down next to them, and passes a hand on their cheek. They close their eyes and flinch, trembling, afraid of the pain that touch is gonna bring. 

But no pain comes. This hand seems attentive and caring. 

They open their eyes as a soft, quiet voice fills the air. "My god, what have they done to you…“

Imagine, if you will, a whumpee who is sitting in the bath, relaxing into the warmth of the water, only to eventually have to peel their injured back off the surface of the tub wall they’ve been leaning against.

when "snapping out of it" is more painful than the actual mind control 💖💝💝💕💘💘💕

It doesn’t hurt when Whumpee’s mind is taken over, not really. Honestly, it feels like surrender, like being dragged under the surface by the undertow, except you can’t even attempt to resist. It’s surreal, but it feels weirdly calming, like falling asleep. No, the true pain is when you struggle against the control. The control works like a Chinese finger trap, if you’re relaxed it relaxes too, but when you struggle it tightens and strangles. And Whumpee was struggling like hell. 

Whumptober #30

Trope of the day: “Please don’t touch me”

_

He doesn’t know how long he has been up, but caretaker’s head feels like it’s swimming. It’s been days since he’s had a warm meal, only eating a quick and not really nutritious meal to get back to work, living on coffee most of the time. But now … now everything is said and done and caretaker just feels … empty.

Days have passed of him saving people’s lives, still seeing blood covered hands even after his showers. It’s like he can never wash aways the blood that has been spilled those past few days.

Caretaker takes a shaky breath as he sits down on his bed, head in the clouds. So much so that he doesn’t realise that whumpee’s in the room with him, sitting down next to him. At least he’s one of the few that are already back on their feet, but that is not really something to cheer him up. It would if he wasn’t so goddamn tired.

Whumpee’s hand slowly reaches out to touch his arm, but caretaker shakes his head. “Please don’t touch me,” he mutters and swallows thickly. “Because if you do … I don’t know how well I will be able to keep it together,” he continues, his voice only a whisper. It’s like the tears are already trying to choke him and he really doesn’t want to cry in front of whumpee.

But the kid just looks at him with a sad smile and puts his hand on caretaker’s arm, softly stroking it with his thumb. Whumpee’s hands are cold as always, but the kid just looks at him with patient eyes, almost a little expectant. And it doesn’t take long for caretaker to break down. For a shaky sob to escape his lips and the first tears to spill.

“Please don’t … don’t touch me,” caretaker mutters, while he himself reaches out to pull whumpee into a hug, holding onto him for dear life as he cries into the other’s shirt, who softly strokes his back with cold hands.

Caretaker patching up whumpee once they’ve been rescued, being so gentle and caring and making sure not to scare whumpee with anything they do. Asking “is this still okay?” Every once in a while just to be certain they’re definitely not hurting them, because caretaker knows whumpee wouldn’t dare to say anything even if they were in pain.

caretaker got whumpee back after months of them being lost to them. but did they really get them back? after all, they jump at doors slamming, sleep curled up, barely talk, and worst of all are the scars

This is Whumpee’s fear. That Caretaker won’t want them anymore. Not like this. But Caretaker’s just so happy Whumpee is home.