#there must be a whump

[a2trid]

Darry having autism is actually my biggest comfort headcanon

(Basing this off of MY autism with overlapping adhd and ocd)(I hc him with some of all three)(projection character !)

He yearns for familiarity and follows an empty pattern in his life. He took the roll as a parent over a brother because of this. He doesn’t want Pony and Soda to go without one and thinks that if he can’t act as them, it’ll be like things are the same. He needs a routine or he will break. He can’t handle change

He doesn’t know how to show affection and it often gets misunderstood. He wants to best for his brothers and wants Pony to have the life he never had the chance to have, so he pushes him for it. He thinks he’s giving Pony a chance in life, while Pony sees it as Darry telling him that he’ll never be enough.

His outlet is anger because he struggles to show emotion. He doesn’t know how to process or show emotion that he default to anger. When he gets worried, he gets mad. When he gets scared, he gets mad. He doesn’t show much emotion, either. He stays neutral and only ever shows it when it’s huge. He’s not the best at understanding it- at all. He doesn’t get why people are upset or mad.

He craves to love, but he just can’t show it. He knows something’s wrong with him- his parents never had that problem, Soda never had that problem, Pony never had that problem. So why does he?

He always does some repetitive motion, mainly with his hands, when he’s overwhelmed or nervous- which, for him, is more often than not at this point. He has a 100yard stare when processing anything sudden and overwhelming.

He takes things to literally. He struggles to relate to others. He’s not good at communicating. He can’t maintain good relationships. He’s often told to be emotionless because he just can’t fucking get it.

He hates the way cigarettes smell, but he can’t tell the others. He hates certain foods the gang loves because of texture, but he can’t tell them. He hates how washing dishes feel, but he can’t tell the gang. They’ll all think he’s being dramatic when he’s always just overstimulated/overwhelmed.

I have so much more for this, but currently I am overwhelmed!

Be aware for more

[foundfamilywhump]

whump enjoyers y'ever just get struck by like... bloodlust. like. you've got your usual levels of whump enjoyment. and then all of a sudden you're struck by the intense need to watch or read or write or draw something Extremely Whumpy. like I Need To Experience Someone Going Through Agonizing Horrors Right Now Immediately. y'know. the bloodlust comes upon ya.

[blueskyscribe]

Imagine a fic where a Decepticon is transmuted into a human with the intention of making them harmless & teaching them to value organic life, but instead of finding the beauty in humanity they are slowly driven insane.

They still crave the taste of oil, but cannot drink it. They cannot cry, for their brain seeks to activate reservoirs of washer fluid that no longer exist. They remember the Cybertronian language but their new body cannot form all the syllables. A spark no longer thrums in their chest, and the organic fuel pump called a heart is no replacement. How can my spark rejoin the Allspark when I have none? Or am I already dead?

Also one day the humans wake up to find them humping the SUV parked in the driveway.

[erinmccomics]

Can't believe I'm Call of Duty posting but I don't get to pick the rot my brain gets infected with.

Most recent to oldest CoD doodles, including two of my favorite operators in the phone game, Roland and Iskra.

And a lot of Soap. Literally had to blow the dust off my drawing tablet but the brain rot was stronger than the burnout.

[whumpster-dumpster]

We need more whump fics repping the whumpees whose necessary pills taste so nasty that they can barely get them down/bring them right back up/would rather suffer more without them than go through the ordeal of taking them

[whumper-whimsy]

god i love multiple whumpee situations where one whumpee is completely "trained" and eager and the second one HATES Whumper with all their heart

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Mother I'm on my knees and begging for a SPICY fallen angel villain × cursed by the devil hero. May thy pen shine and glamor 🙏🏻

The villain let out a relieved moan.

As they could feel it inside them, hard and hateful, they allowed themselves to close their eyes and enjoy the moment. They took in slow breaths, concentrating, preparing.

Eventually, they looked at the hero and a smile tugged at the corners of their mouth.

“Are you flirting with me?” they asked. One of their hands followed the hero’s collarbone.

“You tell me.” The hero pushed further and caught by surprise, the villain laughed breathlessly. They took the hero’s hand.

Back when they’d been an angel, they’d never felt anything like this. It was a new and exciting feeling. Something only a human body could experience like this.

“I swear,” they whispered. “One day, you’ll find yourself on your knees for me.”

“Is that so?” Another push. Another desperate gasp for air. The hero’s fingers dug into their biceps and the villain’s heart raged in its cage. It was cruel, very cruel.

They looked down at the knife in their chest, at the dark blood that ran down their body. By now, the hero’s hand was covered in it. A “mortal” had complete control over them and they weren’t even hiding it.

“You foul creature,” the villain said. The problem was that it hurt. It was an indescribable pain. The villain had been through all kinds of things like this throughout the centuries. Hell, they’d been tortured for the majority of them.

But this knife in their chest and this person in front of them were for some reason much more effective.

The hero was — in their own way — admirable. For a human, they were very brave. Their voice was sweeter than forbidden fruit.

Something about them excited the villain. They awoke something inside them. Something very ancient.

“I didn’t know your blood is red. So human,” the hero said. They dug their fingers close to the wound into the villain’s skin and there was nothing else for the villain to do but to grunt pathetically.

“You are full of surprises.” Their lips brushed the villain’s cheekbones until the hero let go of the blade and stared at its place there in the villain’s chest. “My immortality doesn’t look this pretty.”

“You can’t kill me like this,” the villain whispered. “You’re not the only one who’s cursed. Not the only one who’s been punished.”

They pulled out the blade and let it fall to the ground, eyes wide. It was a horrible feeling, something they hopefully could forget some day. But the hero didn’t seem surprised.

The blood dropped to the ground and formed a little lake.

Clearly, the wound wasn’t closing right away. The villain knew it would take over an hour for them to see the scar. Usually, the bones would take much longer. Blood wasn’t a problem. They had bled for hours, years, centuries before.

“I would have killed you a long time ago,” the villain said. They put their head on the hero’s shoulder, almost embracing them in a strange hug. “I didn’t know your patience back then. I didn’t know your dedication.”

The hero pulled them closer and the blood dropped down the hero’s stomach as well.

“Do you like it? Do you like the way I am?”

“I do,” the villain said. “You are delightful, even though you try to kill me all the time.”

I want to kiss you. What does it feel like? What does it feel like to kiss someone?

“You know I cannot stop.”

“I don’t want you to. I hated you for that as well. I didn’t see you. But now I do,” the villain said. They could barely breathe. Their damaged lungs were filling up with blood but their self-healing body sew them back together. They were on the edge of drowning the entire time. “And I will keep haunting you.”

It was quite clear to the villain now. For the first time in their life, they had a real desire.

“Then I will keep killing you to lift the curse,” the hero whispered. “I look forward to the next centuries.”

[perfectlyfrosty]

Wounded

Greetings, fellow hijackers, I return bearing gifts. Come and get yer daily dose of hijack whump 🙏

[whumplist]

BLACK OUT (2024) Whump List

Synopsis:

Two 19-year-old girls were brutally murdered. The bodies were abandoned and could not be found anywhere inside the warehouse, scattered with blood. The only suspect was their friend. He was drunk on the night of the incident. He doesn’t recall a single memory. No memories of committing a murder. No memories of not committing a murder either. The boy had become a young adult by the time he was released from prison in 11 years. He wished to pursue a quiet life… But another murder flips the village. A white bone carcass has been discovered. The real devil is hiding somewhere within the seemingly peaceful village. Who’s the real devil? (Source: Hulu)

⚠️ MAJOR CONTENT WARNING FOR SUICIDE AND SEXUAL ASSAULT — Context for CW at bottom of list in red text. ⬇️

Whumpee: Goh Jeong-woo (played by Byun Yohan)

➤ BONUS: Hyeon Geon-oh

Have mercy, this is only my second attempt at a whumplist. Let me know if I missed anything important!

[SPOILER WARNING] ⚠️

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Some notes:

※ The elipses (…) represent a scene change.

※ The way this drama is formatted, sometimes scenes at the end of an episode will not only be continued in the next episode or recapped, but the entire scene will be shown again in its entirety; in this case, it will be represented in this list as [scene continued: x, y, z] with x, y, and z being things that occurred both in the previous episode and the current one.

※ And finally, the links are to gifsets on Tumblr!

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➤ Goh Jeong-woo

01: grabbed, violently woken up, restrained, crying … crying, hit in head … handcuffed, interrogated, sleep deprivation … sleep deprivation … crying, amnesia, restrained … crying, restrained, held against ground … injured … imprisoned … crying … harassed (food tray kicked over on him), lightly slapped, bullied (made to eat food off floor) … crying … injured, bullying (food tray knocked over), attacked (blanket thrown over head and knocked to the ground), ganged up on, kicked repeatedly, punched, stepped on … injured ("Did they beat you?") … crying, grasping at chest, ("Please don't kill me.") thrown to ground, kicked … crying … attacked, ganged up on, punched … ganged up on, collapsed, in pain … injured (face covered in cuts and bruises), suicide attempt (slit wrist) … harassed, kicked repeatedly, ganged up on, dragged up, punched repeatedly, bleeding from mouth, grabbed at … fighting … scarred back shown … crying, grieving … grabbed, shook, pushed … shoulder-checked, fighting … [flashback: hit in head] … crying

02: tantrum, crying … slapped, crying, bottle smashed on his head, bleeding, startled, flinches, watery eyes ("Are you alright?" "No.") … grabbed, shook … grabbed … shoved

03: shoved … grabbed, slapped … crying … crying, screaming/wailing … crying, grabbed, manhandled, out of it, slapped, punched repeatedly, bleeding from mouth, gun pulled on him

04: [dream: crying] [scene continued: crying, grabbed, manhandled, out of it, slapped, punched repeatedly, bleeding from mouth, gun pulled on him] manhandled, helped up, helped to walk, bleeding from mouth ("Are you all right?") … manhandled, shoved, grabbed, punched, knocked into table, begging, crying, grabbed … chair kicked … pushed

05: grabbed … crying … flinches … grabbed … watery eyes … held at gunpoint

06: [scene continued: held at gunpoint] shot at, pistol-whipped … cared for (bandaged + sleepover) … slapped … concern for him, treated at hospital … grabbed, manhandled

07: [flashback: pushed, grabbed, punched, kicked, shoved down] attacked from behind, pot smashed on his head, knocked out, bleeding from head, worry for him (phone call) … loaded into ambulance, unconscious, bleeding from forehead, taken to hospital … treated, diagnosed with malnutrition … grabbed, shoved down … crying

08: crying, grabbed, restrained, shook, crying, punches wall, lightly punched in chest … shoved, hit by a car

09: unconscious in hospital … wakes up in hospital, tries to stand, legs give out, pulls out iv, runs outside barefoot while injured and dressed as a hospital patient … crying, manhandled, held against wall … hit in chest ("Are you alright?")

10: worry for him ("Eat up … This is his first meal today, right?")

11: shoved … crying, pushed

12: [scene continued: crying, pushed] crying … despondent … worry for him (downloads phone tracking app)

13: [flashback: crying] flinches back, hugged without consent, crying, pressured into drinking alcohol … drugged, dizzy, falls over, unconscious … unconscious, carried (piggyback) … unconscious, manhandled … kissed on mouth without consent while unconscious … unconscious, worry for him, checking his pulse ("Is Jeong-woo okay?") … wakes up, flinches ("You're safe now."), worry for him ("How is he? Is he okay?"), needs help sitting up … crying

14: worry for him, brought to hospital, lightly manhandled (led by hand around wrist), hand injury … crying … betrayal, watery eyes … crying, hit in head and on back with an easel, struggling to get up … breaks into a burning room, coughing … [flashback montage: restrained (handcuffed), manhandled, crying, interrogated, sleep deprivation, held against ground, harassed, beaten, fighting, injured, crying, distressed, begging, held at gunpoint, bleeding from mouth, hit over head with pot, collapsed, bleeding from forehead, crying, punching wall, kissed without consent while unconscious, etc] … crying … hug :) … object bounced off head (comedic)

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➤ Hyeon Geon-oh

01–05: nothing

06: drink slapped out of hand, shook … passed out drunk … drunk, crying, stumbling … drunk, stumbling, hysterical laughter … stumbling, drunk, hysterical laughter, legs give out, grabbed, almost falls over, is caught, helped to walk, manhandled, grabbed at ("Don't touch me.") … crying, almost falls over, is caught … crying … crying

07: [flashback: fighting] drunk, almost falls over, is caught, helped to walk, vomiting … [scene continued: crying] … manhandled, knocked to ground, knocked into table, hits his head, knocked out, carried while unconscious (piggyback) … crying, grabbed, dragged, locked in attic, claustrophobia, crying

08: nightmare, minor hallucination, withdrawal (alcoholism) … drunk, slaps himself, crying … hallucinating … slaps himself, crying … scratching arm, crying … crying … grabbed … suicide (hanging)

09: suicide (hanging) [flashback: crying, grabbed, shoved against wall, restrained] funeral [flashback: held against wall]

10: [flashback: held against wall, grabbed, crying]

11–14: nothing

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※ CONTEXT FOR CONTENT WARNINGS:

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⚠️ [WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS] ⚠️

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Suicide CW:

The protagonist repeatedly tells people to kill him, has little self-preservation, and slits his wrist at one point in the first episode; it is later self-described as a suicide attempt. Another character, not the protagonist, commits suicide; it is shown in episodes 8 and 9. Episode 13 also contains a staged suicide, and in episode 14 a character attempts suicide but is rescued.

Sexual Assault CW:

One of the murder victims is raped and while we see the lead-up and the aftermath, the actual act is not shown. The sexual assault is, however, discussed repeatedly throughout the drama, particularly after the body is found and autopsy performed in episode 6. The actual scene isn't shown until episode 8, after which it is shown multiple more times in flashbacks.

[ayushsan]

The Judge From Hell (2024)

Ep 02

[flowercrowngods]

why must i think of prisoners Ranger!Steve and Bard!Eddie so constantly and why must they be so tender and why hhhh

Steve’s whole body is made of pain, and has been for the past few days. His feet are aching and raw from trying to keep up as they were bound to horses and dragged along. His skin is chafed and bleeding where the unforgiving rocks have managed to destroy his clothes after one too many falls, and every smallest of cuts feels like his body is nothing more than a pulsating mess. 

Worst of all, though, is the dizziness. He doesn’t know if his head is still bleeding or if the wetness he can feel running down his temple is his body’s testament to the unfamiliar heat, but it wouldn’t make a difference anyway. 

There’s only pain. And nausea. His eyes are open but he needs a second to understand what he’s seeing — and what he’s seeing is a ceiling made of sand coloured stone. Distantly, he hears a door clanging shut, but that might just as well be a memory. 

He’s going to throw up. Tough luck when you don’t even know where up is. 

A groan leaves his mouth as he tries to take a deep breath and fails miserably. Instead, he can add two broken ribs to the list of misery. 

Gods above — whichever of them are listening — he’s tired. But he fears that if he closes his eyes, he might not open them anymore for the sheer release that would bring. He can’t sleep, can’t rest, not when— 

“Easy now,” a gentle voice interrupts his less than coherent thoughts and just moments later, a tender hand is combing through his blood-crusted hair. “You shouldn’t move, my friend. There’s nowhere to move to anymore.” 

Steve frowns, his brain trying and failing to provide any information at this point. The hits to his head must have been worse than he thought if his short term memory refuses to work with him anymore. 

“We have reached Capital City,” the voice continues and Steve has to blink the fog away to make out its owner. When he does, it must show in his eyes, for the worry in Theodore Munson’s eyes makes way to the briefest of smiles before returning even stronger than before. “Do you not recall?”

Steve just stares up at him. That’s all his wrecked body and mind allow him to do right now. That’s all they want to do when gentle hands comb through his hair and chase away some of the pain. 

It is then that reality slowly comes back to him and he realises where he is. Where they are. What is at stake if they fail any more, if they decide to torture information on Elanor and William out of them — out of him. He’s not sure how much he can take. They have been held prisoner for weeks. Steve has been hurting for even longer.

Shame rises in him and he has the urge to apologise to Jim, to explain, but moving his head to the side, he sees that his old master isn’t any better off. He appears to be sleeping, his face bruised, and a teary-eyed Maxine is wiping blood away from his face with a piece of her cloak. 

Steve blinks once, twice, and takes in the man who practically raised him, watches the steady rise and fall of his chest and listens, beyond the pulsing rush of his own blood, that his lungs are not rattling. Shame makes way to satisfaction when he sees that none of their party has taken as many hits, kicks and punches as himself. His distractions have worked, then. 

That’s good. Now if only they didn’t make him so nauseous. So tired. So…

“Don’t fall asleep, Steven,” Eddie demands, and the world tilts slightly, which makes everything worse until… soft. It’s softer now. 

Eddie has moved him so his head is resting in his lap now. 

“You don’t look too good, Ranger. Sleep is dangerous in your state, no matter how badly you might need it. Give it a few hours, please.” 

A beat passes where Steve tries to process the words that are just too many. Since when does Eddie talk with him so much? 

“Lies,” he says after a while and with greater effort than should be necessary.

“Lies?” 

“I look very good. You just can’t see it under all the blood and the bruises.” He tries to crack a smile, but even the huffed breath jolts his head too much. 

Eddie does him the favour of a brief chuckle, and Steve feels better for it. Lighter. Light is good, he finds. Maybe all he has to focus on is Eddie and his hands working out the clumps of dirt and blood from his hair, maybe all he has to to is make him smile and the world will be a bit less painful. 

His world narrows down to all the ways Eddie is close to him and it does keep him occupied, but it also gets his mind wandering, the adrenaline of the past days wearing off. 

“Keep doing that and I will fall asleep,” he says after another beat of silence. Fall asleep and dream. Dream of what this could mean. Dream of smiles that make me feel lighter. 

“Keep doing what?” Eddie asks, and Steve senses a trick to just keep him talking, no matter how slurred his speech is. He needs a moment to remember what he said.

“This,” he says eventually, and Eddie only hums. Finding words is hard. He tries. And tries again. “Being gentle.” 

Another smile, and Steve wants to close his eyes to keep it there to hold on to. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, my friend.” 

“Can’t not be gentle?” He’s losing force on the consonants. The pain is getting stronger, his nerve endings more frayed and his vision blurry. This is familiar. He gives himself another quarter of an hour at most before he will lose his consciousness, no matter how hard he tries to stay here. With Eddie and his wavering smile. 

“Not with my friends, no.” 

This time it’s Steve who smiles at the word friends. He likes to be Eddie’s friend. The man, as it turns out, is admirable, he’s strong, he’s wise when he wants to be and gentle with young Maxine. He’s kind, he’s quick-witted and patient, and his hands are impossibly soft. 

“I know you said not to sleep, and I’m not normally one to deny a well-respected bard’s command, but…” He swallows. Words are hard. He’s not sure they come out as planned, but he perseveres. “I’m afraid I have to prove to you now just how stubborn the Queen’s Rangers can be.” 

Another hum from above him and Steve opens his eyes he hadn’t even noticed closing. The world is fading, but still Eddie is at its centre. 

“I’ll be here when you wake up, then, stubborn Ranger.” 

Will you smile at me still? Steve wonders. 

“Always,” Eddie says, but before Steve has time to wonder if someone else has said something, darkness has swallowed him whole.

[whump-side]

Shot by an arrow compilation for @whumpers-monthly

[bandtrees]

ONE: ok guys here’s an arc about mob, in his growth as a person, being confronted with an ideology he’s unfamiliar with, and he has to learn from it but also understand why it’s unhealthy and bad to properly grow from it and choose kindness in the end, albeit in a more nuanced way than before, and this will make mob more able to confront later problems in the season that can’t be solved with mere kindness and require a deep understanding of loneliness and solitude, something he hasn’t had much room to speak on until now. To express mob being shown this villain’s ideology we have a sequence where we see how mogami views the world and by extension how he sees mob, by putting mob in the kind of sad fucked up world he thinks exists, but mob will overcome it with the knowledge that in the real world he has people he cares about and that even the people who make the world bad sometimes can change and nobody is a static evil and kindness and courage when you’re going through hardship goes a long way. despite the darkness this is ultimately a very uplifting experience for him and a show that life is always more than its darkest moments, and also how picking yourself up instead of wallowing in your own suffering and trauma is hard but a very courageous act and what makes mob stronger than mogami

mp100 fans with tunnel vision: Oh so mob was tortured for six months and is sad? He’s literally so sad and traumatized and nobody is talking about this?

[cherryaire]

the answer is yes, yes they do, because she's incredibly easy to manipulate and they manage to do it in a way that essentially makes her a conduit. and, with the full blown religious psychosis, they know she's not going to question what she's doing. she's the perfect person for the job.

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat CYOA #4

tllr au masterlist | tllr masterlist

content: second person pov, home invasion, manhandling, drugging, gag, restraints, kidnapping, creepy whumper

You chose: Fight! Struggle! There are knives over there on the counter, grab them!

— 

Fuck it. He broke into your home, it only makes sense for you to fight back. Good thing you’re in the kitchen, because a few knives are sitting in the knife block on the counter across from you. You finally have a chance to defend yourself, you have to take it.

You wrench your head to the side, getting away from whatever was about to poke into your neck, and you push away from him with all your strength.

But you get nowhere.

“Feisty one,” he lets out an amused chuckle. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

You ignore his words and elbow him hard in the ribs. You’re flailing and thrashing, moving around too much for whatever he was about to do to you. With a deep breath, you bite the hand covering your mouth and he gasps in surprise, flinching back, giving you just enough room for you to stagger away from him.

He regains his composure quickly. “Hey, I wouldn’t step on that ankle if I were you. It looks bad.”

You don’t care. But you should’ve, because this time, your body can’t ignore the pain any longer. The last step you take, your ankle gives out and sends you collapsing to the floor. You cry out in agony, chest heaving in and out in a panic. You sit there, unable to get up, well aware that your attacker is coming towards you. As you scramble away from him, legs sliding against the floor, your back hits the cabinets. You turn around, vision tunneled. The knives are close. Your phone is close. Get to your phone. Get to the kni—

As you reach towards the counter above you, your wrist is grabbed in a firm but gentle grip.

You whirl around and look up at the man standing over you. Your horrified eyes are wide and panicked as you get a clear view of what the man is holding in his other hand.

It’s a syringe.

There’s nowhere to run. You’re cornered.

He kneels down and before you can react, he takes your other wrist in his hand, firmly holding both your arms away from him. Your struggles lead you nowhere.

Tears burn in your eyes as you feel a sharp sting in your neck, injecting whatever was in there directly into your bloodstream. You let out a pained whine. It hurts. You don’t want this.

You scream for help. It only lasts a second before he drops the now empty syringe and clasps a hand over your mouth.

“Shhhh, be quiet,” the stranger says. “Relax. It’s okay.”

You can’t, you can’t. This can’t be happening! You writhe against him, kicking out, trying to desperately pull your arms free but you can’t. 

“You’re only tiring yourself out. Just relax.”

You shake your head rapidly, getting hit with a wave of dizziness. You don’t care! You need to get away!

But you’re so tired. There’s a foggy feeling in your head. You blink, unable to shake the feeling. Your limbs are suddenly heavier and your movements are growing clumsy and weak.

Before you know it, your struggles die down and your body weakly slumps against him. It’s getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

“Good, that’s it. There you go.”

He takes his hand off your mouth and you can’t seem to muster up the energy to use your voice. You stare at him in defeat, looking up at his unnaturally green eyes that are staring down at you. A soft expression crosses his face, and he pets your head gently, hand carding through your hair, before turning around and grabbing something from behind him.

You shift uncomfortably where you lay on the floor, now slouched against the cabinets behind you. Whatever drug that was injected into your system is working fast, and you let out quiet sobs as you feel your body weaken further. Your breathing slows. Your eyelids feel heavy. You can barely move no matter how much you try.

He turns around. It’s too dark to see what he’s holding now; you can barely keep your eyes open. You feel a few strips of duct tape being taped over your mouth and smoothed over with his palm. 

You whimper through the gag, crying out as loud as you can despite the drowsiness overtaking you.

“Shhh. Stay still. It’s okay.”

None of this is okay. You don’t want this. You just wanna hide in your room and curl up in a ball where it’s safe.

He turns you around and your arms are pulled behind your back. Itchy rope rubs against your skin as it’s coiled tightly around your wrists, effectively restraining you. He grabs your legs, careful to avoid touching your sprained ankle, and you’re not strong enough to kick out anymore. He ties up your legs, and you’re completely restrained. You can’t escape.

Suddenly your eyelids are heavier than before. You don’t remember shutting your eyes. You slowly blink them open. But still… darkness. Oh, he’s tying a blindfold around your head. You barely noticed it.

You can’t see what he’s doing anymore, not like you could very well before in the dark anyway. You feel like you’re floating. Since when were you being carried in his arms?

Everything’s foggy, far away. You can’t keep track of the sounds around you, the direction he’s taking you. But you feel the breeze of fresh air on your skin. You’re not in your home anymore.

He gently sets you down somewhere small and enclosed. It almost feels cozy, warm…

Until a loud noise above you knocks you out of your thoughts. The sound of a car door closing. No, a trunk of a car. He stuffed you in the fucking trunk of his car.

You weakly kick out against it with your little remaining strength, crying out through the gag while the engine starts up and you feel the car start driving, gravel rumbling under the tires.

Realization finally sets in. This is it. He got you. The weird stranger who was following you home was now driving you off to who-knows-where, to do who-knows-what to you. You fought so hard, but he didn’t even break a sweat. You never stood a chance. There’s nothing you can do now. He has you.

You’re so tired. You can’t keep your eyes open any longer. You curl up in a ball, ignoring the discomfort, and your eyelids flutter shut. You finally drift off into unconsciousness while the man drives you further and further away from your home and into the unknown.

. . .

Eventually, you stir, waking up to darkness. It takes a little while for you to remember what happened, but you realize as soon as you feel the rumbling of the car all around you, and feel the rope digging into your skin. You’re still in the trunk.

Not for long, though. Only a few moments later, the car comes to a stop, and silence fills the air. It seems like you woke up just in time. Wherever the stranger was taking you, you’ve arrived.

Footsteps echo through the air and the trunk is opened, letting fresh air into the stuffy trunk. You tentatively move your body, but you’re still weak and stiff. You were out cold for longer than you thought you were.

“Ah. You’re awake.”

“Mmmf…” You whimper softly, barely audible. You still feel groggy, lightheaded, somewhere else. You can’t see where the stranger is, as your world is still filled with the darkness of the blindfold. You curl up deeper into a ball, making yourself small seems to be the only thing you can do at this point, and there's no use struggling when your body is weak and restrained.

“Aww,” the stranger coos above you. “It’s okay. Don’t be scared.”

His hands come down to wrap around your body, gently but firmly hefting you up into his arms, and holding you close. You freeze, unable to tell what was happening or what he was going to do to you. You feel the soft breeze in the air flowing through your hair as he starts walking, closing the trunk behind him.

There’s not much you can do now but wait, unable to see or move, you pay attention to what you can hear. He carries you up some steps, and through a door. It shuts behind you both. He shushes you when you cry as you are carried down and down and down more stairs, the air cooling around you. You can’t keep track of where he’s taking you, it all feels like a blur.

A sudden light flows through the fabric of the blindfold. You shiver. More steps, another click of a door shutting behind you, and you’re gently set down on something soft, your body melting into it.

“Okay,” he says, voice rumbling through your ears. “Let’s get you out of all this.”

Gentle fingers peel the blindfold from your eyes, and light fills your vision. You notice you’re in a small room, all white walls and bright fluorescent lights shining above you. The bed you’re sitting on is soft and warm, despite how much it reminds you of a hospital bed. You’re still restrained, your arms held firmly behind your back by the rope that’s now digging into your wrists, and your legs are still tied together. Your head is becoming clearer, and you look up at the stranger standing over you with wide, terrified eyes.

“Hi.” He’s smiling wide, as if he’s giddy with excitement. His hood is down now, and you can finally see him clearly. There’s a white streak through his short, slick black hair that falls out in all directions. His unnaturally bright green eyes bore into you. Despite the situation, his expression almost seems warm, kind.

“Mmh,” you squeak out a broken whimper. How casual he’s being about all this fills you with unease.

He takes a step towards you, and you flinch back violently, yelling through the gag in a panic.

“Shh, calm down, I’m just gonna help you out of this. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You don't believe him, but you do your best to calm down anyway, trying to steady your breathing and think smart about this. You look around the room more closely. There’s really nothing else here but a small nightstand to your left. There’s a door straight ahead, and a surveillance camera above it— the exit, you presume. There’s another door on the left wall, but it’s slightly open. The wall to your right is entirely made out of glass, and looking through it, there seems to be some sort of…

Laboratory?

You look back at him, not sure if you’re more or less calm than you were before, but he seems satisfied. He reaches toward you and you try not to flinch away this time.

He brings a hand to your face and rips the duct tape off, you yelp at the pain, and he winces and murmurs a quick apology.

You glare at him, but can’t hide your obvious fear seeping across your features. You tremble under his gaze.

“If I untie you, you’ll behave, right?”

next

— 

LAB TIMEEE

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[letitbehurt]

Whumper forces Whumpee to punish themself when they break a rule; kneeling on rice or glass, maintaining a stress position, even using whatever object happens to be within reach to inflict pain. Eventually, Whumper doesn’t have to tell them to do it. It becomes a programmed response to Whumper’s disapproval—the slightest frown, a pinched brow, a warning tilt of the head.

When Whumpee is rescued, Caretaker has to learn this the hard way.