A whumpee who hates affection, resisting attention and being coddled. It’s a fight to get them to let themself be taken care of when they’re sick, and each time it scares Caretaker a little more because they don’t know when Whumpee’s gonna hide so much they’ll desperate need help and Caretaker will never know about it.
And then what happens?
The whip falls.
She doesn’t protest the punishment. If she did, maybe someone would take pity. Someone might find it an injustice, to harm such a vulnerable, helpless thing.
If she pleads and cries and begs, she might fool the people watching. Might convince them that this is wrong, that she could not possibly deserve this.
She is guilty.
She deserves this. This is the truth. She knows it, deep in her shriveled soul, and she wants them to know, too.
It’s hard not to cry. It feels dishonest, in a way, to hold back the pain screaming through her body, the guilt burning up her cold heart.
But it would be so much worse to deceive her audience. They deserve to know the truth. She deserves to be punished.
So she does not sob. She does not plead or beg for mercy. She narrows her eyes and shows no fear. She snarls and spits curses and glares daggers, letting herself become the monster she has always known herself to be.
She puts on a show for her audience, letting them know exactly what she is. None of them will offer her a shred of mercy again, she makes sure of it.
It’s almost a relief, to have the truth revealed.
The whip falls again.
"I expect this sort of behavior from my subjects, not my apprentice. However, if you want to act out like an insolent demon, I have no problem with treating you accordingly."
Haziel's getting punished for being an insolent little shit who likes to get in to everyone else's business---- gotta put him back in his place otherwise who knows what he'll do next.
For day 13 of @figuwhump
Art tag: @whump-tr0pes @whump-queen @whumpsday @whumpinthepot @kixngiggles @onlywhumpcomments @project-xiii @quietly-by-myself @ka1imba @suspicious-whumping-egg @cyborg0109 @whatwhumpcomments @whumpcomica @i-eat-worlds @regrets-realization-acceptance @dont-look-me-in-the-eye @burntcoffeewhump @lonesome--hunter @scribbelle @oddsconvert
So uhm. I made a form for people who like that sort of thing to fill out. It’s all whump themed, everything is optional, and there’s quite a few different things for everyone:) feel free to fill it out!!
Whumper wants whumpee to submit to something—to say the words that admit they’ve been broken. It can be “I’m yours”, “I don’t want to go home”, "thank you", whatever symbolizes that whumper owns them, body and soul.
But whumpee staunchly refuses. No matter how bad whumper makes things. Even though whumpee knows relief will come with just a few simple words, they don’t budge.
Until one day, whumpee screws up. Massively. Infuriates whumper in a way that can’t be taken back. And as whumper brutalizes them, bringing whumpee to the brink, whumpee finally sheds their last sliver of dignity and says the magic words. Desperately pleading.
Whumper pauses. Leans down, seething.
“Too late.”
We need more whumpees who don’t crave physical touch.
I see many (excellent posts) about whumpees who crave physical touch but are terrified.
What about the ones who genuinely don’t want it anymore? The ones who do have a problem with receiving it? The ones having to explain to their caretakers that they don’t even want it when they’re suffering, and yeah, it was hard for you to see, but don’t touch, please.
Content: Physical violence, whumpee-turned-whumper, caretaker-turned-whumpee, silent whumpee, famous whumpee, PTSD/trauma.
The Whumpee hits away an offered cup of water. It bounces off the table in the small interrogation room and splashes a conspicuous wet stain against the concrete wall. “I’ll say it again - I don’t take anything from people like you.” The Whumper just blankly stares at them, then wipes their thumb under their nose with a habitual sniff as if they were having a bump. The Whumper looks clinically at the water stain on the wall before looking back at the Whumpee. “And yet you take so much of my patience.” The Whumpee spits indignantly in the direction of the Whumper. The Whumper’s response is so swift that there’s barely time to think. In a heartbeat, the Whumper’s chair is thrust backwards as they stand and reach across the table and seize the Whumpee by the front of their jacket. The Whumper pulls them around like a ragdoll and slams the Whumpee’s back against the wall and presses them against the wall with a fist wrapped in their clothes. “It’s not the disrespect that gets me, it’s the moral high ground that you think you’re on,” the Whumper growls. “As if it’s ever that easy. As if I choose where I am. As if I don’t have my own masters,” they say, pulling the collar of their shirt down to show a small glimpse of their brutally branded skin. The Whumpee can only cough as they listen, struggling for breath and ignoring the taste of blood in their teeth. “You and your ilk love to live as if there is a greater good, but there is no such thing. And your belief in it is a sickness.” The Whumpee weakly grabs at the Whumper’s arm that keeps them pinned to the wall, but they can scarcely manage a meaningful struggle. “You may hate me, but you know nothing about me. And your ‘greater good’ is nothing more than the shared delusion of the unencumbered few.” The Whumper lets go of the Whumpee and leaves them there for now. They’ll be back soon enough to get what they want.
