Captain, I Frew Up...

he eats

Another probably-human-probably-not Soundwave 😌 maybe a holoform? well this might be the same Soundwave as my other design tbh. Just with a different fit cuz he’s fashionista/j; this was mostly cuz of the veil idea for the mask I thought of today 🤔 I thought it went hard so I wanted to get it out there. That waist of hers is insane

the weary feverish whumpee aesthetic™

I love it when a whumpee is so weak that they:

are bedridden, much to their discomfort. They long to leave the bed, but cannot because they are too weak, and their legs shake at the thought of taking even a single step.

can't keep their eyes open. Their eyelids flutter but due to tiredness and too much light, they always close again. However, the whumpee has learned to rely on other senses, and is able to recognize the caretaker's voice or touch among a thousand others.

have to always lie down. They try to sit up, perhaps to eat something, but after a few minutes their head starts spinning and their body starts screaming because of the effort. Much to their chagrin, they have to force themselves back down or else they will likely pass out.

are not hungry. Their body can't handle even plain broth, making them queasy and dizzy. So they continue to refuse food, their only source of livelihood, and this obviously worsens their condition.

are too sensitive to touch. Their skin that seems to boil with fever, the bedsheets that rub down their limbs like sandpaper, the hair that sticks to their sweaty forehead, even the simple touch of the caretaker, a touch that is supposed to comfort them. They start to hate all these little things.

Please, feel free to add more.

yaaaay I’m so happy I’ll get a therapist when I finally gonna arrive home 💀

everybody’s happy about having an artist friend but nobody thinks about that artist friend wishing to have another artist friend to have a drawings of their own character but not characters of their friends

196 archive: April 2nd 2022

Stockholm Syndrome Prompts

All those little whumpees who slowly forget why they're fighting. Gradually learning to love their whumper.

.

"You know I have to punish you for this, right? I'm sorry. I don't want to. I hate to see you cry...but it's the only way you'll learn."

Whumpee slowly gaining privileges the better they behave. It's easier if they just obey.

Nightmares. Whumpee dreaming of Whumper hurting them. They scream and thrash, waking up to Whumper holding them close. "Shh...it's okay. It was just a dream. I'm not going to hurt you..." Whumpee almost believes it.

Whumpee looks tense, so Whumper gives them a massage.

Whumpee's favorite foods. Always.

"Why are you still thinking about them? All you need is me."

Soft kisses and gentle touch.

"You are so amazing. No one ever appreciated you, did they? They didn't stop long enough to really look."

Constant bondage. Whumpee needs to rely on Whumper for every single thing. Every bite of food. Sip of water. Bathing. Everything they need only comes from Whumper's hands.

"What would you do without me? Really. Go back to them? Back to a life of stress an expectations? Isn't this better?"

New clothes. New hair. New everything. Whumpee starts to forget who they are.

"I told you you'd warm up to me."

That first time that Whumpee leans into Whumper's touch. Probably after a punishment. They're so tired. And Whumper is so warm and kind. They just...drift...

"Isn't this better?"

Whumper only un-gags Whumpee if they 'use their nice words'. Once Whumpee tries to snap at them, beg for Whumper to let them go, or say anything that suggests they don't want to be there, Whumper shoves the gag back in so they can 'think it over and try again later'.

"Can...can you stay with me? Just a little longer." "Of course, darling."

Whumper hand-feeding Whumpee. The intimacy and the trust they have to partake in if they want to eat.

"Tell me you love me. Say it."

Whumper who brands their Whumpee. Whumpee knows they'll never be the same again - they'll always be marked.

"There we go. Isn't 'please' so much nicer to say than 'no'?"

When they stop hesitating to say it.

"No...no please." "Shh...this will help you sleep. I won't leave you, I promise."

Whumper pulling Whumpee close, holding them tight as they try to struggle away. Gently petting their hair and humming until Whumpee's thrashing slows to a stop. They give into the embrace, sobbing into Whumper's shoulder.

"You don't need to think. I'll do that for you. You just rest."

Whumper breaks Whumpee's legs so Whumpee has to rely on them for everything. Thought of escape seem impossible.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice? You can't lie to me. I know everything about you."

Whumpee vaguely remembers that they used to fight. They used to kick and scream and spit. They just can't remember why.

.

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @jadeocean46910 @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @tropes-for-my-md-daydreams @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @lav-whumps @wormwriting)

“They don’t want you.” “It’s not safe out there.” “They don’t care about you.” Whumper had told them time and time again, but whumpee had never believed them. No. They knew that their team still wanted them; that caretaker was worried sick. They don’t fall victim to whumper’s mind games. They refused to.

That was, until, they escaped. The escape had been hard, far harder than whumpee had imagined, they’d left with more scars than they could count, broken bones and a broken mind. Their only hope was caretaker and their team.

So imagine whumpee’s face when they finally stagger in, leaning heavily against the door frame. “h-hey i-“ but the team never look their way. Their eyes seem to be glued on someone else, someone whumpee has never seen before, someone new. “G-guys..?” Once again, their hoarse voice is left unheard.

Whumper was right, weren’t they? They’ve already been replaced.

So, with that, whumpee turns around, and they go to the one place they promised themself they would never see again.

Their knock is weak, quiet, as if there’s still a part of them that knows this is a bad idea. But still, they can’t help but feel a small sense of relief when the door swings open, and whumper stands there, clad in a shirt that’s too big and sweatpants that are too loose. Whumpee can’t help but let out a sob.

“..whumpee..? what..”

“y-you were right.. they don’t w-want me anymore…” they avoid their eyes, shaking where they stand in the torn clothes they’ve worn for months.

“Oh, whumpee…”

“do whatever y-you want with me.. i don’t care anymore but- please… n-no chains..”

“Of course, little dove. I’m sorry.” Whumpee whimpers at the nickname, collapsing against whumper’s chest. Their knuckles turn white with the grip they have on their shirt, and their sobs only increase as whumper returns the hug. “I’m so sorry, Whumpee.” There’s no malice in their voice, no hint of joy or happiness, nothing but pure guilt. That night, Whumpee curls up in whumper’s clothes, they’re given their first proper meal in months; they sleep in a clean bed with bandaged wounds.

War of Royalty

Yay! It’s done!

CW: Slavery, medieval whump, whipping and branding referenced, noncon stripping (again, nonsexual)  taken in by royalty, whumpee thinking fluff is punishment, intimate caretaker, forcefully carried, begging 

Masterlist

The king held a golden goblet in the palm of his hand, occasionally glancing from the ambassador to the boy at his right hand. He was visibly trembling as all eyes at the banquet were glued on him, tracing his scars, staring at the healing whip marks curling over his shoulders. The king however, just kept looking longingly into his face. 

“Are you not hungry, Eden?” He asked, nodding towards his overfilled untouched plate. “No! It’s n-not that, your majesty, It’s just… sh-should I not be serving you? I should be refilling your wine, or washing plates.” Eden tucked his head waiting for the hand to dig in his hair or a strike to the back of the head… But alas, he just laughed.

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#imcrying

Humans being the first. Not the strongest or the smartest or the weirdest or the most violent. Just the first.

We called out into the dark over and over. We sent out messages in hopes. We searched every planet we could reach, in hopes of any sign of life. Any at all.

We thought, hoped we were the last, because we couldn’t bear the idea of being the one ones this awake and alive in a world as vast as this.

And we died alone.

When the others are born, many many years later, they find us, everything we left for them.

They recover The Golden Record and look at it a million times over, they dig up our fossils and put us in museums, they study us for years and years, loving us as we love our ancestors’ painted hands on cave walls.

In a lot of their languages, the word they use for us has the same root for “mother”.