The team/loved ones don’t know that whumper and the whumpee switched bodies

TW: Needles

TW: Body Horror

The whumper leaves knives and needles stuck within the immortal, knowing the immortal’s body will over and around it

The whumpee is forced to experience a traumatizing VR simulation

(“Traumatizing” is specific to whumpees which is why this is so vague)

Whump dialogue XXXVIII

“Hm, I can hear that pride of yours breaking. Again and again, cracking like ice under my feet.  Maybe you can’t see it yet on the surface, but underneath… deep down, it’s starting to break.“

A heavy boot came to rest on Whumpee’s sternum, but they stayed quiet and just glared straight up at Whumper.

Who grinned down on them. "Just needs a final…” he pressed down harder on Whumpee, “…push.”

Okay, i’m still thinking about that slapping post (here!) and how brilliantly cruel it is.

There you have your whumpee, being slapped, which is still (all things considered) a fairly harmless type of whump. It’s probably one of the first things that happens in a captivity scenario, in a kidnapping, an interrigation, a punishment. You know, before the actual damage. So it’s at the stage where most whumpees will still be defiant, hoping to hold up against their whumper, maybe insult them, do anything but give them what they want. And not reacting to pain is a good way to do that! Pretty standard, defiant “you can’t hurt me” way to show the whumper that they don’t really have power over them. Not reacting is that bit of control still left to the whumpee, even when bound, gagged, or beaten, it’s that bit of power they can still excert even when they’re captured or otherwise incapacitated.

But then the whumper takes that, and twists it around, and makes it into something else entirely.

“You’re so good at keeping still”, “you took that so well”, “not even a gasp? Nothing? Impressive”.

“Very good”, “i’m glad to see you’ve learned to keep still”, “good pet”.

And with that, their defiance is dissipated. With a few simple words, the tables have turned. They’re playing the whumper’s game now. Whatever defiance that refusal to react encoded, it doesn’t mean the same thing anymore, no, now it’s playing right into the whumper’s hands. It’s doing exactly what they want, doing exactly as they’re told.

It’s putting them into the role of a submissive, crawling pet, trying to earn the whumper’s favour, when that was the last thing they wanted to do. What a brilliantly cruel way to turn the situation around.

Taking it back

Continuation of (invisible breaking point).

They’d thought themselves broken, defeated, shaped and changed, cracked and smoothed out again until they weren’t themselves anymore - but when they get out they realize: that’s not quite true.

Through it all, they kept themselves together. They healed what they could, dealt with what they couldn’t. Small attempts, not relentless - but unceising in their tendency to crop up again just as the whunper thought them rooted out. Through all that - through the pain and the humiliation and the incessant insisting that this was all they’d ever get, this would be all there ever was from now on - they tried. And they kept trying. For a future - an unlikely, improbable future, but a future they could never quite get out of their head. A hope that couldn’t quite be snuffed out.

And as they look back on their scars and remember how they got them - remember the pain and the anguished screams and the crying, and the begging - oh god the begging, they wish that hadn’t happened - they also remember this: how they fell down seven times and got up eight. How they took what was dealt them and then continued with what they were doing before. Their crying wasn’t a failure. It wasn’t breaking. It was persisting.

Invisible breaking point

The whumpee had sworn to themselves they would never choose a temporary reprieve over their values, their end goal, what they stand for goddammit. Never ever would they take the easy way out - how could they? It’s too important, this work that they do. It’s what they’ve chosen, and they could never abandon it.

Yet slowly, they notice that they do. It breaks their heart, but they can’t stop themselves anymore - choosing the easier option, swallowing those insults about to spill over their cracked and bloody lips, giving way just a little. The smallest acts of compliance, of obedience, and how they don’t sting as badly as before.

It’s not that they don’t care, no - they do. They hope to god it isn’t so blaringly obvious to anyone but them when they slip. But… sometimes, after a particularly painful day… when they are granted a brief respite, they’re just - it’s not even grateful, it’s not that, they just - they like it. They’re happy. They’re happy about the beatings that don’t come. About the drownings that never were, but could have been. About the humiliation that is spared them in the now.

Even if it’ll be a hundred times worse tomorrow for it.

Even if it’s all just a scheme by the whumper, another thing to snatch away from them later.

Even if every day they’re here, the chances of their team ever finding them again grow slimmer. Even when another day here really isn’t something to be happy about. Even then.

They’re so aware of the pain they’re not in: it’s so vivid in its absence, bright in its unfulfilled potential - compared to yesterday, this morning, a minute ago - it engulfs them, becomes their all, and they’re happy.

And they hate themselves for it.

When the caretaker notices that the whumpee looks a little pale, but they don’t think anything of it until the whumpee collapses in the middle of a conversation. Them diving to catch the whumpee, and trying to figure out what happened, and why they passed out. The caretaker not being able to figure it out before the whumpee starts to wake up, and the caretaker gently questioning them, asking if they have any idea why they passed out. The whumpee admitting that they got hit pretty hard in the torso with something earlier that day, and the caretaker pulling up their shirt to check, only to find colorful bruising covering their side. The caretaker immediately hurrying the whumpee to the hospital, and the doctors telling them that the whumpee was bleeding internally, and would have died if they had waited much longer to get help.

When the whumpee is exhausted and has hurt their ankle, but they’re still trying to get out of bed. Their teammates standing and having a conversation, having no idea how to keep them there short of sitting on them, but the youngest one just leaving the room. The rest of the team following the youngest curiously, and seeing them just crawling into bed with the whumpee. The youngest then curling up against the whumpee’s side, hugging them, and then going to sleep. The whumpee being torn between being annoyed at the youngest for making it so they can’t get up without waking them, and enjoying the cuddles. The rest of their teammates watching from the doorway, and the whumpee glaring at them, then reaching down to stroke the youngest’s hair, then letting themself fall asleep too.

When the whumpee has a horrible headache, and although they don’t say anything, the caretaker notices them wincing at every loud noise fairly quickly. The caretaker quietly asking the whumpee if they’re alright, and the whumpee muttering that they’re fine, but the caretaker giving them a look, and the whumpee glancing away and admitting that their head is pounding. The caretaker closing all the curtains, then getting a glass of water for the whumpee and getting the whumpee settled on the couch with their head in the caretaker’s lap. The caretaker gently stroking the whumpee’s hair and massaging their scalp until the whumpee drifts off to sleep, hoping they’d feel better when they wake up. 

When the caretaker notices that the whumpee is looking a little bit pale, but they think nothing of it until the whumpee starts to sway during a conversation. The caretaker starting to reach out to steady them, and then having to lunge to catch them as they crumple to the ground. The caretaker having no idea why the whumpee passed out, but gently getting them onto the floor, and settling the whumpee’s head in their lap. The whumpee coming to as the caretaker checks their pulse and tries to figure out why they passed out, and the caretaker asking if they know why. The whumpee admitting that they’d been feeling a little under the weather, and hadn’t been getting much sleep, and the caretaker gently scooping them up and carrying them to bed, then making them stay there until they think the whumpee is okay.

When the whumpee just finished a fight, and they think they’re fine, but then one of their teammates hugs them, and pain explodes from their ribs. The whumpee making a pained noise, but being too exhausted to try to pull away, and slumping in their teammates arms. Their teammate being so startled that they almost dropping them, but managing to gently lower them to the ground as they ask the whumpee what’s wrong. The whumpee gasping out something about their ribs, and their teammate lifting the whumpee’s shirt to find the start of what will become some dramatic bruises. The teammate being so worried that they immediately scoop the whumpee up as gently as possible, and carry them off to find a medic to help them.

When the whumpee and the caretaker aren’t talking because of an argument, and the whumpee gets captured by the whumper. The whumpee getting rescued by the caretaker and the rest of their team a few days later, and thinking that the caretaker still won’t want to talk to them. The caretaker surprising them by hugging them the first opportunity they get, and the whumpee breaking down crying, realizing that the caretaker was far more worried about their wellbeing than the stupid fight they’d had. The caretaker proceeding to fuss over them for a few days as they start to recover, and then the two of them talking about their fight once the whumpee is feeling up to it.

When the whumpee is the team leader, and they have to make public appearances, even when they feel horrible. Their teammates doing everything they can to take care of them behind the scenes, and the whumpee letting them, because they feel too terrible to protest. The whumpee barely making it through all their public appearances, and their teammates ushering them off to rest the second they’re out of the public eye. The whumpee barely even managing to stay awake as their teammates get food and water into them, and falling asleep the second their teammates get them tucked safely into a bed.

When the whumpee is hurt and very disoriented, and the caretaker just tries to keep them calm and still so the medics can help them. The whumpee having no idea what’s going on, but trusting that the caretaker will tell them if they need to do anything, and them just letting the caretaker look out for them. The caretaker holding their hand and stroking their hair, trying to keep the whumpee at least a little bit grounded as they’re patched up. The whumpee leaning into the caretaker’s touch, and relaxing as much as they can, letting the medics work.

When the whumpee is rescued from the whumper, and taken to a hospital to have their injuries treated. Them thinking that they’ll be alone when they wake up, but instead they wake up surrounded by their friends. The whumpee still being out of it enough to admit that they didn’t expect them to be there, and their friends immediately protesting that of course they were all there, they care about the whumpee. The whumpee breaking down crying, and their friends crowding around them and gently hugging them and petting their hair, doing their best not to hurt them as they try to comfort them.

When the whumpee sits down to be patched up, and when the caretaker sees their injuries, all they can do is look at them in horror. The caretaker gently pushing them to lay down, and asking why the whumpee didn’t tell them how badly they were hurt as they start to clean the whumpee’s wounds. The whumpee starting to respond, but interrupting themself with a hiss of pain when the antiseptic stings. The caretaker apologizing, and trying to be gentle as they continue to work, and the whumpee admitting that they didn’t mention it because there were other things to worry about. The caretaker scolding them, telling them that while there may have been other things going on, their health is still important, and they still need to tell someone.

When the whumpee finally gets home to their teammates after a solo mission, exhausted and in pain now that the adrenaline is finally wearing off. Their teammates taking one look at the whumpee, who’s clearing tired and hurting, and them rushing to help them. Their teammates splitting up, some helping the whumpee clean up and patching them up while others get the whumpee food and water. Their teammates all working together to efficiently get them cared for, fed, and off to bed before the whumpee can fall asleep standing up. The whumpee falling asleep the moment their head hits the pillow, and their teammates making sure that everything the whumpee might need is there before they leave them to rest.

When the whumpee has work that they absolutely have to finish, but they’re exhausted, and it’s starting to interfere with their ability to finish the work. The caretaker doing what they can to help and support them, and the whumpee somehow managing to push through it. As soon as the whumpee’s done, the caretaker fussing over them, and ushering them off to rest. The whumpee falling asleep the second they lay down, and the caretaker tucking them in gently, so they don’t get cold while they sleep.

When the whumpee has a horrible headache, but they’re stuck waiting for a friend to pick them up. The caretaker who is waiting with them letting the whumpee curl up with their head in their lap, and playing with their hair to try to distract them. The whumpee mostly dozing off by the time their friend arrives to pick them up, and the caretaker carrying them to the car. The caretaker gently sitting them down and buckling their seatbelt for them, and explaining to the friend how to take care of the whumpee once they’ve gotten them home.