Whumper had Whumpee wearing a shock collar for the longest time... Until Whumpee got used to the pain and began to ignore it.
So Whumper made Whumpee wear a new collar. One that can monitor Whumpee's heart rate. And if that heart rate gets too fast? Say, for instance, if Whumpee is trying to run away? Or trying to hurt themself? The collar will inject a sedative directly into Whumpee's neck. Problem solved.
Maybe Whumper intentionally sets the threshold really low so Whumpee can hardly walk without setting the collar off.
Maybe Whumper takes great pleasure in trying to scare Whumpee just to see them panic.
Maybe the threat of sedation only makes Whumpee's heart rate get faster.
Maybe after Whumpee is rescued, they shove their feelings down and seem eerily calm all the time.
A whumpee who was turned into a dangerous monster after being forced to transform. Their body warps and transforms painfully into a mindless beast that can only heed the words of their captor.
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Until one day, when the Whumpee's fighting a group of people, the caretaker uses some magic on the whumpee, thinking that it's just another being made of darkness; when surprise, surprise. The whumpee shrieks out in pain as they painfully turn back to their human form and collapse to the grass beneath them, passing out as their world grows black before their eyes again.
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The caretaker rushes over, picking up the whumpee, seeing the poor state that they were in; half conscious and covered in bruises and cuts. The whumpee's carried off somewhere safe where they can maybe fully heal from the extent of their injuries.
Image: an emoji yellow head with closed eyes with shadows underneath them, and a blue arrow leading from a pill bottle into their brain, which is turning from pink to grey around the arrow. there are 'z's next to the face.
“Lettie found him,” Verity says, beaming up at me. “That’s your brother, right?”
I stumble forward like a fucking newborn deer, unable to stand, hardly able to breathe. “Alive?”
“Yes, of course he’s—”
“Jamie!” He doesn’t respond, and as I spin wildly to look at Verity again, I see that Colette and Geoff have slipped into the room, too. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’ll be fine,” Colette says, hurrying over, grabbing my hands. “Listen, all right? Look at me. Are you lis—Will. Will.”
How am I supposed to—
She squeezes my fingers just a little tighter. “Look at me. Listen. It’s all right. He’s all right.”
“He didn’t answer me,” I say. I hear my voice crack like it belongs to someone else.
“I know. That’s because Allan gave him something for his pain and it put him to sleep, all right? He got shot after the trade, but he’s fine. He’s going to live.”