Whumpee just wanted to go back to normal. That was all they wanted. After months in a stranger's basement, months of beatings and torture, months of the most horrific things, they just wanted to be, to feel normal.
They started small. They asked for a takeout meal at the hospital, and Caretaker provided. They hadn't had takeout since the day of their kidnapping, and while the food was greasy and gross, it was the best meal they'd ever had.
Then they asked for their own clothes, from their home. They switched out the hospital gown for — at first — sweatpants and a hoodie. Then, on their release day, they went a little more adventurous, with clothes that let them pass as a normal person when they stepped out the door.
The only thing that was still a telltale sign, a flashing neon light above their head that they'd been severely neglected, was their matted hair. The nurses didn't even want to touch it. Honestly? Whumpee kind of didn't want them to touch it either. With how kinky and curly their hair was, they would've just torn it all out with a comb. But now that they were home…
"Caretaker?"
"Yes?"
"Would it be okay — you can say no, you can always say no — would it be okay if I asked… I mean… My— my hair…"
Caretaker lit up. "You want me to do your hair for you?"
The reaction didn't make sense. It was going to be a tedious process, if not entirely impossible. "If that's okay."
"It's more than okay! I'll bring a chair into the bathroom and you can sit down. I have anti-tangle conditioner somewhere in my box, we can use that. It's supposed to make the hair slippery enough that a comb can go through it. Or a detangling brush! I think I have one of those as well, somewhere…"
Whumpee wanted to cry. Here they were, beat-up and worn down, neglected, disgusting… And Caretaker was excited. They were excited to help. "Are you sure?"
Caretaker stopped. "Sure of what?"
"That you want to do this. It's going to take hours. Now that I'm thinking about it, maybe it'd be better to… to…" They couldn't say it. Their hair was their pride and joy, to think of cutting it all off was much too painful.
Their friend grabbed them by the shoulders, looking into their eyes all serious. "Whumpee. We'll save your hair."
Still teary, Whumpee nodded. "Okay."
"I'll bring that chair."
So Whumpee sat down in the bathroom, hair wet and conditioned, and Caretaker started the agonisingly slow process of detangling from ends to roots. One lock at a time. Chatting away joyfully, like they weren't about to work until their hands cramped up. Like it wasn't a bother. Like Whumpee was worth it.
And Whumpee sat there, in front of the mirror, and slowly, they started to see their natural curls again. Inch by inch, lock by lock, they were getting their life back. They weren't erasing the trauma they'd gone through, but they were healing it.
"Did that all come from my head?" they asked, horrified, when they saw Caretaker holding a handful of dead hair.
"Don't freak out," they said with a smile. "It only seems like a lot because you haven't had the chance to brush your hair in ages. It accumulated. There's hardly any real breakage."
"Oh," they breathed. "Okay."
Hours later, Whumpee's hair was almost back to normal. They just had to wash it to get all the blood and debris out, which they could finally do on their own, without Caretaker in the room with them. When they'd first been rescued, the nurses had to help them bathe, and it was some of the most humiliating stuff they'd endured.
Once done, they stepped out of the shower and looked in the foggy mirror. They swiped their hand across it to reveal their reflection; their hair was… normal. In need of a trim, maybe, but not matted. Not bloody. Not dusty. Normal. Beautiful. They were beautiful again.
The sight made them break down in tears.
"Whumpee?" came a concerned voice from the other side of the door. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," they sniffled. "Yeah. Sorry. I— These are happy tears, I promise." They opened the door and smiled at their friend. "Thank you for taking care of my hair. It means the absolute world."
Caretaker smiled back. "You're gonna be okay, Whumpee. You're strong. You'll be fine."
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"... I didn't. I didn't know there was a 'better', not for me. When a place like that, treatment like that, is all you know, you don't have thoughts of deserving better. There's no point of comparison. You just believe that's how it should be.
"I thought I was a subhuman, a monster, a defect-- and escaping... Well, that was confirmation of that, over anything. I escaped because I was a defect, and defects aren't known to act like they're supposed to."
Idk what name it is but that one trope where two people who are like being held captive some big bad (probably government) organization and are basically science experiments but the specimens somehow find a way to be together for some semblance of comfort away from the hell that they live in, especially if in the end they escape together and learn to heal. That trope is so fucking good
Can we get a post-rescue whumpee that gets flirted with, but they don’t know how to navigate the situation so caretaker steps in (helps move things along/ intervenes - dealer’s choice)
#243
content: past trauma, captivity mention, recovery fic, rocky recovery, alcohol, (perceived) noncon drugging, implied past noncon, lady whumper
"Have you ever had that drink?" the stranger asked, and Whumpee looked down at his drink dumbly, like it was the first time he'd noticed he was drinking it.
"No," he said, his voice barely audible over the music.
"Well, how is it?"
"Sweet."
"Like you?"
Whumpee looked up at her again. The stranger was smiling. Was she… flirting?
The last time he'd been flirted with, the flirter ended up roofying his drink and holding him hostage for a week while the police searched for him. His brain flashed images of Whumper, smiling kindly, caressing him softly, whispering sweet nothings into his ear while—
"Are you gonna kidnap me?" Whumpee asked. The stranger laughed.
"What? What's going through that mind of yours?" She leaned over the table and gently flicked Whumpee in the forehead. "Kidnap you? Well, I would like to keep you all to myself."
Whumpee looked down at his drink again. He just had to drink it, right? Then the drug would kick in, and he'd be plunged into darkness, waking up in a strange room with a strange woman who smiled at him so sweetly. It was inevitable. The alternative was going kicking and screaming, and then the woman would be upset with him, and he didn't want her to be upset.
He downed his drink.
"Whumpee!" Caretaker rushed up to their table. "Who is this?"
"We were just having some fun," the stranger said, and Whumpee nodded mutely. Fun. They were having fun.
"Well, this is my seat, so if you'd be so kind…"
"Whumpee, tell your friend how well we hit it off. You don't need a guardian, do you?" When Whumpee didn't respond, the stranger's smile fell. That was dangerous. He wasn't good company anymore. "They aren't your partner, are they?"
"No!" Whumpee hurried to say, and the stranger's smile returned.
"Well, then, tell them to go have some fun elsewhere, while we have our fun here. Or at my place."
"This is ridiculous," Caretaker cut in. "First of all, don't talk about me like I'm not even here. Second of all, buzz off. Whumpee isn't ready for a romantic relationship right now. Not in the slightest."
"Oh, you're that kind of friend," the stranger said, making a face. "Whumpee—"
Caretaker grabbed the stranger by the arm and forcefully yanked her up off the seat, shoving her towards the crowd. "Find yourself other prey."
"Caretaker," Whumpee said quietly, but the music drowned it out. "It's okay."
It didn't matter what he said. The woman flipped Caretaker off and disappeared, and Caretaker took their place across from Whumpee.
Despite thinking the stranger was going to kidnap him, Whumpee found himself feeling… lonely. Unwanted.
"Are you okay?" Caretaker asked.
"I want to go home." Better for the drug to hit at home, in his own bed.
"Okay. Come on."
All the way home, Whumpee kept glancing back over his shoulder. Was the stranger following him? A twisted part of him hoped so. Her smile had been so kind, and her laughter was like pearls.
"Are you okay?" Caretaker asked again, and Whumpee turned back forward. "You've been weird ever since that woman came onto you."
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A very good dynamic, and my fave tropes connected to it:
Two people who are both whumpees, and both caretakers for each other equally.
Obeying and/or enduring pain they never could otherwise, because they know the other will suffer if they don't
Being able to hold on to their hope and wanting to continue living, not for themselves, but for the other, wanting to get out so THE OTHER has a chance for freedom
Connected to that one, understanding that the other feels the same, so there is no "self sacrificing" their life, because they know the other wouldn't have a will to live without them, therefore STAYING ALIVE FOR EACH OTHER
But also, different ways of caring for one another: Maybe one is more active in the after care, making sure wounds are treated as best as possible, holding the other one while they are crying, etc etc. And the other one is more of the "just hurt me instead" variety. -> This could either be a deep understanding between them or could be a source of ~conflict~ a la "why is it so hard for you to help me get better" "why do you keep throwing yourself into the torture, you're so stupid" etc etc etc
All of this of course being fully used against them, all the time
Additionally, when they both escape together, there only being one person in the world who UNDERSTANDS, and while they might find more friends, or maybe even had a group to return to, no one ever becoming as close as they are, because they have loved each other always, but after what they've been through, they are basically one unit, nothing can seperate them. (Or, if you want more angst on top of your angst, after they're freed, everything they see in each other is a reminder of the pain. They can't be with each other. They can't be without each other. They fought so hard to survive together, be free together, and now they are, but they are alone)
I just love the idea of this love, this connection that they have, being used against them, making them more vulnerable, but in the end, also being the thing giving them hope and keeping them alive.
