I'm a fan of double-meanings in whump dialogue--especially if the phrase can be said by caretaker and whumper.
"Put down the gun." - caretaker soothing a defensive living weapon whumpee / whumper thwarting caretaker's rescue attempt
"Shhhh." - a parent caretaker consoling a young whumpee after nightmares / whumper gagging a crying whumpee
"Oh my god, you're bleeding!" - caretaker upon discovering a stoic whumpee's hidden wounds / a sadistic whumper mocking whumpee after a brutal torture session
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KW: toxic caretaker, carewhumper, comfort, post rescue
“This is what you wanted,” Carewhumper whispered, holding Whumpee in their lap, allowing Whumpee to rest their head in the crook of their neck, allowing Whumpee to cling to the material of their shirt with shaking hands.
Whumpee couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. They’ve craved this, ached for this; they didn’t think they would ever have this again; they were sure they didn’t deserve it.
Carewhumper’s hands felt so so good against the bare skin of Whumpee’s back. One hand was slowly sliding up and down in a gentle caress, the other hand banded around Whumpee’s waist, pulling them further into Carewhumper’s chest.
Whumpee was scared; they didn’t want Carewhumper to stop, to realise how dirty and disgusting Whumpee really is.
“Does it make it better?” Carewhumper asked.
“Y..yes…” Whumpee replied in a small voice.
“Good.” Carewhumper’s hand stilled, and Whumpee had to force down the whimper clawing up their throat.
“What will you give me in return, Whumpee?” Carewhumper’s voice darkened, and their grip on Whumpee turned bruising.
“An..any..anything.” Whumpee stuttered. “I’ll do..do anything yo…you want.” Whumpee was speaking so fast, they were tripping over their own words.
“I’ll have to think about it.” Carewhumper’s grip on Whumpee only loosened slightly.
They started stroking Whumpee’s back again. Whumpee was so relieved. They didn’t care about what they would need to do. When they were with Whumper, they had to do lots of really horrible things, and Whumper never gave them anything in return.
“You can go to sleep now, Whumpee,” Carewhumper said, “I won’t let you go, I promise.”
And Whumpee was tired; they hadn’t slept more than a few hours at a time without the nightmares waking them up, and they were always so cold. But here in Carewhumper’s arms, they felt warm; they were sure that no nightmare could reach them now. Whumpee tried to absorb the feeling, but their eyes were growing heavy. They could’ve sworn they heard Carewhumper say something, but they allowed the darkness to pull them under and for the first time since Carewhumper saved them, they weren’t scared of it.
[I might continue writing on this one, there's just so many possibilities of where this could go...]
ofc I write a captivity scene and the immediate next scene my brain provides me in great detail is the last scene of captivity into the rescue. Of course that’s what I’m day dreaming about now. And this shit is strong too. Like. I opened YouTube and my brain was like “actually no. I wanna stare at the wall and vividly hallucinate The Search”
you know the story is going hard when your other addictions don’t hit as hard
Saying yes before they even completely take in the question. Saying yes even though they absolutely don't want to.
"Are you sure you want that?" "Yes." "It's okay if you don't." "No, I really do." While deep down they don't. Caretaker can kind of sense it, but Whumpee just won't budge no matter how many opportunities they are given to take back their yes.
Monitoring the emotions and reactions from people around them to predict what they want from them so they can just automatically do that thing.
Only being able to confidently belief something when they get outside validation that it's okay to believe that thing.
Tensing up when someone comes in the room, subtly adjusting their body language to fit what they think is desired. Maybe they sit up straight, stop fidgeting, fix their tired face, smile. Whatever was drilled into them during the whump.
Always aware of other people's eyes on them and always feeling perceived. Maybe even when they're all alone.
Feeling like they are not completely in their body when the conditioned behavior kicks in. Watching themselves perform the conditioned behavior and feeling like they aren't in control. A soft voice in the back of their head is alerting them that this isn't really what they think and want, but it's so muffled and far away that they hardly register it.
Dissociating during the conditioned behavior and still feeling out of it a few hours after. Then a headache kicks in that they hadn't noticed but that had probably been there the whole time.
Being conditioned not to pay attention to their body in general and not noticing their own limits.
Doing the conditioned behavior, giving into something, saying yes to something, and only realizing afterwards that wasn't what they wanted. Genuinely believing they actually acted from their true self in the moment.
Having a very fragile sense of self. Being confused about who they are. Panicking about small decisions.
Having their beliefs and feelings switch based on the people they are with, like they are an emotional chameleon. Never knowing when an opinion is truly theirs.
Telling themselves over and over again that they are not gonna do the conditioned behavior but when a trigger comes they are doing the behavior before they even notice.
Making small progress in not doing the conditioned behavior but falling back into it when they are stressed.
Falling back in the conditioned behavior when they meet someone who outwardly looks like Whumper, even though they treat them completely different.
Having a harder time letting go of the conditioned behavior around certain people and genuinely not knowing why. Picking up subtle clues from the person's demeaner that make Whumpee feel like it's safer to do the conditioned behavior. They could be accurately perceiving something subtle or they could be completely wrong about the person.
Being able to not do the conditioned behavior if they internally prepare themselves. But when a trigger comes up unexpectedly they automatically fall back into it.
Not doing the conditioned behavior and their heart immediately starts racing. They get a little dizzy and their brain goes foggy. They try to act normal, but they feel like everyone notices.
Not being able to express spontaneous emotions.
Feeling ashamed when they recover a bit and some of their conditioning falls off.
Internally panicking when someone outright tells them what to do because they already feel so powerless. Having moments where they swing the other way and actually become extremely stubborn and uncooperative.
Feeling disconnected from the people around them because the conditioning is so ingrained that that's just who other people think Whumpee is. Maybe it's even who Whumpee think they are. But deep down it feels like nobody really knows them.
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Whumper becoming so so nice to Whumpee once they’re broken in—apologizing for their previous behavior/actions, even. They really are so sorry for having been so rough on Whumpee at first. Isn’t it so much nicer when Whumpee is compliant? If they hadn’t been so oppositional, things could have been like this from the beginning!
Whumper forcefully grabbed Whumpee’s jaw, tipping the clear liquid into Whumpee’s mouth. Whumpee struggled, trying their best to get out of Whumper’s hold, but Whumpee was kneeling and weak and so so tired, and Whumper was standing over them and stronger, always stronger and always more powerful.
Whumper looked down into Whumpee’s eyes, revelling in the tears streaming down their cheeks. “You always make it harder than it needs to be, Whumpee."
Whumper let go of Whumpee, who dropped to the floor. Whumpee's whole body was wrapped in imprints of their last beating; they were in so much pain, it made it hard to breathe. Whumper put the empty glass on a table.
The effects of whatever Whumper forced down Whumpee's throat were immediate, just a slight feeling of fog crawling over Whumpee’s skin, everything slowing just a little bit.
“If you were good, I wouldn’t have to do this."
Whumpee scoffed. They knew it would probably result in a harder punishment after the exhibit, but they had to laugh. They were not submitting without a fight; they never have, especially not if it meant going onto that god-forsaken pedestal in front of all those people. People who would look at them and only see what Whumper has turned them into.
They would call it art, and criticise the colour of their bruises, the shape of the lashing marks covering their back. They would praise Whumper, ask them questions afterwards, about their technique, about their style.
Whumper turned towards Whumpee; they were even angrier now. Whumpee started to shuffle backwards on the floor; they hated themselves for the visceral reaction their body had whenever Whumper looked at them like that. It made them sick, and it allowed Whumpee to scrape together whatever rage the drugs weren't already flushing from their system, just enough to whisper a soft fuck you to the approaching Whumper.
Whumpee knew that their defiance gave them no real power. Whumper was smart, and so so cruel; the sedative would work, maybe in a few minutes, but the result would be the same. Whumpee would be completely at Whumper's mercy. Whumper smugly moved towards Whumpee; they enjoyed it when Whumpee talked back, it made the lessons they had to learn so much more profound. Whumpee tried to get away, but Whumper was faster, and the drug was really starting to do its job. Whumper knelt in front of Whumpee; they had something in their hands...
A leash.
Before Whumpee could even think to pull away, it was already clipped onto the permanent collar they were forced to wear around their neck. Whumper was speaking, but the words held no meaning; it was only noise. Whumper pulled on the leash, and Whumpee had no choice but to move with them. Their legs weren't working fast enough to keep up; they stumbled, but Whumper didn't care; they probably even enjoyed it a little. The collar pushed into Whumpee’s throat, forcing their breathing to become ragged.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you for your pleasure, exhibit 128, by one of our best artists: Whumper.”
Whumper pushed Whumpee into the exhibition room, onto the pedestal. Whumpee fell on the marble block with a loud thud. A hazy mix of laughter and chatter crashed into Whumpee. Whumpee tried to push themselves up, but their arms felt like heavy weights they weren’t strong enough to pick up. They weren't completely sure what was happening around them anymore. Everything was so loud and so far away at the same time.
Shame and embarrassment were folding themselves into Whumpee's chest; they were drugged, but they were still on display, still watched and appraised like an object. Whumpee felt their clothes being stripped from their body; they tried to push away Whumper's hands, but it was only met with more laughter, and the next grip on their skin was going to leave even more bruises. Whumpee couldn't stop feeling the audience's eyes burning into their skin. They tried to look away, but Whumper was there to stop them. Whumper bent down to whisper in Whumpee's ear, "This is what you were made for, Whumpee, nothing more, nothing less. And we will keep doing this until you believe it too."
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I love it when a post-whump recovery arc is fluffy but realistic. Like, it's cosy and the whumpee has a gentle support system, but that doesn't stop them from exhibiting the messy and unpalatable symptoms of their trauma. That's my favourite style of recovery arc
Whumpee's eyes slowly squint open. They feel restrained, something strong is wrapped around their arms and front. They hear quiet crying coming from above.
It takes a moment for them to realize they're in caretakers lap and bundle in their arms, being squeezed and held with love and care.
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Whumpee is the opposite of stoic. Flinches at every threat, screams and sobs when hurt. Shakes with fear or pain, cries themselves into an exhausted sleep in the aftermath. They don't dare fight or talk back, only whimper. And yet, they do not give whumper what they want. They swear to themselves that they never will.
Whumpee just slumped on their knees, sobbing in Whumpers basement. They’d been numb for so long but some random memory had triggered a rush of grief so strong that they couldn’t hold back any longer.
Maybe it was the realization that they were never going to see that random coworker that complimented their shirt (now ripped and covered in blood). Realizing yes, they’d probably never see anyone they knew, close or not, ever again.
Maybe it was coming across the gum wrapper left in their pocket, realizing they missed so badly something so small. They’d used to keep a pack of gum on them always. The tiniest things stung the worst.
Maybe it was realizing they’d probably missed some important milestone. They couldn’t be sure how many days had passed but they’re pretty sure they’d missed Christmas. Someone’s birthday. A wedding. A funeral.
Little details attacking when they were least expecting them.
h/c queen @whumpscreamqueen - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
