#therapist whumpee

[whumpwordsoftheday]

“I guess…I’m just scared of ending up like my dad, someone who doesn’t really care about anyone else. And I feel like if I don’t reblog all those posts about important issues, it’ll make me a bad person”

“I don’t think that makes you a bad person. But um having me locked inside your basement kind of does.”

“…ok well that’s different, it’s self care.”

[another-whump-sideblog]

“Why don’t you talk to Caretaker about it? I’m sure they didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“If I went and talked about it every time someone hurt my feelings that’s all I’d ever talk about.”

“…what do you mean by that?”

[lumpywhump]

tw: selfharm

when whumpee knows only one way to stall their feelings.... when whumpee doesn't want caretaker to see them.... so they purposely find places that caretaker would never see. If caretaker sees, then they'd be sad.... whumpee can't let them be sad because of whumpee.... not when they own them so much

[runredrabb1t]

Love me some good old fashioned psychological whump.

Defiant whumpee expecting and being ready/ used to violence but instead being met with the punishment of solitary confinement.

After a day or two, or maybe weeks, they finally crack, they break down. Sobbing, begging, pleading.

Scratching and banging at the door.

Screams of “let me out!” Turn into sobs of “I’m sorry” and “I’ll be good”

When Whumper opens the door, whumpee is huddled in a corner, both physical and mental exhaustion written all over them.

Whumpee looks up, tears welling up “I’m sorry”

Whumper “I’m glad to see you’ve learned”

Now any threats of solitary confinement are met with complete obedience from whumpee

————————————————————————

Why is it so appealing ?

Why whump gotta be like daydreaming crack ?

[a-living-canvas]

Based on my experience(not cool) :)

A Tethered Scream

"And then he what?"

Whumpee cleared their throat.

"And then he…he whipped me..on the back…many, many times…" Whumpee told the therapist. Tears welled up in their eyes.

"It was…so bad. It's painful, it's—"

"Don't you think you are overreacting?"

…What?

Whumpee blinked their tears away, looking at the therapist in disbelief. "Why would you say that…?"

The therapist scoffed. He wrote something in his notepad, or just doodling on it. "My father used to beat me up everyday. It's not that bad."

...

Silence enveloped them for a moment as Whumpee processed the therapist's words.

"But—"

"Bad things happened to everyone. Everyone. Not just you. Get over it."

Whumpee clenched their teeth, feeling invalidated. They felt a lot worse now rather than before they entered the room. They looked down, not daring to fight the therapist.

"Listen, I'm not trying to blame you but-"

He pushed the box of tissues towards Whumpee. "Maybe you should be more positive. There must be a reason for what happened to you…happened. You can't blame it on your kidnapper, he's just doing his work."

Whumpee scowled at that. "So it's okay for him to torture me??"

"It's a part of the lesson, Whumpee. Life is all about learning."

The therapist wrote something again, his expression calm. When he looked up at Whumpee, they could tell that he thought Whumpee was being silly. Ridiculous.

"That's all for today."

Whumpee sighed, standing up from the chair and walked to the door. "Thank you for your time."

~

@nothing-but-glitter-and-lashes @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @failgiao891 @jennyyy007 @valravnthefrenchie @heyyitsworld @risk606 @possumhoe @theforeverdyingperson

@electrons2006♡

[whump-softie]

TW: gaslighting, negative therapy (if that makes sense)

Whumpee forced to be in therapy, while still under Whumper’s thumb.

The idea that therapy can be used as a fear tactic is very real. The therapist may be neutral, but Whumpee will never truly know what they can or can’t say to them. What is off limits? What will find its way back to Whumper?

Or, a therapist that is genuinely trying to free Whumpee, but for reasons beyond their control, cannot do anything against Whumper. So they try their best to instill a sense of self-worth and self-confidence into Whumpee, willing their patient to stand up for themselves and earn their freedom.

Or… therapist who is on Whumper’s side, slowly plying Whumpee into someone more to Whumper’s taste. Invisibly pulling strings behind the curtain, with the words they do or don’t say, to further keep Whumpee in this headspace.

Just therapy in whump. Love it. Fear it.

[distinctlywhumpthing]

In League – Hugh

Masterlist

Late-19th century whump. A little backstory that popped into my head. This is probably a year and a half before Hugh helps hold August down for first aid.

The first time Wyatt lays eyes on him, he almost dismisses it as a trick of the light. 

It’s pissing down. A rainfall so unrelenting, it hits the ground twice. He’s only lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the boy because Theo’s word has sent him looking down every alley and around every corner. A week and no sightings have him questioning Theo’s reason but not the continued search. 

“This one looks like he’s never known warmth.” 

Theo’s words have been running through his mind since he heard them. Some misguided hope pushing him to prove Theo was laying it on too thick. 

Between a stack of crates and sacks of rubbish, a flash of pale skin and a sharp elbow. An even sharper chin when the boy turns, sensing himself observed, and he’s gone. 

Wyatt rushes down the alley after him, cobblestones slick underfoot. He bursts onto the street, skidding to a halt to squint through the rain but there’s no sign of the boy. 

It’s another fortnight before Wyatt sees him again. 

He starts to wonder if the boy caught his death, coatless on the streets in a late-October rain that fell without pause into November. The thought doesn’t stop him checking all the nooks and crannies everywhere he goes. 

The boy has his back pressed against a shed in the alley beside a bakery. A lamp illuminates the mouth of the alley. One step closer and his shadow will be the alarm that sends the boy running. With a few yard’s head start, there’s no hope of catching him this time either. Wyatt stays where he is. A full five minutes he waits, afraid to even reach up to ash his cigarette, the boy just as still. Hiding but to what end? He’s looking away so there’s no telling where his focus is. Still wearing the same short-sleeved undershirt, no jacket or coat to speak of. He’s rail thin and visibly shivering.  

When the boy finally turns, he stiffens immediately, tension visible in the wiry muscles of his forearm. His unkempt hair is a dark curtain over his profile but as he pauses, a short huff of breath is visible in the winter air. The vapour hasn’t even dissipated before he slips down the throat of the alley and lets the city swallow him.  

Wyatt doesn’t stop the third time. 

The boy is tucked behind a stack of empty barrels behind a pub, legs folded up against his chest. In the few strides it takes Wyatt to walk by, the boy passes something between his thin fingers, carefully setting it down with a few other objects collected at his feet. He doesn’t look up and Wyatt lets himself get too optimistic. 

Needless to say, he’s gone an hour later.

Wyatt sighs, hand carrying a small jug of milk and a pasty falling to his side. Perhaps it would have been better to try to speak to him, empty words or not. 

He gives the closest barrel a half-hearted kick of frustration and something clinks against the cobblestones. Wyatt stoops, ducking into the alcove and marveling at how the boy managed to fit in such a space. He finds a pristine-white seashell and a tiny bell the size of his fingertip. It’s a cheap thing, crudely hammered into the small shape, gold paint on the tin scratched and chipped. Twisting his arm at angles he would not normally volunteer, Wyatt discovers the rest of the hidden cache. 

He leaves it undisturbed, replacing the felled treasures and his optimism with them. Wyatt tucks the bottle of milk and the wrapped pie in the niche. He hurries off, lest the boy find him lurking and stay away all the longer.   

The next day, Wyatt returns to a bottle full and the food uneaten. Untouched would be a better term, as though the boy has marked it forbidden even to the vermin. Wyatt already knows the collection will be gone but he checks anyway. He could laugh, save the fact that the task of finding the boy has been stalking him as much as the other way around. Every time he steps out, any time he can’t sleep. Just another loop around the block, a quick check down a quiet lane, a diversion down the East side of the river. 

Theo tells him to throw the towel in. “Maybe he doesn’t want to be found.” 

He doubles down. 

Now he’s looking for something in particular. He catches sight of him a handful of times in the coming weeks. Never in the same place twice, never longer than flash. 

It takes weeks. 

But the city isn’t as infinite as it seems. The perfect stage is inevitable. 

In the quietest hour before dawn, Wyatt does his usual rounds. He makes a habit of checking in on the boys who work the night shift before their replacements arrive. After a smoke with Tom on the bridge, Wyatt weaves his way behind a block of riverside houses, moss-covered garden walls stretching along one side. The smoke rises from the chimneys in thin whisps, hearths waiting to be reawakened after the home’s inhabitants. He passes the same hound as always, sleeping on the back step of the last house. 

He’s about to turn left at a dead end when he sees him. Sitting up on the wall, one foot swinging and the other knee pulled to his chest. The boy’s head snaps up, leg lifting in the same motion like he’s on a marionette string, moving to drop to the other side of the wall. 

“Wait,” Wyatt calls, gentling his voice. 

Even in the soft light, Wyatt can see his eyes narrow, but for some reason he pauses. 

Wyatt pulls one of Midge’s hand pies out of his pocket, wrapped in paper and tied with kitchen twine, something he’s never without these days. The boy can surely see it but Wyatt lifts it to show him anyway, then places it on the ground and takes a few steps away. 

The boy is not impressed. 

But the dog from the last house is. It rises from the ground, lifting its nose to smell the air. Not quite brave or hungry enough to skirt in front of Wyatt for the prize, but locked onto the scent. 

Wyatt takes another step away, in the direction of his turn, leaving a straight path between the dog and the pie, the boy watching scrupulously from the wall. 

The hound takes a hesitant step forward. 

Seeing Wyatt’s end, the boy curls his hands into fists. He glares daggers at Wyatt, not even bothering to watch the dog continue its advance. 

Wyatt is hard-pressed to hide his smirk, wondering if the huffed growl came from the hound or the boy. He scarcely breathes as he watches the standoff, thrilled with his gamble. No matter the end, he’ll learn something about this scrappy street shadow. Whether he likes it or not.

At the last second, the boy springs off the wall, snatching the little parcel from close enough to be bitten. But the hound only sits, hopeful for a morsel as he watches the boy bound over the wall, pausing only to throw a last bitter look at Wyatt before he disappears. 

Next

@whumpy-writings @deluxewhump @no-whump-on-main @maracujatangerine @painsandconfusion

@wolfeyedwitch @briars7 @gala1981 @redwingedwhump @whumpflash

@poeticagony-blog @annablogsposts @fleur-alise @melancholy-in-the-morning @crystalquartzwhump

@magziemakeswhatever @neverthelass @cakeinthevoid @inkstainsonmyhands12 @morning-star-whump

[whumpasaurus101]

“It’s alright,” Villain whispered against Hero’s ear, ensuring SuperVillain couldn’t hear, “I know you’re hurting, you don’t have to be strong for me.”

[what-if-i-just-did]

Bubble Water Whump

(tw for autistics being forced to do something they're averse to and a conditioned whumpee, very brief mentions of sensory depravation, unconsensual haircuts, and vampire whumpees and also there's a description of begging)

an autistic whumpee who really really has a texture thing being forced to only drink bubble water, and if their whumper catches them drinking water from the taps/shower, no amount of pleading or begging will stop them from using that one thing that scares them most (sensory depravation, hair cut off, the sun for vampire whumpees, etc). When they wake up in the hospital, they're given normal water- and miliseconds after drinking it, they're sobbing, in position and begging, they didn't know, they didn't know, please don't punish them it wasn't on purpous please!

[knightoflove]

Personally I’m a big fan of both Whump and angst. Put those characters in that jar of terrible, heartbreaking situations and shake them violently. See what happens. Make them cry.

[whumpwordsoftheday]

“I can’t believe whumper would ever do this to anyone. They seemed so normal”

“Yeah, that was just a front. I remember they would spend hours beating me up and telling me about all the things their coworkers did that made them mad. Sorry, what was your name again?”

“Oh, it’s Tracy”

“You’re that jerk who stole everyone’s good pens!”

[bedtimescenarios]

Whumpee's therapist secretly working with Whumper.

Once they escaped, Whumpee worked so hard to get better, with their therapist being a vital part of their recovery. But once Whumpee and Whumper reunite--inevitable, really--they delve just a bit too much into Whumpee's psyche. Whumper seems to know everything: their coping mechanisms, the nature of their nightmares, the scars they were left most insecure about.

And they casually reveal a painfully familiar beige notebook. The one Whumpee's therapist used to write on.

The worst part? They quickly realize that Whumper didn't take it by force. The therapist hadn't included any other patients in the notebook, and the information had been neatly sectioned, with allocated space for further observations from Whumper.

The one person they finally trusted to mend them had been hired to aid Whumper in tearing them apart again.

[a-living-canvas]

A Body of Water

"...I don't remember much about it…yeah, she told me that…so scared…several times…"

Huh…?

"And there's this one time…pestering me all the time…I nearly killed…I don't want to remember…she was being so nice about it…"

What's happening…? Why am I telling this to Whumper…?

"Go on, Whumpee."

Whumper said softly, squeezing Whumpee's shoulder. They couldn't see much. It's all blurry and dark and drowsy. And there's Whumper, there will always be Whumper. 

"She told me it's okay to be scared…she will help…"

I can't control myself…!

"Help you with what?"

Whumper asked. Gentle voice coaxing them slowly to spill more secrets. More dark and hidden desires. "Help…she won't tell anyone but in return I needed…I needed to…"

No! No! Don't tell him!

"It's okay, you are okay. You are safe. You can tell me everything you want."

Whumpee sighed softly. Their mouths betrayed their minds. "I need to…give her anything she wants…"

Whumper hummed, stroking Whumpee's hair gently. His voice was laced with amusement. "And what did she want from you?"

A pause.

"...Me. My body…"

Whumper chuckled, satisfied that he finally got what he wanted. "There, there. Feels so much better now, right?"

"Yeah…" Whumpee couldn't deny it. It did feel like a huge weight on their shoulders were being lifted off.

"Go to sleep, pet. I will be here, waiting for you. Now, shh…go to the dreamland."

Whumpee obeyed, closing their eyes as they drifted off to slumber. All that talking made them feel exhausted. Whumper still watching them, smirking softly. "Ah, Whumpee. Can't wait to hear another secret from you in our next session."

~

@nothing-but-glitter-and-lashes @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @risk606 @heyyitsworld @htavin87 @jennyyy007 @electrons2006 @theforeverdyingperson

[thewhumpcaretaker]

♡ Caretaker Roles ♡

I'd love to see more diverse roles among whump Caretakers, since they can truly be anyone who is in a position to help whumpee, physically or emotionally. So I made a list of potential roles Caretaker could have in relation to whumpee:

Friend

Sibling

Parent/Guardian

Other Family Member

Lover

Friend with Benefits

Dom

Sub

Mentor

Doctor

Therapist

Physical Therapist

Spiritual Leader

Live-in Caregiver

Rehab Worker

Social Worker

Group Therapy Co-Member

Coworker

Manager

Handler

Bodyguard

Guardian Angel

Genie

Demon with a Pact to Protect Whumpee

Blood Source for a Vampire Whumpee

Servant/Butler/Maid

Chauffeur

Defense Lawyer

Masseuse

Coach/Trainer

Member of a Resistance Movement

Captor Turned Caretaker

Total Stranger/Bystander

[bilightningwhumper]

I'm planning on doing this myself, but it's too good an idea not to share (and I know it's been done in a few books/stories I've read, but I can't remember which ones):

Basically, a whumpee who journals. Maybe it was started by a therapist or someone else suggesting it to them. Or by them finding a pencil and paper during captivity and just deciding to write down their thoughts. But each entry is their unfiltered feelings and thoughts and hopes and dreams. Meticulously hidden from their whumper or written after they're free.

Imagine caretaker for some reason reading some of the entries (either by accident or with permission). How the ones they see "aren't that bad" according to whumpee but breaks the caretaker's heart.

How some entries become less and less defiant and more conditioned or defeated, depending on the whumpee.

Just, whumpees who journal. It doesn't happen enough, imo.

[whumpyreader]

Whump Intro and Masterlist

All you need to know about me:

I'm genuinely so excited to support you, see you, and cheer you on but keep in mind I'm not a people-pleaser. If I comment or like something, it's because I genuinely LIKE it!

I'm an adult

I detest the publishing world

I support indie authors

I have a masterlist Masterlist of all my stories

You can support me on Ko-fi here

I'm self-proclaiming to be the community's friendly therapist and believe in connection <3

I also wanted to add why I love female and male whumpees (because I think it's important): ever since patriarchy became a thing, women became forgotten. Their skills were forgotten, they weren't allowed to develop the skills they wanted, and suddenly society gave rise to these macho men that thought they were these amazing protectors. It's all a bunch of bullshit and whump is a beautiful way to not only even out the playing field but also explore new identities. Females in whump have these amazing back stories, grit to survive, badassery, and can be taken care of in deep, profound ways rather than being forgotten. And males can now be emotional, scared, weak, and need help in ways that aren't macho. Same with disabilities, sexual orientation, skin color, and more. As I have explored these "new" identities in whump (reading and writing) I have better been able to treat people for who they truly are in real life AND I see the bullshit all the more.

I have so many favorite authors here. Here is a list of the legends:

@deluxewhump, @whumpty-dumpty, @little-peril-stories, @galaxywhump, @squishablesunbeam, @hold-him-down, @peachy-panic, @whumpflash, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @whumpwillow, @writereleaserepeat, @secretwhumplair