#whumping the caretaker

[auroragehenna]

I think we spare our Caretakers too much from bystander trauma✨

If you capture your Caretakers alongside your Whumpees don‘t be shy. Give them the trauma from watching Whumpee get whumped! Make them suffer!!

Think of the possibilities!!

Guilt! Imposter Syndrome/pushing their own suffering down (how do they have the right to feel this bad after all they weren‘t hurt)! Do they become overly clingy toward Whumpee?! Paranoid?! Overprotective! Does Whumpee get what‘s going on!? Or do they get mad?! Confused?! Guilty?!

Just sheisbkd. Don‘t spare them✨✨

[short-form-whump]

The dull sound of crunching gravel beneath someone’s shoes can be heard from inside the long-since crashed car. The Caretaker takes raspy breaths as they lay in the driver’s seat, having floated in and out of consciousness for the last few hours, each time feeling like a gracious reprieve from the pain of their injuries. They barely register that their door opens beside them until the dim orange streetlight above them is eclipsed by the shadow of the person that opened it. The Caretaker looks up and sees the all-too-recognizable silhouette of the Whumper. The Whumper leans an arm against the car and looks inside the vehicle. They don’t find what they’re looking for and bang their fist and forearm against the totaled car in frustration. Their reaction elicits a small smile from the Caretaker. “Lost your luggage?” the Caretaker says. The Whumper rubs a hand over their face to find their composure before leaning down. The Caretaker smiles with their face bloodied all the way down to their teeth. “Or just your cool?” The Whumper grabs the Caretaker by the front of their neck, something that would have hurt on any day of the week but does even more so with the Caretaker’s injuries. The Whumper squeezes them roughly before letting them go. The Caretaker coughs painfully as they gather their breath again, taunting the Whumper when they finally can: “They’re miles away by now,” they say about the escaped Whumpee. “There’s no bringing them back.” The Whumper pauses for a moment before they grab the Caretaker again, this time by the front of their coat with their fists and yank them entirely out of the car. The Caretaker’s whole body screams out in pain as they hit the ground, and they hear the Whumper say as they get dragged away by their powerful grip: “Not unless there’s someone to come back for.”

[justbreakonme]

“Please… I’m so tired.”

“Then sleep. I’ll stand guard.”

“I thought you said it was safe here?”

“It is. But you don’t feel safe, do you?”

“…not yet.”

“Then I’ll stand guard, till you can.”

[whumporama]

Whumpee who is recovering after the whumpTM, but it's not going great. They're so frustrated with themselves, with their caretakers, just with everything. Everyone is so soft and understanding and it bothers them and they want to scream, but they know they should be grateful.

Until Caretaker comes along. Caretaker isn't 'nice' like the others, they don't take bullshit. They're good for Whumpee, but they don't baby them. They treat them like an adult with anatomy, and it's so refreshing for Whumpee.

"You want to stay up, fine. But you will tell me when you can't anymore, because if I have to drag you off the floor we're both in trouble. Understand?"

"Stop whining. What do you need?" (And then they get or do whatever it is without issues or judgement.)

"Want to tell me why you're doing worse today?" -- "No..." -- "Okay."

"Where does it hurt?" -- "It doesn-" -- "Don't give me that, I can see it hurts. Now tell me where."

Caretaker trusts Whumpee to know what they need, and lets them know again and again they won't take this nonsense of hiding their pain. They're practical, and kind, and Whumpee needed that.

[jordanstrophe]

Caretaker finds whumpee bound and gagged, unable to move and whimpering for their attention. Caretaker skids to their knees and pulls whumpee into their arms.

Whumpee, with their arms behind their back, can only press their face hard into caretaker's shoulder.

[delicatewhumps]

a whumpee who can’t move, it hurts too badly, and they just lie there moaning while caretaker tries desperately to comfort them.

bonus points if whumpee’s noises of pain are so weak, barely audible… leading caretaker to worry even more.

bonus bonus points if whumpee is using whatever molecule of strength they have left to feebly grasp caretaker’s sleeve / wrist / fingers.

[thinkingofausername]

I love when the whumpee has to reinvent themself. No, you will never be the past you again, they are permanently changed by the trauma, but that does not mean death. You just have to find you again. The people who care about you might mourn, you might as well, but getting to know each other again can be quite interesting.

[defire]

Whumpee that's never had genuine comfort before

(comfort stuff)

Caretaker trying to be gentle and whumpee freaks the fuck out--"what are you doing?!" With paranoid wide eyes

"I'm cleaning your wounds...." "Not like that you're not. Here, give me the needle."

Caretaker trying to comfort them--"fuck, you've had it rough" and reaching out for a hug and whumpee just stares at them

Whumpee trying to be "nice" to caretaker by slapping them on the back painfully hard and making boisterous vague remarks that are supposed to be compliments

Or, whumpee staring at caretaker wondering how to say "thank you" in a way that won't get them beaten up, like last time

Caretaker impulsively hugging or touching them out of kindness and whumpee flinches away and grabs the spot like it burns

"You've always taken care of your own wounds?" Caretaker says. Whumpee frowns, confused. "Who else is supposed to do them?"

"Look, I get that you're trying to be nice, caretaker, but I have it handled," whumpee trying to get themself across the kitchen by leaning on the counters.

"I do not need you. It's okay. I'm not a burden."

[the-bar-sinister]

Recovering whumpee completely vacant and dissociated while caretaker takes care of them. Staring off into space while caretaker washes their body and tends their wounds. Only barely responding when caretaker touches them soothingly.

[martyr-inthedark]

Make your Whumpee tired.

Whumpees that have been deprived of sleep by Whumper, so much so that they don't remember how to walk in a straight line and can't figure out whether the recent appearance of little black bugs in their cell are real or a hallucination.

Whumpees that can't get a full night's rest. They doze off, only to be jolted awake by their own anxiety of not knowing when Whumper would come back. Perhaps they are awakened by phlegm-coated coughs induced by their illness. They are awakened by nightmares, or by Caregiver who is worried they may succumb to hypothermia, or by a thunderstorm, or the rough blanket scratching their open wounds, or so on.

Whumpees who pull all nighters to protect their friends or lovers.

Whumpees whose eyes burn when they finally can close their eyes. Whumpees whose muscles twitch, who can't stop yawning no matter how hard they try to stifle it. Whumpees with dark, glassy eyes. Whumpees who are slow to react or have a hard time keeping up with the conversation. Whumpees with throbbing headaches. Whumpees with brain fog and memory loss.

Whumpees who have been on the run and have over exhausted their bodies. Their muscles and joints continue to scream long after its over. Whumpees with extensive blood loss. Whumpees who are malnourished.

Whumpees whose survivor's guilt keeps them awake, wondering what they might have done differently, whether it was all their fault, or why they were the ones to live.

Whumpees whose bodies are in chronic pain or illness and who have to hide it, causing muscle and mental fatigue. They keep going with a smile until they collapse or pass out.

Whumpees who break down in tears, begging to be left alone so they can rest. Whumpees who sob when they are told that the bed in front of them is theirs to use whenever they want.

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

We all know about magical fatigue as a whump trope for magical overuse. Now I raise you: Magical euphoria.

Magic that feels good to use. It leaves the user dizzy and lightheaded, a giddy energy rushing through their entire body. It's enough to leave the most stoic whumpee giggling madly, to make the most obedient soldier go rogue. It's a power that ultimately, inevitably, controls its user.

Mages aren’t trusted to act on their own. They can’t be, not when each spell costs them their sanity. Not when, in a daze of manic joy, they’re just as liable to destroy the enemy as their allies.

And so they need a handler.

Imagine Caretaker in this situation. Forced to watch Whumpee throw themselves into madness, to turn themselves into an unthinking weapon under the demand of some uncaring general. Having to put aside their affection for Whumpee as a person, and analyze them as a tool.

It’s Caretaker who decides when Whumpee is still fit for battle. It’s caretaker who has to look into their dazed and distant eyes, blood dripping into a too wide smile, and decide if Whumpee has anything else to give.

It’s Caretaker who decides when they’re too far gone, when Whumpee needs to stop. And if Whumpee can’t, it’s Caretaker’s job to make them stop. Even if that means using force, even if it means hurting them, because letting them run wild isn’t an option.

And when the battle’s over, when Whumpee is either led or dragged away to the medical wing, Caretaker’s the only one brave enough to tend to their injuries. They wrap bleeding, scorched fingers without a word, the only sound being Whumpee babbling, mad ramblings. Caretaker knows they won’t remember any of this. They still talk to Whumpee anyway, soft, comforting words they hope will bring Whumpee back faster.

And when whumpee’s eyes finally clear, when their body sags with exhaustion they’re just now able to feel, Caretaker feels nothing but grief, because it’ll start all over again tomorrow.

[doumidas-whumps]

tenderness

[short-form-whump]

The Caretaker has their head bowed as they kneel in front of the Whumper. From a few feet away from the raised porch where they stand, the battered Whumpee can only watch on helplessly. They witness as their friend holds their hands feebly out within view, their body quaking at each stifled bloody cough. Their ragged breaths come in quick succession as the Whumper stands before them, a pistol pointed at the Caretaker’s head. “Don’t do it. It’s me you want,” the Whumpee pleads. The Whumper turns their head slightly, but their aim remains affixed to the Caretaker. “I think you know me well enough by now,” the Whumper states. The Whumpee can’t help themselves. “Unfortunately, yeah.” The Caretaker, who would have normally smiled at this, can only focus on taking shaky breaths and remaining upright. “Original sin,” the Whumper says. “I once taught you about original sin, didn’t I?” The Whumpee takes a step forward. Without pause and as if the Whumper is their mirrored reflection, so do they. The gun is now inches from the Caretaker. The Whumpee stops in their tracks. “How we are all born carrying sin in our hearts. Not because of what we did, but because of what someone else did. And fair or not, it was all decided long before any of us got here.” The Caretaker nearly loses their battle with consciousness and tips forward. The Whumper deftly catches them with one arm, then turns and holds them against their chest facing the Whumpee. “Someone pays, my boy,” they say, now pressing the gun into the temple of the bloodied and ill Caretaker. The Whumper all but whispers: “And I don’t care who.”

[whumpercars]

you know what whump trope I love?

the same dialogue being used for both whumper and caretaker, but in very different contexts!

“This’ll hurt,” (Before being tortured / before taking off a Bandaid)

“Don’t move.” (While whumper restrains them / while caretaker brushes their hair)

“Quiet down.” (Whumper yelling at sobbing whumpee / caretaker gently shushing excited whumpee)

“They’re not coming for you.” (Whumper telling them no one will save them / Caretaker telling them no one will kidnap them)

“I’m only trying to help.” (Whumper pretending to take care of them / Caretaker actually taking care of them)

“You’ll never see them again.” (Whumper mocking them / Caretaker reassuring them)

[whumporama]

Caretaker has finally found Whumpee, but they're in a bad state. There is no time to take care of anything right now, and they have to move quietly to avoid being detected.

The whispered "can you walk?" and "lean on me" as Whumpee tries their best to be helpful, and Caretaker half-dragging them through the dark hallways. Whumpees injuries hurt them as they move, and they can't keep the sounds of pain in.

They hear someone coming, and Caretaker quickly pulls them to the side, hiding in a small closet. Whumpee squeezes their eyes closed as they fight the pain of the sudden movement, and Caretaker pushes their hand over Whumpees mouth, apologetic, but needing them to be quiet.

Whumpee leaning forward and dropping their head on Caretakers shoulder as they muffle their groans in their jacket.

Bonus points if Whumpee is usually stoic or closed-off, and Caretaker's heart breaking to see them like this.

[whumpy-bi]

Thinking about a rescuer/caretaker barging in and immediately softening when they see the state the victim is in—skittish, terrified, trying to get away from them.

The immediate softness and compassion of “No, no, I’m here to help.”