#bad caretaker whump

[another-whump-sideblog]

Hiya, how are you doing today?

1. "it's just a fucking [object of phobia/irrational fear], stop being so childish."l

2. caretaker has their own issues so whumpee's sometimes get swept under the rug

For the bad caretaker prompts, please and thank you!

Hi! My day’s been decent enough. I didn’t actually reblog the bad caretaker prompt list (you probably meant to send this to someone else lol), but I’ll do this anyway cause it’s fun and I always want prompts!

Caretaker has not slept in three days.

This, unfortunately, is not the first time, and it won't be the last. But it is the first time they've gotten this sleep-deprived since letting Whumpee move in.

Normally when things get this bad, Caretaker handles it on their own. They like handling it on their own, someone else helping just means needing to worry about making sure they feel like they're helpful on top of everything else. And they would be able to handle it on their own, if Whumpee could leave them alone for two goddamn seconds-

They had been getting a handle on managing full-time work and full-time school and their health and keeping their apartment clean and maintaining social connections and- that's it right? Yeah. They were getting a handle on it, they had a schedule that worked, they were fine, and then their sibling called them crying and begging for a place to stay after years of radio silence (they ghosted Caretaker, their own sibling, with no explanation whatsoever, who does that?) and how could they say no without feeling like a monster? They couldn't. So their schedule is all messed up, and sleep is always first on the chopping block when they need more time.

Something happened to Whumpee. Caretaker knows that. When they first picked up Whumpee they had to take them to the hospital instead of home like they planned because they were badly injured (which they should've mentioned in the phonecall). They have scars they didn't have before and they wake up screaming almost every night. And more than that, Caretaker sees how much quieter they are, how they sit statue still instead of fidgeting like they used to. Caretaker knows something happened, but it's really hard to care when they're freaking out over something like-

"It's just a fucking frying pan, stop being so childish! Why can't I even make some eggs without you freaking out?? Why does everything have to be about you!? I'm not going to hurt you! I've never hurt you! Stop treating me like I'm going to snap at any moment!"

Whumpee's pleading stops. They are so still and so quiet. Their eyes don't leave the frying pan.

Caretaker drops the frying pan and lets it clatter to the ground, making Whumpee flinch. "There are bigger problems in the world than fucking frying pans! I have a life, Whumpee! Fucking- stop it, I haven't done anything wrong!"

Whumpee's eyes are still on the fucking frying pan.

"Unbelievable. I've done so much for you, you don't get to treat me like some sort of monster!"

Whumpee stays still and silent and focused on the frying pan.

"Whatever. Come find me when you're ready to talk like an adult." Caretaker storms off to their room.

--

They wake up hours later. Fuck! They don't even remember going to sleep, and they're so behind on schoolwork-

But that'll have to wait. They groan into their pillow. Why did they say those things??

Whumpee isn't in the kitchen where Caretaker left them. Luckily, Caretaker knows their favorite hiding spots by now, and finds them huddled up in the coat closet.

Whumpee flinches when they open the door, then squeezes their eyes shut.

"Hey." Caretaker sits down next to them. "I'm not mad. I'm... sorry I flipped out earlier. Are you okay?"

Whumpee seems to think about their answer for a long time, then shrugs.

"It wasn't okay for me to say any of that stuff. I didn't mean it, I'm just- I just took a nap and that's the first time I've slept in three days, and I have so much stress right now- but that's not an excuse. Just- it wasn't really because of you. It was because of those things. And me not... handling them properly. So I'm really sorry."

Whumpee doesn't say anything.

"I just... I can't do this, Whumpee. I can't. I can't handle my job and school and myself and the apartment and you. I want to help. I love you so much, Whumpee, but I can't do this. I can't give up my sleep to comfort you after nightmares, I can't- I'm not kicking you out. I just... I need you to find someone else to go to. When I can't be there."

Whumpee nods. "...okay." Their voice is still too quiet, nothing like how they used to sound. "I understand. I'm sorry."

"No, no, you don't have anything to apologize for. It's... fine for you to freak out over small things. You can do that. I was- I got defensive- I felt like you were blaming me. But you weren't, I don't think, you were just... feeling scared. So you can feel scared or feel anything and I'll make sure to remember you can be scared or sad or anything and it doesn't mean you're blaming me just by feeling it. I just... can't always comfort you when that happens. When you freak out over small things. I need you to be able to comfort yourself or have someone to call."

"I wasn't blaming you." Whumpee confirms. "It honestly... has nothing to do with you, usually."

Caretaker laughs. "Right. Nothing to do with me."

"It'll be easier when I'm healed more. I can't do work or school for you, but I can help keep the apartment tidy."

"...yeah. That would be nice." Caretaker really doesn't want Whumpee to help them clean- Whumpee always does it wrong- but now doesn't seem like a good time for that discussion.

The two of them are quiet for a while, but neither of them get up to leave. They just sit with each other, hidden away in a coat closet. It doesn't take long for Caretaker to fall back asleep, and for Whumpee to drape some coats over them in a makeshift blanket.

[wh-wh-whu]

CW: abusive relationship (unspecified if platonic or romantic), stalking, no privacy, bad caretaker

Whumper used to watch and control every aspect of Whumpee’s life. Who they could talk to, which places they could go to, how they could spend their money…

Now Whumpee is free of them, but Caretaker is overprotective and wants to know everything they do. They let Whumpee use their credit card so they wouldn’t need to worry about money, but Whumpee knows they can see all their expenses. They want Whumpee to avoid dangerous places and want to be near whenever they talk to other people so Caretaker can interrupt them if they start asking invasive question or talk about possible triggering topics

Caretaker means well, but Whumpee grows terrified of how they seem to want to control their life, and thinks it’s only a matter of time before they start punishing them for not behaving exactly as they want

[whumpingandsmilinglikeanidiot]

Whumpee thinks Caretaker is their new master. Good trope, right? But check this out;

Caretaker doesn't notice.

Because the morning after the day they were rescued, all Whumpee did was get Caretaker a cup of coffee. It was only after then that Whumpee realized new master new rules, and Caretaker might not like coffee at all. So after an hour or so of a panic attack, Whumpee decides to stay put and not do anything.

But Caretaker didn't say anything about that coffee, so Whumpee should probably keep doing that?

And so, every morning, Caretaker gets a cup of coffee, says thank you, that's a nice gesture, and gets done with the day, while Whumpee tries to stay as quiet and unnoticed as possible. Not angering Caretaker is their top priority. Caretaker notices Whumpee is really, really quiet, but hey, they might just like it quiet. They do seem a little scared, but they've been putting off well, so Caretaker is positive that they'll get better with time.

Then Caretaker hears Whumper liked a cup of coffee every morning.

That's.. a strange coincidence.

I hope that's a coincidence.

And they finally try to talk to Whumpee about it, and Whumpee breaks into tears and Caretaker realizes what a mess this is,

[whump-place]

Whumper used to punish them for the smallest mistakes, and Whumpee bet that most of the punishments were made up as an excuse just to hurt them.

So when Whumpee is rescued, they are sure that they'll mess up and that Caretaker will punish them too, or even give them back to Whumper, and the only option available for them is apologize for everything.

If Caretaker as much as frowns a bit, Whumpee is already kneeling on the ground.

Everything starts to get worse when Caretaker explains them that that's not necessary; that's when Whumpee understands that apologize isn't enough.

How far is Whumpee willing to punish themselves to please Caretaker? And when will Caretaker realize that something is wrong with Whumpee?

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

whump fic where whumpee is being held captive by whumper and continually tries to escape to find where caretaker is being held so they can get out of here together, but as the story progresses it becomes more clear that whumpee is a victim of stockholm syndrome/brainwashing by "caretaker" and is actually being rehabilitated by "whumper" after being rescued, not kidnapped

[whumpshaped]

Could you make a pet whumpee that was trained to act, to obey, when they hear a *click*. And a Caretaker always and -by accident-, clicking a pen when he's stressed, making Whumpee comfused and scared.

tw pet whump, accidental bad caretaker, conditioning, past trauma

Click.

Click.

Click.

Whumpee perked up more and more each time, looking around for the source of the sound. It was Caretaker, but... they didn't seem to be paying any attention to them at all.

Click.

What did they want?

Click.

Whumpee was starting to tremble a little.

Click.

They didn't know what to do.

Click.

They whimpered despite themself, out of fear and frustration. They wished Caretaker had established what the clicks meant before they started clicking, like Whumper had done. Then they would've been able to just obey.

They froze when Caretaker stopped and looked up, realising their stupid voice had disturbed them. "I'm so sorry," they breathed. "I– I just don't know– I didn't know what it meant–"

"What?"

"The c-clicking, I didn't know, I couldn't figure out–"

Caretaker looked at the pen in their hand like it was a snake, and promptly threw it on the desk. "Fuck. Whumpee, I'm sorry. It doesn't mean anything. I'm so sorry, I keep clicking every pen I touch. Are you okay?"

"I, I am, I just need to know, I need to know for next time– Please, I just need to know–"

Caretaker pushed their chair back and rushed over, kneeling by Whumpee to give them a hug. "Shh, it's alright. It's alright. It doesn't mean anything. You don't have to do anything. I'm so sorry it stressed you out so much."

The tension slowly drained from Whumpee's body, and they allowed themself to melt into the embrace. "Does it... does it really not mean anything?" they choked out.

"It really doesn't. I promise. You're not a dog, Whumpee. You're not being trained."

[echoingalaxies]

Captured Whumpee overhears Whumper making a ransom call to their team, asking them for a certain price, and the team at the other end of the line starts negotiating, only offering ridiculously low sums.

The call ends with no agreement, only the team telling Whumper they'll "think about it" after Whumper announces their final offer.

Whumpee pulls their knees to their chest and hugs their legs tightly, trying not to cry.

They know the fact that their team didn't make a deal with Whumper isn't about money - they possess a lot of money, and could've easily paid what Whumper was asking for even at the very beginning. Whumpee could be on their way home already, and it wouldn't have affected the team financially all that much. They'd earn the money back with only a few missions.

It's about them, and that to their team, they're not worth it.

[abhainnwhump]

Whumper trained Whumpee to respond to hand signals. A snap means they fight whatever enemy they assign. Tapping three fingers together means they kneel. A raised hand means to go silent. If they don't respond, they get severely punished. Caretaker has a tendency to talk with their hands and accidently triggers Whumpee. They don't know the signal to return them to normal.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Thinking about winter sickfic again. Thinking about the concept of "they're getting worse" in a winter setting. Thinking about a whumpee with pneumonia deteriorating gradually as the weather worsens, and the caretaker worrying more and more, all the while they're in danger of being snowed in. Thinking about someone curled up in a mass of blankets on the couch in front of a fire, eyelids heavy but unable to sleep, counting how many times they cough or sniffle per minute and noting that the number is growing. Thinking about a snowstorm reaching its peak just as a whumpee is in the worst throws of pain or delirium, and how they begin to calm and their pain eases along with the weather. Thinking about -

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Fight

This is another dark one guys, it's dealing with suicide again, no one dies but if this topic triggers you, then you shouldn't read this one.

“Come on!” Hero shouted, “is that all you’ve got!? Hit me!”

Villain tilted their head, their dark energy-filled fist freezing mid-strike.

“Why are you taunting me?” they asked slowly.

“Why do you care!?” Hero demanded, “do it, you know you want to- I’ve been a pain in your side since they day we met! Or are you going soft?”

Villain’s eyes narrowed. They shot an energy beam right at them. Hero didn’t move. The beam hit them squarely in the chest, knocking them to the ground.

They didn’t even try to dodge, Villain thought.

“What was that?” Hero bit out, staggering to their feet, “I thought you were a villain, not a sissy!”

Hero and Villain stood there for far too long before Hero growled, throwing an ice beam at them. Villain easily side-stepped it.

They’re barely fighting back, Villain thought.

“Hero, stop.” Villain said.

“What, you don’t wanna fight me now?” Hero asked, “am I making it too easy for you? You don’t wanna kill me unless it’s when I’m at my prime, is that it? You’re sick. If you won’t fight me, I’ll find someone who will!”

Hero turned to leave, but Villain struck, pinning them to the ground with a blanket of dark energy.

“No.” they said, striding up to them.

Tears brimmed in Hero’s eyes.

“Do it,” they said quietly, “please.”

“You’re not well,” Villain said, lifting Hero into their arms, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve never wanted to kill you, and I’m not going to let you kill yourself either.”

Hero struggled in the cocoon of dark energy, writhing in Villain’s hold. The tears were falling freely now.

“Villain, please,” they begged, “please let me go, please don’t make me stay here any longer, I can’t do it-”

“You are stronger than this,” Villain snapped, “and you will get through this. You don’t get to quit.”

Hero opened their mouth to beg some more when they felt a pinch in their neck. A syringe coated in Villain’s power whizzed over their head and back into Villain’s pocket.

“No!” Hero shouted.

Villain began to walk back to their base, holding Hero tight. Hero continued to thrash around in their grip, until eventually their eyes fluttered shut, and their limbs fell still. Villain watched the steady rise and fall of their chest as though they might stop at any moment.

…

Hero stirred on a soft surface. Their eyes fluttered open, though their vision was too blurry to make out any surroundings. They had been wrapped in a plush blanket. Their vision started to clear, and they made out Villain’s figure, their arms folded across their chest, a concerned frown on their face.

Hero bolted upright in bed. They scrambled to untangle themselves from the bedding and stood up. The action sent a wave of dizziness through them but they somehow managed to steady themselves. They started to march right up to Villain when-

“Gah!”

Hero banged their head against a thick layer of glass. They put their palm up to it as if that would make it disappear, eyes going wide.

“What is this!?” Hero demanded.

“An intervention,” Villain replied coolly, “I went through a lot of trouble to make this cell a comfortable living space and not, well, a cell.”

Hero’s eyes darted around the cell wildly. The thick glass wall in front of them had a keypad only accessible from Villain’s side, and the other, stark white walls had been hastily decorated with things like a television, a shelf full of books, and a small intercom panel. There were cameras at all angles, and there was a doorway that led to a tiny bathroom.

“This is ridiculous,” Hero spat, “you thinking keeping me prisoner is going to give me a will to live? You’re crazy! If anything, this is just going to make it worse!”

Villain didn’t respond. They just stared at Hero, whose hands had clenched into fists at their sides.

“Let me out,” they said.

“I’ve contacted some of my colleagues,” Villain said, “one of them retired from villainy and is now pursuing what I’m told is a very fulfilling career in psychotherapy. You’ll be talking to them tomorrow.”

Hero stared slack-jawed at Villain.

“Now you’re telling all your friends about my problems!? I swear Villain, as soon as I get out of this I’ll-”

“You’re not getting out of this.” Villain said flatly.

Hero cursed loudly, tears brimming in their eyes.

“I don’t want to be here, don’t you get that!? I’m sick of all of this, I don’t want-”

“I don’t care what you want,” Villain said sharply, “I’m not going to lose you. I don’t care if you never speak to me again; as long as you’re still alive, I’ll be satisfied.”

Villain turned to leave, heading to the stairs. Hero slammed their fist into the glass.

“Villain! Get back here!”

Villain ignored them, going up the stairs and out of sight.

“This isn’t your call to make! Villain! Let me go!”

Hero screamed in frustration. They punched the wall with an icy fist that did nothing but make their knuckles throb. They looked around the cell for anything they could use to escape. There was nothing. In a final act of desperation, they formed an ice shard, intending to jam it into their chest, but just as the tip made contact with their skin, it melted.

Hero looked at their wrist, seeing a power-suppressing bracelet there. They sobbed in defeat, crumpling to the floor. They hugged themselves, letting out every guttural cry they had been holding in for the last month.

Upstairs, Villain watched the scene unfold through the security feed. As Hero wailed, Villain’s heart shattered. Looks like they were going soft after all.

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[the-broken-pen]

“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.

They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.

Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.

“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”

The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.

The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.

For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.

Shit.

They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…

They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.

It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.

The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.

The hero would be the death of them.

They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.

“What are you doing with this?”

The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.

“Wrapping my hands?”

The villain hissed in a breath.

“With electrical tape?”

The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.

“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”

The villain blinked at them.”

“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.

“Not if you wrap it right.”

Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.

“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.

Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.

“Bandaids move—“

The villain hushed them.

“Be quiet for a second.”

The hero, wisely, went quiet.

The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.

“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.

“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”

“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”

“I’m not destroying myself—“

“You are.”

“Shut up—“

“Hero.”

“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”

They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.

“Better than who?”

“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.

The villain watched them, waiting.

The hero took a shaky breath

“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”

The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.

The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.

“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.

“No. There isn’t.”

“Hero.”

“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.

“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.

“You don’t understand—“

The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.

They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.

“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”

“But I-“

“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”

The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.

The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.

For now, though, they had to take care of hero.

“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”

The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.

“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”

That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.

“Fine.”

The villain turned to them. “Okay?”

Are you going to be alright?

The hero seemed to understand.

“Okay,” the hero agreed.

Yes.

And so, it was.

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump Day 6: "You lied to me"

Content warning: hospital whump, (arguably) bad caretaker

“You lied to me.” 

Those were the words Caretaker was greeted with when they entered Whumpee’s hospital room. They looked small and sickly in their bed, medical equipment seeming to engulf their thin frame. A sickly blush covered their face, looking almost like a rash on irritated skin. Their eyes were still glassy, but far more alert than when Caretaker had last seen them. 

Caretaker hadn’t expected them to be awake yet. Let alone sitting upright in bed. Let alone glaring at Caretaker with so much venom that they nearly took a step back in shock.

:”Baby, what–”

“You said you’d never force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. You lied.”

“I–,” the denial died in Caretaker’s throat before it formed. Whumpee was right, technically. Caretaker had known they would refuse to go to the doctor. The only reason they’d gone before was because they’d been unconscious, and even then they’d demanded to be released as soon as possible. They would never willingly decide to go to the hospital.

Caretaker knew all that. And so when Whumpee, already struggling to recover from what they’d endured under Whumper, had fallen ill, Caretaker knew they’d never agree to see a doctor. 

And so Caretaker hadn’t bothered asking. 

It’d been easy to slip something into their food. They usually would’ve noticed it instantly, but illness had dulled their sharp mind and left them half delirious with fever. It’d been easy to bundle their limp, far too light body in a blanket and tuck them into the car. It’d been easy to ignore the look of betrayal in their half lidded eyes, and pretend their slurred objections were just incoherent mumblings. 

Some part of them had hoped Whumpee wouldn’t remember it. 

“I had no choice,” they said instead. 

“You had no choice?” Whumpee laughed, humorless and unpleasant. “You drugged me and dragged me to the hospital. Who forced you to do that?”

“I had to, Whumpee. You weren’t getting better. You were sick, and injuries from–...from before–,” Caretaker hesitated, stuttering. 

Whumpee did not. “From Whumper? You can say it. I’m not going to fall apart.”

Caretaker nodded, swallowing thickly. “You were already hurt, your body couldn’t handle illness alongside that. You may not remember but–,” the memory of the coughing fits that left Whumpee struggling to stay upright, the unfocused and cloudy eyes staring dully at nothing, the ever rising number on the thermometer, flashed through Caretaker’s mind. “--it was bad. I was worried you’d die. I just wanted to help you, and I knew you wouldn’t let me.”

“So it’s my fault now?,” Bitterness dripped from every word Whumpee spoke. They tried to lift themselves into a more upright position, arms shaking from the effort, and Caretaker had to resist the urge to rush over and help them. “It’s my fault I don’t get to make decisions for myself anymore?” 

“I never said that.”

“You think you just have a right. Because you ‘care about me’, you have the right to ignore every single thing I want. Because you’re smarter, because you know better.” 

“Just listen–”

“No, you listen,” the words came out in a growl. Whumpee’s hands gripped at the bedsheets, shaking. “Everyone’s always–always deciding shit for me! Treating me like I can’t be trusted anymore, like I’m some little kid who can’t think for themselves! Whumper thought the exact same thing, but it’s fine when you do it, right?!”

“Stop it.” the words came out more harshly than Caretaker had expected. Whumpee flinched back as if they’d been hit, falling silent. “Don’t compare me to them. I’m trying to help you, and you’re fighting me at every turn! We just got you back, and it’s like you’re trying to leave again,” the words spilled out of Caretaker, half angry, half pleading. “I’m not going to sit by and let you hurt yourself.”

The two fell into silence. For the briefest moment, a look of fear flash over Whumpee’s face. They shrank back, and in that instant the guilt Caretaker felt nearly sent them to their knees. Whumpee’s look of resentment returned only a moment later, but the anger that had fueled it seemed snuffed out. They wouldn’t look Caretaker in the eye. 

The beeping of Whumpee’s heart monitor, insistent and far too fast, felt like a condemnation in Caretaker’s ears. 

Caretaker let out a shuddering sigh, a hand coming up to rest in their hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Whumpee was silent for a long moment, not turning their gaze upward. When they finally spoke, their voice was quiet, drained of energy. “Just leave.”

“Please, just let me explain–,”

“Please. Don’t make me beg.” 

“I’m sorry.”

Whumpee didn’t respond. They didn’t look up when Caretaker left.

[pendarling]

Stalking Whump Prompts

Closing windows and doors only to find them opened again

Scattered messages and notes throughout their home, car, school and/or workplace

Hearing noises everywhere

Power turning off

Never feeling alone

Waking up in the middle of the night from fear

Stuff is being moved or rearranged

Whumpee taking a picture of objects to make sure they know they left it exactly as it was

Getting messages and phone calls from no one

Everybody calls Whumpee crazy

If Whumpee had a previous stalker that’s in jail or dead then they constantly visit them to make sure it’s not Whumper

Random scars and bruises in their body

Receiving a package or “gift” as Whumper calls it

Food being tampered with

Moving temporarily to a new home

Hiding their things and keeping secrets

Seeing shadows or strange movements in the corner of their eye

When someone Whumpee had been suspicious about mentions something they had kept to themselves

Whumpee wishes that it really is someone because at this point there’s never enough evidence

Losing their mind and accusing others like Caretaker of stalking

Eventually stalking Caretaker because they’re so certain it’s them

Constantly people watching when they’re outside in the hopes of figuring out who it might be

When Whumpee gets closer to the truth they receive warnings like property being destroyed or stolen

A Whumpee that is sleep deprived and hallucinates the experience

Whumper is present with Whumpee who claims there’s a third person stalking them and Whumper always has to do the reassuring (Whumper turned Caretaker)

~~~

MASTERLIST

[whump-place]

When Caretaker isn't a good person.

Well, in some ways they are. Whumpee has seen the way they care for them. And those restless nights where Caretaker stood besides them, comforting them and promising that everything would be fine.

But Whumpee knows.

Even if Caretaker tries to hide it.

Those weird noises coming from the basement, the scent of blood coming from Caretaker, some days filling the house.

Caretaker isn't a good person. But Whumpee is willing to ignore that if that means staying on the good side of Caretaker.

[letitbehurt]

Love a Caretaker who is technically awful, and about to do something undeniably illegal or amoral, but comes across an injured Whumpee instead.

Maybe Whumpee’s just run from a fight they couldn’t win and they’re bleeding out, hardly able to stand up on their own, and Caretaker is a lot of things but they’re not a monster, they won’t just leave Whumpee there to die. But they will be complaining about how heavy Whumpee is all the way to the hospital.

[a-crumb-of-whump]

Content: Starvation, dehydration, social isolation, mentioned beatings, betrayal, bad caretaker, implied captivity.

"You knew what I was going through and did nothing."

Caretaker practically fell to their knees following their confession, tears welling in their eyes as they wrapped their arms around Whumpee's legs. "I'm so sorry. I let them manipulate me into thinking it was what was best for you. I- I realise now, that it wasn't."

Their heart just about shattered when Whumpee gently pushed them away again. "But... I was beaten. I was starved and dehydrated and locked in a dark room for weeks. How could you-" They cut themself off as their voice broke. "How could you, even for a second, think that was best for me?"