#decondition

[shimmyshimmyyaa-blog]

A Mortal Heroine - An Ode to Ani

A Mortal Heroine – An Ode to Ani

Where do I begin? She turned the question over in her mind, caressing it, provoking it – fearing its weight, its depth – the callousness of the beginning, summoning her. Before long the anxiety set in, petrification – her breathing shallow, rapid, the choking kind. She could almost see the shadow of his presence, taste the foreign object jammed down her throat and feel the torrent of salty…

[justbreakonme]

Signs of Change

Whumpee didn’t like it, when the seasons started to change. It still made him uneasy, knowing just how cold the nights could get and just how precarious his position could be. He was only safe as long as he was good, and the outdoors had no mercy.

But Caretaker did.

“Hey, Whumpee, why don’t you come in here? It’s warmer, since the stove’s going.” Caretaker’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he obeyed.

When he rounded the corner into the kitchen, the warmth enveloped him immediately. There was a large, silver soup pot boiling away on the stove, and the smell of onion and garlic and herbs and all sorts of things instantly made his mouth water.

“It needs to simmer for a bit longer, I think. Do you want to come sit with me?”

Whumpee nodded, and took a seat where he always did, across from Caretaker at the old wooden table.

“Not a talking day, huh?”

He shook his head, rubbing a fist in a circle over his chest.

Sorry.

“It’s fine, you’re good. I just like to check-in so I know.”

Whumpee couldn’t ever explain why sometimes words just, failed him. But, after his old owner, after being silent for so long, he sometimes felt…stuck.

“Do you feel like playing cards? I think we have enough time for a round of war…”

Whumpee nodded, dutifully turning to grab the cards from the little shelf in the corner. He liked cards. War was the first game they had played together, back when he’d first been bought rescued.

Caretaker had made it very clear that he wasn’t owned, anymore.

But he hoped maybe, maybe if he was really, really good, he could be. He had tried, once, to ask what he could do, if anything, to earn being owned again, but, the words had died in his mouth and he’d gone silent for days.

He understood why they didn’t want to own him, he wasn’t really worth very much. But, sometimes, he let himself believe that between him trying his very hardest and Caretakers inexplicable mercy, there might be a chance. Someday.

Caretaker handed him a stack of cards, and he brought the tips of his fingers to his chin, hand open and palm towards himself, then moved his hand out in front of him, almost in a swinging motion.

Thank you.

“You’re welcome.” Caretaker smiles as they play their first card, and he follows suit.

The game goes by quickly, and soon, the oven timer went off, making them both jump.

“Here, we’ll just scoot these over a bit and we can play while we eat. Would you grab the spoons?”

He nodded, carefully moving his pile of cards to the side and heading for the silverware drawer.

As Caretaker ladled out the soup, he placed a spoon at each of their spots, then, unsure if he should sit or wait for the next task, he hovered between the drawer and the table, wringing his hands.

As they turned to grab the bowls, they noticed his hesitation. “Go ahead and sit, I’ll bring the bowls over.”

Another tap-then-outward gesture of thanks, and he sat back down, watching as they carefully ladled out two bowls of steaming soup.

Carefully, they carried one bowl at a time to the table, oven mitts on.

“Ooh- don’t try to hold it, it’s super hot.” Caretaker dodged where Whumpee had tried to help set the bowl down, instead opting to set it down on the edge and scoot it over so it didn’t spill.

He rubbed his fist over his chest in a circle again, more frantic this time.

Sorry, sorry!

“You’re good, I just didn’t want you to burn yourself,” they returned to the table with their own bowl, tossing the oven mitts onto the spare chair after settling in, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

He tried to mimic Caretaker, who was blowing gently on their soup, but the lump in his throat got in the way.

He wished, as he often did, that he could speak without speaking, in more ways than literally. He wished he could make them know things.

If he was patient and waited for his voice to return, or if he went to get one of the whiteboards Caretaker kept laying around for him, he could tell him that he would do anything for them. That they had his loyalty and devotion, his mind, body, and soul.

But he couldn’t make them know it the way he did. It snuck up on him, in moments like these, then hit like a tsunami.

His stillness must have caught their attention because they looked up. “You okay?”

He nodded, swallowing hard and smiling, then gave a timid thumbs up.

You don’t own me, but, I belong to you.

They grinned, giving him a thumbs up back, and another tsunami took his breath away.

But, that was fine. He’d let the soup cool on its own, and they would play cards, and for the first time in a very long while, he was able to forget the changing seasons and the morning frost.

It couldn’t touch him here.

Caretaker wouldn’t let it.

[martyr-inthedark]

When the nightshift nurse entered the hospital room of the recently admitted John Doe, they expected to see them still lying on the bed, semiconscious at best.

Instead, the Whumpee was curled up in a shaking ball at the corner of the room, back to the wall and brows furrowed behind crudely bent elbows. They appeared to have been crying.

"Hey there," the caretaker started gently, softly approaching Whumpee. Still, Whumpee flinched at each fall of Caretaker's shoes on the pristine white and blue tiles of the ICU.

As they came closer, they noticed that the multitude of bandages had been ripped off, the cast on their left wrist scratched at, and the poor thing had been bleeding where they had removed the IV drip. Caretaker sat down on the floor in front of the Whumpee.

"Hey, I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to help you out. My name is Caregiver. I can see you're bleeding there. I have clean bandages. Or we can talk?" The room was silent save for some sniffles and whimpers. The caregiver needed to get what information they could from Whumpee.

"Wh-where am I? Where is Whumper?"

"We are in the hospital, off the main highway. The sixth exit. You are safe here. What's your name?"

"Whumpee..."

"Okay, Whumpee. How old are you?"

"26, I think. Or I was. I don't know how long... it was dark."

"I see. Do you mind if we move this conversation to the bed over there? This cold floor must be pretty uncomfortable." Once again Whumpee fell silent for a second, and looked at the bed like they were calculating something. They shook their head no, and made no effort to move.

"We can sit here for a few more minutes, but I am going to ask that we go over there at some point tonight, okay? I don't want you to get an infection."

"I...I can't. I'm not..." Whumpee gulped. Saying this to Whumper was one thing—they were used to that by now. Saying it out loud to a stranger brought a shameful blush to their face as humiliation snaked its way through their intestines. They briefly remembered a time where they knew how silly this admission was. "I'm not worthy."

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The whumpee had been conditioned to believe that any mistake would land them in severe punishment, that any wrong step would result in their torture- and this mentality stayed with them even after rescue. The whumpee would freeze when they broke something on accident, hide when they lost something else. They knew they were free now, but a part of them didn’t believe it.

[echoingalaxies]

Content: self-punishment/injury, conditioned whumpee, trauma

Whumpee got up before dawn to prepare breakfast. For so long now, it had been their routine, something they'd gotten used to doing no matter their condition, no matter the amount of pain or exhaustion weighing them down. Coffee with two sugars, and three fried eggs, would have to be ready to be served precisely at 6, and Whumpee would carry them to Whumper's room where he would still be sleeping, wake him up, and stand there, head bowed, wait until he finished his meal and then take the dirty dishes to the sink.

The few times Whumpee had missed the 6 am mark, even by a couple of minutes, hadn't ended well. Whumpee ran their fingers over the scars they'd received for those mistakes, wide and raised under their shirt, as they waited for the food to cook. They kept glancing at the clock, anxiously, shivering at the thought of being late, but they also couldn't hurry too much because the punishment for undercooked eggs would be just as cruel.

At 5:58, Whumpee had everything set up, and taking the plate and the large mug of coffee in their hands, they started to head toward the stairs, moving slowly for their aching body. Whumpee had become really good at counting in their head, so they knew they were right on time, as they balanced the mug on the plate for a second to knock on Whumper's door.

They pushed the door open, flicked on the lights - so much brighter than Whumpee remembered... He hadn't changed the lightbulb, so had Whumper had to do it himself? How come hadn't he told Whumpee to do it? - and went next to his bed.

"Your breakfast, sir," they said, trying to sound chipper but gentle, humble and happy to be there. "Good morning, sir," they added quickly after, almost having forgotten the proper way of greeting. What has wrong with them today?

Whumper, usually waking up to their voice and demanding to have the food immediately, just pulled the duvet to his chin, face deep buried into pillows. He grunted something inaudible, and Whumpee was left standing there, unsure what to do.

"S-sir? It's morning, sir, time to rise. Are you feeling ill?"

"Shut up," Whumper growled, and his voice was odd, but Whumpee pressed their lips together tightly, afraid to make a sound. "What the fuck are you doing, it's so damn early..."

The plate and the mug were shaking in Whumpee's hands as they began to breathe heavily, panicking. They'd been on time, but they'd made a mistake. They'd made some kind of mistake. Whumper was upset, and oh, when he'd wake up, hell was awaiting for them...

"Please," Whumpee whispered. "I- I'm so sorry. So sorry, sir..."

After a few mess-ups, Whumper had introduced Whumpee to an alternative option when it came to punishments of slipping off schedule or not completing their tasks just as Whumper had told them to. Quicker, easier, and for Whumper, even more fun than getting to carve marks on Whumpee's skin.

He'd love to watch Whumpee be humiliated.

"I don't want to waste my time on you when I have better things to do," Whumper had once said. "Make it simpler for the both of us. You know when you mess up. Why not get the consequenses out of the way? Use whatever's available, as long as you clean up the blood."

Whumper was still under the covers, perhaps falling back to sleep. Whumpee was still confused by the situation, but it seemed like he should've somehow known to not bother him this morning, oh no, they'd done gravely wrong, and there was only two ways out...

And they'd made their choice which route to take.

Whumpee set the plate on the nightstand, and closed their eyes, when with trembling hands, they took the mug of still steaming coffee above their head and spilled it all over themselves. Even as cried out in agony, they kept reminding themselves whatever Whumper would have done to them would've been worse, and with any luck, this would be enough.

Whumper was once again woken up by Whumpee's cries, and bolted up from the bed like he'd been electrocuted. Whumpee felt a sting in their heart. Of course they'd want to watch. Why would they miss the show? Maybe they'd be unsatisfied with their pain and make Whumpee throw themselves down the stairs for good measure.

Whumper cursed loudly and grabbed Whumpee's arm, pulling them out of the room and to the nearest bathroom. He shoved Whumpee under the shower and turned it on, turning the temperature cold. He squeezed Whumpee's arms, shaking them lightly.

"Oh god, Whumpee, why would you do that? What were you thinking?"

Whumpee coughed, the water getting into their mouth. They shivered, from cold and from fear.

Another mistake.

Nothing made sense.

Why was whumper helping him? What was all of this?

Whumpee tried to pry themselves away from Whumper's grip and out of the shower, but Whumper held them still.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry -"

"Wait," he said, sounding concerned rather than angry now. "Oh shit, Whumpee, no, stop that. Look at me. I'm not him."

Whumpee did as they were told and raised their gaze to meet the eyes they expected to be gray and cruel, and was shocked to see hazel, and nothing but kindness.

"I'm not him," he repeated, and Whumpee blinked a few times, letting their eyes take in the rest of the person's face. "Everything is okay. You're home, remember? Safe."

The person had dark circles under their eyes. They had a friendly face, although right now, they wore a worried expression. Whumpee wiped water from their face to see better... their eyes must've been lying to them...

"I..." Whumpee begun, stammering. "S-sorry... I should've let you sleep... I didn't know... I'm sorry..."

"Whumpee, shh." The person reached to turn off the shower and then let go of them to grab a large, thick towel they spread on Whumpee's shoulders. "Don't, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't realise it was you. You shouldn't even be walking! I thought it was Teammate just annoying me, I was barely awake, I didn't mean to be harsh towards you."

Whumpee pulled the towel around them, turning their head to look around. They knew this bathroom. They'd been patched up here many times before, years earlier. It was Caretaker's.

They looked at the person in front of them. They knew them. It was coming to them slowly, but they knew them better than anyone.

"Caretaker?"

They smiled. "Yeah. It's me. It's okay. You've been home for a few days now, remember?"

"I... guess."

Caretaker helped Whumpee out of their wet clothes and let them shower privately, washing the coffee off their hair and ease the pain in the burns on their scalp, their face, their shoulders.

When whumpee was ready, they opened the door to let Caretaker in once again. Caretaker sat them down on a little stool and started to treat their injuries, talking in a calming matter throughout the process. Whumpee was still feeling lost, his brain struggling to understand what was real and what was not.

"I'm still so sorry, Whumpee," Caretaker said, spreading something soothing over his burns. "I never should've allowed things to go so far that you'd do this to yourself."

"I didn't want you to hurt me," Whumpee said quietly. Caretaker stilled for a second, then continued rubbing the lotion on Whumpee's skin. Whumpee bit their cheeks. Caretaker, and everybody else, didn't know much about what he'd been through with Whumper. They hadn't had many opportunities to talk that much yet.

"I would never do that." Caretaker leaned in and pressed an unexpected kiss on Whumpee's forehead. Whumpee blushed, though they were grateful it probably was hidden by their already reddened face. No one had done that for... Whumpee didn't even know how long. "No one will ever hurt you here. And you never have to hurt yourself, okay?"

Whumpee wished they could keep that promise. But who was to say what happened this morning wouldn't happen again?

"Yeah," they said. Caretaker's touch was gentle and comforting, and Whumpee remembered them as a trustworthy person.

Only it all wasn't up to Caretaker.

And it wasn't up to Whumpee. They didn't decide to forget they were not living in that nightmare anymore.

But if things were to be like this, would they ever truly get out?

[bitchaknso]

Imagine an extremely conditioned Living Weapon Whumpee, whose only thought is to kill and destroy. They're extremely aggressive and feral. They have tattoos with skulls and scary stuff, that they were forced to have by the whumpers. Everyone's scared of them, not wanting to come closer.

Years later, when they healed, they're literally the calmest shit you've ever seen. Not just that. The Whumpee, who used to wear a black armor, wears soft pink sweaters. Who used to destroy the forest, plant small flowers. Who used to swear and scream, now barely talks, and when they do, their voice is hesitant.

Just, a 180° turn.

[whereallthewhumpgoes]

Pet Recovery Counter-Conditioning Phrases

"I am my own person. I am allowed to prioritize my own needs and assert my own boundaries."

"I belong to myself and only myself."

"I deserve to be loved by others, touched gently, and treated with compassion."

(Romantic specific) "My body is mine. No one is allowed to do anything to my body against my will."

"I am a human being, and I am entitled to human rights, such as food, water, and sleep. My needs are not a privilege that I have to earn, they are human rights, and I will fulfill them when necessary."

"I can think for myself and take care of myself."

"I am a human being, not a slave. I am under no obligation to obey anyone's command."

"What happened to me was unjust. I did not deserve to be abused by my former master, and I will not tolerate abuse from them or anyone else."

"I am a good person."

"I have a right to be treated with dignity."

"I am not worthless. I have value apart from my master's attention."

(Romantic specific) "I am allowed to say no."

(Guard dog specific) "I am not a monster. In the past, I acted to protect myself, and I will continue to protect myself with or without my master."

"My rescuers are not a threat. My rescuers do not want to hurt me. My rescuers are safe people."

"If I am ever mistreated, I will report it to my rescuers as soon as possible."

"I do not need to lie to protect myself."

"I am allowed to love myself."

"I am encouraged to form relationships with the other recovered pets, and they will not be hurt if I interact with them."

(Bonded pair specific) "I do not need to protect my bond. I do not need to depend on my bond. My bond and I are our own people, and I am allowed to develop my own interests and take care of myself before my bond."

"I am a person, not a pet."

[whumpshaped]

tw bad caretaker, bad de-conditioning, pet whump, trauma, panic attack

"I asked a single thing. I've been asking the same thing for a month. I'm not even asking you to do a backflip- I'm asking you to sit on the couch."

Whumpee had never seen Caretaker so angry. They crawled back until their back met the wall, trembling and muttering apologies while their wide, teary eyes stayed fixed on Caretaker's imposing figure. They were so much bigger than Whumpee. Stronger.

They had been afraid of that, at first. Then, they had learned to trust it, to feel protected by it. Now they were afraid again.

"In fact, I'm doing the backflips. I'm bending over backwards for you and your ridiculous needs, trying to accommodate for your every irrational fear and arbitrary rule. And you can't even get on the fucking couch after a month."

"Pets- p-pet's c-can't-"

"Stop with that already!" they snapped, and Whumpee ducked their head between their knees, shaking. They were sorry, they were sorry, they were sorry- "You're getting on the damn furniture today!"

Soon, they were yanked up by the arm, and no matter how much they cried or pleaded, Caretaker shoved them down on the soft, comfortable couch. Whumpee made themself pass out hyperventilating.

~

@ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @dustbunnywhump

[whump-kitty]

Another whump prompt/idea: A rescued whumpee, who, despite the scars they have, seems to have little to no visible change to their personality... however they start behaving strangely, somewhat erratically, the longer they're away from Whumper. Caretaker shrugs it off, but eventually Whumpee breaks down completely, begging for them to let Whumpee go back because he doesn't understand anymore, saying that they tried to get used to it, they did, but friendships are so complicated and they are nothing but a mere posession, and suddenly, with one horrifying realization, everything makes sense to Caretaker about Whumpee's confusing behavior.

[honeycollectswhump]

Whumper's title

[masterlist]

It was the end of a lazy evening. Caretaker stretched as the credits of the last movie rolled. Whumpee was draped across her lap and had apparently fallen asleep somewhere during the movie. She wasn’t sure if he even witnessed the climax. Even asleep Whumpee had a soft smile on his lips; he seemed truly at peace. 

It hadn’t always been like that.

A year ago, serenity like this would have been unthinkable. Maybe he would have crawled into her lap if she ordered him to, but he wouldn’t have allowed himself to relax. He wouldn’t have been able to.

A year ago, he still called himself Pet or Mutt. He would beg for punishment, beg to be allowed necessities like sleep or food. But never for mercy because he’d thought he didn’t deserve it. 

A year ago, Whumpee didn’t even remember they lived together for years prior. 

But he did now, and that was all that mattered. God, how she had missed him and the time they spent together. Caretaker wanted to savor it all, savor every little moment she could spend with him.

With a smile playing on her lips, she brushed a stray piece of hair from his scarred face. She didn’t want to wake Whumpee up but she would have to. No matter how much she wanted it, they couldn’t spend the night like this. In the morning, his already aching back would trouble him even more. He was frankly too big for her couch, his feet already dangling over the side. With one hand she was playing with his soft curls, scratching the nape of his neck, and trying to grab the remote with the other – without success.

It had to be done. Caretaker softly whispered his name, tracing his jawline in an attempt to wake him up. He wouldn't budge.

“Whumpee”, the name came out as a soft chuckle. “Whumpee, you need to wake up.”

Again, nothing. 

This time she held him by his shoulders and started shaking him gently. Two bleary brown eyes stared up at her, blinking a couple of times. A sleepy groan escaped his lips as he struggled to sit upright. Somehow Caretaker doubted that Whumpee was truly awake.

She stood up and held her hand out to him. “Let’s get you to bed, big guy.”

Loosely, he took her hands and let himself be pulled up, almost immediately resting his head on top of hers. 

“Yes, Master”, he breathed into her hair. 

Caretaker could feel her blood running cold. She froze, waiting for any indication of what happened, any sign that Whumpee wasn’t feeling well. 

But he didn’t. He didn’t tense up or start shaking. He didn’t fall on his knees or stare at her in adoration and obedience or wait for her order. In fact, he didn’t seem to even realize what he’d said. Instead, he just nuzzled further into her locks, almost falling asleep on his feet. 

Slowly, she took a step backward, his hands still in hers, waiting to see if he’d follow. Whumpee shuffled along, although at a snail’s pace. Caretaker didn’t know whether to bring up what had happened but one look in his half-lidded eyes told her that any attempt at communication would just pass by him. Chances were he wouldn’t even remember how he got to bed in the morning. 

She took him upstairs where –at the sight of his own bed– he staggered forward and flopped down on his messy sheets. Caretaker followed him inside to tuck him in. While she was securing the blanket under his shoulders, Whumpee loosely grabbed one of her hands in his much bigger one and pressed it to his cheek. 

“G’night…”, he murmured into her hand. 

She couldn’t understand what he said after that and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

This is very much inspired by this post by @whumpadventureprompts (i couldn't find how you want to be tagged when people use your prompts so i hope this is alright)

[sevenseptember]

Deconditioning happens one moment at a time.

In this very moment you can: decide to be intentional, and to move from fear to courage. In this moment you can decide to express your truth. In this moment you can stop avoiding the discomfort.

[shimmyshimmyyaa-blog]

(Un)Freestyle Frauds

Her tenacityCould be confusedWith interest- feelings reciprocalTo her many admirers I, a museI, AmuseI. Am. Used. Her undercurrentCould wash away wholeSouls,Her wave rolls just so- That the sound of her ancestors hips  are the taste; words unsaid on her lips.

[justbreakonme]

“M-Master?”

Whumpees soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts and into reality, where Whumpee was peeking around the corner to the office.

“Yes? Need something?” He tried to make his voice light, friendly, but noticed all too late the tear tracks down Whumpee’s face.

“May- May I ask for an indulgence, sir?”

“Of course,” he turned fully, now laser focused, a yes already waiting on his lips, “What would you like?”

“If-if you please, may I request a- an hour of-of-“ their voice faltered, tears starting again.

“It’s okay, sweet, it’s okay, you’re not going to be in trouble,” he coaxed, desperate for them to finish their request, “Take a deep breath, and just ask for whatever you like.”

They swallowed, nodding, and tried again.

“Master, may I request 1 hour without punishment?”

“Without- What?”

He had never punished Whumpee, ever. What did they mean?

“I-I know that you have been merciful- you have not punished me yet- I- I am sorry, I should not have asked, I am sorry Master, please forgive me-“

“You’re okay, hey, you’re fine, I just want to know what’s going on, alright?” he soothed, “So, you want a set time, without punishment? But- Whumpee, did something happen? Something that you think deserves to be punished?”

Whumpee frantically shook their head, crying harder now.

“Please, speak. You won’t be in trouble, I just want to understand, okay?”

“I-I know that- that I will fail you. I will always strive to meet your standards, but I know I will fall short and need to be punished,” Whumpee took a deep, shuddering breath, “But I haven’t yet learned all your rules, preferences, and standards… I- I have not been able to sleep for days, Master.”

He could tell that their courage was failing, and he couldn’t imagine how brave they were being to face him now… He was so proud of them…

“Oh…” it all made sense now, “You just want some time where you don’t have to watch your every move, right?”

Whumpee nodded, crying too hard to speak, and now he could see the deep circles under their eyes.

“Of course, sweet, of course…” he wasn’t going to punish Whumpee at all, he’d told them that already, but clearly they had a hard time believing that, “How about this? You go take a nap, and you’ll have no obligations or expectations till tomorrow at 10 am. No punishment, no worries, nothing. Just make sure you eat something, anything, for dinner and drink plenty of water, and get some sleep, okay? That’s all that I ask.”

He watched their face, hoping to have hit all the right notes, and for a sickening moment, they only sobbed harder.

“Th-thank you Master, thank you, yes sir, thank you-“ they managed, bowing deeply, their shoulders slumping in relief like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Okay,” he secretly breathed a sigh of relief, “Good. And thank you for coming to ask me, I’m very proud of you. You did a good job.”

Following the conditioning was also not ideal, but clearly ideal wasn’t an option at the moment.

Whumpee seemed to light up at the praise, a few breathless thank yous escaping but then they were gone, dashing away hopefully in search of food and water before a well deserved night of peaceful sleep.

After all, that was all they were asking for. A night of peace…

He sunk into his chair and let his head rest on the desk for a few minutes, before pulling himself together and writing down every detail of their exchange.

This might be the way to help them.

[montammil]

I love oblivious Caretakers who have no idea what the hell they’re doing. Even more so, two Caretakers-- one who hardly know what they’re doing at all, and the other who seems like the professional caretaker.

Imagine Whumpee is more close to the clueless Caretaker, constantly asking them to give them some kind of order, whether it’s a chore or something more nonsensical, like “speak in a funny accent all day” or “stand on only one leg for the next thirty minutes”.

When the more responsible Caretaker finds out, they’re angry and scolding clueless!Caretaker for giving them orders, regardless of Whumpee asking them to.

And then when responsible!Caretaker and Whumpee have a conversation about it, it goes like:

“You don’t need to be ordered around all the time, Whumpee. You shouldn’t want that.”

“But if no one tells me what to do, then how am I supposed to know what to do?”

“...you don’t always need something to do, Whumpee.”

“...what.”

[the-three-whumpeteers]

The caretaker quickly discovered just how unfamiliar the whumpee was with simple comforts, like a reliable source of food, a good place to sleep, and physical affection. The whumpee was just scared and untrusting of any of it, as “rewards” were often tests from the whumper.

[the-baby-storyteller]

self harm tw, conditioned whumpee, fear of punishment

"I was just," Whumpee sniffed, shoulders curled inwards, "I was just trying to be good."

Caretaker's face spasmed in pain. They rushed down to Whumpee and held their shoulders. They felt Whumpee flinch.

"No Whumpee, you are good. You're-," Caretaker paused, huffing. Dealing with Whumpee was an ordeal that had them walking on eggshells. "You're not good or bad. You're not a possession or an animal. You don't have to be good or bad." They ducked their face down to try to meet Whumpee's eyes, but Whumpee steadily avoided them. Caretaker sighed. "You're just you. Nothing you do can be bad."

Whumpee refused to meet their eyes, shaking anxiously.

"N-No, please Caretaker- Master-"

"Enough of that, Whumpee." Caretaker quickly cut off, standing. Maybe it was brusque, but they would not have Whumpee talking like that anymore.

Whumpee gave a light cringe and abruptly shut up. They looked like they wanted to cry but were holding it in.

Probably for fear of punishment, Caretaker dragged a hand down their face.

"Whumpee," they said, tone lighter this time and coming back down to Whumpee's level. They didn't touch them, seeing their fear, but made a point to try and get in their field of view. Whumpee was adamantly avoiding looking at them, though, and would turn every time they caught a glimpse of Caretaker.

That's fine, Caretaker convinced themself, as long as they listen to me.

"I am not your Master, no one is, and I don't want you calling me that. I do not have any control over you." Caretaker stated firmly.

Whumpee looked on edge yet almost forlorn at the same time, a wild, lost look appearing on their face. To Caretaker's surprise, they turned sharply to Caretaker. They looked like they wanted to say something, to refute, but Caretaker continued before they could begin.

"And, I don't want you hurting yourself. I know you think you were being good," They said quickly, "and I'm not angry at you or going to hurt you, but there is no harm happening in this house and that includes you doing it to yourself. Even if you think you deserved punishment."

Whumpee stared at them, confused, eyes filled with unshed tears.

"B-But Master," They stammered.

"Ah-," Caretaker countered, "No master remember?"

Whumpee flinched and reeled back.

"C-Caretaker," Whumpee muttered quietly. "I-I can't." They whimpered and bit their lip, quivering and looking down.

"If I can't do that, then I cant be good for you," they whispered, "And if I can't be good for you then I-I- please-"

"Whumpee, Shhh," Caretaker pulled their arms around Whumpee, pulling them in. "It's okay, shh." They started to rock Whumpee lightly as they sobbed and shook into their arm. They could feel Whumpee's tenseness, as if they still couldn't justify being in Caretaker's arms but didn't want to pull away. "You don't have to be good for anyone. I don't want you harming yourself. That won't make me happy."

Whumpee looked up then, eyes wide and glistening with tears. "It won't?" They asked.

"No Whumpee, it won't" It does the opposite, in fact, Caretaker thought.

"Then, what would?" Whumpee asked, staring up at Caretaker with the giant saucers they had for eyes and reminding Caretaker distinctly of an owl.

They chuckled, wiping Whumpee's tears with their finger, watching Whumpee squeeze their eyes shut adorably as they did so.

"The only thing I want is for you to be safe and happy. Not as a test or a trick. You don't have to try to appease me. Just, truly."

They stared down and Whumpee blinked, not understanding. They would in due time; Caretaker was set on it.

"It's okay sweetheart," Caretaker continued their rocking and started patting Whumpee's head, "Just stay here and calm down."