The Writers Urge To Ask Your Friends Do You Wanna See A Little Somethin Ive Been Working On? When The

the writer’s urge to ask your friends “do you wanna see a little somethin’ i’ve been working on?” when the little somethin’ you’ve been working on is 800 words and ends in the middle of a sentence

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Whumpee gets revenge on Caretaker

Warnings: Needles, Whumpee-turned-whumper, caretaker-turned-whumpee, handcuffs, threat of eye torture.

———

Whumpee was rather terrified of needles. So, when Caretaker had to administer an IV into them for their pain and injury medication, they’d expected Whumpee to be furious at them. And Whumpee was, in a way. But Caretaker never expected what they were capable of doing. They never expected to wake up after being knocked out from an argument earlier, strapped to an armchair in a dark room.

Caretaker’s eyes groggily opened, their body aching slightly. It was mostly in their wrists, where they felt something rough that was tightly and painfully wrapped around them. Groggily, Caretaker tried to move their hands, groaning tiredly at the tightness around them. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they noticed that they weren’t in their bedroom, like normal.

They were in a dark room with dirty walls, and a worn staircase leading to a brown, wooden door. The walls were fitted with old grey wallpaper, with some mould slightly forming in the corners of the room. Their feet trembling on the carpet below, Caretaker looked around them. They couldn’t see much, but they noticed that they were tied to an armchair, and that they were still in their hoodie from the night before. There was a small brown-ish stain of dried blood.

That’s when Caretaker remembered. Last night, they and Whumpee had got into another argument over the IV incident. Usually, Whumpee would be slightly argumentative for a few moments, before calming down and being overly apologetic to Caretaker. But this was different. Whumpee was incredibly aggressive that night. They were shouting and yelling louder than they usually did. Then, they punched Caretaker. Caretaker was much larger than them, but they clearly didn’t punch as well as they did to be knocked out.

Just then, Caretaker looked up, noticing the slow creak of the door. They squinted at the bright light which began to slowly reveal, only being obscured by the silhouette of Whumpee, who had brought what seemed to be a small, blue toolkit with them. Whumpee began to amble down the stairs. The worn stairs creaked with each step, Whumpee’s eyes focused on Caretaker. Despite their anger, there wasn’t any hate in their expression; only a haunted, confused but still somewhat enraged look.

“Whumpee?” Caretaker weakly asked, breaking what would have been the silence had they not been panting in fear and slight pain, “What are you doing?” Whumpee didn’t respond. Instead they placed the kit down, still staring at Caretaker as they carried on walking towards them until they found themselves chest-to-chest, Whumpee’s lower body squeezing against Caretaker’s plump stomach.

“You know why you’re here?” Whumpee asked, a little too quickly. Caretaker furrowed their brows, their mouth slightly hanging open. “You promised. You promised I’d never be hurt again.” Their voice broke into a whisper, though they quickly gained their composure. “You promised I’d never feel fear, yet you showed me my worst fear.”

“Whumpee…” Caretaker pleaded, their voice shaking and slow. “I said this many times before, if you never received that IV you’d be dead!” The sick feeling in their stomach grew as it was clear that Whumpee’s mind hadn't changed. Whumpee somehow inched closer to their face, breathing slowly and menacingly on their neck.

“You know how scared I am of needles. You know and you knew then how much Whumper used them.“ Whumpee spat, pushing themselves off of Caretaker. They walked over to the kit, the contents rustling slightly as they picked them up. Caretaker watched with their eyes wide, trembling against the chair. Whumpee slowly opened the kit, revealing a needle, the contents facing Caretaker’s direction. They screamed.

“Stop it!” Caretaker thrashed against the restraint, quickly shaking their head as tears began to form in their eyes. Their hands uncontrollably and desperately tried to seperate themselves from their restraint, metal digging into the skin and bruising it more. Whumpee smirked softly, seeing their panicked state.

“Relax,” Whumpee chuckled, “I’m gonna try not to hurt you, you need this to survive.” That was what Caretaker said to them. Slowly, they took the needle out of the kit, turning it towards Caretaker. Whumpee creeped over to them, watching their panic with glee. This was what they deserved. Whumpee brought out the needle, inching it closer to Caretaker’s face as they moved their head up, their terrified eyes still focusing on the needle.

“P-Please stop…” Caretaker whimpered. Their voice was trembling and high with fear. They weakly bared their teeth, still staring at the needle which was being inched close to their eye. Whumpee ignored them, continuing to push the needle forward until it was a few centimetres away from their eye. Caretaker squeezed their eyelids shut, unable to take the dread any longer. They could hear the quick pulse of their heartbeat drumming in their ears, along with the quick, sadistic breathing of Whumpee as they took pleasure in seeing their fear. Even with their eyes closed, they could sense the sadistic expression which Whumpee had on them.

“Hold still…” Whumpee whispered. It was also something that Caretaker said as they were administering the medicine into them, an attempt to calm them down at that moment. Whumpee slowly moved the needle to the right of their eye, before slowly pricking their skin, the needle shallow. Caretaker whimpered again, opening their eyes and looking over to where the needle had entered, a faint drop of blood slowly oozing out after Whumpee quickly released it before moving on to the other side, gently pricking that as well. Caretaker squeezed their eyes shut in fear and pain. They tried to keep their body as still as they could to prevent Whumpee from pricking their eye by accident, though their body was shaking quickly, especially their legs. After releasing the needle, Whumpee quickly dropped it on the floor, gently stroking where they pricked with their thumb, slightly coating their thumb in blood.

Carefully, Whumpee brushed Caretaker’s cheek before moving to the back of the armchair and releasing the metal restraints. Caretaker’s hands bled slightly from their tugging on the rough material. Caretaker immediately covered their eye, pressing on the tiny wounds as they sobbed.

“You know, I’d never actually stab you in your eye,” Whumpee chuckled, their tone much kinder than before. “Just some payback for how much you scared me.”

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Caretaker with a difficult/dark past, who is struggling with who they are. Everyone seems to have it figured out, and yet here they are, still stumbling along, not knowing what they're doing.

Until Whumpee(s) enter(s) their life. Whumpee gets hurt, and Caretaker gets them out. Caretaker also gets hurt in the progress, but they don't care. In the aftermath, they struggle with the trauma of their own pain, but also the fear of almost losing Whumpee. But they don't care.

They don't care because Whumpee is laughing again. Whumpee is safe, Whumpee has healed.

And they finally get it. They know who they're supposed to be.

They'll do whatever it takes, hide all their pain, take all the punches, just so Whumpee never has to. Whumpee can be Whumpee, and Caretaker will be the rest.

That's who they are.