#bwekh

Woahhh i like this idea!!! whumpees who can't admit their fear my loves <3333

This one took a while to answer (sorry) and is shorter than my other one, mostly because i'm tired as i write this. It's highly likely that i revisit this because i had idea writing it that i didn't do because i didn't wanna deviate from the prompt too far, but i'll tag you when I do :)

anyways keep sending asks and sorry this took so long to answer ------------------------------ Keep looking down.

Keep looking down.

It repeats like a mantra in Whumpee's head, to which the cold barrel of a pistol is pressed. They try to stop themselves fidgeting with the rope binding their wrists as they kneel, trying not to show their nerves.

Whumper crouches down infront of them, still pressing the gun terrifyingly softly to their temple. "What's wrong, doll? Nervous?" asks Whumper, their tone drenched in cold malice. Silence is whumpee's only response, the only one they know is safe.

Or so they thought.

Whumper's tone shifts; "I said: Are you nervous? I expect an answer when i ask a question, Whumpee." they repeat again, annoyance creeping into the edges of their voice. A deep breath that lasts for what feels like minutes passes before Whumpee responds: "No, xir."

Whumper seems unsatisfied. "Are you sure? I can see that you're sweating, and I know full well by now what it looks like when there's fear in your eyes."

Another moment passes, and the muzzle of the weapon leaves the side of their head, earning a hugely suppressed sigh of relief from Whumpee. It seems only a moment's respite, however, as the wind is knocked out of Whumpee when Whumper's thick boot connects with their stomach, knocking them backwards and onto their side.

"That's for lying to me, doll."

thank you for the ask :] it took me a little longer to get onto this one because I was busy but i really like the idea! anyone seeing this can also send a whump prompt ask I'm very open

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Caretaker's hands shake as they hold a postcard in their hands, eyes tracing the by now familiar handwritten note. It had all been leading to this, and their nerves couldn't be any higher. Looking up from the paper, they see before them a metal warehouse, bathed in moonlight and deep shadow. It takes a few minutes of nerve gathering and careful preparation - a holstered pistol and a first aid kit strapped to their waist - until they enter.

Making their way through a maze of containers, Caretaker's nerves are on edge and their chest feels tight. Every corner is an uncertain threat, an attacker, or worse-

Caretaker's train of thought is cut short by a whimper from the gantry above them, but it's too dark up there to see. Once they're up there, it's easier to see with their flashlight, but they still feel just as blind in the dark. What if it had been a setup? They don't dwell on the thought, but every clank of their boots on the metal walkway echoes in the darkness.

It's difficult not to begin to lose hope, to feel like they'd been lead on a wild goose chase. Thoughts of Whumpee being carted off somewhere even worse fill Caretaker's mind, causing them to lower their flashlight for a moment, but as they do so they see a glint of light too bright to have been the catwalk's metal.

They raise it again, and their eyes come into focus again in the light. The sight that meets their eyes is worse than they could have imagined. A limp form in the darkness, a silhouette propped against a wall.

Caretaker is there as quick as their legs will carry them, breath quickening. As the limp form comes more into view, their stomach twists itself into knots; the shivering, bruised and scratched form of Whumpee, unconcious sat against the wall with their wrist handcuffed to the metal railing.

First Aid Kits don't have near enough bandages, Caretaker discovers, for somebody who's been beaten within an inch of their life and left to bleed out. As Caretaker tries to stem blood flow, Whumpee's eyes flickered open, unfocused and half-glazed over.

"Whumpee?" Caretaker says, realising now that they hadn't even thought to check a pulse. The noise that Whumpee makes could be described as somewhere between a whimper and a yelp of pain, their eyes suddenly shooting open. "Whumpee, it's me, it's Caretaker!" They can't help but let their voice raise slightly with panicked desperation, all the while trying to patch Whumpee's wounds. "Can you stand?" asks Caretaker, earning them a small groan from Whumpee.

Taking this as a no, Caretaker re-attaches the first aid kit to their waist and, after a few hard knocks with the hilt of their gun, undoes the lock on the handcuffs. They hadn't noticed how light Whumpee had become, clearly malnourished, as they carried them bridal style toward the warehouse's exit.

keeping this vague so its fast but ask for more details ifyw so i'm trying to transition between two places; the character has just arrived at the facility and is being taken in for processing* but i just cannot figure out what the environment would be like in which they're processed (and how they get there from the facility entrance)?