#and then the horrid moment when whumper/caretaker proves them wrong | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

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what about caretaker finding/rescuing/getting back whumpee and they are so (pissed?) that whumper is terrified like full out /terrified/ of them :)

Thank you so much for clarifying what you meant by this prompt earlier! This is a little short, and I don’t usually write traditional whump like this, but I really hope you enjoy nonetheless!

CW//Firearms, blood, wounds, dehumanization, cages

Any adjective that could be used to describe Hell could, too, be used to describe the building.

Horrid. Dark. Cold. A concrete shell of a home, a torturous construction that seized and heaved under its own weight.

Well, maybe Hell was a little more fire and brimstone, but Caretaker had never been much of the religious type, anyways. That didn’t mean much. Even if they did believe in a god, it wouldn’t do them any good.

Not in here.

In their white-knuckled hand, their flashlight bounced, hardly keeping up with their sprinting movements. They knew they should have been more careful, of course they should have been more careful, they’d been reminded as such so, so many times. The home was far from being up to code, in fact, it appeared quite the opposite. A single slip, a missed step on old, pock-marked concrete, and Caretaker could be out for the count.

It was worth the risk. They’d take a world of pain before Whumpee had to be alone for another second.

The hell that spoke of itself as a home was labyrinthine. Stairs to nowhere, dead-end hallways, and plastered-away windows all stood framed in terrible, plain concrete. As they moved, they could hear the others, a thousand thundering footsteps, looping and curling about their own, Their team. Even as they could not see them, their presence offered a certain comfort.

To go down the stairs alone was far from an intelligent move. Yet, when Caretaker saw the grey steps, leading downwards to an abyssal eternity, they knew that that was exactly the move they were going to make. With a stampeding gait, they took the stairs in two’s, torch refusing to penetrate any further into the shroud before them.

The landing came both too late and too suddenly. In a way, it was like falling-- the chute agonizing, but the end moreso.

In some paradoxical way, the basement was more terribly shrouded than the somber hellscape above. A hallway. Only a hallway. Two walls and the doors they owned.

It took Caretaker only a moment to recognize that the color of the concrete was not attributable to shadow. No, it was far more evident as grime. In places, that dirt had a notable red hue to it.

Even in the hallway.

Their team was upstairs. Their friends. Their whole world.

Except the missing piece. The missing piece was right here, behind one of these doors. Somewhere in this horrible place.

And Caretaker could not wait another instant for it.

The first door showed a closet with the contents of a medieval torture museum. The next, cleaning supplies in equal number, cobwebbed as they were.

The third?

By all means, it was a room with the intent to contain some sort of beast. Taking their chances, Caretaker moved the slightest half-step within, leaning to either side of the doorframe. Kibble bags were scattered in great number, some spilling their contents to the floor, only to be intermixed with rodent droppings and leavings.

Upon one wall, a leash dangled-- a choke-chain at its end, prongs taut and fixed inwards. Upon another, a device they did not recognize, with a pair of prongs at its end.

And, against the back, a cage.

It wasn’t exactly sizable, perhaps made to fit a Great Dane at its very largest. Yet, who would keep a canine in such a condition? Who would put in the effort? A thousand thoughts tumbled through the bingo-ball spinner of their anxious mind. A bear? A tiger? Worse? What could be worse than a tiger?!

A really, really big tiger.

It was with a terrible instinct that Caretaker withdrew their firearm from where it had been tucked upon their hip. They had hoped to such heights that its usage would prove unnecessary, a worthless precaution, and, yet, if this animal managed to free itself-

Of course, it was at that very moment that a second animal decided to enter the room. A back entrance revealed itself, behind the cage, as shrouded as its contents, in the same moment as it creaked open. The sound felt to break their ears-- how in the world was this building still standing?

By the same horrid magic that most certainly had allowed Whumper to go so long without being strangled.

The creature that so dared to speak of itself as human bore every mark of a fox. A curled tongue flashed over white teeth as they sauntered into the room on dainty paws, clever, gleaming eyes breaking the shroud as much as the flashlight.

“All this?” The fox voice slithered. “All this effort, all this time, just to shoot your little friend? I didn’t take you as the vengeance type. Come on, tell me, what did they do? Break your heart?”

Before, upon entering the terrible room, Caretaker’s mind had ignited the neurons of prey. The horror of entering a predator’s den.

Now, they were the predator, and this was a rabbit’s warren.

The gunshot was loud enough to make the ancient, rusted pipes within the room’s walls ring. The bullet’s casing exploded a mere two inches from Whumper’s right shoulder.

“Hey!” The fox yelped, lurching its spindly body backward, figurative tail prickling in fright. “Trigger discipline, kid!”

“Where are they?” Caretaker’s voice was just about as soft as a concrete landing from a thousand foot drop.

“Ya’ blind? Use that bloody little torch a’ yours and look with ya’ damn eyes!”

The cage.

Though they didn’t dare lower their firearm for a split second, it was a very lucky thing that humans had two hands. The flashlight leapt to shine itself upon the cage.

Whumpee...

If they had any remaining clothes, they could be described only as the most scant of rags, though that wasn’t to say that the rest of their skin was bare. No. It was well decorated by all manner of hues-- red and brown representing dried blood, and greenish-purplish tones speaking of blunt force trauma.

Yet, it was their eyes that showed the greatest pain. Their twiggy limbs barely managed to hold their body up, even as they curled themself to the cage’s back corner.

Terror. Utter, unmistakable terror.

Another gunshot.

Another miss.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Whumper shrieked. Ghost thoroughly given up from the coward’s body, they took a shuddering step backwards.

“What’s wrong with you! What did you do to them?!”

“No, no, no, kid. What did you do to them? Who exactly allowed them to get captured in the first place, hm?”

The third bullet was enough to scare them off. The fox’s tail disappeared in an instant through the back door, nearly pinching itself with how quickly it slammed shut.

Caretaker could fix their aim later. With a dozen teammates swarming the hellish building, it was inconceivable that the monster would get out.

Speaking of escape...

They thought momentarily of dropping their firearm, before thinking better of such, and sliding it to their covered holster. On quiet feet, the rescuer approached their target’s containment. The strength of their trembling and Caretaker’s distance away seemed to be directly related, and they could not bring themself to move further forth once they were perhaps a yard away.

Terror.

Unmistakable terror, twirling in their blood-shot eyes.

Caretaker couldn’t wait to see that look upon Whumper’s countenance. Yet, for now, they had a Whumpee to save.

#whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #ask #writeblr #writing #whump #whumper #caretaker

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