Curate, connect, and discover
Whumpee breaks free from their captors grip - but not from the base they’re held in. They find a small desk against the wall and collapse underneath it, frozen with fear.
They hear footsteps hunting, looking for them, but they have yet to be found.
They don’t dare look, even when whumper’s noises go quiet. Hours pass and they’re paralyzed, the footsteps have changed to not one, but many. Frantic, heavy, with voices shouting their name.
Eventually, the desk gets grabbed and yanked from over them. The atmosphere changes from safe, to a cold wave of dread.
“Whumpee! Whumpee look at me!” A voice shouts. Two hands grab and shake them, trying to get them to uncurl.
“Whumpee it’s me, it’s me. Please look at me, I’m not going to hurt you. Look at me-” Caretaker frantically cries, wrapping them in their arms and pulling them out of the corner. They cradle them in hopes they’ll snap out of it, they can feel whumpee shaking and panting, but still locked away like they’ve dissociated.
“…What… Have they done to you?“
A hand at the nape of whumpees neck, fingers tangled in hair as caretaker gently lowers their head onto a pillow.
i love characters angstily refusing to look at someone
when they’re ashamed or guilty or scared and they want to keep the peace for just a little longer. they know it’s going to go downhill soon so they’re holding onto the last little shred of calmness they have even if it’s fake
and then the character they’re worried about being mad gently grips their chin and says in a quiet voice “hey, can you look at me?” AAAAA then they hesitate. there’s no way that character isn’t mad at them, this is too good to be true. it just makes them refuse to look up more because they want this dream to last forever and ever
but after a few moments of holding back, they slowly look up, tears in their eyes, to see that the character truly isn’t upset with them. if anything, the character visibly relaxes when they finally make eye contact, confirming to the character that, maybe they’re not okay right now, but they will be eventually
bonus points if they’re injured somehow, esp on their face, and the person that’s holding them drags a finger near the wound in concern, examining it and making sure it’s not worse than it looks 😍😍😍
Whumpee held captive in a cell and unconscious from the infected wound on their side. Whumper coming in and apathetically pouring alcohol/antiseptic on it. Whumpee screaming themselves awake, their body writhing from the agonizing pain.
OR
Whumpee slouched against a wall with a hand pressed to their wound, blood seeping through their fingers. Caretaker coming over with a rag, a bottle of antiseptic, and gauze. Apologizing to Whumpee but that it needs to be done. As the wound is disinfected, Whumpee throws their head back against the wall with a hoarse shout, losing consciousness as a single tear falls from beneath their lashes.
Trope of the day: impaled
_
“Oh fuck …” Whumpee looks at his shaky, blood smeared hand and his breath catches in his throat as caretaker’s hands work on his body.
“It’s okay, you’re okay. At least … kinda,” the older mumbles as he helps whumpee move his legs to lay more comfortably. Whumpee knows that this is a lie, but he doesn’t comment it. Even if he wanted to, his mouth doesn’t even open.
That doesn’t stop him from whimpering when caretaker moves his shirt up, brushing against the knife still sticking in his abdomen. “Fuck, I know it hurts, I’m sorry.” The words ring in his ears, as he manages to give him a little nod. He knows he doesn’t want to hurt him. He never does and that makes caretaker special … at least in his sad example of a life.
His hands move unconsciously, fingers brushing against the object in his body, which makes him panic a bit. Gone. He wants it gone. In his pain-filled delirium, whumpee tries to take the knife out, but caretaker quickly grabs his hand, holding it in his own.
“Hey, look at me. Look at me, whumpee. That’s good. Good. We have to leave it in, otherwise you’ll bleed out before the fucking ambulance has the chance to come pick you up. Yes, I know it hurts, and I’m so sorry, but you have to wait just a little bit longer,” caretaker explains and his thumb circles over whumpee’s pale hand and he gives it a quick kiss. “Hold onto my hand, squeeze it, if it helps, but keep your fingers from that knife.”
Whumpee holds onto caretaker like a lifeline.