snarehare

[snarehare]

Whumpee who's held for ransom and then rescued by Caretaker

Part two- The long drive home

Read part one, the initial rescue, here!

Whumpee is hobbling on the walk back.

They’re barefoot, and it’s clear that the uneven ground is jabbing into already-injured feet.

Whumpee doesn’t say a word in complaint, but the second they’re safely away from Whumper and their crony, Caretaker stops walking and pulls Whumpee to the side of the path.

“I’m going to give you my shoes,” says Caretaker, reaching down to untie their laces. For a moment, something flashes across Whumpee’s face- guilt? Fear? Caretaker isn’t sure.

“I’m okay,” Whumpee tries to insist, but Caretaker just sighs and continues to pull their shoes off.

“Listen…” Caretaker pauses, unsure of what the most tactful way to go about this is. Should they tell Whumpee they can tell they’re in pain, or would that just make Whumpee feel worse?

“Listen,” Caretaker repeats. “I already took my shoes all the way off, and it would be awkward to put ‘em back on. Besides, we’re still like 20 minutes from the car. They might be a little big, but, eh, better than nothing I figure.”

Caretaker can see by the change in Whumpee’s body language that they’re going to let Caretaker put the shoes on. Caretaker stoops to help them, and notices that the bottom of Whumpee’s feet are absolutely criss-crossed with lacerations. They’re healed over, sure, but have become angry and red again from the forest path.

Caretaker tries not to react too strongly, but they know Whumpee can hear it when they suck air in through their teeth, wincing at the sight.

They tie the laces and keep going.

Whumpee is still hobbling, but less now.

Caretaker wishes, desperately, that they were strong enough to carry them.

Soon enough, though, the car appears around the bend in the path. Backup still sits in the driver’s seat, and lights up when they see them. The excitement is momentary, though, as Whumpee gets closer and Backup can, too, see that dead-eyed stare.

Caretaker opens the back of the car, and helps Whumpee into the seat. Backup has much less discretion than Caretaker, and cries out, “Je-sus Christ! Is that really Whumpee? What the hell happened to them?”

Whumpee looks away and Caretaker shoots Backup a shut-up glare as they fasten Whumpee’s seatbelt.

“Backup, do you have the thermos?” asks Caretaker. Backup leans over to the passenger side and picks up the thermos from the cupholder in the door. It’s fairly small and red with a silver lid, and when Caretaker takes it, it radiates a soft warmth through the aluminum exterior.

Caretaker hands the thermos to Whumpee, who wordlessly holds it. Then, Caretaker reaches over and pulls a woolen blanket across Whumpee’s lap.

“It’s hot cider,” says Caretaker. “It’s for you. We thought something like this might happen. It might not be so hot anymore. But hopefully it’s still warm.”

“Thank you,” says Whumpee, sounding all at once overwhelmed with emotions and completely detached.

Caretaker closes the back door of the car and swings into the frontseat, talking to Backup instead. They use a lower, slightly more conspiratorial tone- but Whumpee can still hear them.

“Looks like no major-major problems. We can probably give them a good check-over once we get back to the house. Might need to get some food in them. I don’t know if they were… hm. I’ll talk to you about it later.”

Backup starts the car and it putters to life, and Caretaker reaches over to turn up the heat.

As they drive home, the car slowly warms, and the radio softly plays music from ten years ago. For the first half of the ride, all Whumpee can do is hold the cider and stare at it, but as they get out of the forest and buildings start to reappear, they pop open the lid.

It’s not hot anymore. But it is still warm. And it sits in their stomach like a hearth, the first actually satisfying thing they’ve had in… months.

They close their eyes halfway, afraid to close them all the way- as if they’ll blink and realize it was all a dream.

(Part 2/3)

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[snarehare]

Whumpee who was held for ransom- and Caretaker goes to get them back.

Part one-Retrieval

The arranged meeting location, for the tradeoff, was twenty miles out from town. A clearing at the top of a few miles of dirt road, overlooking a steep drop into a river. The night was bitterly cold, with the electric wind of late November.

As was agreed upon, Caretaker had parked a full mile away and walked all the way here. One hand is stuffed in the pocket of their coat, thumb resting on the button of a handheld walkie-talkie. They were told, rather explicitly, not to bring anyone- but Caretaker isn't stupid. Backup sits in the driver's seat of the car, one hand lingering near the gearshift, ready to drive up to the meeting point the second the radio so much as crackles.

When Caretaker arrives, it's five minutes before one am. Inky clouds obscure the stars, plunging the forest into a hazy image of deep blues and blacks. The duffel bag full of money hangs in Caretaker's other hand.

They only stand in that clearing for a moment before twin beams of light, startling and yellow, burst through the trees. The headlights of a car- an off-roading vehicle of some kind.

Squinting through the sudden light, they can barely see it as the door to the vehicle opens- and a sharp, shadowy figure unfolds into the forest. Two figures, actually. One on the driver's side and one on the passenger's side. One of them is much bigger, and has a blank, unthinking stare- some kind of grunt, for sure.

"You're early," says Whumper, walking into the light. The grunt lumbers over to Caretaker, and tries to take the duffel bag from their hands.

"Just good manners," says Caretaker, not letting go of the bag. The grunt's face furrows dumbly, and Whumper commands them to let Caretaker hold the strap of the bag.

"Just open it and count it, you don't need to hold it," calls Whumper. The grunt makes a vague, animal noise of acknowledgement and begins to flick through the cash with huge fingers.

"I'm glad you're finally here," purrs Whumper, a safe distance away from Caretaker. The blinding headlights backlight them, masking their face in shadows. "Me and Whumpee were starting to think you'd forgotten about them."

Caretaker says nothing, but their face unmistakably creases in contempt.

"'s all here, boss," says the grunt. Again, he goes to take it.

"Give me Whumpee first." said Caretaker, continuing to resist. Logically, they know this grunt-type could probably snap their wrist and take the bag, but they're hoping the master calls off the mutt and listens to reason.

Whumper seems to think about this.

"Okay," said Whumper, and goes back to the vehicle to get Whumpee.

Caretaker watches as Whumper pulls some figure from the back of the car. It's impossible to see, but the figure looks... too small to be Whumpee. They're hunched and thin, and move slowly, staggeringly.

As they're brought into the light, however, Caretaker is forced to confront that the sickly figure before them is horribly, unmistakably, Whumpee. Some emaciated version of Whumpee, with hollow cheeks and greying skin around their eyes, wearing not nearly enough clothing to accommodate this freezing weather. They're barefoot, and over their exposed skin Caretaker can see splotchy bruises in all sorts of awful colors, and what looks like... whip marks?

Caretaker's stomach really takes a dive, however, when Whumpee looks up to them- and Caretaker sees the look in their eyes. It's not hope, it's not gratitude, it's not defiance- it's some hollow terror, the eyes of someone dead-yet-walking, the eyes of someone who has seen the gates of hell. It's a wretched, scooped-out look, and it would be chilling to see in anyone's eyes... let alone the eyes of their close friend.

Caretaker lets go of the duffel bag and takes Whumpee in their arms. Whumpee is clammy with cold and fear, and is shuddering into them.

"I'm so sorry," whispers Caretaker- because what else is there to say? They are so sorry- that they didn't get the money sooner, that they didn't drive up here faster, that they didn't... they don't even know.

"Don't be," mutters Whumpee after a moment of silence, which somehow makes Caretaker feel even sicker.

"Come on," says Caretaker, looping an arm around Whumpee's shoulders. "We have blankets in the car. It's just a short walk. All downhill."

(Part 1/3)

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[snarehare]

Whumpee who clings.

After the rescue, Caretaker expects they'll be kind of shell-shocked and will want a little time alone, and so is prepared to let them be. Especially if Whumpee was a standoffish I'll-handle-it-myself type of person before their capture.

But when they come back... Caretaker can't seem to shake them. If Caretaker is cooking dinner, Whumpee wants to sit at the counter. If Caretaker is watching TV, Whumpee quietly slips into the room to watch it with them. Not once has Whumpee turned down an invite to go to the store or the laundromat or any other errand.

At night, Whumpee slips from their room and asks Caretaker if they can sleep with Caretaker.

Whumpee might not draw attention to it- maybe they just somehow end up a shadow on Caretaker's heels, the way a cat might.

Or maybe they do draw attention to it, and get wounded if Caretaker goes out without them.

Either way, there's something about being completely alone that Whumpee... just can't seem to stand anymore.

[snarehare]

Whumpee who overspills with thank-yous after their rescue.

They thank Caretaker for their meals, for their bed, for their clothes,

At first, it just sounds like good manners.

It doesn't sound as tragic as it would if the Whumpee were overspilling with apologies, so at first Caretaker smiles good-naturedly, and accepts them graciously with "You're welcome" and "no problem" and "My pleasure".

But as time passes... and Whumpee is still thanking them for the room they're staying in, for the care they're being shown, Caretaker starts to feel weird about it.

What happens when, for the dozenth time, Whumpee thanks Caretaker for being so nice to them, and Caretaker responds with a slight brokenness to their tone- "You don't have to thank me for that."

[snarehare]

I've got a bit of an odd one here, so stick with me-

Nonhuman Whumpee who wasn't /always/ nonhuman.

They were a full human for most of their life. Possibly they even looked down on the non-humans and monsters in their life at first. I mean, that's what everyone did. That's just how society functioned. Possibly, they didn't even consciously register their behaviors as hateful.

Until one day, something changed- and they were no longer human.

They lost their job and their housing. One of their prior friends graciously offers a job as a secretary- something much more dignified than normally offered to monsters and non-humans- and so Whumpee gratefully takes it.

But over time... people start to treat them differently. People forget who they were. Slowly, they watch as their old friend stops even seeing them as human.

The job gets more demeaning. People get crueler. Society itself turns against them.

Whumpee acts out- only to get quietly pushed down. They arrive one day to discover that there's been some "redistribution" of labor- and suddenly, Whumpee's the one doing all the unwanted jobs.

When they confront their ex-friend, their ex-friend says something about how they need this job... how they won't find employment anywhere else... and Whumpee realizes that even the people they used to know see them as second-class and inhuman.

And they might be stuck that way.

[snarehare]

Intro Post

Hi!

I go by "rabbit" online for anonymity (My IRL name is pretty strange & distinctive)

I am 18 years old, American, she/her.

I'm a college student studying Psychology, and I have been a passive participant in the whump community for a couple years. I'm only just now joining as a more active participant. I hope you all enjoy :)

I'm a chatterbox, but kind of shy, so may be skittish about messaging you first. I'm always up to chat though, and am always open to finding new mutuals!

I love reading & writing, as well as drawing and cooking. My favorite authors are probably Shirley Jackson and Junji Ito. If you've read The Haunting of Hill House PLEASE be my friend, I've never met anyone else who's read it and it's my favorite book ever <3

Fandoms I like: Deltarune, Mouthwashing, Infinity Train, Oxenfree (though you're unlikely to see any of that on this blog, this is pretty much whump-only)

I take requests! Send me an ask if there's something you want to see realized into a drabble or dialogue. I avoid outright NSFW for my own writing.

[snarehare]

Caretaker had encountered Whumper before, in the past.

In fact, Caretaker was one of their past victims.

Not that Caretaker would ever say that.

When Whumpee needed to be rescued, Caretaker somehow already knew how to get in and out of the building- but Whumpee was too frightened and thankful to question it.

When Whumpee, shaking, describes a little bit of what they had gone through, Caretaker gets this funny thousand-yard stare... luckily, Whumpee can't seem to look them in the eye when they talk about their experiences, so they don't notice.

Caretaker knows just what to say, because it's what they wished was said to them before.

One day, both of them encounter Whumper again.

What goes through Whumpee's head when Whumper, delightfully, calls out to Caretaker by name, and Caretaker tenses up?

[snarehare]

Whumper who emphasizes to Whumpee that nobody is coming and nobody cares.

Whumper strolls into the room that Whumpee is held, holding a newspaper in their hand.

Whumper: "Heyy Whumpee, rise and shine. Look what I've got- this morning's copy of the paper!"

Whumpee: "Please... stop... I- I don't care..."

Whumper: "You don't care? But Whumpee, what about all the hardworking folks putting on this weekend's farmer's market? Don't you want to hear about how the high school basketball team did?

Whumpee: ...

Whumper: Oh wait. Or is it that you're still a widdle sore over the way that it's been a month and there hasn't been one missing-person ad for you yet?

Whumpee: They're looking for me.

Whumper: Awww, baby.

Whumper crouches down beside Whumpee, and Whumpee flinches and looks away.

Whumper (in a voice deadly-soft and venomous): Now you know that's a lie.

Whumper shoves the newspaper in Whumpee's face.

Whumper: They couldn't even be assed to put an ad in the papers, what makes you think they're looking?

Whumpee: ...

Whumper (whispering): Nobody is looking for you, Whumpee. Nobody gives a damn.

(Of course, if you'd like, there totally have been ads put out for Whumpee... Whumper is just certain that Whumpee never sees them)

[snarehare]

Whumpee who is chronically deprived with Whumper, who begins to associate comfort with impending danger.  

They become anxious, fearful even, when offered anything that they deem “excess”.

When given a bed, they might lay on top of the covers instead of getting under them- even if it’s cold in the room.

They might insist they’re not hungry, or try to prevent caretaker from doing anything that Whumpee considers "too much".

Caretaker: “We’re out of your favorite food. I’ll get it today when I drop by the store.”

Whumpee: “Oh, no, please, thank you, I don’t actually… like that anymore,” (lying through their teeth)

[snarehare]

Whumper who works out from Whumpee who’s closest to them- and then tosses them in with Whumpee. The guilt of it- how terrible Whumpee would feel for betraying them. And- how much torture does it take before the person closest to Whumpee begins to resent them, too?

[snarehare]

Whumpee who seems completely normal afterwards. There’s some strange tendencies- like how their personality seems to have shifted, and how they struggle to trust people, but they come back and are able to be “productive”.

Unless it’s just them and Caretaker.

And then they fold, wide-eyed and trembling, into caretaker, who gently takes them in their arms.

The in-control mask is gone now- but they feel safe enough with Caretaker that they don’t need it.

[snarehare]

An idea I’ve had rattling in my head for awhile is the idea of alien “whumpers” who don’t even mean to be whumpers. Imagine- an intergalactic zoo, with all sorts of creatures from other planets. One of the exhibits just so happens to be humans.

                But the aliens don’t know what humans need, just yet- nor do they realize humans are intelligent enough to be stressed out by all of this. Inadequate food or water or clothing, the sensation of being stared at constantly, utter hopelessness at the prospect of escape…

                And that’s not to mention all the research that has to be done on the humans. Blood draws and exercise tests, all sorts of experimental diets to see what they like to eat- half of which taste terrible or even result in sickness

                There’s a huge potential for multiple Whumpees all stuck in the same place, too. Do they know each other? Do they like each other? Do they even speak the same language? What happens if a new human is introduced to the rest of them?

                I just think there’s a lot of potential there.

[snarehare]

Whumpee who lashes out towards Whumper about being lonely. And so Whumper goes and kidnaps Caretaker.

                There’s a knock on the cell door, and it opens, and Whumper steps inside… and throws the unconscious body of Caretaker onto the floor, saying they knew Whumpee needed company.

                Bonus points if Whumpee thinks that Caretaker is dead, and panics, running to their side, looking for proof they’re alive but being too worked up to notice the faint pulse.

                Or if Caretaker really is dead, if you want to get extra dark.