Whumpee shivered, barely able to move. Their limbs felt like ice, their fingers numb. They could barely hear the footsteps coming closer.

“Oh Whumpee, what am I going to do with you?”

Dialogue for Caretaker helping Whumpee they hate/former Whumper

- "I hope I'm not around next time you get hurt."

- "Stop getting yourself into trouble. Bandages are expensive, you know."

- "Thank you for not hurting me, Caretaker." "Don't thank me. I'd kill you if I could forgive myself for it."

- "Get your own painkillers. I've given you enough already."

- "You don't deserve this, you know."

- "Change your bandages every day and get lots of rest, and you'll be fine in a few weeks. Now fuck off."

- "Yeah, you're a shitty person. But still a person. Nobody deserves to go through that, not even you."

- "You can walk on your own. It's just a sprain. I treated your injuries, I'm not carrying you too."

- "It's a damn shame I'm not heartless enough to leave you here."

- "Don't be so dramatic. This isn't near as bad as what you did to them."

- "Ugh, I guess I should help you."

- "No, I don't know what you've done. But I know that right now, you're bad hurt, so if you'd just let me help you this would be a lot easier for both of us."

Winter

~ Whumpmas in July Day 27: Peace ~

content: escape, cold whump, captivity, defiant whumpee, major character death

have a real short one.

-

Whumpee panted hard as they ran, far away from that awful house. They clutched their bleeding stomach as the run slowed to a jog, then a walk, then a stumble, the red seeping over their arms.

It was so beautiful, despite the pain. Whumpee hadn’t been outside in years. Snow covered every surface, disturbed only by their footsteps and the pitter-patter of their blood. They’d always loved winter, those magical nights where all was quiet in the snow. Peaceful.

They looked back. Whumper was nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t matter. They’d left a trail clear as day, marked in red. It was still snowing lightly, but it was unlikely that it would snow enough to cover the track before Whumper caught up to them.

They soon found themself unable to continue. They were tired, dizzy, cold. They may have loved the winter, but they weren’t dressed for it: why would they be? They shivered as they lowered themself to the ground, the soft snow making a freezing cushion underneath them. They couldn’t feel their toes anymore.

They uncurled their arms from their abdomen and laughed bitterly. The bleeding wasn’t stopping. Of course it wouldn’t. That was just their luck.

There was nothing out here for miles, this little secluded corner of the world Whumper kept them in. No one was going to find them.

Whumpee laid back, looking up at the cloud-covered sky. Snowflakes dotted their face as the cold seeped in through their thin clothes.

They waved their arms, making a snow angel. They’d always liked to do that, as a child. Whumpee remembered making snow angels with their family on snow days, all bundled up in their puffy winter jacket. They hadn’t seen their family in a long, long time.

They were so tired.

Whumpee didn’t try to get up. They knew this was it.

A look to their side revealed that their snow angel had red wings, stained with the blood coating their arms. That was kind of cool. It would be covered up by the snow soon enough, though.

Their serene quiet was interrupted by the crunch, crunch, crunch of someone distantly walking through the snow. There was no doubt in their mind about who it was, the only other person out here. Whumper.

Whumpee sighed, their breath ragged with shivers. A small smile graced their lips. Whumper was too late.

They died free.

-

@whumpmasinjuly​

general drabbles taglist:

“They won’t pay.”

“Wh-what?”

“They won’t pay.” Whumper smiled. “You know what that means?”

Tears welled up in Whumpee’s eyes.

“You’re all mine.”

"It hurts,"

Whumpee was trembling, arms lashed above their head and back in shreds.

Almost reverently, Whumper turns to them, gently cupping their cheek.

"I know," the mutter, warm palm soothing over Whumpee's already flushed skin. "And it will continue to hurt until I get what I want."

sb using your muse’s hair to forcibly pull them upright/forcibly pull their head back so their neck is bare (and able to be threatened). Yeah