whumpsday

[whumpsday]

"Stay With Me"

@medwhumpmay Day 31

Medwhump May Masterlist

content: undead whumpee, post-apocalypse setting, begging, comfort, recovery, implied cannibalism

-

“Stay with me,” Whumpee begged. “Please don’t go, please, please, don’t leave me, they’re going to find me, I can’t do it again, please, please!”

Their eyes were wide and bloodshot, one looking like it might make another escape attempt from its socket–Caretaker doubted they’d slept a wink even with her at their side the whole time. They’d crash eventually, or at least, she hoped.

She took them gently by the hands, and Whumpee’s own half-decayed fingers grasped back with ten times the force, trembling.

“Listen to me. I know it’s scary.” Caretaker kept her voice level. Confident. Rooting out any show of fear like pesky weeds. It was lucky she’d gotten in the habit of it long before Whumpee came along. “But no one’s found you here yet, and it’s been days. Me going out isn’t going to change that. They’ll have long given up the search by now, if they were even searching in the first place.”

“But–” Whumpee squeezed a little tighter, and their pinkie snapped off under the force, falling to the floor. They winced a little, but that was all.

Caretaker wiggled a hand out of Whumpee’s clutches, gingerly plucked up the pinkie, and handed it back. “Does it hurt?”

“If I say yes, will you stay and put it back on?” they asked tearily.

“Very funny. I’ll take that as a no. Don’t lose it and I’ll sew it back when I come home.” Caretaker stood, brushing off her pants. “I’ve gotta eat, Whumpee. And so do you, if you really wanna stay with me.”

“I do!” they insisted hastily. “I’d never hurt you! Never!”

“You’d never hurt me on purpose,” Caretaker agreed. “But I don’t expect you to be able to resist a five-course meal when you’re starving. C’mon. Let’s be smart.”

“I-I want to stay,” Whumpee didn’t grab at her anymore, lip trembling, and Caretaker sighed as the new fear she’d clearly implanted with her little comment clearly took hold. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. Anyone out there’d kill me. Living or dead, doesn’t matter. Or–or worse, like the last guys, just–lock me up somewhere alone in the dark. I can’t. Not again. Please.”

“I’m not going to kick you out,” Caretaker promised. She quickly gathered her gear while Whumpee was busy spiraling, holstering her gun, then the other just to be safe. “I just need to go on a supply run. I’ll be back by tomorrow at the latest. You’re the only zombie in the entire world with enough brains to hide and not attack everyone they see. You’re literally gonna be fine.”

She took a blanket and draped it over Whumpee’s shoulders. They were almost cute like that, in a kind of… corpsey way. It’d take some getting used to.

“I don’t get a gun?” they asked uneasily.

“Paranoid, terrified people don’t get guns. You have any idea how many times I’ve seen people shoot perfectly alive people because they thought they saw a zombie? Way too fucking many. One of the reasons I’m out here alone. No gun,” Caretaker said firmly. “Like I said. You’d never hurt me on purpose. Let’s get rid of all chances for an accident.”

Whumpee kept their eyes on the guns. Caretaker could see them nervously chewing the inside of their cheek through the hole in it. “You said you were gonna get… food for me?”

“I’m not gonna kill anyone. Bodies aren’t hard to find. We might even share a meal sometime if things get scarce. Any other questions before I head out?”

Whumpee whimpered like an owner-sick dog. “Please come back.”

“I always do,” she assured them with a practiced winning smile.

-

Oneshots taglist:

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

@paperprinxe

@what-if-i-just-did

Everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

@lonesome--hunter

@whumpy-wyrms

@all-hail-pigeons

@wolfeyedwitch

@starfields08000

@jumpywhumpywriter

@scoundrelwithboba

@failgiao

[whumpsday]

A character who can't go on anymore. They ran as far as they could, then walked, and when they collapsed, they dragged themselves further.

But they're done now. They have nothing left. They're on the ground, breathing harshly, maybe even sobbing in their desperation. They gave all they had.

Was it enough?

[whumpsday]

I think it was said in your story that Jim never forgave Kane, just moved on, but if he did (hypothetically), would Kane accept it?

yes

[whumpsday]

Caretaker begins to lean back from a hug, but Whumpee pulls them back in. "No, please - please j-just hold me. Just for a minute."

Caretaker holds them close. "Okay. It's okay, I've got you."

[whumpsday]

cws: dead body, starvation

“What did you do?”

“Caretaker’s gone.”

“Gone?”

Whumper paused. In the far corner of the room, a body slumped against the floor.

The tall man crossed the room, boots squeaking against the concrete. He nudged Caretaker’s pale cheek with the rubber tip of his shoe—his face lolled to the other side, lifeless.

Purple and red handprints circled his throat. His skin had a bluish tinge and congealed blood had collected in the corpse’s cheeks. Whumper assumed he’d been killed in the night.

Interesting.

“Gone, huh?” His gaze slid to Whumpee across the room. “More like dead.” 

Whumpee stood stiffly, arms tight at his sides, shoulders curled inward out of shame or exhaustion. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“I take it you killed him?”

Whumpee gave a weak nod, folding his arms tightly across his chest.

“Huh. I didn’t peg you for the type.” Whumper stepped over the corpse carefully, then glanced back. “I thought you two were good friends.”

“I can get his food now, right?”

Whumper studied Whumpee. He looked frenzied—eyes wide open and wild, glassy with adrenaline. He couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t stand still.

This wasn’t the quiet, obedient captive Whumper had grown used to. Something about him had changed.

“No.” Whumper’s tone dropped. “You don’t get extra food for murdering your friend. That’s not how this works.”

“No, no—that’s not right!”

Whumper stiffened.

“You said there wasn’t enough food to keep us both fed.” Whumpee’s eyes blazed with raw fury. “That’s why you starved us both. But it’s just me now. So you can give me all of it.”

Whumpee’s breakdown felt too loud to be real. He couldn’t tell if he was actually unraveling or putting on a show. 

Whumper tilted his head, keeping his distance. “Whumpee, Whumpee. Man…” He tried not to let the amusement carry in his tone. 

“Are you proud of yourself for this?”

“I don’t care.”

It wasn't true.

“You killed your friend.”

“I know.”

He wished he hadn’t.

“You killed him. Fucking Christ. Probably strangled him in his sleep, too, poor bastard. Tsk. And you don’t have a mark on you, Whumps. It wasn’t a fair fight.” 

Whumpee turned away. He tried not to think about it. The tears spilled anyway, blurring his vision and running hot down his cheeks.

Whumper didn’t seem to notice. He was crouched beside Caretaker’s body again, dragging the back of his fingers across its cold, soft cheeks.

“Fuuuuck. Why’d you do it?”

“…I’m hungry.”

Whumper wiped his hand on his pants. “I mean, I can kinda get why you thought this’d be your way out. Actually-- no.” Whumper let out a dry, bitter laugh. “You’re fucking delirious.”

He stood, turning slowly to face Whumpee.

“Caretaker wasn’t yours to kill, Whumps. This stunt's gonna cost you.”

You wanted to kill us both!” Whumpee yelled, voice raw and desperate, echoing off the walls. “I just saved you half the fucking effort.” 

“You owe me.” he growled.

Those were the exact words Caretaker had implored him to say.

You owe me.

Speak to him in the only language he understands.

Be tough, Caretaker had said. Act like a psychopath. Like a starving animal. The only way to reach Whumper was to match his own brutal, savage cruelty. It was the only language he spoke.

“I don’t owe you shit.”

Whumper’s leg swept out, kicking Whumpee’s ankles from beneath him. His weakened body hit the floor hard.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Tears spilled down his cheeks. He huffed as he staggered to his knees, concrete digging into the skin. He was too weak to fully stand.

“Really, Whumpee? Really?” 

“He was eating my food!”

SMACK.

Whumper’s hand struck him hard across his cheek.

His vision went white.

Whumpee clutched his face and jerked upright too quickly. Spots exploded in his vision.

“You fucked up, bud.”

Whumpee’s head was spinning, he was too weak to hold himself up.

“I’m hungry.”

Nausea wracked Whumpee’s stomach, bubbling acid burned at the back of his throat. He was so hungry that his body was beginning to collapse.

“I just need to eat something… please. I just need to eat something.”

“How long did it take your friend to die?”

Why couldn’t Whumpee have been the one who got sick? 

“Tell me how long it took for him to die. Then you’ll get your food.”

"It took..." Whumpee hesitated, then finally said, “A while.”

"But did he fight back?"

Whumpee’s face went ghost-pale, sweat beading at his brow. He swayed on his knees, spine curling inward.

The world went in and out of focus, dark around the edges. Then it went completely black.

Whumpee’s eyes rolled back, and his body hit hard against the concrete floor.

Whumper stood motionless for a second, staring down at the collapsed mess of limbs on the floor.

“What the fuck?” Whumper said to himself.

A ragged wheeze rasped past Whumpee's lips.

Okay. Not dead.

“Christ.”

Whumper crouched beside him. Still warm. Alive.

Evidently the hunger had finally caught up with him.

Whumper sighed, shaking his head.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a half-smashed packet of peanut butter crackers. He pinched the greasy, crumpled package in his fingers and waved it in front of Whumpee’s nose like smelling salts. The faint warm peanut butter scent teased the air, and Whumpee’s eyelids fluttered awake.

“This is not a treat,” Whumper said flatly. “I’m not rewarding you for this performance.”

He dropped the crackers beside Whumpee’s ear with a crumbly thud.

“But I gotta make sure you’re not gonna try to take a fucking bite out of me—or ol’ buddy boy in the corner.”

The tall man stood, brushing dust from his pants. Whumpee blinked weakly up at him, too drained to move or speak.

"I guess I'll try to feed you more often."

Whumpee didn’t watch as Whumper dragged Caretaker’s body away.

His gaze lingered on the smashed crackers until he heard the door shut. Then, without hesitation, he tore into them.

(more whump)

[whumpsday]

this whole series is done! 31 short stories i'm pretty proud of! :D

Medwhump May 2025 Masterlist

🧴 Day 1: Scar Reveal

💤 Day 2: Sleep Deprivation

🐜 Day 3 (Alt): Allergic Reaction

🧑��🤝‍🧑 Day 4: Flatline

🧠 Day 5: Hallucinations

🧛 Day 6: Sedatives

🪢 Day 7: Dislocation

🥛 Day 8: Feeding Tube

🦶 Day 9: Infection

🦜 Day 10: Next of Kin (Story continued by @what-if-i-just-did here!)

🐟️ Day 11: Rehabilitation

💊 Day 12 (Alt): Clinical Trials

🔪 Day 13: Chronic Pain

🛩️ Day 14: Hypothermia (MY PERSONAL FAVORITE)

🦷 Day 15: Teeth Removal

🤝 Day 16: Disorientation

🐐 Day 17: “Something’s wrong”

🩻 Day 18 (Alt): “This will hurt”

🤏 Day 19 (Alt): Intubation

🩹 Day 20: Changing Bandages

🩸 Day 21 (Alt): Blood Loss

🦴 Day 22 (Alt): Broken Bones

📦️ Day 23: Held Down/restrained

☀️ Day 24: Burns

🪡 Day 25: Trypanophobia

🎈 Day 26 (Alt): Catheter (see 18+ blog)

🪒 Day 27: Self-surgery

🐈️ Day 28: “I’m fine”

🫂 Day 29: Recovery Time

💾 Day 30: Head Injury

🧟 Day 31: “Stay with me”

[whumpsday]

"Stay With Me"

@medwhumpmay Day 31

Medwhump May Masterlist

content: undead whumpee, post-apocalypse setting, begging, comfort, recovery, implied cannibalism

-

“Stay with me,” Whumpee begged. “Please don’t go, please, please, don’t leave me, they’re going to find me, I can’t do it again, please, please!”

Their eyes were wide and bloodshot, one looking like it might make another escape attempt from its socket–Caretaker doubted they’d slept a wink even with her at their side the whole time. They’d crash eventually, or at least, she hoped.

She took them gently by the hands, and Whumpee’s own half-decayed fingers grasped back with ten times the force, trembling.

“Listen to me. I know it’s scary.” Caretaker kept her voice level. Confident. Rooting out any show of fear like pesky weeds. It was lucky she’d gotten in the habit of it long before Whumpee came along. “But no one’s found you here yet, and it’s been days. Me going out isn’t going to change that. They’ll have long given up the search by now, if they were even searching in the first place.”

“But–” Whumpee squeezed a little tighter, and their pinkie snapped off under the force, falling to the floor. They winced a little, but that was all.

Caretaker wiggled a hand out of Whumpee’s clutches, gingerly plucked up the pinkie, and handed it back. “Does it hurt?”

“If I say yes, will you stay and put it back on?” they asked tearily.

“Very funny. I’ll take that as a no. Don’t lose it and I’ll sew it back when I come home.” Caretaker stood, brushing off her pants. “I’ve gotta eat, Whumpee. And so do you, if you really wanna stay with me.”

“I do!” they insisted hastily. “I’d never hurt you! Never!”

“You’d never hurt me on purpose,” Caretaker agreed. “But I don’t expect you to be able to resist a five-course meal when you’re starving. C’mon. Let’s be smart.”

“I-I want to stay,” Whumpee didn’t grab at her anymore, lip trembling, and Caretaker sighed as the new fear she’d clearly implanted with her little comment clearly took hold. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. Anyone out there’d kill me. Living or dead, doesn’t matter. Or–or worse, like the last guys, just–lock me up somewhere alone in the dark. I can’t. Not again. Please.”

“I’m not going to kick you out,” Caretaker promised. She quickly gathered her gear while Whumpee was busy spiraling, holstering her gun, then the other just to be safe. “I just need to go on a supply run. I’ll be back by tomorrow at the latest. You’re the only zombie in the entire world with enough brains to hide and not attack everyone they see. You’re literally gonna be fine.”

She took a blanket and draped it over Whumpee’s shoulders. They were almost cute like that, in a kind of… corpsey way. It’d take some getting used to.

“I don’t get a gun?” they asked uneasily.

“Paranoid, terrified people don’t get guns. You have any idea how many times I’ve seen people shoot perfectly alive people because they thought they saw a zombie? Way too fucking many. One of the reasons I’m out here alone. No gun,” Caretaker said firmly. “Like I said. You’d never hurt me on purpose. Let’s get rid of all chances for an accident.”

Whumpee kept their eyes on the guns. Caretaker could see them nervously chewing the inside of their cheek through the hole in it. “You said you were gonna get… food for me?”

“I’m not gonna kill anyone. Bodies aren’t hard to find. We might even share a meal sometime if things get scarce. Any other questions before I head out?”

Whumpee whimpered like an owner-sick dog. “Please come back.”

“I always do,” she assured them with a practiced winning smile.

-

Oneshots taglist:

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

@paperprinxe

@what-if-i-just-did

Everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

@lonesome--hunter

@whumpy-wyrms

@all-hail-pigeons

@wolfeyedwitch

@starfields08000

@jumpywhumpywriter

@scoundrelwithboba

@failgiao

[whumpsday]

Hi! I love your writing.

What would the hunters do (to Kane and the new hunter) if a new hunter tried to rescue Kane? Maybe made it as far as getting him out of his cell before being caught?

- @pigeonwhumps

kane - recaptured and subjected to more "attention" than usual for a while. probably just more of his usual, but with higher frequency with the attention the attempt's gotten him. the hunter would really be blamed for this, not that kane is ever let off the hook on the best of days.

hunter - kicked out and screamed at about how irresponsible this was. probably roughed up a little (like, punched once and shoved some more. not anything very serious.)

[whumpsday]

I’m a big fan of mage/knight dynamics in any form, so consider:

Mage as a Knight’s Whumpee, featuring:

Being strictly prohibited from casting any spells without their knight’s orders, even in self defense

Being dragged into every battle the knight participates in without any of the armor or support

Forced to cast spells far beyond their level or limit, leading to painful feedback & exhaustion

Only being allowed to wear the colors and symbols of their knight’s heraldry as a sign of ownership

Becoming a target for their knight’s frustrations after any loss or dishonor

Or, alternatively - Knights as a Mage’s Whumpee, featuring:

Being used as meat shields against a mage’s enemies, either through orders or straight up mind control to take the hit

Forced into public tournaments against other mages’ knights and knowing the consequences for if they fail to impress

Becoming a test subject for the mage’s new spells and potions, regardless of how dangerous they may be

Sent on potentially deadly missions to collect rare spell components from monsters and cursed locations

Branded with magic runes that force them to follow the mage’s orders

[whumpsday]

Omg tge part about blood from that answer about things Kane finds comfort in made me teary, I am absolutely leaving a giant box full of blood packs wrapped in gift paper with dedication specifically for him to INDULGE on the doorstep.

Damn, he can bathe in it if he wants to. Go ham Kane, ily

LOL he will not. but he will drink every drop gratefully!

[whumpsday]

What dog breeds do you think Kane and Jim would be? You don't have to know anything about the dog you can just go purely off vibe. My personal choice would be an Irish Water Spaniel for Jim (or realistically some kind of mutt lol) and for Kane either a really fucked up looking Belgian Sheepdog or a Schipperke cuz I mean. Just look at those things.

i dont know anything abt dogs sorry lol

[whumpsday]

You think he needs some water ;)

Even unbound, Vic can't exactly fight you in this state. His arms are practically useless, smacking at you in a pathetic attempt to beat you back as you move to tower over his prone form.

"Relax. Aren't you thirsty?"

You help him to a seated position, ignoring his snarl and feeble struggles, leaving him for a moment to get a bottle of water and helping him sip its contents. As much as you can tell that Vic wants to push you away, to deny your help, his body takes over, drinking down all it can.

You let him have a few minutes to himself after that. Get used to light and the feeling of not being in a box and all that shit. But not too long. Just long enough to prepare the next event.

Without much warning, you grab Vic by the hair, smirking at the pained noises he tries to hold back, at his attempts to free himself, to fight back, as you drag him to a freshly-filled barrel of water.

"What?" you ask as he glowers up at you. "I said I thought you'd be thirsty."

It's pretty great that you don't even have to tie his hands. Even with all the struggles, the sheer panic you can feel in him as his body fights to reach air, you don't have a hard time keeping his head under the water. Every now and then, you let him up. Listen to a gasp, a choke, then force him back in.

Weak as he is right now, you get the feeling this is only making Vic angrier. Good! It'll be that much more entertaining when he starts to crumble.

[whumpsday]

I'm curious, have you ever imagined meeting your OCs? Would you get along with them?

Both in more irl scenario and also when they know they're created by you 🤔

(I gave it a thought regarding my own and realised that my favourite OC and would probably not have the best relationship because our personalities would clash a lot, or at least would take time, and if they knew I'm behind everything... I have maybe one that I could still be friends with xD)

one of my go-to bedtime imagine scenarios is imagining caretaking a kane who randomly ends up in my home tbh, teleported straight from captivity. he is not a difficult person to get along with at this stage in his life.

if he knew he was created by me that'd be awkward as fuckkkk, but he's also a major daydreamer and i think he would understand the line of reasoning "i had literally no reason to belief you would turn out real". and frankly in such a situation, i would less assume that i created him, and more assume i'd been having visions of him that i interpreted as my own original story.

[whumpsday]

Hiii

I feel like this, or something similar must've been answered before but I cannot seem to find it :<

So if u don't mind, what are Kane's favourite ways to relax, calm down when he's having bad days, what brings him biggest comfort? Are there things he wishes for in these cases but is scared to ask/want or is all easily obtainable? (I hope it makes sense, I can't phrase it properly from what's in my brain 😐)

favorite ways to relax

a nice bath (he used to like candles with it pre-whump, doesn't anymore)

getting all super wrapped up in a million blankets

just generally hanging around jim, at this point, brings him a measure of comfort all on its own

listening to classical piano cds

thing that would bring him maximum luxury but is not easily attainable and he'd never dare to ask

going absolutely ham on as much blood as he could possibly drink (sometimes he pretends to do this, using water. sometimes during the aforementioned nice bath.)

[whumpsday]

Head Injury

@medwhumpmay Day 30

Medwhump May Masterlist

content: robot whumpee, escape, amnesia, angst

-

In this moment, its first moment, for there was nothing before, Whumpee knew only two things.

First and most importantly, a warning. It blared through its mind, telling of major damage both internal and external. This would be unusual no matter the circumstances–damage should never be usual–but was particularly worrying for a first moment. As far as Whumpee could tell, there was a sizeable hole shot clean through its head, in through the back and out through the front. One of its cameras was out, and its microphone, as well as its primary hard drive.

Secondly, the one piece of information on its secondary hard drive. A text file reading only:

Keep running. Lose your pursuers. Please. I love you.

It was running, it turned out. Following the directions in the file, it did not stop. Curiously, the file’s details claimed it to have been written by Whumpee itself, less than a minute ago. But that didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t capable of things like love, or at least, it didn’t think it was. And even if it was, who was this note for? Itself? It was absurd.

There was no set path ahead, but even with only one camera, it weaved between the trees with ease. It couldn’t hear to check for the implied pursuers, but Whumpee just kept going in the same direction it came into being running in. North and north and north.

It kept going, for hours and hours and hours, until the sun rose.

Whumpee slowed, stopped, and turned around. As far as it could see, there was no one there.

It flipped its solar panels outward and continued running. There were no trees blocking its line to the sun, here. There was nothing out here for miles.

I love you. Was the note a transcription from someone else? Possibly someone it hadn’t wanted the pursuers to find? Or was it from the being Whumpee used to be, the one on the ruined hard drive, directed at the being it would be now? In either case, why did the author love it? What was it supposed to do with that?

If it was from someone else, how was it supposed to know the difference between them and a pursuer? It briefly cursed the author, whether itself or a human, for not providing more information? How was it supposed to know? It didn’t know anything.

I love you.

It didn’t know anything except that someone loved it. Even if that someone might have just been its own destroyed hard drive.

After weeks of running, Whumpee reached the ocean. There was no beach here, no horrible sand it would have to avoid getting into its nooks and crannies, just rock and water.

It couldn’t go north anymore. East, West, or stop. Those were its options.

Whumpee sat on the rocks, far from the ones where the waves silently crashed. Carefully, it opened up its head, removing the damaged hard drive.

Completely irreparable. A bullet had been through it. There was no way anyone would be able to get any sort of information off of it.

Whumpee held the hard drive to its chest, hugging it like either of them could feel anything at all.

-

Oneshots taglist:

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

@paperprinxe

@what-if-i-just-did

Everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

@lonesome--hunter

@whumpy-wyrms

@all-hail-pigeons

@wolfeyedwitch

@starfields08000

@jumpywhumpywriter

@scoundrelwithboba

[whumpsday]

#16

@tastywhump

content: recovery fic, caretaker new master, bad caretaker, conditioned whumpee, collared

“I’m just trying to help—”

“No!” Whumpee shrieked, clinging to their collar with both hands, eyes most likely crazed from the sheer terror. “Are you insane? The collar stays on! It can’t come off!”

The benevolent stranger who had come to get them from Whumper’s home sighed. “It’s dirty and you likely have an infection underneath from where it was chafing. It needs to come off.”

“No! No, no, no! I’m sorry, but it can’t! Whumper said— They very clearly said, they said, ‘If that collar ever leaves your neck, it’ll be the day I bury you’. It was very clear! I don’t want to be buried!”

“Well, Whumper isn’t… here.”

“They’ll know! They’ll know!”

The stranger sighed again, rubbing their temples. “Okay, let’s… Let’s get you out of here, let’s get you into the car. Once we’re at my place, we’ll revisit this. My name’s Caretaker, by the way.”

Caretaker’s car was comfortable and warm. Whumpee got to huddle up in the back with their favourite blanket, but the threat was still looming over their head. We’ll revisit this. They were clinging to their collar like a lifeline, telling themself over and over again that no matter what, they were going to be good and keep it on. For Whumper.

“We’re here,” Caretaker said once they turned off the engine. “Let’s go inside, shall we?” 

Whumpee stayed huddled up. “Can I stay?” 

“Stay in the car? Why?”

Because if I don’t go inside, we’ll never have to revisit it. “I’m really comfortable.”

“There is a comfortable bed inside, prepared just for your arrival.” Whumpee pursed their lips and stayed where they were. “Is everything okay? Why don’t you want to come inside? I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“You want to see me dead,” they blurted out.

“I— What? Why on earth would I want that?” 

“You want to take my collar. You want to see me dead.”

For the third time, Caretaker sighed, heavy and exasperated. “Whumpee, you’re not going to die if that comes off. In fact, you might die if it stays on. That infection looks nasty. I don’t understand how you can bear the pain.”

“I’d rather be in pain than dead.”

“Whumpee…”

“Whumper was clear! I don’t know what else you want from me! They said they’d bury me, I don’t want to be buried, the collar stays on!”

“Okay!” Caretaker snapped. “Fine! It stays on! But I’m going to push it aside to clean that wound. Either with your cooperation or without it.”

That sounded an awful lot like Whumper. “Where are they? Whumper?”

Caretaker stopped in their tracks. “What?”

“Where is Whumper? You said they weren’t at the house.”

“About that…” They awkwardly rubbed the back of their neck. “They’re in jail.”

“What?”

“Well, keeping a whole human person in a cage in their house might not have been the wisest choice they’ve made.”

“But they cared for me! Bring me to them! I want to see them!”

“Right they did, they fed you dog food and kept you collared.”

“They cared for me!”

“I’m not doing another argument. Let’s go inside.”

“Am I gonna live with you now?”

“For the time being.”

“And you want to kill me.”

“Whumpee, I told you already, you’re not going to die from removing your collar. But I made a concession: we don’t have to remove it right now. Hopefully I can push it out of the way enough to bandage your neck.”

“I don’t want to go inside.”

“Would it help if I said you don’t have a choice?”

“You’re not Whumper. You can’t tell me what to do.”

Caretaker banged on the steering wheel. “For fuck’s sake, Whumpee, I’m trying to help you! Stop being so fucking difficult and start following orders! I was tasked with trying to care for you because Whumper is my sibling, but if you won’t start complying—”

“Your sibling?” Whumpee asked timidly. 

“Yes, my younger sibling.”

“Oh… I, I didn’t realise… I… I’m sorry. I thought— Whumper never mentioned having siblings…”

Caretaker’s gaze softened. “Well, we weren’t really on talking terms. Does this change anything? Will you come inside with me now?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry for having been difficult. I’m just… I’m very confused.”

“And can I take that collar off of you?” Whumpee fell silent. Caretaker gave up after just a few seconds. “Okay. We’ll continue working on that part. For now, let’s just get you as cleaned up as possible.”