#blood loss whump

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee awakens curled in the backseat in someone's arms.

They look down, their entire torso is drenched with blood.

They start to panic, but someone holds them tightly. "Shhh, shh sh, it's okay, go back to sleep. Close your eyes." Someone grabs a blanket and covers their chest with it.

"You're going to be fine, I got you. Go back to sleep... Please."

A hand brushes over their face and closes their eyes. Whumpee finds themselves doing what the voice tells them to.

[slippedtheknot]

"I Don't Wanna Die."

Whumpee's hands clawed at their wound. Blood was still gushing from in between their fingers and Whumpee was starting to panic. They could hear Caretaker on the phone with 911; urging them to hurry.

There was so much blood and Whumpee didn't know what to do. Their mind was blank. They knew to keep pressure on it, but there was just so much blood and Whumpee couldn't concentrate. Caretaker hung up the phone and came back to where Whumpee was. They saw that Whumpee's hands were starting to loosen up, and more blood continued to leak out from their abdomen.

"Hey hey hey, you've gotta put pressure on it." Caretaker rushed over and replaced Whumpee's hand with their own. "I've called 911, and they're coming to help us, okay?"

Whumpee stared up at Caretaker with glossy eyes. Their mind was starting to go fuzzy, and Whumpee felt exactly how they did after that 2-mile run. The panic Whumpee was feeling grew ten-fold.

"I don't wanna die," Whumpee whispered. "Please, please don't let me die."

"I won't let you die Whumpee, I promise." Caretaker met Whumpee's fear-filled eyes, and behind the calm, stoic front Caretaker put on, Whumpee could see their fear too.

[lumpywhump]

Whumpee who keeps picking their scabs to the point where they have to go to the hospital because of the blood loss

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Merry Whumpmas 2023 Day 20: Stab Wound

TW: madness, insanity, knife, stab wound, blood

Whumpee gripped the knife with shaking fingers. It protruded from between the ribs on their right side, and blood welled out from around the knife.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Whumper chided, shaking a demeaning finger. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you! You’ll bleed out in moments if you pull out that knife!”

Whumpee’s knees were shaking. Afraid of falling and driving the knife even further into their flesh, they slowly lowered themself to the ground, hands still tightly wrapped around the knife. It was becoming hard to breathe. Whumper had stabbed them in the right lung.

Whumper stood over them, smirking. “Oh… you poor unfortunate child…” they teased. Whumpee glimpsed the look in their eyes, that of uncontrollable madness and bloodlust, and the hair stood on the back of their neck. 

“What happens…” Whumpee mumbled, “if I don’t pull out the knife?”

Whumper cocked their head, the crazed look still on their face. “Well… I don’t know. Perhaps we’ll find out! That would be exciting, wouldn’t it?”

As Whumpee slowly inhaled and exhaled, a high whistling sound came from their chest. A warm and wet liquid began to fill their throat, blood’s iron taste on their tongue. Whumper saw the look on their face and grinned widely. “That’ll be the hole I put in your lung. Isn’t it fascinating, how the air all escapes out of it?”

Whumpee shook their head, but they didn’t dare voice their response. They needed to save their breath.

“Awww… not talking, are we?” Whumper pouted, sticking out their lower lip like a toddler. They crouched down, reaching Whumpee’s eye level. “Well,” they mused, “I suppose you only have a few more minutes of breathing left, better save that, hmm?”

Whumpee glared at them, projecting all their hatred into that one expression. “If I’m going down,” they murmured, tightening their grip around the knife, “You’re coming with me!”

Yanking the bloodied knife out of their chest, Whumpee lunged forward, plunging it into Whumper’s heart. Their momentum thrust them on top of Whumper as they forced them to the floor, driving the knife as deep as they could.

Whumper’s expression of surprise was almost comical. “Well…” they whispered, blood beginning to fall from their lips, “can’t say I expected something so… drastic… to come… from… you…”

Whumpee pushed themself off Whumper and hit the floor, their waning strength not enough to crawl away. Blood pooled on the floor underneath them, and Whumpee fixed their gaze upon the ceiling. The last thing they saw before they died would not be Whumper’s face; it would not!

The ceiling was white, and the paint was old and beginning to peel. Whumpee listened to Whumper’s breathing, waiting as it slowed… slowed… and stopped. Whumpee closed their eyes, feeling their own life force slipping away.

Somewhere far away, a door opened.

Running footsteps, a familiar voice shouting and swearing. “They’re in here!”

Someone shook Whumpee’s shoulder. They slowly opened their eyes and gazed up into Caretaker’s panicked face. “Don’t worry, Whumpee,” Caretaker promised, looking frantically at their injuries. “You’re gonna be fine. Everything’s gonna be fine!”

Whumpee closed their eyes again. Sorry, Caretaker, they thought, lacking the energy to speak, I don’t think I’m gonna make it.

“I’m right here, you hear me? You’re gonna be alright, I promise!”

As Whumpee dropped into oblivion, a small spike of doubt wound its way into their heart. Perhaps everything would be okay.

[whump-or-whatever]

Whump Vignette #9

Contents: defiant whumpee, bound to table, torture, torture with audience, knife & cuts, begging, blood loss, sort of gleeful whumper, implied past torture, implied team dynamic

• • •

Whumpee awoke with a start, quickly discovering that their wrists were bound above their head, their feet to the bottom of the table they laid on. They blinked hard to clear their vision before looking around. Movement in the corner of their eye drew their attention. Upon recognizing who it was, they sank back onto the table, muscles relaxing. A smug look crossed their face. “Ahh. I should have known it’d be you.”

Whumper spread their arms wide with a grin. “Who else?”

“What do you want this time?” Whumpee asked, almost sounding bored.

Whumper pursed their lips. “Who says I want anything? I guess, if I had to say, I want to… have some fun?”

Whumpee laughed at that. “You’ve got a screwed up idea of fun. Have you ever tried… dinner and a movie? You know, going out to a show? What about water parks? Man, those are tons of fun.”

“You’re funny,” Whumper smiled, approaching the table. They leaned their hands on the edge of it, giving Whumpee a once-over. “That’s precisely what’s going to make this so much fun.”

Whumpee’s face fell into a darker expression. “You know I’ve been through this whole torture thing before, yeah?”

“Of course.” Whumper nodded. “But now, there’s bonus content.”

Whumpee rolled their eyes, looking away in annoyance. “What in gods green earth are you on about now?”

Whumper wore a huge smile. “Torture. Been there, done that. Boring, right? But torture with an audience?” They raised a brow.

This got Whumpee’s attention, and they turned to regard Whumper apprehensively. Whumper’s grin grew impossibly larger as they leaned in close to Whumpee. “That’s right. Your friends are watching.”

Whumper turned to look over their shoulder, and Whumpee followed their line of sight to a white surveillance camera mounted in the corner of the room. A small red light blinked steadily on it.

Wearing a mocking pout, Whumper asked, “what do you think now, still too boring for you?”

Whumpee had to shake themself from their racing thoughts. Theoretically, it shouldn’t change anything. But realistically, it changed everything. Whumpee was never one to show weakness in front of others, but they now knew that that was exactly what Whumper wanted. They wouldn’t stop until Whumpee was a bleeding, broken mess splayed out on the table for the others to see.

Steeling themself, Whumpee met Whumper’s gaze steadily. “Meh. Still boring. Sort of overdone, if you ask me.”

Whumper’s smug expression faltered for a fraction of a second, just long enough for Whumpee to notice and take great satisfaction. When they recovered, Whumper shrugged casually. “We’ll see about that.”

With that, Whumper pulled a folding knife out of their pocket, opening it up to reveal a razor-like blade. Whumpee eyed it warily but maintained their cool exterior.

Whumper glanced back over their shoulder at the camera and called, “I hope you’re paying attention, this is about to get good.” Then, they turned back around with a sadistic smirk and placed the knife to the skin just over Whumpee’s ribs, pulling the first of many lines.

Whumpee pursed their lips, refusing to cry out. This didn’t seem to faze Whumper. “You’ve heard of death by a thousand cuts?” Whumper asked as they pulled a second cut just below the first. When Whumpee didn’t respond they continued. “What do you say we see how close we can get before you beg me to stop, hmm?”

Whumpee laughed, partly at what Whumper had said and partly as a coping mechanism for the pain. “I’m not gonna beg you for shit.”

Whumper tsk’d at them. “Best not make promises you can’t keep.”

• • •

Whumpee didn’t know how long it had been, nor how many cuts had been inflicted on their body. They expected Whumper was counting, but if they were they didn’t share the number out loud. All Whumpee knew was that every inch of their arms and chest was covered in blood and stinging cuts. They laid on the table, eyes completely unfocused, head lolled to the side and mouth agape as they rode out the pain.

Whumper dragged the knife along a particularly sensitive spot on the inside of their upper arm and Whumpee groaned, trying their hardest not to whimper as Whumper pressed it in deeper than the other cuts.

When the knife left their skin, Whumpee’s eyes fell shut in relief. Then, they shot back open as a hand smacked them across the face. Through the haze of blood loss, Whumpee forced their vision to focus on Whumper where they floated above them.

“Should I continue?” Whumper asked as casually as someone asking if they should try a particular menu item at a restaurant.

Whumpee’s brow creased in confusion. Another snack had them scrambling to figure out what exactly they were supposed to say. “Do you want me to continue?” Whumper asked more forcefully this time.

“No,” Whumpee responded, half way between a statement and a question.

Whumper rested their elbows on the table beside Whumpee, leaning over them with a smile. “Then beg me to stop.”

“What?”

Whumper dug their knife into the skin over Whumpee’s hip bone, dragging it upward viciously slow. Whumpee screamed from behind closed lips, back arching even as they tried to squirm away from the knife. “Beg. Me. To. Stop.” Whumper repeated calmly.

When the blade ceased its searing path, Whumpee collapsed back down on the table, exhausted. “I- Please. Please, Whumper. Stop.” They choked out the words, hating how broken and ragged their voice sounded. Their eyes were drawn back to the ever-blinking light in the corner of the room and a wave of shame washed over them, causing them to look away, face red.

Whumper patted Whumpee on the shoulder roughly, causing them to gasp in pain. “I knew I’d make a liar of you. And it only took one session. How disappointing.” Whumper mocked. “No matter. There’s plenty more fun to be had.”

Whumpee clenched their jaw, licking their dry lips. They hated everything about this more than they could remember hating anything else in their life. It wasn’t the pain or even Whumper. It was the fact that their friends would be there to witness their undoing. To see them unravel bit by bit as they inevitably would. To recognize just how weak and vulnerable Whumpee really was when it came right down to it. That was the worst torture they could imagine, and Whumper knew it.

• • •

Fin

[redd956]

Mini Whump Prompt 64

Whumpee is in dire need of blood. Who has the compatible blood to try to stabilize them? Caretaker, Rival, Enemy..?

[whumpdaydreamerx]

Whumpee so injured that they can’t get up from the ground. Trying to make it on their feet and staggering side to side. Slamming into the wall with a groan, holding their injuries. Trying to slide toward an exit but ultimately stumbling over their increasingly heavy feet.

Hitting the ground with a hiss. They stare up the ceiling panting, trying to catch their breath. The room spins and the pain becomes too much, before they’re called to darkness.

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #8

xxx forced to stay awake

"Do not let him sleep!" Louisa's voice, sounding strange and distant. It reminds River of the vinyl records he used to listen to with the OB as a kid, the really old ones that made his granddad get that wistful look on his face that disappeared again as soon as he caught River looking at him. Things were so much simpler back then. If he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend he's back there...

"Cartwright!" Lamb snaps, shaking him a little. "Do you want to be fired from the Service for good?"

In this moment, that actually doesn't sound like too much of a bad thing if River is being honest. He doesn't say so.

"That wasn't rhetorical." Lamb's voice is loud, sharp. "We both know how your last job interview went. No one that's any good'll take you, which means you'll be stuck behind a desk at some basic mid-level office job. Or maybe a private firm'll take you on, like your old pal Webb! Imagine working for those arseholes. Is that what you want?"

"No," River mutters.

"No? Then keep your fucking eyes open!"

River forces himself to comply. There's not much to look at, really: the back of the passenger seat; the blood on his hand; Jackson Lamb's knees; the back of Louisa's head and, when he lifts his gaze a little, a glimpse of her worried face in the rear-view. The inside of his eyelids offered a better view.

The car hits a bump, jolting him and ripping a cry from his throat as pain tears through his side and chest where the bullets had struck. His vision goes dark for a second, and then he's pulled back to awareness by the sound of Lamb's raised voice.

"Jesus Christ," he's saying. "Who taught you how to drive?"

"I'm sorry!" Louisa, voice pinched. "River, come on!"

River groans, and prying his eyelids apart is harder this time. Breathing is hard, too. Everything is hard.

"River, talk to me! You okay?" Louisa cries.

"Yup," River gasps. Another groan. "Hurts."

"I'll bet it does," Lamb says. "Maybe next time you'll think twice before running off on your own like a fucking dickhead, eh? Course, I thought the same thing the last two times you did it. It's like you never learn, no matter how many times I tell you to stop doing stupid shit."

"You can..." River really shouldn't be wasting his breath on this, but he can't help it. "You can lead a horse to water."

Lamb makes a noise that could be a snort of laughter or, more likely, he's hacking up something disgusting.

"I don't know that I could lead you fuck-ups to water if we were on a-a tiny island in the middle of the Pacific."

River tries to draw in another breath to respond, but his chest hitches and he lets out a wet cough. His mouth fills with the taste of iron and he almost gags, but coughs again instead, blood flecking his lips, and he just keeps coughing. Panic is creeping in, black dancing at the edges of his vision. He can't get enough air...

"Keep breathing," Lamb commands, his words filtering through the ringing in River's ears. The pressure he's been holding on the hole in River's chest increases as he tightens his grip.

He doesn't know how long it takes, it feels like a lifetime, but the coughing fit finally subsides. His chest is burning, head pounding. He can't catch his breath. And, more than anything else, he's so, so tired. It's a deep, heavy exhaustion. He just wants to sleep.

"Cartwright! You open your fucking eyes, now."

Fucking Lamb. Louisa is speaking too, but River can't discern the words. She's too far away. He suspects she wants him to stay awake too, though, damn her. Damn both of them.

"Now!" Lamb repeats, tapping River's face. "You hear me, Cartwright? That's an order. I know you're shit at following those, but you had better follow this one. Come on. Eyes open. If you won't do it for me, do it for Guy. You saw what happened after Min. What do you think'll happen if you die in her backseat?"

That sparks something, the faintest bit of anger, and River's eyes open a little. He doesn't know how he manages it.

He doesn't know if he'll manage it again.

xxx

[whumpster-dumpster]

Soulmate AU where soulmates share a sense of taste. Character A knowing Character B hasn't been eating because they haven't tasted anything in a while. Their tongue itching when they eat something A is allergic to. Knowing they're overworking when it's cold coffee for hours on end. Knowing they're sick when they taste bitter bile. Knowing they're in trouble when all they can taste is blood.

[worldboywhump]

Home And Away: Ep 7620 (He’s in extreme pain😩)

[jordanstrophe]

Abandoned whumpee is back

[Previous] - [Next] CW: Captive whumpee, injury, blood loss, medical whump, hurt/comfort, defiant whumpee, intimate whumper

Two guards on either side pulled whumpee through the wasteland. Whumper lead in the front, often craning their head back to make sure whumpee stayed in check.

"This is all pointless!" Whumpee shouted at them. "I'm not giving up my team, I'll be nothing but a h-.. hassle. I just-" Whumpee ran out of breath as their retorting faded. The bandage on their side was soaked in blood as some began running down their waist.

Whumper turned around, immediately motioning for the group to stop. "They're bleeding faster than I thought. Lay them down for a second." Whumper ordered, rushing to them while ripping open a new bandage.

The guards tried pulling whumpee to the ground; whumpee wouldn't bend their knees, so whumper grabbed their legs and pulled them out from underneith them.

"No no NO- I'm fine! Leave it alone!" Whumpee squirmed. Whumper pinned their legs together with their knees and peeled off the dripping bandage.

"I'm going to put some pressure and tighten it, okay?" Whumper explained, wrapping a bandage around their midsection.

"Just le-leave me here. I'm already holding you back." Whumpee rasped, sweat pouring down their face. The guards kept whumpee's arms over their head and wouldn't let them move an inch.

"Thanks for the kind thoughts. Now take a deep breath, this'll hurt." Whumper said. Whumpee glared and breathed rapidly; whumper just watched and waited. Finally out of sheer discomfort, whumpee took a deep enough breath as whumper pulled the two ends tightly against the wound.

Even though they wanted to, whumpee willed themselves not to scream. They groaned and cried behind gritted teeth, their cheeks flushed red and whumper could feel them tense underneath them.

"That's it, you're doing fine. Good job." Whumper patted their leg. Whumpee deeply exhaled with the tiniest whimper behind it. They seemed unable to speak.

"I'll get you taken care of when we get home. Some stitches and a night's rest will do you good. I'm sure you haven't eaten in a while." Whumper shook blood off their hands and stood up. They looked down and realized whumpee was trying to squirm to their feet. They kept collapsing and their legs were shaking.

"Want me to carry you-"

"No." Whumpee cut them off, still trying to struggle to their feet. They began using the guards to try and pull themselves up.

"Come on whumpee, this is pathetic." Whumper crossed their arms.

"I'm- I'm aware. I don't want your help, don't touch me anymore. Please..." Whumpee looked up at them with a furrowed brow. For the first time, whumper saw just how much pain they were in. Mentally and physically.

"Okay I'm picking you up." Whumper said, shoving their arm under whumpee's knees.

"No, no you are nooOOOTT-!" Whumpee shouted as whumper hoisted them up mid-sentence. Whumpee clung to their neck out of sheer adrenaline.

"There we go, not so bad right?" Whumper cooed, continuing onwards.

"Put. Me. Down." Whumpee hissed.

"Would you rather we drag you across the gravel? Just relax. I'm not going to drop you."

"If that gets me put down, they do it." Whumpee kicked their feet. They tried to pry off whumper's fingers from their back leg, but was unsuccessful.

Whumper sighed and rolled their eyes. For the rest of the way, whumpee complained and argued loudly. Carrying them was exhausting, but whumper liked that they could monitor the bandage and keep track of how much blood they were losing.

By the time they got to the transportation, whumpee had fallen asleep. Their head was resting against whumper's shoulder, one arm was folded over their stomach, their other arm hung limp.

Whumper claimed the back seat and laid whumpee across the length with their head on whumper's lap.

"What an unfortunate little lamb. Willing to follow your team to the grave." They whispered, stroking whumpee's hair from the side of their face.

"I truly feel terrible for you."

[Previous] -- [Masterlist] -- [Next]

@parasitebunny @starzabove @frog-hat-fa-ggot @morning-star-whump @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @mommymarichatfurever

[lemissingmask]

[ID: Greyscale sketch with blood in red of Lancelot holding a wound in his left side, with a weakened expression on his features, blood staining the left side of his tunic and all down his left arm. End ID]

-

Whumptober Day 25: Stabbed

Lance got stabbed, and is casually walking it off (well, staggering to find Merlin or Arthur to help)

[whumpygifs]

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Merry Whumpmas Day 9: Blood Loss

TW: blood, injury, death

Clang!

Hero’s blade clashed with Villain’s over and over again.

Hero thrust and Villain parried. Villain counter-attacked, and Hero defended, dancing back and knocking Villain’s blade away.

Villain scowled and darted forward, feinting to Hero’s left. But Hero anticipated the attack and parried the blow. The tip of Villain’s sword slid barely an inch past its target, but a miss was a miss. A miss was another second of life.

Hero didn’t give Villain time to counter-strike. The second their sword was out of the way, they closed the distance between them in a single leap. Hero’s aim was true, and Villain was a hair too slow to avoid the blow. They knocked it away just in time to miss their heart, but Hero’s blade sank into Villain’s left shoulder instead.

They cried out in pain and rage, jumping back a few steps. Their injured shoulder hung uselessly at its side.

Hero grinned triumphantly and pursued, raining down strikes that would have been fatal had Villain not managed to block. Every attack Villain blocked drove them back one step after another, and they did not have the strength to counter-attack, not with their injured arm.

Another swing. Another block.

Hero smirked. They were going to win this for sure.

Villain growled in anger as they blocked yet another blow, this time aimed at their head. But instead of retreating, Villain stood their ground and shoved Hero’s sword away.

Hero’s smirk vanished. They tried to regain control of their sword, but they weren’t quick enough. The opening Villain gave themself was too good of an opportunity for anyone, even an inexperienced swordsman, to pass up, and Hero knew it.

By the time Hero managed to bring their sword back to center, to retreat, do anything, Villain’s blade was already slicing through Hero’s abdomen.

Warm blood gushed out of the open wound, soaking Hero’s shirt and running down his legs. Hero screamed, stumbling backward, pressing their free hand to the wound. Villain stood their ground, neither pursuing nor retreating. Their face was expressionless as they observed Hero’s panic, as more and more of Hero’s blood poured onto the ground. The tip of their sword glistened with the bright red liquid.

Hero’s eyes flicked up to them, registering this lack of emotion at their victory. Rage coursed through them; they saw through a haze of red the same color as their blood. Roaring this fury, Hero charged Villain, determined to defeat them once and for all.

Villain’s face flickered from its emotionless mask. They blocked Hero’s first blow. Their second. Third.

Hero grew angrier and angrier, and each attack became clumsier and clumsier. Their heartbeat thundered in their ears, blocking out the sounds of clanging metal from each clash. Hero pressed against Villain with all their strength, but Villain blocked every strike and did not retreat even one step.

After many parried blows, Villain twisted their wrist and, in a move so quick Hero barely registered it as it happened, sent the sword spinning from Hero’s grasp. It clattered to the ground far out of reach.

Hero blinked, staring after the sword. Slowly, they turned their gaze back to Villain, who watched them, eyes betraying their weariness. If only Hero had held on a little longer…. Hero’s legs finally gave out, and they looked up at Villain from far below. 

Villain sighed heavily, wiped their sword clean on their pant leg, and sheathed it. They gazed down at Hero, their expression almost mournful. In silence, they folded their arms and bowed to Hero, as they had done before beginning the duel. Hand clutching their injured shoulder, Villain turned and walked away.

Hero faded away long before they were out of sight.

[whump-or-whatever]

Whump Vignette #7

Contents: torture, knives, cutting, whumpee bound to table, blood loss, whumper with twisted justification, captive whumpee, dizziness, nausea

• • •

“AaaaAAAGHHH!”

The scream ripped from their throat like fire. Sheer agony permeated every morsel of their being. They were past the point of dignity, past the point of stifling whimpers and holding back tears, past the point of caring about anything other than the pain.

Whumpee’s face contorted in a pitiful expression. Each breath gasped in came out as a broken wheeze. Their wrists twisted painfully each time the knife tore through their flesh, movements entirely out of their control. Fingers clenched and unclenched uselessly as they tried to hold on to any shred of reality, back arching off the table they were bound to before collapsing back down, panting heavily. Their head lolled from side to side, dizzy and feeling like it was packed with cotton. Their eyelids fluttered, trying to clear the tears and focus on something, anything, but each time the pain began anew before they got a chance to gain their bearings.

Their screams transformed into feverish laughter and then into full-blown sobs. Still, the knife continued to cut until Whumpee was barely conscious.

They could hardly keep their eyes open. Their muscles trembled, all energy exerted. In the end, they could barely convince their body to move an inch or twitch a finger.

Their chest heaved with breaths which rushed from their lungs just as soon as they had entered, lack of oxygen adding to the lightheadedness of blood loss. Whumpee’s vision swam, making the ceiling look like a mass of wriggling worms. They closed their eyes against the nauseating sight but found the same visual played out on the inside of their eyelids. They gagged and opened them again.

The swirling image of a human form blurred in and out of focus in front of them, making them furrow their brow in an attempt to identify the person.

Whumper smirked down at their victim, looking them over like a newly finished project. Whumpee’s wrists and ankles were bruised and bloodied from where the cuffs had cut them in the midst of their thrashing. Deep wounds covered the majority of their torso, with a few littered across their arms for good measure. The blood that poured from them pooled on the table. Now that it was drying it stuck Whumpee’s skin to the unforgiving surface like glue, pulling each time they twitched or trembled.

Barring the occasional shiver or jolt that went through their body, Whumpee’s muscles were entirely lax. Whereas before they had been full of energy, screaming and cursing, lunging and spitting at Whumper, they now looked calm. Peaceful, even. This was the gift that Whumper gave to their victims, the ability to let go and relax. If they realized how rare a feeling it was, Whumper’s victims would thank them. Alas, none ever did. Still, Whumper worked tirelessly to bring their victims the peace they deserved. It was their purpose, their passion, their duty. With each victim, they learned more and more about how to bring the human psyche to the cusp of unravelling, only to reel it back in and repeat the process. Whumper sat back and smiled, basking in the moans of pain which passed Whumpee’s lips unaware.

This, they thought, was a job well done.

• • •

Fin

[redd956]

Mini Whump Prompt 68

After being pounced on by a vampire in the middle of the night, whumpee never feel unconscious. Half-awake, and potentially half-alive, they stumble off to the first location that crosses their mind