Right In The Feels God-

🥲👍 right in the feels god-

Fingerprint

"Caretaker…"

Whumpee mumbled out. They crawled slowly to Caretaker, reaching for their dead body. "Answer me…"

Whumpee held Caretaker's hand, searching for any warmth but they found none. Caretaker was cold. So so cold. They put two fingers on the pulse point and exhaled shakily when they couldn't feel anything. Whumpee shook Caretaker's body, their tears dripping down onto Caretaker's face.

"Wake up…wake up…!"

Whumpee cupped their cheeks with their bloodied hands. They rubbed their thumbs around it, feeling the soft skin. "Caretaker, please…please…don't leave me…!"

Whumpee leaned in closer and before they could give Caretaker a goodbye kiss, a pair of arms wrapped around their waist from behind. Whumper pulled Whumpee into a tight hug. Embracing them, soothing them and comforting them.

"Let me go! Let me go!"

Whumper tightened his hug, sighing softly. "Shh…it's okay, dear." Whumpee kept kicking and thrashing in Whumper's grip. They didn't seem to calm down anytime soon so Whumper turned their body around, keeping them close.

"Let me go! Why are you doing this to me?!"

"Shh…shh…it's okay. I will take care of you."

"No!"

Whumpee placed their palms on Whumper's chest, pushing them away. Whumper sighed, tightened the grip around Whumpee's waist as he brought up another hand to cup Whumpee's cheek. 

"Listen—"

"No! Let me go! I hate you!"

"Listen! Hey, hey…dear, look at me. I said, look at me."

Whumpee teary-eyed looking up at Whumper. They sniffled as Whumper brushed away their tears. "I will take care of you, okay?"

Whumper said gently. His gaze softened as Whumpee's shoulders slumping down, finally relaxing around them.

"You will follow me, okay?"

"H-huh? To where?"

"To our house."

Whumpee lifted Whumpee up, carrying them in a bridal style. Whumpee tensed up again, they squirm around in Whumper's arms. "N-no please…please…don't take me away…!"

Whumper pressed a finger against Whumpee's lips, silencing them. "Shh…we don't want to wake up the dead now, do we?"

~

@nothing-but-glitter-and-lashes @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @risk606 @heyyitsworld @htavin87 @jennyyy007 @electrons2006 @valravnthefrenchie @theforeverdyingperson

Thinking about whumpees who are normally defiant.

Who spit at and throw insults at whumper.

Who occasionally slip their restraints and make a break for it, only to be caught and thrown back into a cell.

Who fight and kick, sometimes managing a blow at whumper.

Who bare their teeth in disgust every time whumper is near.

But then they’re given a drug, or sleep deprived, or made to be disoriented in some other way.

They blink up at whumper, a spark of recognition followed by as much of a glare as they can put on.

They weakly push away, barely able to lift their arms.

Just- tired and disoriented expressions, laced with defiance.

All the anger and frustration in the world, and they can’t stand up, can barely get to their knees.

the thing folks living in Christian dominant cultures gotta realize is that even if you’re not Christian, your basic understanding of religion and spirituality and morality is still being filtered through a Christian lens. your very concept of what religion is and does is filtered through that lens.

Ah yes. The good shit. Wanna take a big ol bite

oh but that woozy little sway they do after getting hit a little too hard, sitting upright just enough, leaning over like their head is too heavy for their body, clinging to consciousness as tight as they can. kneeling down in front of them, grabbing their shoulders to steady them. "easy, hey, look at me. you're alright."

Whumpees in traps

1. A hole in the ground

CW: gunshot wound, tranquillizing/needles, slightly intimate whumper

Whumpee stumbles through the underbrush, away from the shouting men and barking dogs. One arm, bloody with a fresh wound, is cradled to their chest by the other, making their escape a hip-swaying, unsteady affair. They can barely see in the cool blue light of dusk. The trees both aid their cover and disrupt their path. And then, the whole forest shifts up and away, and darkness surrounds whumpee before they feel the hard earth come up to meet them.

Dazed, they attempt to roll onto their back, but they only get so far before a wall stops them. Their legs try to kick out and earth crumbles there too, but doesn’t give — unlike their ankle, which feels tender and brittle. A halo of light shines above, not very far — but when whumpee gets to their feet, leaning on the sides of the hole for support, they find it’s too far for their current state. An arm’s usefulness lost to a captor’s gun, a body weakened by stress and captivity, an ankle sprained in the fall. The trap is a crude, unsophisticated thing, but obviously man-made. For wolves, or snakes, or maybe hobs. Not made for a whumpee, though now it may as well have been.

The barking starts up once more, close by. The shouts then, and bits of dirt rain down as a nose snuffles at the edge of the hole, encroaching on Whumpee’s fading light. The dog marks it’s prey with more barks. Whumpee cowers below, turning into the shadows and trying to make themselves invisible. Hopefully a whumper will fall in, and somehow become incapacitated, and whumpee can climb atop them to get out… but no. The whumpers see the trap.

“They’re here! Get a rope!” one shouts. “There’s no escape, whumpee. You come with us or you die down there.”

But when the rope is thrown in, whumpee refuses to cooperate.

“Take the damn rope, Whumpee.”

But Whumpee is frozen.

“Whumpers, hold the line. I’ll bring them up.”

The whumper scales the drop, wary of Whumpee’s attack when their back is turned. There’s barely enough room for both of them. Whumpee can only curl themselves away, as if they might melt into the dirt or sink beneath it. Whumper grabs the back of Whumpee’s neck, then their arm — the one with the bullet. Whumpee screams. Whumper lets go of their arm with a curse.

“They’re injured! Get me something to calm them,” Whumper calls to the others. “You’re a lotta trouble, you know that? They shouldn’t have used a gun on you though. Dammit…”

Whumpee is almost pressed against Whumper’s legs by the proximity in the small space. Whumper pulls Whumpee out of their huddled crouch, a little more gently than before. They fend off Whumpee’s hand as they make feeble, fumbling attempts to push them away. Then Whumpee is only sagging against the wall before Whumper, too tired to fight. Whumper puts an arm around their waist to keep them upright.

“Please,” Whumpee begs. “Whatever they’re paying you, it c-can’t be enough to-“

“Damn right it ain’t enough. Whumpers! Get me some light. And where’s that sedative?”

A case is tossed into the hole, and a shaky light illuminates the two figures in the dirt. Whumper catches the packet, bracing it against their chest to unzip it and grabs a syringe. They pull the cap off with their teeth, expertly handling the dose and keeping Whumpee still at the same time.

“No, no— just leave me here! You don’t need me! You can just leave me here please—“ Whumpee struggles in vain as Whumper uses the side of their palm to turn their chin. With the same hand, they bring the needle to sink into the flesh between Whumpee’s neck and shoulder.

“Just lemme— let— jrss,” Whumpee blinks, eyes wide and unfocused before they roll away in a haze, “jus let— ff-mmh…” Whumpee’s head slumps, and their body goes slack.

“That’s it, sleepy time…” Whumper mutters, shifting Whumpee’s weight closer to their body.

“Christ, you went fast. Ok. We’re good, boys! Bringing ‘em up!”