Where have you been all my life, anon Whumpee thrashes desperately, fighting to escape the twisted fangs that pierce their leg--the only spot on them left without puncture wounds. "Damn you!" they shriek, their body weakening by the second. Wrinkles slough onto their limbs. Their hair blanches a vibrant white. "Stop it!" A hulking form of skin and bones siphons Whumpee's blood greedily, hungrily. With each gulp of blood, the bones adjust, untwist. The sallow skin flushes, stretches smooth over Whumper's body. Whumpee screams, their voice cracking, "Give me back my face!" Whumper lifts their head, fresh and beautiful, "Why? You don't need it down here..."