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oneshots/short series taglist: @whumpsday @jumpywhumpywriter

—

"Ugh!" Whumpee recoiled as a cramp set into their arm when they tried to reach for the cereal on the top shelf.

"Hey," Leader said, standing up from the table. "I'll get it for you."

"Thank you," they said, cradling their arm close to their chest. After having spent days tied up, their arms just weren't functioning well.

"Don't mention it."

—

"Augh!" A sharp, stabbing pain in their hip made Whumpee almost fall over as they walked. They immediately leaned on Medic, whom they were with, for support. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, I just need a moment—"

"That's okay," Medic said, letting Whumpee grip their shoulder as tight as they wanted. Or needed. "Just breathe."

"Thank you," they panted. It was so bad. They felt like they'd never take another step in their life.

"Just take it easy."

—

"Ah!" Whumpee cried during meeting.

Leader shot them a glare. "As I was saying—"

"Sorry," Whumpee mumbled, but then cried out again as the pain became more intense.

"Whumpee, can you not right now?"

"Sorry!"

"Seriously, get yourself together," Caretaker whispered to them.

"Maybe you shouldn't be in this meeting," Leader said. "It's not like you can come with us either way."

"No, please, I want to know what you guys will do—"

"Step outside, please."

Whumpee was still whimpering in pain, and everyone in the room was staring daggers at them. "I'm so sorry," they said as they tried to stand. They fell back into their chair as a wave of pain shot through them like electricity.

"I'll see them out," Medic said reluctantly, like Whumpee was such a bother. And they were. They were.

"I'm really sorry," they told Medic as they helped them out of the chair, towards the door.

"You can get back to your room alone, right?"

"Yes, of course, sorry—"

"Great. See you after meeting." With that, Medic slammed the door in their face.

Whumpee staggered towards their room. They didn't like being a bother. They wanted to get better. They were trying. But it wasn't getting better.

They were going to be kicked off the team.

They swallowed.

"Augh, fuck—" They fell to the floor, nerves alight with pain. "Ow, ow ow ow..."

But there was nobody around to help them.

Caretaker furrowed their brows. "But we agreed I'd let you stay here. No?"

"Yeah, but..." They made a vague gesture towards themself, their dirty clothes, their revolting hair.

"Oh," Caretaker said, like they'd only just noticed. "That's a simple fix. I have fresh clothes for you, and you can take a nice, warm bath. You can use my bodywash and shampoo. That'll do, right?"

Whumpee nodded mutely. It was more than they deserved.

"Great," Caretaker said with a smile. "Come in, then. I'll show you to the bathroom."

"Ah, there's... There's one more... one more thing," they stammered, afraid to voice their concern.

"What is it?"

"My arms... Whumper kept me tied up most of the time. Now they hurt so bad, I don't think I can lift them to wash my hair..." It was embarrassing. Humiliating. But Caretaker didn't make fun of them for it.

"I can help you wash your hair, if that's okay with you," they offered easily.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I'm here to help."

Whumpee felt tears pricking their eyes. Caretaker was so nice. "Okay," they said quietly. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Let's go."

They agreed on the following plan: Whumpee would rinse themself off, then they would fill the bath with nice, warm water. Once they were ready, they'd call in Caretaker, who would help them wash their hair.

So Whumpee did that. The amount of dirt and grime flowing down the drain during that rinse was absolutely foul. But then, when they filled the bathtub with warm water and actually just... lay there... submerged... oh... that was heavenly. It had been so long since they'd taken a proper bath.

"Caretaker?" they called after a bit, once the bubbles seemed plentiful enough to cover their disgusting body.

"Can I come in?"

"Yes. Please."

Caretaker opened the door and stepped inside. They didn't make it weird. They grabbed a stool and pulled it to the end of the bathtub where Whumpee's head was, and sat down. "Okay, I'll be very gentle."

"I'm sorry you have to do this," they muttered.

"Nonsense. Just relax and enjoy. I've been told I give nice scalp massages."

So Whumpee shut up and let Caretaker work their magic. And man, yes, whoever said that had been absolutely right. Caretaker's fingers were gentle yet firm, and Whumpee closed their eyes, quietly enjoying. It felt like a guilty pleasure. Like they didn't deserve it — which yeah, they absolutely didn't. But Caretaker was so kind. So generous.

They jolted awake when Caretaker turned on the water from the showerhead. Had they dozed off?

"Oops, sorry," Caretaker said with a little laugh. "Did I scare you?"

"No, no, it's okay."

"Okay."

Caretaker shampooed and rinsed their hair twice, just to get everything out. Then, like they hadn't just performed a strangely intimate and wonderfully benevolent act, they just stood up, told Whumpee to take as much time as they needed, and left.

That was that. Whumpee was flabbergasted. They had never met anyone so... selfless.

They stayed in the bath for what felt like another hour, feeling the water around them grow cold. Then they got out, towelled themself dry, put their hair up in a towel-turban, and put on the fresh clothes Caretaker had laid out for them.

They felt... clean. Restored.

They stopped at the bathroom door, hand lingering on the handle. It was okay. They weren't in a rush. And Caretaker was kind. It was okay.

They pushed down and exited. They found Caretaker on the sofa in the living room.

"Whumpee!" they said with a smile. "You look so much better. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," they said with a tentative smile. "Thank you. I... I haven't been this clean in months. This has been wonderful."

"Well, I'm certainly glad to hear that. Wanna watch a movie while your hair dries?"

Wondering where all these freckles came from. And why. Do you have a thing for freckles? And busty blonde women? I'm not one. You made me into one. I hate it.

"Nothing," it said. It missed its original owner. The one who let it decide on major decisions regarding its look. "Just getting used to the look."

"Come, sit by me."

Whumpee forced itself to go. Obey. Obey. Obey.

Its owner took a strand of its blonde hair, twirling it around their finger. "If you want to know what you look like, just ask me. And I'll tell you every time that you're beautiful."

Gross.

"Thank you."

Its owner smiled. "Your previous owner had no taste. I'm so glad you're now mine. What a waste of potential, and for so many years."

Whumpee smiled softly. It did everything softly now. Lady-like. Whatever that meant.

Suddenly, its owner's grip on its hair tightened, and they pulled it close. Whumpee let out a small cry of surprise and pain.

She was thinking of Whumpee running away. A more horrifying example of Whumpee being 'gone' popped into her head as well, but she stuffed that down.

"Just wondering," Whumpee said, continuing to play with her food. "Just wondering."

"Whumpee, you're my best friend. I would die if anything happened to you. Like, I would never be the same."

"Mhm."

"You don't believe me."

"No, I do..."

"You don't."

"Maybe I don't."

A few seconds passed in silence. Whumpee didn't look up.

"You know," she began, but she trailed off. Caretaker was just now noticing that Whumpee's eyes stayed closed longer and longer as she blinked.

"Whumpee?" Before she could respond, Whumpee slumped forward, face in the spaghetti. "Whumpee!"

Caretaker jumped up, rounding the table and helping Whumpee sit back up. Her eyes were rolled back. Caretaker immediately grabbed her phone and dialled the emergency number.

"Hi, hello, my friend— my friend lost consciousness, I think she might've taken something, she's struggled with suicidality before—" She rattled off the address and kept shaking Whumpee by the shoulders. She was unresponsive. "Please, Whumpee. Please, wake up. Don't do this to me. Whumpee, please."

No amount of begging brought her back. Eventually, instead of shaking her, Caretaker moved to just pressing two fingers to her neck, letting out a relieved sigh when she felt a pulse. But it was weak, and not too consistent.

Where was the fucking ambulance?

Soon, EMTs barged into the apartment. They took Whumpee and let Caretaker ride in the back of the ambulance with them.

"It's gonna be okay," Caretaker whispered to Whumpee while one of them did chest compressions. There were tears in her eyes. "It's gonna be okay."

"I will never feel safe here," it growled. It was rocking back and forth on its bed, a constant barrage of disturbing thoughts swirling around in its head, and the nurse was promising relief, but relief never came, and certainly never stayed. "Go away."

"Whumper," the nurse called.

Whumpee knew what that meant. They were going to restrain it. Give it the medicine by force.

"Go away!" it screeched, and the nurse looked at it with a pitying expression.

"It'll be better soon, don't worry," she said, and it panicked, and it jumped up on its bed and started frantically tugging at the metal bars on the window. It would've rather jumped than be medicated. The medicine was poison.

"Go away!" it screamed when it turned around for a moment and saw Whumper entering the room. "Go away, away, away!"

"No can do," Whumper said in that gruff voice of theirs. They grabbed Whumpee by the arm and forced it to lie flat on the bed. Then, systematically, they bound its wrists and ankles to the bedposts.

"Thank you, Whumper," the nurse said, brandishing a needle. "Now, as for the medicine..."

"Go away!" Whumpee yelled, thrashing so the nurse wouldn't be able to inject it. "Go away! Go away! Go away!"

"Whumpee, this is for your own good. You really should've learned this by now."

The nurse grabbed it just above the knee, immobilising its leg. She stabbed the needle into its thigh, emptying its contents.

You two get on when it arrives, sitting down in two empty seats. You stare out the window, and you realise just how far you've run. Even by bus, the commute takes long.

"You take the bus every day?" you ask her.

"Yes. Why?"

"Wouldn't it be better to work closer to home?"

No. Shut up. You can't give away how oblivious you are to how the real world works. Maybe there is no closer workplace. Maybe Freddie couldn't get one, for whatever reason. Not everyone eats and sleeps and trains in the same place for decades.

Freddie just smiles. "It would be."

And that's the end of that. You don't press for answers.

You get off the bus at a station close to where Freddie found you. Your walk back to the apartment is quiet. Freddie is humming a song, barely audible.

You reach her front door. It is just as you left it, broken and ajar.

"Oh," Freddie says, and you don't see surprise on her face. "You really did want to get away."

"Y-You locked me up," you stammer, trying to justify it. "I had to get out!"

"Why? You had food, clean clothes, a room..."

"B-But I was..." You have to just come out and say it. "I don't trust you. And why should I? You've been acting suspicious all morning. All day. Since the moment I met you! And then you locked me inside!"

"As I said, it was an accident. But I get it. Let me call someone to fix the door."

"Why aren't you more mad?" you snap.

"You felt cornered. It's only natural—"

No. You're done listening to excuses. You pop your blade out, grabbing Freddie by the neck of her shirt and slamming her against the wall, knife to her neck. "Tell me right now who you're working for, what you want, and why you want it."

Freddie stills under your hold. "Someone might see us," she says quietly.

"I don't care anymore. I just care that I know what you want."

But that's untrue. Because the door next to Freddie's opens, and you immediately let go of her and hide your prosthetic arm. A woman with two little kids walks out, greeting you and Freddie as they pass.

Freddie says hi back. You don't even look at them.

She's way too calm about having just been threatened. "Let's just go inside," she suggests.

~

A single, lone voice. The voice of a singing woman, carrying across the clear water. It was enchanting. It was almost... almost so good that Noelle, she wanted out of the boat... She wanted to... wanted to...

The song stopped suddenly, a note cut short. Noelle suddenly found herself back in her body, settled in her mind. She shook her head. What had happened?

"Oh my, oh my," came a voice from somewhere she couldn't see. She was whipping this way and that, and then she finally spotted it. The head of a woman sticking out of the water. She was pretty far away, so it was difficult to make out her features, but she looked... ethereal. "I thought I was alone."

"What are you doing this far out at sea?" Noelle yelled to her. "Come on the boat! I'll take you back to shore!"

The woman laughed. It sounded angelic. "To shore? No, you definitely don't want to do that." She ducked underwater, and Noelle thought she was about to witness a suicide. But then she saw her outline in the water... a woman's torso alright, but... a fish's tail?

The woman surfaced again, closer to the boat, wet hair sticking to her face.

"A mermaid," Noelle breathed.

"A siren," the woman — the siren — corrected. "I'm surprised you don't recognise one. Everyone in seaside towns knows about us. Knows not to go out to sea alone."

"I'm... not on speaking terms with the townspeople," Noelle admitted. "Not since..." She trailed off. "And I can't remember before. All I know is the life I have now."

"So you don't know what I am?"

"Well, a siren. You've just told me."

The siren laughed again. "Yes, yes, that is true. You know, we're evil. We lure people to their deaths."

"You didn't lure me to my death."

"I almost did."

"Unknowingly."

She smiled. "Well, you caught me. I'm somewhat of an outlier."

"Can you come closer? What's your name? I'm Noelle."

"Regina," she said, slowly inching closer to the boat, like she herself was afraid of Noelle. As if she had anything to hurt her with.

"Regina," she repeated. "So you're a queen?"

"We don't indulge in empty titles like that," Regina said. "I suppose the name just sounded sweet to my parents."

Noelle looked away.

"Is something wrong, dear?" the siren asked.

"Have you ever lost something precious? Or, like, something that feels precious, if only you could remember it?"

Regina cocked her head to the side. She was close enough now that she could put her elbows on the lip of the boat, her tail idly swishing back and forth below in the water. "Can't say I have."

"I see..."

"What have you lost?" she asked.

Noelle sighed. "Doesn't matter. I should head back."

"Oh, well, safe travels," Regina said, pushing herself away from the boat.

"Wait—"

"Yes?"

"I... If I come out again... Do you speak to the townsfolk?"

"Dear, they hate me. They hate all sirens. I don't 'talk' to them, because they talk with their harpoons."

"So you don't know about me at all?"

"Are you famous there?"

"In a sense, I suppose..."

Regina shook her head. "I've never seen you or heard of you."

"Would you come back, then? If I came back another day?"

She smiled, amused. "What for? I've told you, we're evil."

"You don't seem evil."

Regina flicked her tail, splashing Noelle with water. "There. Do I seem evil now?"

Noelle wiped her face. "You won't trick me. You're an outlier, you said it yourself. I'm somewhat of an... outcast. So I get it. And I don't have a harpoon. So would you come back?"

"What is it you're running from, dear?"

"People. Humans. All of them. I just can't— I can't take it, being amongst them when I know there's someone out here who doesn't... doesn't hate me. Or judge me."

"Why, I'm certainly not judging."

"Will you come back?"

Regina seemed hesitant, but in the end, she crossed her heart. "I will. The day after tomorrow, I'll be here. Just follow the sound of my voice."

"Thank you," Noelle sighed. "Thank you, Regina. I know it's a lot to ask. If you're right, if humans do hate you, then... then you can't really trust me, can you?"

"I wouldn't have promised if I didn't sense something different in you."

Noelle risked a tentative smile. "Can sirens sense that sort of thing?"

"In a way, yes."

"I'm glad. I'll be here, then. The day after tomorrow."

Regina waved, webbed fingers with sharp nails at the end making a short appearance before she ducked under the water and disappeared from Noelle's sight.