#delirious whumpee

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

We all know about magical fatigue as a whump trope for magical overuse. Now I raise you: Magical euphoria.

Magic that feels good to use. It leaves the user dizzy and lightheaded, a giddy energy rushing through their entire body. It's enough to leave the most stoic whumpee giggling madly, to make the most obedient soldier go rogue. It's a power that ultimately, inevitably, controls its user.

Mages aren’t trusted to act on their own. They can’t be, not when each spell costs them their sanity. Not when, in a daze of manic joy, they’re just as liable to destroy the enemy as their allies.

And so they need a handler.

Imagine Caretaker in this situation. Forced to watch Whumpee throw themselves into madness, to turn themselves into an unthinking weapon under the demand of some uncaring general. Having to put aside their affection for Whumpee as a person, and analyze them as a tool.

It’s Caretaker who decides when Whumpee is still fit for battle. It’s caretaker who has to look into their dazed and distant eyes, blood dripping into a too wide smile, and decide if Whumpee has anything else to give.

It’s Caretaker who decides when they’re too far gone, when Whumpee needs to stop. And if Whumpee can’t, it’s Caretaker’s job to make them stop. Even if that means using force, even if it means hurting them, because letting them run wild isn’t an option.

And when the battle’s over, when Whumpee is either led or dragged away to the medical wing, Caretaker’s the only one brave enough to tend to their injuries. They wrap bleeding, scorched fingers without a word, the only sound being Whumpee babbling, mad ramblings. Caretaker knows they won’t remember any of this. They still talk to Whumpee anyway, soft, comforting words they hope will bring Whumpee back faster.

And when whumpee’s eyes finally clear, when their body sags with exhaustion they’re just now able to feel, Caretaker feels nothing but grief, because it’ll start all over again tomorrow.

[abhainnwhump]

Stoic Caretaker forcing sleep-deprived and sick Whumpee to get some sleep.

"Mm . . . no. Caretaker m'fine. I have work I need to do-"

"If you don't take a god damn nap, I'm going to shove a bottle of Nyquil down your throat."

[bloodsweatandpotato]

Whump dialogue (Caretaker for delirious whumpee)

“Darling, you’re not making any sense…”

“Whumpee? Nonono- don’t mess with that! You’ll rip your stitches!”

“Shh… I know, I know. Just please lay still.”

“Open your eyes? Please, just for a moment?”

“Do you know where you are, Whumpee? Hey, nonono. Look at me. Do you know where you are?”

“I’ve told you already, dear… We’re at *insert location*.”

“Whumpee, like I said before, it’s not my blood. I’m alright. You need to calm down.”

“Whumpee! Whumpee! Whump-! God, please don’t make me sedate you…”

“Hey, can you tell me what month it is? No, Whumpee, I didn’t hit my head. Just answer the question, dear.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that I ‘smell like home’ because I’m not sure if this is the right time to emotionally unpack that statement.”

“Whumpee, don’t try to tell me you’re fine. Half the words out of your mouth are complete nonsense.”

“I know it hurts, Whumpee. It’s alright. I promise…”

[whumped4whumplover]

Whump Idea

Months ago, Whumpee was taken. Caretaker was a wreck, spending the days scouring the streets in search of Whumpee and investigating at night, hoping to find some clue, even the most insignificant, about where they might be.

Caretaker and Whumpee had a special relationship, they always had. While Caretaker was an extroverted and popular person, full of friends and party invitations, Whumpee was extremely shy and reserved. They didn't like crowds, or loud noises, or talking for a long time. In fact, if it were up to them they wouldn’t have spoken to anyone at all. To anyone but Caretaker. And Caretaker was grateful for this, for the fact that, with them, Whumpee smiled and laughed, cried and vented, a completely different person from the one with that neutral expression and empty eyes which they were the rest of the time.

One day, finally, Caretaker manages to find Whumpee, and their heart skips a beat. Whumpee is covered in bruises and dried blood, thin in the most severe meaning of the word, it is as if Caretaker can count all their body’s bones, and their complexion is pale as that of a ghost, their lips of the same purple as the dark circles under their closed eyes.

If it haven’t been for the pulse they heard when they places their trembling fingers on their neck, Caretaker would have thought Whumpee was dead. But, as soon as the two’s skin makes contact, Whumpee's eyes suddenly open, and a strange expression forms on their face. At first Caretaker thought it was confusion, but then they realized: it was just pure terror.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. It's me, it’s Caretaker. It's going to be okay" Caretaker tries, but their words are uttered in vain, and Whumpee pushes their weak convulsing body against the wall, screaming hysterically and crying, no, sobbing desperately, as if danger was about to envelop them. But it doesn't make sense, Caretaker thinks, because they’re here now and they’re ready to take Whumpee to safety. There is nothing to be afraid of, Whumper is no longer here, there is only Caretaker. Yet, Whumpee's heart wrenching screams don't cease.

The torch falls from Caretaker's hands and they retreat, realization evident in their eyes.

Whumpee is reacting like this because they are afraid of Caretaker.

[whumpshots]

Whump Snippet Saturday #35

"N-no, go away," whumpee mutters, eyes only half-open as they try to push caretaker away. Their fever has gone up since the last time they checked on them, but caretaker is still surprised to see them like this.

Eyes glassy and unfocused, huddled in the corner of the room, trying to make themselves smaller than they already are.

"I don't know where they are," they continue and shrink away even further, ignoring the pain these movements must cause. Their hands are shaking from fear, the rest of the body probably from exhaustion.

Caretaker crouches down next to them, giving them as much space as possible. "It's me, kid," they say softly and wait for a reaction, but whumpee is too out of it to notice.

Caretaker sees the tears on the other's cheeks and puts their fingers gingerly on the their hand. "It's me. I won't hurt you, kid."

[whumpdrivethru]

Hello! I would like to order a delirious whumpees with an extremely high fever resting badly to seeing caretaker (Who has pretty visible Burn scars covering part of their face and/or body) wearing comfy or otherwise loose fitting clothing and with their hair up (maybe they get scared of them, maybe they start to cry because they think caretaker is hurt)

Hi there! Let me get that started for you! Thank you for choosing the Whump Drive Thru!

Whumpee tossed and turned in bed, their fever climbing dangerously high. Caretaker entered the room with a washcloth and a bowl of ice water.

“Hey,” Caretaker said softly, dipping the cloth in the bowl and dabbing it on Whumpee’s forehead.

Whumpee only whimpered in response. They looked up at Caretaker through hazy vision.

“Caretaker?” they asked, their glassy eyes going wide.

“Yes? What’s wrong?”

“Y-you’re hurt!” Whumpee cried weakly.

“Huh?”

Whumpee feebly reached up and cupped Caretaker’s face. They then promptly burst into tears.

“How did this happen?” Whumpee sobbed.

“How did what happen?” Caretaker asked.

Whumpee didn’t answer. Caretaker needed help and fast. They clambered out of bed, despite Caretaker’s protests, and hurried over to the medicine cabinet.

“Whumpee, you need to stay in bed!”

Whumpee rummaged in the cabinet until they found the ointment for burns. They rushed back to Caretaker. They had just unscrewed the cap when a wave of dizziness washed over them.

“Put this on,” they slurred, squirting some of the medicine onto their fingers.

“Whumpee, what are you doing?” Caretaker asked.

Whumpee just managed to dab some of the soothing gel onto Caretaker’s face when their knees buckled. Caretaker caught Whumpee before they could crumple to the ground.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” Caretaker said gently.

“No! You’re hurt! I need to help you!” Whumpee wailed.

“Whumpee, I promise I’m not- oh.”

Caretaker felt the side of their face, the side with the burn scar, the side where Whumpee had desperately applied medicine.

“Whumpee, I’ve had this for years, remember?”

Whumpee shook their head, tears flowing freely.

“We need to treat it now! Or it’ll scar!”

Caretaker gently manhandled Whumpee back into bed, then picked up the washcloth. Whumpee snatched the washcloth out of their hands and started dabbing at Caretaker’s scar.

“Does that feel any better?” Whumpee asked.

“Whumpee, I-” Caretaker put their hand on Whumpee’s, “-yes, it feels much better. I think you’ve covered everything, I’m gonna be just fine.”

Whumpee breathed a sigh of relief.

“G-good, that’s good…”

“How about you try to go to sleep, yeah?” Caretaker asked.

Whumpee was already out before Caretaker finished their sentence. Caretaker sighed, taking the washcloth and rubbing the ointment off of their face. They planted a soft kiss on Whumpee’s forehead, feeling the heat radiating off of them. If anyone needed medicine, it was Whumpee. Caretaker left the room to go fetch them some fever reducers. Meanwhile, Whumpee twitched and fidgeted in their sleep, subconsciously worried about their friend.

you have been served by Huffle!

[egg-writes-whump]

This just randomly came to me but:

Whumpee having a really vivid fever dream that they were enemies with/against their team/caretaker

Either way, it's so vivid that when they wake up they believe it was real and instantly try to escape when they realise they're in their team's base.

So you can imagine their team/caretaker's panic when they find the feverish and bedbound Whumpee's bed empty

And even more so when they find Whumpee and Whumpee starts acting like they're enemies for seemingly no reason

[livingforthewhump]

8 - "O-oh god - " :)) -🎶 req.

yesyesyes I was going to do this for Whumptober hello writers block so I combined it with the prompt “Forced to Watch”

—

The chains clinked every time Caretaker moved, and it was getting annoying. Really, they were a lot more annoyed that the chains were there at all. They connected to the wall close to the floor, requiring Caretaker to sit since they were unable to stand up all the way. Whumpee was chained to the wall opposite them—a mirror image.

“We’re going to get out of here.” Caretaker spoke it into the echoey silence like a vow. Or a wish.

Whumpee’s head raised off their knees. “I imagine we’d have to, eventually.” Their voice only trembled a little, but it was amplified by the empty walls.

Caretaker was trying to think of a reply, but they didn’t get the chance. The door swung open, and Whumper waltzed into the room.

“I hope you two have found your stay enjoyable so far,” Whumper began, looking them over. Their gaze lingered longer on Whumpee, making them squirm.

Caretaker shifted protectively in their restraints. “What do you want from us, Whumper?”

Whumper glanced back over to them, lips quirking upwards as though at a silent joke. “Right now? Some entertainment will do.”

Something lodged into Caretaker’s chest; something suspiciously like foreboding.

“What does that mean?” they snarled.

But Whumper’s attention was on Whumpee again. They were walking towards them, eyes lighting up when Whumpee tried to cower away even as they glared.

“I think it would be fun,” Whumper began slowly, smile ever growing, “if I took Whumpee here, and I made them scream. Right here in front of you. Doesn’t that sound fun, Caretaker?”

“Don’t touch them,” Caretaker growled in a low voice, pulling against their chains.

“Defensive, are we?” Whumper smiled at them. And then they reached towards Whumpee. “Good.”

“Whumper—Whumper! Don’t you dare—” Caretaker thrashed, trying to move towards Whumper despite the fact that they were chaIined down.

Whumper ignored them, slamming Whumpee’s head into the wall before they unclasped their wrists, effectively disorienting them so they had no chance of fighting back as they were dragged down the room, even further away from Caretaker.

“What should I do to them first, do you think?” Whumper mused as they dropped the limp Whumpee to the ground. Whumpee's head lolled. They were blinking rapidly, squinting to try and refocus their eyes.

“Let them go,” Caretaker snarled, fear melting into the anger to create one red-hot ball of emotion in their chest.

“The whip is more fun when the recipient is actually aware of their surroundings, so that rules that out.”

“Stop.”

“But with a knife, the most fun thing is the fear. Dragging it out, you know? And I don’t think they’re aware enough for that either.”

“Stop.”

Whumper nudged Whumpee’s head with their boot, grinning when Whumpee hitched a gasp and screwed their eyes shut, still so distant from it all. “I mean, they’re so cute like this—I want to find something that complements them. The taser, maybe? How loud can they scream?”

“LET THEM GO, YOU BASTARD,” Caretaker screamed, digging deep indents into their wrists with the way they struggled and convulsed in fury.

Whumper regarded them for a moment, then a very slow smile spread across their face. “I know what we’ll do.” And they stepped away, back turned to Caretaker. They heard the clinking of chains.

When Whumper turned back around, they had fashioned a loop into the thick chain in their hands that was fed from a place in the ceiling. They worked quickly as they circled the chain around Whumpee’s neck. Then they pulled it further through the loop in the ceiling, dragging Whumpee up to their knees, pulling just enough to leave them straining.

“Whumper, you’re going to strangle them!” Caretaker watched as they swayed on their knees, caught in a cycle of beginning to crumple only to be snatched upright by the chain digging into their airway.

Whumper just hummed, pulling something out that was sleek and black and made Caretaker’s heart stop in their chest.

“No.”

Their thumb clicked a button, and electricity spring to life across the little prongs they held. Whumpee choked again, oblivious. They had blood dripping down the back of their head now, but even that major concern vanished in the rush of panic Caretaker felt when Whumper pressed the taser into their side.

Whumpee convulsed. For a moment, their weight buckled out from under them, and the chain snapped tight on their neck. They let out a breathless cry, still distant eyes foggy with tears by the time they got their legs stable under them again.

“Whumper, don’t.” Caretaker’s voice was strained by tears. Whumper’s lips twitched and they did it again, longer this time, raising their eyebrows when Whumpee braced for it. They kept their weight under them this time, though they were still swaying from their concussion.

“Well, that’s not as fun,” Whumper muttered under their breath, looking Whumpee over. A second later they kicked them hard in the chest. Whumpee doubled over on instinct, a strangled yell torn from their throat when the chain dug into their neck again, cutting their air off and setting them off balance. That was the instant Whumper pressed the taser against them again, this time on their neck.

Whumpee threw their head back in a silent scream, tears tracking down their cheeks. It didn’t matter, though. Caretaker screamed for them.

It happened again, and again, until Whumpee’s face was slack and dazed, and they were closer to dangling from the chain than kneeling. Whumper paced around them, smiling at their work. They ran a hand through Whumpee’s hair, grinning at Whumpee’s disjointed yell when they found the wound from earlier. Instead of letting go, they tightened their hand in their hair, pulling them upright by it.

“Look at them, Caretaker,” Whumper said softly, almost teasing. “Isn’t it precious, how weak they are like this? I can see why you’re so protective—I’d never want to let them go either.”

Caretaker’s stomach lurched.

“Ah ah ah, don’t look away,” Whumper warned, jostling Whumpee’s head and drawing out a sharp gasp. “I want you to remember them like this—although I certainly plan on doing worse to them while you’re here. Maybe I’ll even keep them.”

Caretaker jerked against their restraints, voice caught in their throat. After holding Whumpee up for another moment, they released them and paced towards Caretaker. Whumper grabbed their chin tightly, smearing Whumpee’s blood across their face. They smiled when Caretaker flinched.

“See? I told you this would be fun.” With a squeeze of their chin, Whumper left. The lock clicked shut behind them.

In the sudden silence, the room seemed so much emptier. Tears finally filled their eyes as they looked over to Whumpee, all but sagging in the chain. They pulled at their own chains again, but it seemed like all of the strength had been sapped from their arms in the horror that filled the room. No more anger, fear, shouting—only a sense of blank shock.

The room echoed the sound of their first sob: “O-oh God.”

—

General whump taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @twistedcaretaker @lonesome--hunter @poppys-writing @endless-whump @multifandoms-multishipper @shadowylemon @utopian819 @whumpkitty @journey-the-panda @freefallingup13 @prettyboysinpain @1becky1 @temporary-whump-sideblog @chartreusephoenix @thelazywitchphotographer @mylifeisonthebookshelf @badluck990 @lockedupuniverse @luna-rein @broadwaybabe18 @pinescales-whumps @silverwhisperer1 @embersalive @the-bloody-sadist @batfacedliar-yetagain @nicolepascaline @whump-angst-fluff-repeat @susanshinning @didieatyourdog @corvid-voidbur @insane-writing-things @thebaffledtiewriter @morning-star-whump

[the-baby-storyteller]

I love when a team soothes a character.

I love when the character is hurt and pained with glossy eyes on the edge of tears when their friends get to them.

I love the shushing and holding and murmuring and gentle touches.

I love when the character gasps for air, pushing themselves to speak, trying desperately to get words out, and the team just gently rebukes them, tells them not to speak.

The character remembers everything that happened, the fear, the danger, the threatening words from their attacker. They have to let the team know, have to tell them, have to get it out now.

They try desperately to get the words out, gasping for air and choking on it, almost on the verge on tears as they sputter incoherently.

But the team, they know it’s important, they know they’ll need to be told. But they also know right now the character needs calm, needs to be calm, above all else.

So they shush them calmly against their pleas and protests, tell them to relax, to be calm, soothe them. The character nearly bursts into tears but they hold them softly and tell them it’s alright, it’s alright, right now they need to sleep.

The character, amidst their tears, is lulled to bed amongst the rocking of the teammate and their own strained pleas.

[purple-heart-x]

“Whumpee?” They stood. Looking at the body tossed carelessly on the ground. It laid motionless, not even a hint of movement or life.

“What did you do to him?!”

Blurred words. Murmured phrases meant to appease them. They dodged as one of them tried to attack from behind, hitting them furiously with balled up fists.

The others had moved closer. Calling their name oh so deceptively. They weren’t going to let him go. Not this time. Never again. They’d promised the last time they’d been ripped away from Whumpee.

They flailed and kicked, desperate to escape the grasps of their captors, but five on one wasn’t a fair fight. With a broken sob, they panted, held by their waist- by the arms and legs, too.

With a heave, they crashed all their body weight into those hands. Collapsing to the floor with a wail as the pain in their ribs flared. They immediately squirmed to Whumpee. Begging them through numb lips to wake up. Move. Anything. Please.

There was a long silence, and then something covered them. They thrashed for a moment, before realizing it was a blanket.

One of the group members crouched down, a pained look in his eyes. “Caretaker, it’s okay. My name is Rescuer. I’m here to help both of you. He’s still alive, but he needs help quickly, okay?”

They shrank back, holding Whumpee as tightly as they could. They wanted to scream “NO”, to fight Rescuer off. But what if it was true? What if Whumpee really could be saved?

They couldn’t leave Whumpee. Not again. They’d promised. They’d promised.

“Hey. Caretaker. Can you look at me?”

Their eyes obeyed.

“Right over there is the ambulance. The EMT has his license if you want to look at it. You might recognize it. Do you remember your own license?“

License? EMT? They were going to take Whumpee away. They clutched their limp body tighter. But even as they did so, they remembered. They were one. They helped people. Their license was what made them real, right?

They nodded, almost timid as Rescuer retrieved the card. When they touched it, the plastic was cold. The mark on it made their skin feel rough. They hated that feeling. Caretaker was cold, too. They wanted to be warm again. Whumpee used to be warm, but now they were colder than Caretaker.

Rescuer was looking at them, concern in his eyes. “Can they put Whumpee in--”

“N-n-no,” Caretaker stuttered, eyes darting around. Everything seemed new. Changed. Why were they sitting down? Why was their hand cold?

“Do you want to go with Whumpee?”

With Whumpee. That was good. They wanted to be with Whumpee. They didn’t want to leave. They nodded, looking at their hand. What was that card...?

Rescuer gave them a smile. “Alright. I’m going to give the nice EMT his license back, okay?”

A few moments later, Rescuer returned. “Alright. You’re doing great, Caretaker. Can you take a deep breath for me? Good. Another? Good. Alright, you’re going to keep doing that as I pick you up. Then I’m going to pick up Whumpee. You’re still together, okay?”

Their head was spinning. They wanted Whumpee. They wanted to sleep, too, but Whumper was close. Whumper was always close. Their eyes blurred with tears as they felt themself laid on something soft. Immediately reaching for Whumpee, lying back once their friend was safe nestled in their arms. Their eyelids began to flutter.

“M-Mr. Rescuer?”

“Yes, Caretaker? I’m here.”

“Can- Can we go home now? I- I want to go home.”

Rescuer’s eyes softened, and he found himself hoping that Caretaker did not see the way he turned to quickly swipe at the two trails of moisture that slipped down his cheeks at their words. “Soon, darling. Soon, just rest for now, okay? I will watch over you.”

Caretaker had no strength to argue, nor to do anything more than stare up at him, begging him silently to please, please not let them down.

[i-eat-worlds]

30 Percent

A follow up to my wonderful Season’s Beatings piece

Inspired by a conversation with @wounds-seen-and-unseen. Go check them out!

Thanks to @snaillamp for letting me bug them with medical questions!

cw: blood (a lot), delirious whumpee, medical whump, needles, tension and theatric elements. major character injury

Blood was always a bad sign.

That seemed like an obvious one, but there was enough of it, big drops on the hallway's tile every couple of feet, that Joseph had gone from normal worried to extra worried.

How long had she walked like this?

Alex had gotten separated from the team, which was bad enough, but the red flecking the floor was even worse. He kept walking, following the trail further down the darkened hallway. Eventually, it turned into a room labeled “staff only.”

The door wasn’t locked.

He pushed it open, ignoring the blood stain on the handle.

Alex was sitting on the floor, leaning against the toilet, shirt torn up and partially stuffed into the long, gaping gash across her abdomen. Her skin was plastered with blood, both dried and fresh, and the crude bandages had been completely soaked through. It was smeared on the floor around her from when she’d sat down.

Fuck.

As he dropped to his knees, he called for help, giving Eric his approximate location, a brief description of what he saw, and a desperate request to hurry up please.

“Alex, you with me?” He slid his pack off his shoulders.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. “-oseph…why’re you ‘ere?”

“You’re hurt, Alex.” He ripped open a package, pulled out a pad and pressed it to the wound. “How’re you feeling?”

She flinched away from his touch. “Head hurts. And belly. And ‘m dizzy.”

“Did you hit your head?” His hands worked fast as he wrapped a bandage around her abdomen.

“Uhhh…yeah. In the hallway. He…he stabbed me,” she mumbled, lifting her hand to reach for the wound. “I needa…needa…”

“Woah, hey, I gotcha now.” He gently moved her hand out of the way, setting it down on the ground. “I’m takin’ care of you, yeah.”

Her eyes followed his movements as he clipped the oximeter to her finger and velcroed the bp cuff around her upper arm. “What’re you doin’?”

“I’m checking your-” Joseph snapped his mouth shut at the sound of voices coming from the far end of the hallway.

Fuck.

He held a finger to his lips, hoping that Alex got the message to shut up.

She didn’t.

“Wha-” His hand sealed over her mouth, muing whatever she was trying to say. “Quiet,” he whispered sharply.

The voices grew louder, footsteps thumbing on the tiles. Thank the lord he had closed the door behind him. Their feet came to a halt outside the door, and his eyes flickered down to the knife on her waist.

Please no.

A horribly long moment passed, and Joseph held his breath. Alex’s eyes were fixed on him, her body frozen in fear.

Please no.

Another beat of silence passed, and then someone jiggled the door knob. Keeping his hand over her mouth, he slowly reached down and unsheathed the knife. He could feel the puff of air against his palm as Alex whimpered quietly.

Please no.

There was the painful, ear-splitting noise of the door handle turning, and he gripped the knife harder. It felt far too light.

Please no.

The door cracked open, and Joseph prepared for the worst. He wouldn’t lose another one. Not like this.

There was a loud, splintering crash from outside the room, and the sounds of a fight erupted in the hallway. The cavalry had arrived. “I’m in the room on the right, number #065,” he reminded them, removing his hand from Alex’s mouth and returning the knife to its sheath. Thank fucking god.

She sniffles, sucking in a desperate breath. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“Turquoise is here. We’re gonna get you out, yeah?” He tore the cuff of her arm, shoving it into the top of his bag.

Avis shoved the door open with her hip, practically knocking it off his hinges. The fight was still raging behind her, Teri beating the teeth out of some poor henchman. “Sil’s at the loading dock, same way we came in,” she yelled, then left to join the fray.

Before he could stop it, Alex was pushing herself up to standing. Her legs were unsteady, but she walked forward anyway. “I wanna go.”

“Let me help, aight?” He slung his pack over his shoulder, then ran over to help her. There would almost certainly be more henchmen on the way, and he needed to take the opportunity while he had it. Arm over her shoulders, he held her tight as she limped down the hallway, chaos roaring behind them.

***

Compared to the hallway, the garage was eerily quiet. The truck they’d come in on was parked at the dock, waiting for their arrival. He helped her up the ramp and set her down towards the back, next to his larger, proper medical bag.

She rolled her head to the side, stretching a hand towards his knee. “ ‘s cold, Joseph.”

“I'll get a blanket on you soon, yeah?” As he spoke, he replaced the oximeter and secured the automatic bp cuff back around her arm. “Have you thought about what you want to do for your birthday?”

She hummed as he flicked her elbow. “I wanna go back to Blue Oysters.”

“That was a nice place, wasn’t it?” The vein finally surfaced. “Sharp scratch.”

“Ow.” Her arm twitched away as he sunk the needle in.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He looked up to see the rest of the team piling in behind him. Teri and Eric had swapped places. She’d taken shotgun so he could check in on Alex.

“Hello…” Alex mumbled wearily, moving her hand in a vague waving motion.

“Hey Alex.” Eric squatted down across from Joseph. “What do you need me to do?”

“Blanket’s in the back left pocket.” Nodding to Eric, he dug what he’d need to start fluids out of his bag. “There's a nasty cut across her abdomen, and she’s probably got a concussion.”

Her eyes flicked between them, growing wide. “Wha’ are you doing?”

“You’re hurt, Alex. We’re taking care of you.” Joseph said as Eric spread the blanket over her. The truck lurched forward, pulling away from the building.

“ ‘m fine.” She grumbled quietly, slowly blinking her eyes.

Eric eyed the slightly pink stained bandages on her belly. “You’re hurt pretty badly. Let us help, yeah?”

She groaned at that, but didn’t try to move.

“Can you hold this?” Joseph asked, handing a bag of saline to him. “And Eric?”

He paused for a moment, looking at her too-low pressures and too-fast breathing.

“Tell Sil to step on it.”

Taglist: @pigeonwhumps @rainydaywhump @painful-pooch @rainbowsandwhumperflies

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump Day 12: Semi-conscious

Content warning: Delirious whumpee

They found Whumpee in the hospital parking lot, curled up in the backseat of an empty car.

It was unbelievable how far they'd gotten. With no shoes, a system addled with enough painkillers to leave someone twice their size seeing stars, and fresh stitches in their stomach, Whumpee had managed to avoid a dozen nurses and sneak out undetected. Nobody had even realized they were gone until Caretaker had come to visit them. The entire hospital had been in a panic looking for them ever since. 

If Caretaker hadn't just spent the last half hour frantically looking for them, they might've been impressed.

Carefully, Caretaker approached the side opposite Whumpee, knocking gently on the glass in hopes of not starting them. Whumpee flinched hard, eyes darting to the source of the noise. For a long moment they stared, pupils blown so wide their eyes looked black. They kept staring, even as their shoulders slumped, fear in their eyes consumed by a hazy listlessness once more. They didn’t move to get out of the car.

Consequences of barging into a stranger's car be damned, Caretaker opened the car door and slipped inside, scooting close to Whumpee. Whumpee simply watched then. 

They looked Whumpee over, sagging in relief when they saw that, beyond a few smugges on their hospital gown, they were unharmed beyond their previous injuries.

Whumpee didn’t speak, only stared with glassy eyes. Caretaker broke the silence. 

"So," they started, trying to sound casual. "Why'd you leave the hospital?"

Whumpee’s gaze slides off of Caretaker, unfocusing. “I…It was…bad in there,” their words were slow and trailing, as if they were struggling to follow their own train of thought. “They wanna hurt me.”

Caretaker reached over and took hold of Whumpee’s hand, rubbing circles into bruised knuckles. They gave the hand a squeeze, silently urging Whumpee to calm down ."Hun, everything's okay, you're just a little confused right now. The doctors want to help you, and they can't do that if you run away."

Whumpee only shook their head. The movement, it seemed, was too much for them to handle. They slowly tilted to the side, body slumping to rest limply against Caretaker’s side, head still faintly shaking. They let out a pathetic whine.

Caretaker had no idea how they’d managed to escape the hospital in their state. Gently, they moved Whumpee’s head to rest more comfortably on their shoulder, using their free hand to text a message confirming they’d found Whumpee in one piece. 

They looked over to Whumpee, slumped limply onto their shoulder. They were bruised and battered, eyes clouded and unfocused, but they were alive. They were safe, and if it took them time to realize it, then Caretaker would give them that time. 

"We'll stay in here until you're ready, okay?"

Whumpee murmured something in response, eyes fluttering shut. 

[weirdstrangeandawful]

TW: delirium/confusion, drugs, medical

“Hey Whumpee! Where are you headed off to? Are you waiting for a bus?” Caretaker’s voice is light and cheerful. A delicate smile plastered across their face.

“Yeah, I’m going home,” Whumpee slurs their words slightly, pain medication still sloshing through their bloodstream. Their fingers fiddle with the strings on their hospital gown.

“Oh that sounds lovely!” Caretaker encourages, “Would you like to come inside for a warm meal whilst you’re waiting?”

At Caretaker’s insistence, Whumpee slowly gets up and hobbles down the corridor, politely shutting the door to the storage cupboard behind them as they leave.

[bloodsweatandpotato]

Whump prompt - Wandering Whumpee

When whumpee is delirious (from fever, concussion, drugs, your choice really), and is in an unfamiliar environment. They don’t feel safe, everything is just wrong, and it only gets worse when Caretaker steps out of the room for a few minutes. They pull themself out of bed and wander out of the room, not really conscious, just looking for somewhere their addled mind will recognize as safe. Maybe they forget where they are, or get lost in the winding halls, seeing voices and hearing faces in the shadows.

When Caretaker comes back to the room to find whumpee gone, they panic. Perhaps there is more than one caretaker, and they split up, frantically searching. Finally, someone finds whumpee, confused and half-asleep, curled up in a closet or cabinet or corner. Do they herd whumpee back to bed, tugging them up to standing as whumpee murmurs protests, or do they simply settle in next to whumpee, stuffing blankets around them as they wait for the delirium to pass?

[fistful-of-whump]

drabble 1

“Kid?”

He wasn’t sure where the voice was coming from, through that terrible ringing in his ears. Neminis had mostly aimed his ire towards his head, after all. Whenever that had been— an hour ago, maybe, since the man had gotten bored of demanding answers he didn’t know—

His line of thought cut off as a jolt of pain shot through his head. The lights in his cell, always far too bright, burned through his eyes as someone dragged him into a sitting position.

“Damn,” the woman in front of him muttered. It was still too loud; her voice cut through the ache in his skull and lodged a knife inside it. His vision shook and blurred as she began tilting his face, examining his eyes. He squeezed them shut. She forced them open.

“Please— stop,” he gasped. He thought he gasped. Maybe it was just another thought bouncing in his skull.

“I’m trying to help you.” Liar. He recognized her now. She was the one who told Neminis how to find him. Where he lived.

“Don’t fall asleep,” she ordered. “You have a bad concussion.”

He didn’t care. He couldn’t take any more of this. And it wasn’t as if he could even control how his sight blurred and sank into darkness, not at all. He couldn’t help how the pain faded away into emptiness. Except—

Good. Except he didn’t want to go like that. Everyone will be better off with you gone. Including you.

-break-

Amis could only watch helplessly as the boy passed out in her arms. Damn it. Damn Neminis. Damn her for thinking she could leave the place and come back to something that wasn’t this near-murder situation. A mocking voice rang in her ears, demanding just what she thought would happen if she left a teenager with apparent connections to their target in her superior’s vengeful hands.

She pressed her thumb to the inside of his wrist. His pulse was thankfully still present. Steady, too, as far as she could tell, but she didn’t know if it was too slow. Or too fast. It could have been any number of terrible things.

The kid didn’t know anything about the— well, Amis wasn’t supposed to know either, and because she did she wasn’t telling. But he didn’t know anything. He was the bait. The live bait, as she’d stressed to everyone else. You didn’t keep your live bait alive by kicking the shit out of it.

She only knew his name because she had skimmed the file the group collected on him.

Hikaru barely stirred in her arms, only giving a soft moan of pain to indicate his status as living. Something that was more than a twinge of guilt shot through her chest. She’d thought that he would’ve been prepared enough to handle the attack. She wasn’t a good fighter; her skills lay in strategy, he should have overpowered her. And Neminis shouldn’t have been able to beat him in a fair fight if he was training with—

Though perhaps their target considered him to be nothing more than bait, as well.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. This was all her fault.

No one replied.

[whumpshots]

Whumptober #1

Trope of the day: “How many fingers am I holding up?”

_

The ringing in their ears gets louder and louder. Voices come through the various noises, unfiltered and loud. A grunt that sounds far too loud in whumpee's head escapes their lips as their eyes flutter open, everything around them blurry.

"Oi! Wake up, kid," they hear as someone softly slaps their cheek to which they try to blink their sight a little bit clearer. They finally make out the shapes in front of them, some moving, some staying still.

Pain makes them whimper as something touches their abdomen, someone slightly moves their head. Whumpee feels their heart stutter as panic takes them with a surprise, closes its fist around them.

"Don't worry, it's us," the voice says and whumpee tries to focus on the still figure in front of them. "They got you good ... Tell me, how many fingers am I holding up?" Whumpee squints at the shape they finally identify as a hand, but more seems to be impossible.

A soft grunt escapes them as they squeeze their eyes close, hoping the nausea doesn't get worse. "Too many," whumpee finally rasps and whimpers when the figures around them move their body.