#doing stuff to unconscious whumpee

[3-2-whump]

Out of the Corner of My Eye 

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TW/CW: whumper former whumpee, military whump, nightmare/flashback, PTSD, murder (technically manslaughter?) of a character that's there for all of two seconds, scars, noncon stripping, doing stuff to unconscious whumpee (not inherently sexual stuff though), creepy/intimate whumper, whumper with baggage

NOTE: The inner thoughts and opinions expressed within do not align with those of the author, who themself has never and would never condone such thoughts and opinions in real life. Reader Discretion is advised.

Thomas jolted awake from his bed, pulse thrumming like a jackrabbit and his breaths coming in shallow and rapid like he had just run a marathon. Everything was dark –why was it so dark? He quickly got his breathing under control and took in his surroundings. I’m home, he realized gradually, I’m in my apartment, in my room, in my bed. He sighed in exhaustion, dragging his hands over his face.

The nightmare had taken him to Afghanistan again, to a flash of light followed by the loudest sound he had heard in his life, to Young Tony –his little brother– lying dead in the dust and debris-

No, don’t dwell there, Thomas told himself. He pushed himself out of bed and blearily shuffled to the bathroom. Taking out the familiar bottle of pills, he shook out two tablets for himself and filled up a glass of water to wash them down. No amount of water would wash away the bitterness those pills imprinted on his tongue. He wandered back into the bedroom.

It isn’t even dawn yet, Thomas thought. Shouldn’t I try to go back to sleep? It took one look at the tangled, sweaty sheets for him to realize he didn’t want to try. He didn’t want to go back there.

He opened the bedroom door and quietly stepped out to the living room. His eyes were instantly drawn to a human-shaped form passed out over his couch. He approached the unconscious person carefully to get a closer look, all tiredness quickly forgotten as his senses sparked to life in the face of this unknown danger.

Thomas breathed an audible sigh of relief when he realized it was only Khaled. The boy had been sneaking out and staying out later and later, much to his annoyance. (They really should talk about that at some point, he reminded himself.) He hadn’t even changed out of his clothes; it looked like he had just enough energy to take his shoes off at the entrance and wander over to the couch before passing out on top of it. A silvery puddle of saliva was forming under his parted mouth and onto the couch cushion. It might’ve just been the darkness, but his face looked unusually pale.

Thomas leaned over the boy to get a pulse. He found it, thrumming slowly and steadily under warm skin, unlike…

In life, he and his little brother seldom got along, both being born of different fathers and a neglectful mother. Grandpa Tony, the one that truly raised them, only served to drive the wedge between the brothers further as he pitted each grandson against each other, forcing them to compete for their grandpa’s approval and eventually his title. Thomas saw through the bullshit much earlier than Young Tony ever did, which was part of the reason he ran away from the family in the first place. He never would have guessed his straight-laced little brother would track him down in his self-imposed exile, nor would he have expected his brother to follow him into the USMC and eventually to his death. Yet he did, and he died, and the motherfucker that took him would pay.

“Just let me talk to the suspect, just ten minutes, please, just ten minutes,” a younger Thomas begged. He still had fractured ribs that made every breath he took a living hell, and a concussion that made his head swim if he so much as moved too quick. But they had finally caught the bastard that blew up his squad –his comrades, his friends, his little brother.

The suspect was just a kid, no older than his brother was, with the baby fat barely shed from his cheeks and scarcely a hint of facial hair on his chin. Thomas began to cycle through all five stages of grief as he stared at the teen in front of him, though his mind hinged onto the denial, anger, and bargaining part of the cycle. Regardless of age or fine features, this kid was responsible in some way for Young Tony’s death, and damn him if he didn’t make the little bastard answer for it.

The suspect’s tear-filled dark eyes widened in fear as he backed further away until he was up against the wall. Thomas pushed his way into the boy’s cell and hauled him up by the shirt collar.

“You son of a bitch!” The boy made a satisfying little gasping sound, jerking in his restraints as the man’s fist met his stomach. “How could you?! You’re just a kid!” Thomas hit him again, this time in the face. “I don’t believe it, could someone like you really kill my squad?!” The boy was begging through bloodied lips in a language Thomas didn’t understand. “There’s no way, there’s no way! How could you?!”

Somebody should have stopped him. Somebody should have stopped him before he went so far. To this day, they never could be sure whether the boy in the cell was responsible for the bombing or not, but at that moment, to Thomas, he might as well have killed Young Tony with his bare hands. He hit him until his knuckles were warm and tacky with his blood. He slammed his head against the wall of the cell as he threw him around like a rag doll. And then, with both hands on that slender throat and a bit too much pressure-

Someone finally stopped him. It was too late by then. The suspect was dead.

In the darkness of the early morning, it was uncanny how closely his Khaled resembled that poor kid he murdered. Maybethat was why he got him.

“I’m sorry. I never thought I would take it this far,” Thomas whispered. He was partially addressing the sleeping boy, and partially pleading with the spirit of the boy from his past. He gathered Khaled in his arms and carried him to his room. It was reassuring to feel how warm he was, because warmth meant life. He laid Khaled out on the bed and debated whether to change him out of his clothes or leave him be. Khaled’s usually a sound sleeper, he reasoned, and nobody likes to sleep in jeans. Besides, it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, right? Not that Thomas intended to ask for either as he began the careful work of stripping him.

Khaled unconsciously leaned into the touch as he gingerly peeled the clothes off him. He exposed the jagged scars across Khaled’s back as he pulled the hem of his shirt up. It was so easy to inflict those scars onto him if he just imagined Khaled was that boy. His eyes traced over every line, counting them in his head and naming them for every man he’d lost. That one’s for Callahan, that one’s for Trémeaux, that one’s for Martinez, that one’s for Tony-

A small, breathy moan came out when Thomas accidentally grazed his nipples trying to get his shirt off. It made his heart melt a little, while at the same time sending a familiar trickle of heat down below. “Not now,” he murmured, “but fuck, you make it sound tempting.” Thinking about the dead boy while committing acts of somnophilia on his living one was not high on the man’s ‘kinks to try’ list. He covered the now-exposed Khaled with a thick blanket and tucked it snugly around him.

“You were supposed to be my penitence, you know.” His index finger traced along Khaled’s cheekbone, just under his dark eyelashes. “You were supposed to absolve me of the sins I committed,” he sighed, “but here I am, sinning against you in the process.” He laid himself down next to the sleeping figure, spooning him like a lover. “So much for atonement, huh?” His lips lightly grazed the shell of the boy’s ear, right above where his own initials were inked in blackish blue. “But, now that I’ve had a bite, I can’t seem to stop consuming you. Look what you do to me,” he murmured, “How could I stop, now that I know what you taste like, feel like? I’m obsessed.” 

“But no amount of fucking you is going to bring that boy back to life,” he sighed, as if realizing this truth for the first time. “It’s not going to undo the fact that I killed him, is it?” Understandably, Khaled did not respond. He leaned over to press a light kiss on his temple. “I’ll let you sleep now,” he promised, raising himself from the bed to leave. He glanced back one more time before he exited the bedroom.

“I’m sorry.”The sleeping beauty didn’t respond. Thomas closed the door.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Whumptember day 2

“Let me do this for you.” Sacrifice | Guilt | Caretaker turned whumpee

Whumpee was finally safe.

They weren't uninjured, of course. Their body looked small in their hospital bed, and what little of their skin that wasn't bandaged was either a sickly pale hue or dark with bruising. They were hurt and frail, but they were healing. They were finally safe.

It had only cost Caretaker everything.

Whumper had given them 72 hours. Three days to handle their affairs, three days to say goodbye, three days of freedom before they had to fulfill their end of the deal. Today was their last day before becoming Whumpee’s replacement.

Caretaker had decided to spend that final day with Whumpee. They couldn’t think of anything they wanted more.

Caretaker reached for Whumpee’s limp hands. Whumpee didn’t react. Caretaker wanted to see their eyes one more time, but knew it was for the best that Whumpee wasn’t awake. They would ask Caretaker to stay.

“I’m sorry,” Caretaker whispered into the silent room, thumb rubbing against Whumpee’s knuckles. “I know you wouldn’t want this.” It’d been the only way to save Whumpee. The only reason they were safe now was because Caretaker had agreed to take their place, and Caretaker knew that trying to avoid their end of the bargain would only jeopardize that. They wouldn’t take that risk.

They lifted Whumpee's hand to their lips, pressing a feather-soft kiss into their fingers. "Let me do this for you."

[aceofwhump]

Do you have a favorite small moment of whump? Like rather than a whole big scene something really small and fleeting, i.e. a micro expression, a grimace in the background, a minor wince, etc.

Oh man nonny small moments of whump is one of my favorite aspects of whump. I have so many I adore. The big stuff is fun but when it comes down to it, it's the small aspects that tend to give me those whumperflies. Here are some of my absolute favorite small moments of whump:

When the character is feeling faint and they sway just a little bit before collapsing to their knees

Flinching. Nothing better than a flinch. I love the big full body flinching but even the really small ones that you can just barely notice give me whumperflies

Fevers. Everything about fevers is wonderful. The light blush on their cheeks, laying a hand on their forehead, the heavy breathing, the little moans. Ugh i love it so much

Bruises. Especially like one on the jaw from a punch to the face

When a character has a headache and they close their eyes and they get that little crinkle of pain between their brows

Shaky hands! Either from fear, cold, illness, etc A little tremor in the hands is so good.

Tears!! Come on you can't beat tears!

An arm slung over the shoulder of a caretaker in a support/carried kind of way

Applying a bandage to a wound. My favorite is when it's a hand injury.

Running their hands through the whumpee's hair when they're unconscious/sleeping. If that happens I DIE

Being covered with a blanket when they've passed out on the couch or something

Coughing. Especially anime sick episode coughing.

Hugging!! Hugging is ALWAYS good!

Scar reveals!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

All We Have Is Each Other

CW: Intimate whumper, captivity, defiant whumpee, biting, creepy whumper, obsessive whumper, noncon kiss, vague noncon references, drugging. For @amonthofwhump Tropeathon Day 1: Duel

The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist

Takes place during Jax’s second captivity. As always, Jax is used with oversight and permission from @comfy-whumpee)

-

Savvie rolls dice every time she uses the mortar and pestle in the kitchen to grind up one of her collections of pills and mix it into Jax’s drink.

She’s always gambling with the drugs. The first part of the game is seeing whether he’ll drink it before he realizes there’s something in it. If she doesn’t mix it well enough, he’ll see the cloudy bits floating around in the glass and look at her with terrible sad eyes. Sometimes she can’t take it. She just takes the drink right back out of his hand and pours it out, makes him a new one. 

Other the other hand, sometimes his sad voice and sad eyes piss her off worse than anything else could, and she just tips it up until he chokes and makes him finish it anyway. Or shocks him, pressing the button to the remote and watching his muscles lock up, knowing he’ll look sweeter once he’s fighting the way his muscles jerk afterward, the unconscious twitches he can’t quite get rid of as the aftermath works its way through him. 

Sometimes he even looks scared. Those nights are some of her favorites. Savvie never loves Jax as much as she does when he is scared of her. 

But... she can’t keep him scared all the time. What kind of marriage would they have if she did that? No, the drinks aren’t to scare him, they’re just to make… to make things easier. And she doesn’t always do it! She doesn’t always drug him, but it’s enough that he never trusts her. She knows that. He doesn’t… trust easily. 

That’s okay. 

Their relationship got off to a rough start, that’s all, what with Jax starting off as one of the staff, bought and paid for. Plus, Jax’s dad convinced him Savvie was evil, once upon a time when he ran away from her. Taught him to hate her. She had to have her uncle fly all the way to England to bring Jax back, and it’s taking years to undo all the damage that stupid old man did. 

That’s okay. He’s getting better, he’s definitely getting better. He is. He has to be getting better. 

Still… he’s not an easy man to be married to. Not with having to keep an eye on the remote to his shock collar so he can’t take it off and try to run away again, not with the way he watches her sometimes like he wants to dunk her head into the toilet and hold it there until she drowns. Putting stuff in his drink just lets Savvie be able to relax. 

She doesn’t have to worry about what he might do when he’s so high he can’t do much of anything. Besides, it’s only like one out of every ten nights, sometimes twenty, sometimes she even goes for a month or two without doing it. 

She really doesn’t even want to. If he would just learn to be happy without it, she wouldn’t have to keep drugging him, would she? If he’d just stop being so difficult about being her husband… but that isn’t fair. He can’t be any better than he is, not really. Jax just… isn’t wired that way.

So she has to help him a little, to make it so he can have nights when he can’t stay mad at her. Or at least nights when his anger isn’t able to simmer in there behind his eyes while he says Yes, Miss Savvie or No, Miss Savvie like there’s a gun to his head. 

Still. Trying to give him these evenings where both of them just relax… it’s always a gamble. 

Even if he drinks whatever she makes without realizing it’s spiked, he doesn’t always react the same way. If she’s lucky - if her dice rolls well - the drugs make Jax… softer. He’ll lean against her when some of his strength slides away, not seek out touch but loathe it less. Those are the nights she can coax a sound out of him that isn’t clipped or tense. She still thinks about the night she gave him a back rub and he genuinely fell asleep sitting on the floor between her knees, his head drifting until it rested on her leg, the knots of tension slowly loosening beneath her kneading hands until she got distracted by the movie and forgot what she was doing. 

Sometimes he smiles, when he’s blurry and unfocused. Smiles, enough to show teeth even… God, sometimes he even laughs at some of Savvie’s jokes. It’s rare, but it happens. She loves those nights the best. Those are the nights that their marriage almost feels normal… if she just ignores the dilated pupils and the way he can’t stand up on his own. 

Sometimes he gets so foggy he can’t stop laughing, which is irritating but at least adorable to watch and take videos of to make him look at later on the next day when he sobers up again. Sometimes the side effects make him too scared to smile, his eyes darting nervously everywhere watching the movements of shadows he swears are watching him. She… tries not to give him those pills anymore.

The nights tend to end with her telling him to take off his shirt so she can enjoy the view, or even his pants, too. She usually waits on that, though, because it doesn’t matter how good the drugs are - he always hesitates when it comes to taking off his pants, as soon as his fingers touch the boxers with their oddly rolled waistband. 

It reminds him he doesn’t want to be here. Makes his addled mind come back to the collar he wears around his neck, to the reality of the life they’re living, the marriage Savvie has built all by herself whether he wanted to or not.

And he… he didn’t want to. 

So normally she waits on the getting naked bit until they’re in the bedroom and what he wants matters so much less that neither of them think about it any longer. The drugs, at least, make it harder for him to slow her down in there. 

Savvie tries not to think about that, because she doesn’t remember it that way. She likes the nights best where he doesn’t even try to fight, just lets her pull him upstairs and she gets to bury her hands in his hair and tell him what to do and have him, languid and loose-limbed, follow every command without the tension and misery he usually carries into their bed. 

She doesn’t always roll well. 

Sometimes, she rolls snake eyes… and she gets this, instead.

“Fuck’s sake,” Jax groans, words slurring around the edges, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He pushes clumsily away from her, nearly falling off the couch before he manages to catch himself. “For… f’r fuck’s sake, Savvie, what the fuck.”

His wedding ring glints, light from the TV bouncing off the deceptively plain platinum band. She’s hit all over again with a wave of love for him, for the life she’s built after he was brought back home to be hers forever, just like he always should have been. She’d been an idiot not to see it, not until he was gone and she spent years in prison dreaming about getting him back. 

“Fuck’s sake what?” She asks, voice light, smiling at him and poking him in the shoulder where they sit on the couch. 

He doesn’t slap her hand away, but she sees him look at her and… he wants to. His expression is dark. The light is bouncing off his hazel eyes, too, giving them a strange sheen of white that wipes out the color, obscures even his dilated pupils slowly taking over the iris. “What the fuck was it?”

“What was what?”

“What the fuck did you give me?” He goes to push himself to standing only to have his knees buckle beneath him, crashing him to the floor, barely catching himself on his hands. Savvie’s mouth waters, and she swallows, trying to ignore the flutter of fascinated interest in watching his fingernails scrape the rug as he tries to steady himself. “What the fuck is it, Savvie?”

“It doesn’t matter,” She answers, without changing her own tone, leaning forward with her arms resting on her thighs. Her hair falls in heavy waves down her back and over her shoulders. “It’s not anything that could hurt you.”

This time, he doesn't say Miss Savvie or try out the sad eyes. Instead, he looks away. She can nearly hear his teeth grinding. “Yeah, but once I’m all fucked up, you will.”

“Don’t be rude,” Savvie chides him, but she doesn’t move. He looks good, on his hands and knees on the floor. Well, he looks good all the time, really, but he looks even better on his hands and knees. She knows the physique he’s built with the workout routine she makes him do, knows the muscles there hidden beneath the green sweater and jeans he’s wearing. “You’ve been stressed all week. I’m just trying to help-”

“Fucking shit, the hell you are!” He manages to sit back on his knees, then collapses back until his back hits the edge of the couch cushions, upright through sheer force of will and a bit of good luck. His hands lay limp at his sides, now. When he turns to look at her, his eyes don’t focus quite right - but the fury in them is clear.

Well.

Tonight’s not going to be the best night for them, then, she supposes. She feels the edge of a headache starting up, and sighs, looking mournfully at the movie she’d pulled up for them to watch. Another night, then. A night when the gamble pays off and doesn’t backfire. A night when he can’t remember how to be angry at her.

“Fine,” She says, heavily. “I’m not trying to help you. I’m trying to help me.”Her own voice changes - drops almost a full octave from her usual carefully constructed diction and sweetness to something sharper. “I’m making tonight easier on me. Making you less… less-” She can't think of a good way to end the sentence, so she just lets it hang there between them. 

Jax snorts, looking away again. His head keeps lolling forward until his chin nearly touches his chest before he jerks it back again. “Yeah, I fucking know,” He manages, but his slurring is getting worse. “Shit f’r brains.”

Savvie sniffs, but the fake tears aren't coming as easily as they usually do. She probably accidentally gave him too much again. It’s just sometimes so hard to remember exactly how much the dose is supposed to be…

“I don’t enjoy you being cruel to me any more than you enjoy it when I do it to you, you know,” She says, suddenly… so tired. She spends so much time and effort creating a marriage herself out of a man her uncle bought for her once and abducted for her the second time, and she’s doing this all on her own - no one helps her, not really. And Jax never gives up.

She’d been sure he’d start to settle in and understand by now, but he just… he just doesn’t. And she’s so tired. Her fingers toy with the little black remote to his shock collar. Maybe she should just… just give up on having a good night and punish him for the cursing until he just bites off his stupid tongue. 

No, wait. 

She likes what he does with his tongue, when she gives the order. He’s so good with it now. Maybe… maybe just a small shock. Just to remind him he's hers. She takes a deep breath. “Jax… get on your-”

“On m’knees f’r discipline?” He starts laughing before she can finish, cutting her off, letting his head fall totally back against the arm of the couch until he’s staring at the ceiling. He sounds wild, almost like an animal. Her quiet watchful husband is feral, and Savvie resolves never to give him the pill she gave him tonight ever again. “Yeah, fucking… fuckin’ do it. Second I don’t play along, there y’go. Bzzzt.” He cackles, a cracked bark of laughter she’s never heard him make before. “Shut me up so you don’t hear me say it.”

Savvie’s heart twists. “Say what?”

The laughter dies in him as suddenly as it appeared. He turns his head, or tries to - it mostly just falls to one side until he’s looking at her. Their eyes meet, his all black pupil and hers with nearly no pupil at all. “How much I fucking hate your fucking guts.”

“You don’t hate me.” She says it firmly, as if he’s being ridiculous. “Don’t be mean, Jax. You don’t hate me at all.”

She takes a deep breath. Married couples have fights, even ugly ones sometimes, and they work it out-

“Yeah. I… I really do.” Disgusted, that’s the tone in his voice. Disgusted with her. “I do. I hate you.”

“Why do you hate me?”

The look he gives her is such a blatant are you a complete fucking moron that she can hear his voice even though he doesn’t say a word. 

“No, hold on.” She waves one hand, dismissing her own question. His eyes briefly follow the movements of her fingers, distracted by whatever the drugs make him see there. Trails of light, maybe. It’s probably beautiful. “Hold on. I know why-”

“Do you?” His question is sharp, snapped, even as his every muscle can barely tense enough to move. “Do you fuckin’ really?”

“Yes. I do.” Savvie’s too tired to talk him in a circle tonight. She’s just… too exhausted by her bad gamble, bringing neither the snuggly Jax or the scared one, but this angry, vengeful animal instead.

Her headache is getting worse. 

She grabs her glass of wine off the coffee table and chugs it so fast a little drip escapes the corner of her mouth and runs down her chin. She has to wipe it away, wincing at the… at the idea of how that looks. Her mother would have had a fit about it. If she hadn’t died years ago. “Because I had you kidnapped.” 

Jax is silent, for a beat. He squints at her. “Fuck… what’d you say? Might be hearin’ shit.” 

She laughs, softly. Not her usual laughter, crafted to fill up a room and put all eyes on her. This laugh is barely there, but far more genuine. “No. You're not hallucinating, that shouldn't happen with what I gave you tonight.”

“Oh, good, not this fucking drugging, then, jussss-” His head falls too far to one side and he forces it back up, groaning. “Jusss… others.”

“Only one of the pills does that. And you were cute when you thought there were monsters in the bathroom.” She gets that flat stare from him again and this time she can't hold eye contact, looking down and away, still fiddling with the remote to his collar. “I just. I do know what I did, Jax.”

“Yeah, I fucking know you know-”

“I had you kidnapped.” She takes a deep breath. It feels oddly good to say, like a scene in a movie confessing to a priest. A foul-mouthed priest she’s been sleeping with for over a year. The thought makes her smile, just a little. “My uncle had people watching you, and when I was ready, he knew where you’d be and he abducted you for me. I know that. I know that you’d run, if you could. I’d take your collar off right now if I thought you’d stay without wearing it.”

Jax is silent for so long she briefly wonders if he's flat out forgotten how to talk. Then he shrugs - or tries to, his arms don't quite follow his commands. “You’d find somethin’ else, some other reason for shit ‘round my neck. You fuckin’ like it.”

For the first time, she doesn't deny it. “I do.” She laughs at the way he looks almost comically surprised, unable to keep his usual closed-off expressions in place with the drug coursing through his veins. “What? Can't a girl have a kink?”

“Sure fuckin’ can, but you… you don' have a kink, you got… goddamn victims.”

“... I… yeah. But it-... that's not my point. It isn't about the collar, Jax. Your wedding ring does it for me, too. I could barely wait to get you home after we signed the marriage certificate.”

The glare is back. His hatred is blistering her skin. She watches him try to stand, making it nearly upright before he falls back down again with a heavy thump. 

Her mouth twitches. “You want help, sweetie?”

“Ffffuck you.” 

“Well, I mean, if you’re asking so nicely.” She giggles at her own joke. 

He mumbles something she can't quite hear, trying to stand one more time but quickly giving up. He makes it onto the couch, at least. Savvie stands, turning to grab his ankles, shifting so he’s lying on his back, head and feet each cushioned by the arms of the comfortable, overstuffed couch. He struggles weakly, and it's hard work, but she gets him where she wants him. She barely breathes, taking in his chest rising and falling under his sweater, how his inhales are coming more sharply. 

She can't help herself. 

Savvie climbs on top of him, like she’s done a hundred times. She straddles him, sitting on his hips and leaning down to kiss his neck, nosing under his jaw. At first, his head tips back in resignation - but then he curses and pushes at her weakly instead. “Don’t.”

She grabs his wrists and shoves them above his head. He’s so weak, the drugs have taken all that muscle and made them… useless at holding her off. There’s a shiver of excitement down her spine. “Uh-uh, sweetie. You’re the one who said to fuck you, remember?”

She feels a thrill at saying fuck, like she’s still a kid sneaking swears in her room when her parents won’t overhear. 

“Don't,” He groans. “Sav-... Savvie, stop. G’t off me. I hate you.”

“I know.” She smiles down at him. His eyes meet hers, tired and bleary. Furious and almost resigned. “I know you hate me, Jax… but I love you.”

She leans down, her hair a waterfall curtain, blocking them both off from the world. She can smell the cologne she buys for him, blended with her own pricey perfume. His wrists jerk against her grip and she digs her nails in until he grunts in pain and the skin gives beneath. 

“Savvie,” he whispers. 

“Sssshhh.” She lets go with one hand, shifting both his wrists to her other one, and presses a finger against his lips. “I love you so much,” She whispers. “And I don't need you to love me back, sweetie, I don’t. I just need you to lie for me.”

 She kisses him, then, pressing her lips firmly to his. For half a second, his mouth is slack and unresisting even as his body shudders with disgust. He’s warm, his skin burning up beneath her. Her mouth moves against his, trying to get him to answer her, to open up.

His lips gently part. For a brief moment, Savvie feels the rush of victory.

Then he bites.

Pain blooms in a sudden flare as his teeth bury themselves into her lower lip and he jerks his head to the side, sensitive skin tearing.

“Shit!” Savvie jerks backwards, staring down at him wide-eyed. She can taste her own blood in her mouth. It’s smeared on his lips and his teeth like badly-done lipstick as he gives her a smile that's really a snarl. “Oh my God, Jax-... how dare you-”

“Fuck you! Don't fucking touch me!” He gets his arms more or less under his own control and shoves her off of him. She crashes into the coffee table, the legs giving out, tumbling her to the floor. Pain spikes hot and demanding along her hip where she hits the hard angle of the corner and she finds herself the one lying on the floor, while Jax slowly sits up, wiping blood off his lips. 

Her blood. 

Savvie pulls her fingers from her mouth and gasps. There’s a smear of red, bright and vibrant, the unmistakable sense of blood trickling down over her chin. She tongues at the wound, then winces as the pain flares bright, like he’s bitten her all over again. She considers tears - looks at the loathing in his eyes, the absolute rage written in the lines of his face - and then decides they’re wasted on him tonight. Instead, she just shakes her head. “That hurt.”

“Good. Don' like bein’ the one fucking bleeding for once, huh?” His eyes drift closed. He struggles to open them again, to keep his eyes on her. “Shit feelin’, isn't it?” 

“God.” She swallows. Blood on her tongue is making her feel nauseous and she gets to her feet carefully. Her mouth and hip throb. She’s going to be so bruised tomorrow, going to ache so much. “You’re awful sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah.” He grins. He hasn't bothered to try and get the red off his teeth. “I know. So… so fffffuckin’ get rid of me, then.”

Savvie snorts, limping a little as she moves to pick up the spilled wine bottle from the floor. She could shock him now - that’s what she would usually do. Or call Isaac and have him carted off to spend another month locked in the kennels with the dogs. He… probably doesn’t care about that, though. Anything to get away from her. Anything is better than her, to him.

“Get rid of you?” She drinks the last swallow in the bottle, washing blood down her throat with the wine. “Then what, Jax? I should just… live here alone, without you, for the rest of my life?”

“Fucking-... yes, or go fucking die. I don't fucking care.” The flush of hot anger bleeds away, his voice softening a little. “I don't… don' care, Savvie. I don’t care about you.”

“No. You do.” She feels a burst of desperation to make him understand. “You hate me, right? That’s caring about me, still.”

“Savvie-”

“No. I love you. You are mine, and I am keeping you. This is love, Jax. What I feel for you is true love.” 

He shakes his head, swaying a little where he sits. He tries to push her away again as she takes him by the arm but his burst of energy seems to have used him up. He lets her, in the end, get him onto his feet. She leads him on his unsteady legs out of the room, and he stumbles along with her. 

“S'not love,” He mumbles. She keeps an arm around his waist to help him balance. “Fucking… fuck you. Let me leave, Savvie.”

He doesn't have the strength to push her away, not anymore. He has to use her to stay up as they take the stairs one at a time, although after three or four he jerks away again and uses the railing, leaning heavily against it as he drags himself upwards, inch by inch, step by step. 

She lets him pull away, watching his determination to not need her, how badly he doesn’t even want her. There’s a canyon inside of her, something dark and deep that hurts so much worse than her hip or her torn open lower lip, threatening to claw its way out as she watches the man she has forced to play the role of her husband do anything he can to avoid her touch. 

Her jaw sets. “It is. It is love, and you know what? It’s all the love you’re going to get. Ever. No one else will ever love you.” Savvie’s voice stays low. “You’re not… you’re not lovable, Jax, but I don’t care, I love you anyway. Nobody else would. No one is ever going to even want to love you but me.”

He slumps. The fight’s all gone out of him, for now. Her gamble failed tonight and Jax is buckling under the weight of what runs through his veins, the heavy expectations in her eyes and her smile and her devotion. 

“Fuck,” is all he says, barely a whisper under his breath.

Savvie sighs, touching her fingers to her lip again. The bleeding has slowed but there’s still a spot of red. “Goes both ways, though, I think.”

He doesn't look at her. “What?”

“This… how much you hate me… how I had to kidnap you, and put that thing on your neck to keep you here, how you wish you were anywhere but here with me… you know, I, I get it.”

He has to stop at the landing and lean over, resting his forehead against the wall. 

She lays a hand on his back, leaning over to speak right against his ear. “I get that your hate is all the love I’m going to get, too, Jax. Nobody else will ever love me, either.” 

Her throat feels tight, and she can’t tell if she really feels the twisting nerves in her stomach, the sense of dread, or if it’s part of her act for Jax. Sometimes even Savvie isn’t sure when she means the things she says. Sometimes, even worse, she really does.

“All we’re ever going to have is each other.”

He doesn’t answer her. But when she takes his arm in her hand, he allows himself to be dragged along towards her bedroom. The fight might be gone, but so is the feeling. There’s nothing in his eyes that shows he even heard her.

That’s okay. She can be honest, in the dark, in the middle of the night, knowing that he’s too drugged to remember anything she said when he wakes up again. She’ll lie to herself again by morning. So will he.

She just needs him to lie. 

-

@whumpyourdamnpears consider this my evil savvie gift to you

[redd956]

May I request werewolf related whump prompts? I enjoy the stuff you post.

Of course!

Werewolf Whump Prompts

CW:

Caretaker needed to be told repeatedly, no matter what whumpee says or how hurt they'll sound on the other end of the door, not to open it until the full moon has set. The death screams echoing down the halls called to Caretaker. Caretaker shuffled towards the desperate begging, and animalistic snarling, and found their hands on the doorknob.

Whumpee keeled over suddenly, planting roughly in the dirt. Caretaker tried to run over only to be cut of by screams of pain. They could do nothing but watch in horror as whumpee became something they didn't know, but were warned about.

The nights spent transformed out of control and running around were awful alone. The days after where every fiber of their body is sore are equally terrible.

Whumpee didn't know Caretaker was a werewolf. Their whumper was one too. One night, injured and in need of Caretaker's help, they ignore the warning signs and barge into a transformed Caretaker.

Big buff werewolf whumper? Big buff werewolf caretaker? Big buff werewolf whumpee? The answer should be yes.

A large wounded wolf limped it's way into Caretaker's backyard before collapsing. In the low light of morning, Caretaker awoke to see an unconscious Whumpee in their backyard.

"Caretaker?", The blood soaked wolf before them trembled while speaking, the disbelief in their voice rousing the bitten Caretaker. "I didn't mean too..."

[whumpsoda]

Rate the name "Peepeepoopoo"

JUST KIDDING HAHAHAHAHA

Joke's aside... how about a whump prompt?

Caretaker finds Whumpee months after they had a fight. Caretaker hugs Whumpee, relieved that they finally found them and apologized to them for saying all the nasty stuff to them.

Whumpee just looks at them, confusion etched on their face.

"Who are you...?"

-- @whumperofworlds

10/10 name, would name my kid that!

Here’s a drabble!!! Trying to actually work on my inbox… I hope you like it! Sorry it took so long :3

cw: amnesia/memory loss, implication of past abuse

———————————————————————

“Who are you?!”

Caretaker recoiled, hands flying off of her once closest friend. At least, that was a good amount of months ago, anyway. Now he was shouting at her in the street as soon as she had tried to embrace him. For a second, like a fool, she had thought it could’ve been just like old times. For a moment.

“Whumpee, it’s…” Was he still angry? Did he not recognize her? Nervously, she chuckled. “Oh! I guess I did change my hair, and we haven’t seen each other in forever, but-!”

Baring his teeth and taking an offensive position, he growled. “Who? Are. You.”

Brows furrowed, she reached out to place a hand to his shoulder. It was only her. Why was he being so hostile? There was no reason for him to be so terrified of her. “Whumpee, hey. It’s me, it’s just Caretaker.”

“Hey! Off!” He hollered, swiftly and harshly slapping away her arm. For a moment, Caretaker just watched him jump back with a stunned expression.

Seemingly, he surely was still upset with her. And she was just an idiot for even thinking things could’ve just gone back to normal.

“S- sorry.” She whispered, taking a step away.

Whumpee’s face was flushed red with a sour concoction of anger, confusion, and embarrassment. “I don’t…” he stood almost hunched over, hiding himself inside of a hoodie five times too big, when she clearly remembered always seen him stand so tall. So bright. Like now he didn’t want to be seen. “How do you know me?”

Something was off. Something was very off.

Her mind was spinning in circles with puzzlement, desperate to get a grasp on the situation. “Whumpee… what’s wrong? Is something wrong…? I don’t understand-” Yet again she had made the mistake of unconsciously moving closer, an action he obviously didn’t take kindly to.

“Don’t come any closer! Stay back!” Whumpee sloppily swiped something from his pocket, holding it out as a means of a weapon. Unfortunately for him it was a mere credit card, but Caretaker positioned her hands above her head, anyway. Anything to make him feel a bit safer, maybe even trust her more. 

“Okay, okay. I’m not gonna hurt you, y’know. It’s Caretaker.” She chose her words carefully, ever so slowly speaking. Not taking a single movement that may put him more on edge.

“Are you…” Eyes wide and limbs jittery, distressfully trying to keep up his aggressive facade, Whumpee’s voice dropped to no more than a murmur. “Are you one of… one of Master’s friends?”

Master? 

Caretaker’s stomach churned as soon as he spoke such a title, overcome with shock and disgust. 

For a moment, as her expression twisted with horror, Caretaker took the time to look at him. To really look at him. To take notice of his bundled up frame on a humid day, to note his greasy, sweat dripping hair that contradicted his usually strict ideology against allowing himself to go unwashed, and the rich, raw marks of cracking red that circled his throat. She’d never seen him so disheveled. 

“Master? Whumpee, what are you talking about-”

“Who is Whumpee?! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He was howling again, still pointing the useless object toward her with an iron grip, and most passersby were watching with unease and fascination. 

Whumpee’s passion was only getting his former friend riled up as well. “You-!” 

“Stay. Back.” He snarled, fiery rage flashing in his eye. From that alone she could just tell that he’d been through something Caretaker would never know the severity of. Something that broke the gates of his soft kindness, shriveling him into the trembling, vicious man she was faced with. 

“What… happened to you?”

He swallowed, and for a beat his face softened. “I…”

“I mean… Whumpee,” she huffed a bitter chuckle, carefully and slowly outstretching her hand. This time, he didn’t reject it. “Where have you been, all this time?”

[whumpshaped]

"earning love"

like abused pet whumpee being found in bad condition by caretaker and being so scared of them. but trying to be so obedient so that caretaker will keep them.

or offering up themselves to be beaten by whumper because they know whumper likes that.

YEAHHHH its always so precious,,,

tw past trauma, burns, housefire, mild smoke poisoning, hospital setting, caretaker new master, conditioned whumpee, abandonment

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Whumpee's eyes fluttered open at the annoying sound, and they found themself in a room they'd never seen before. White walls, white tile floor, white sheets... were they in a hospital?

Right, they were hooked up to a heart monitor. That was the one beeping. They turned their head to the other side, gaze landing on a sleeping stranger in a chair next to them. No, not a stranger... well, a stranger they'd seen once already. Wasn't this the person who carried them out of the house? The smoke had been pretty thick at that point already, but they were pretty sure...

Oh no. The person was waking up.

Whumpee barely had any energy in their body, but it all immediately went to going rigid and motionless. Maybe if they just stayed still, the stranger would fall back asleep. They quickly closed their eyes as well, trying to feign unconsciousness.

"Whumpee? Are you awake?"

Dammit.

They carefully opened their eyes again. "Y-yes, sir." Their throat was painfully dry, but they didn't have the courage to ask for water. Thankfully, they didn't have to.

"Oh, I'm so glad. Thank god. I wasn't sure– here, would you like some water?" They grabbed a cup with a straw in it and quickly filled it with fresh water from the tap, letting Whumpee drink as much as they wanted. Which was a lot. "I'm so glad you seem relatively alright. The burns you have are minor, and the smoke didn't do much damage either. I managed to bring you outside pretty quickly."

"Um... where– where's Whumper?" they asked timidly, and the stranger's expression immediately darkened. "I, I'm sorry, was that a bad question–"

"No, it's... we don't know. They seem to have started the fire, actually. And then they went on the run. Or whatever. We don't really know."

Whumpee swallowed. "Oh."

"I'm sorry. I know that must feel... absolutely awful. But the good news is that you won't be hurt by them again!"

They frowned a little, confused. Hurt? No, at the very most, Whumper was just correcting bad behaviour. Sure, it was painful sometimes, but that was an odd way to describe it. They needed to be 'hurt' sometimes. The loss of that guidance could be devastating, how was that good news?

Still, this person was clearly the new authority. "That's... good, sir. I'm glad."

"You can just call me Caretaker, it's fine."

Whumpee cursed themself internally. Already a fuck-up, as always. Maybe they should've burned. "S-sorry."

"No need to apologise." They glanced at the door, then back at Whumpee. "I'm gonna call a nurse and then we can sort everything out. Where you'll go, stuff like that."

"Okay, s– Catetaker."

They watched as the stranger exited the room, wondering how much of a fuss their lack of a home will cause. Whumper was their home. The only person who cared. Clearly, not anymore, and so... they had no one.

Well, they had Caretaker. Caretaker, who surely didn't need a discarded pet in their home. How could they even explain that they used to be a good pet? Who would believe that? Whumper tried to burn them alive, they tried to burn down an entire house just to watch them be roasted inside. No one would believe them about being a good pet. Good pets don't get cooked alive like a lobster.

Still, they had to try and be as polite and well-behaved as they possibly could be. Maybe then... maybe they'd take pity on them. Maybe they could sleep in a closet, or the bathtub. Whatever unused little space Caretaker had, maybe they could squeeze inside and disappear.

~

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan

[frankencanon]

커넥션 | Connection (2024) Whump List

Synopsis:

One day, Jang Jae Gyeong, a ten-year detective of Anhyeon's narcotics unit, becomes forcibly addicted to drugs by someone. Although he denies being a user and claims he's an officer who arrests those who do, his mind and body unknowingly deteriorate due to the drug, which is new and unknown to the police. Oh Yoon Jin is a reporter for the Anhyun Economic Daily. She met Jae Gyeong at Jeogang High School. Right after returning to work after one month, she witnesses a woman die in front of her from using drugs. Yoon Jin chases the drug case for a scoop and becomes entangled with Jae Gyeong again. Geumhyung Group's vice-chairman, Won Jong Soo, and Anhyun's prosecutor, Park Jun Seo, are two who could be involved in the case. Due to the drugs, an evil connection intertwined with 50 million dollars starts to form and corrodes their high school friendship. Who could the drug lord be to confront Jae Gyeong, who declares retribution at the end of the battle, and who will come out the victor?

Whumpee: Jang Jae Gyeong (played by Ji Sung)

No one else has a made a whumplist for Connection yet (that I've found anyway), so this is my attempt… Have mercy, this is my first time making a whumplist and it's possible I missed or forgot to mention some stuff.

[SPOILER WARNING] ⚠️

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※ The links are to gifsets on Tumblr and official YouTube videos by Kocowa!

※ Spoiler warning for the videos especially!

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01: kidnapped, drugged, amnesia, hurt, disoriented, collapsed, weak, legs give out (caught), fighting, knocked out, vomiting, upset, sweating, dizzy, head injury, panicked, confused, shaky hands, collapsed, hospitalized, etc (a LOT)

02: hiding in closet, manhandled (CCTV footage), grabbed by the shirt and shoved against a wall, grabbed by the shirt again, shoved, grabbed

03: dizzy, falls over, collapsed, sweating, helped to walk, fainted, unconscious, drug addiction reveal, drug addiction, repeatedly bodyslams door, ill, out of breath, weak, helped to walk, pale, dizzy, asked if ok, asks for medicine, collapses, drug addiction, faints

04: drug addiction, panics, hits head on door, confused, disoriented, amnesia, upset, flashbacks, tantrum, distressed, paranoid, flashbacks

05: slapped in face with shoe covers (?), distressed, screaming, flashbacks, crying, sobbing

06: dizzy, stumbling, ill, kicked, knocked down, held down/restrained, drugged (injection), fighting

07: discussion about addiction, collapsed on floor (flashback)

08: out of breath, asks for help getting medication/diet pills

09: out of breath, has to take more diet pills to bide/manage addiction

10: dizzy, leaning on wall, out of breath, flashbacks to kidnapping

11: takes more diet pills, withdrawal, dizziness/lightheadedness, falls to the floor at bottom of stairs, falls to knees, more withdrawal, panting, almost takes drugs, crying?? red/watery eyes, tired? faint? takes more diet pills, weak, collapses punching someone, gets punched and knocked to the floor, can't get up, grabbed by the lapel and shook

12: weak (can't open water bottle), withdrawal, catatonic, wheezing, upset, screams, watery eyes, fighting, screaming

13: kicked several times, minor fender bender, withdrawal, shaky hands, arrested for drugs, upset, crying

14: discussion of addiction, collapsed and drugged (CCTV), upset, manhandled/dragged (CCTV), crying

-

[serickswrites]

Did I miss a part 2 to antidote? 🥵🥵❤️❤️

You did not! I have been falling so behind on keeping up with things (low spoon time for me due to a multitude of reasons). I didn't realize it would be so popular, lol. I have no idea where this is going, so please enjoy!

Part 1

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, forced to watch, poisoning, unconsciousness

Caretaker breathed a sigh of relief as Whumpee blinked their eyes open. Whumpee was ok. That was all that mattered.

"Wh-Wh-Whatttt di-di-did youuuuuu d-d-d-oooo?" Whumpee slurred as they blinked up at Whumper.

"Only what Caretaker asked of me," Whumper said sweetly as they grinned down at Whumpee. "We are going to have so much fun, you and I, all thanks to Caretaker."

"No!" Caretaker shouted as Whumper pulled another vial from their pocket. "You promised! I promised! WHUMPER!"

Whumpee began to struggle weakly in their restraints, but Whumper easily overpowered them and squeezed their jaw open. "I did promise. I gave Whumpee the antidote. They are alive. And will live for now. And you gave me what I asked for."

"NO WHUMPER!" Caretaker shouted as Whumper dumped the contents of the vial into Whumpee's mouth and held Whumpee's mouth closed.

Whumpee thrashed in Whumper's arms. Whumper pinched Whumpee's mouth closed. "I would swallow if I were you. Otherwise I'll let you pass out and you'll still swallow it. Don't you want to be awake to see what Caretaker gave away to save your pitiful existence?"

Whumpee growled around Whumper's hand, refusing to swallow. Caretaker looked on in horror as slowly Whumpee's struggles became weaker and weaker. "They need to breathe, Whumper! PLEASE!"

Whumper shook their head. "I'm not going to let them die. But I am making good on what you promised. I will have my prize." They smiled down at Whumpee as Whumpee's eyes rolled into the back of their head, slowly going limp in their restraints. "Besides, we'll have plenty of time for them to be awake for this part." Whumper massaged Whumpee's throat, ensuring the liquid was swallowed completely before they removed their fingers.

Caretaker couldn't shake the feeling of terror that gripped them when they began to realize they had no idea what they had promised Whumper and what the cost was and would continue to be for Whumpee. They could only look on in horror as Whumper looked around the table next to Whumpee for something.

"This should do nicely," Whumper said as they selected something out of Caretaker's sight. Whumper looked over their shoulder, "Buckle up, Caretaker, this is going to be a fun ride!"

Tags: @gala1981 @writinggremlin @kades-whump-stuff @antibigotwhumpblog @lthrboy @severalonions @st0rmm @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

[willtheweaver]

One to five tag

Shoutout to @theink-stainedfolk for the tag

Rules: Follow the prompts, change one if you like, and tell the lovely world of writeblr a little something about your WIP! Answers to the prompts can be in the form of quotes or anything you’d like!

Here’s A Feather in the Forest for you all:

One would to describe your WIP: Xenofiction

Two lines that are your favorite:

“If I get any more ideas like that, please knock me unconscious.”

“You may not have our blood, but you are family.”

Three times you cried while writing:

• planning Fen’s backstory

• writing it down and leaving hints in the manuscript

• some stuff I cannot reveal as it is now part of the sequels, but rest assured, someone is going to turn into a Whumpee before all is done (maybe a few someone’s)

Four feelings from your characters:

“Then it’s decided. We will do what we can for the next generation. May Al-Gia forgive us if we fail.”

“Not good. Not good at all!”

“Many things I have seen, but not this.”

“Show them what I already know.”

Five tropes featured:

• Coming of age

• self-discovery

• crisis of identity

• found family

• nature vs. nurture

Tagging @kaylinalexanderbooks @rickie-the-storyteller @thewritingautisticat @corinneglass @dyrewrites

@winterandwords @tabswrites @agirlandherquill @indecentpause @honeybewrites

@rivenantiqnerd @bookish-karina @mk-writes-stuff @cowboybrunch uand open tag for anyone who is interested!

[livelaughwhump]

Heyy sorry I don't know if u write non worthless related stuff atm but if u do can I request something

2 characters, the big protective one and the innocent cinnamon roll, get kidnapped together and the captor always chooses to torture the cinnamon roll . The big protective one is furious and says to take them instead but its useless. so all they can do is cradle their friend's unconscious body and comfort them when they wake up

Of course!! So sorry I haven't gotten to this sooner. I wanted to finish chapter 19 first, but I'm finally getting around to it! It's fairly short, but I wanted to get it out quickly since this has been in my inbox for so long. I hope you enjoy!!

Content: captivity, mention of blood and bruises, mention of self-sacrifice, creepy whumper, protective caretaker, hurt/comfort

-

Whumpee sobbed into Caretaker's chest. Their small body was trembling from both fear and the cold of the dank cell they were trapped in. The warmth of Caretaker's strong arms calmed them slightly, but it wasn't enough to completely rid them of the fear plaguing their mind and body.

"C-Caretaker?" Whumpee stammered. "I'm scared."

"I know, sweetie," Caretaker said as they began carding their fingers through Whumpee's tangled locks. "I'll protect you. Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise."

"Oh now, Caretaker," a separate, sinister voice cut in. Whumpee flinched and squeaked as they tried to bury themself in Caretaker's protective embrace. Whumper strode into the cell, a devilish smirk splitting their face. "Don't make promises you know you can't keep."

Caretaker glared at Whumpee with fire in their eyes. "What do you want with us, Whumper?"

Whumper chuckled. "Well, I don't want anything with you, you see. You merely got in my way, and I couldn't have you alerting your friends, now could I. Whumpee, on the other hand." Whumper reached a hand out to stroke Whumpee's hair, but Caretaker swatted their hand away before they had the chance.

"Don't touch them!" Caretaker shouted. "I won't let you hurt them!"

Whumper chuckled again. The sound was lower and much darker than before. "And how would you, in your predicament, be able to stop me? Hm?" Caretaker was silent, but they held Whumpee tighter. Whumper smirked. "That's what I thought. Now, hand them over. I'm in the mood for some entertainment."

Caretaker shielded Whumpee's body with their own. "Over my dead body."

Whumper scoffed. "Don't tempt me." They reached forward and pulled Whumpee out of Caretaker's grasp with surprising strength. Whumpee screamed and reached out to Caretaker, but Whumper manhandled them with ease and began lightly petting their hair. "Shh, don't be scared, little one. I promise to take good care of you."

Whumpee sobbed and tried with all their might to pull away from Whumper, but to no avail.

Caretaker furiously yanked against the chains binding them to the wall. "Let them go, Whumper! They're innocent!"

Whumper chuckled. "So? The innocent ones are the most fun to break."

Caretaker's energy began to dwindle the longer they fought their restraints. "Please, Whumper. Please, don't hurt them. Take me instead, please!"

"Not a chance," Whumper said. "You both belong to me now and I'll play with whomever I choose whenever I choose. Come now, darling. It's time to have some fun." Whumpee screamed and sobbed as Whumper began dragging them out of the cell.

"Whumpee!" Caretaker shouted, desperate to reach their friend. "No, please! Let them go! Whumpee, I'm sorry!"

With that, the large iron door shut with a loud clang and Caretaker was alone.

. . .

Caretaker had been drowning in silence since the moment Whumpee was dragged away. They hadn't heard any screams or weaponry or even any footsteps that would indicate what was going on. They didn't know how long it had been, but as the seconds ticked on, Caretaker grew more and more frightened for their friend's safety.

Just then, as if on cue, the heavy cell door swung open and the small, frail form of Whumpee was shoved inside.

Caretaker gasped and scrambled over to their friend's limp body. "Whumpee? Can you hear me?" They lifted Whumpee off the ground and brushed away the hair that clung to their sweat-slicked forehead.

Whumpee groaned and opened their eyes slightly. "C-Caretaker?"

Caretaker sighed in relief and hugged them close. "Oh, Whumpee. I was so worried. Are you okay? What did they do to you?"

Whumpee whimpered into the hug. "H-Hurts."

Caretaker immediately released them. "I'm so sorry. I'm just so relieved you're okay. What happened?"

Whumpee coughed, blood trickling out of the corner of their mouth. "C-Can't talk. J-Just wanna s-sleep."

Caretaker nodded. "Okay, that's okay. Just sleep, I'll protect you, I promise." Whumpee was already asleep before Caretaker even finished their sentence.

As Caretaker stared upon the face of their bruised and beaten friend, fury began to boil in the pit of their stomach. Whumpee didn't deserve this. They were so sweet and pure and would never do anything to hurt anyone. So why was this happening to them? Why would Whumper want to hurt them so badly?

No matter the answer, Caretaker knew they had to protect Whumpee, even if it meant giving up their own life in the process.

-

I hope you liked this! Sometimes it's refreshing to write something outside of Worthless. I will never turn down a writing request, unless it's something I'm extremely uncomfortable with, of which there isn't much.

If anyone else has any writing requests, suggestions, or questions, feel free to send them to me!

I don't have a general taglist, but if anyone wants it, I'd be happy to start one!

[aceofwhump]

Hi everyone! Welcome to my blog!

I decided to make a new pinned post with all the information that is available on my desktop site but that will be more accessible for mobile users. Plus a few extras 😉

So an introduction.

I'm Ace. I started this blog back in February 2018 after seeing a post that referenced the whump community. I had no idea there was such a large community here on tumblr! As soon as I saw that making a whump blog was an option I immediately made one. And I haven't regretted it since. I love this blog, I love this community, and I'm thrilled to be here three years later! 

Here on this blog you'll see lots of gifsets both reblogged from wonderful creators and gifs made by yours truly. I also write fanfics on occasion. You can check out my work on AO3 under the name "aceofwhump" or you can look under my tag "ace writes stuff". That tag will have some stuff not on AO3 too. I also do whump lists for certain characters, trope lists, video clips of good whump, and fanfic recs.

Click on the read more for even more information and important links to things like gifmaking tutorials, my trope tag list, my show/movie tag list, my fanfic masterlist, and more!!!

My favorite tropes are:

Emotional: panic attacks, nightmares, insecurities, feeling inadequate, fear, grief, flashbacks, flinching, emotional breakdowns full of sobbing, emotional outbursts, scar reveals, anxiety, self hatred

Environmental: accidents, natural disasters like earthquakes or storms, hit by a car, collapsed building, falling through ice, heat exhaustion, hypothermia, falls, burns, infected wounds from lack of medical equipment, sickness, being unable to breathe, drowning

Small moments: limping, feeling weak and seeking support, breathing through the pain, moving wrong in a way that aggravates the pain, and the sudden seizing of his body, shaking hands, pressing the heel of his hand against his temple because of a headache, taking a moment to close his eyes because he’s light headed/exhausted/has such a bad headache

Sci-fi: space illness, oxygen deprivation, isolation, being locked in the brig, hull of the ship getting damaged, alien attacks

Injuries: broken bones, gunshot wounds, hidden injuries, bruises, beaten, concussions, collapsed lung, slings, casts, crutches, knocked unconscious, blood loss

Torture/Captivity: Being strung up by their wrists from the ceiling, drugged, chained up, caged, tied to a chair, handcuffed to a pole, interrogated

Comfort/Caretaking: hugging, “Are you okay?”, “You’re safe now”, “I’ve got you”, hand holding, helping to walk, ice packs, covering someone with a blanket, a cool cloth on their forehead to help with a fever, a fever check, touching their face to offer comfort

Magic: magical healing that causes pain, draining of powers, powers that are painful to use, curses

Stoic or defiant whumpees

Team whump

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Long detailed look at how I make my gifs

Gifmaking tutorials:

Gifmaking for Begginers: my ginormous all you need to know tutorial

Another look at how I make a gif

Tips for beginners

Tips on brightening dark scenes

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Introducing…

ACEOFWHUMP’S FANFIC MASTERLIST!!

This has been a massive, ongoing project of mine for a while now in which I am endeavoring to catalog and categorize every fanfiction I’ve ever bookmarked. I fear this project will never be complete as I'm always reading and bookmarking new fics but I’m going to share it anyway.

Inside, you will find links and summaries to the fanfictions I’ve read over the years on both AO3 and FF.net. Each fic is sorted by the specific whumpee that they center on. So there’s a page for Danny Williams, for Mike Warren, for Lucifer Morningstar, and many many more. The fics are 90% whump with a touch of fluffy ones thrown in too. This list is based on the fics I’ve read and bookmarked so it leans heavily on my favorite whumpees and my favorite tropes. 

I’ve been working on categorizing every fic by its tropes (so theoretically you could search for say seizure fics or sick fics) but that’s taking me a loooong time because I have to reread every fic in order to determine what kind of categories to make and to look for the specific tropes. So for now you’ll have to make do with the fic summaries and using the search function. When it’s done, each whumpee will have their specific trope categories so you won’t necessarily find the same tropes in each category but it should help narrow down the fics better once I’m done. This is an ongoing project for me.

The list gets updated all the time so check back in every now and then. There might be something new.

I do take suggestions of fics to add to this masterlist but please keep in mind that it may not end up on the list. It's nothing personal I promise. I just can't add every single fic in the world.

Here's the link (note that it opens best on desktop browser because it is large):

[whumpees]

Alex Rider whump list

Synopsis: London teenager Alex Rider is recruited by the Department of Special Operations, a subdivision of the Secret Intelligence Service (MI6), to infiltrate a controversial corrective academy for the wayward offspring of the ultra-rich.

Whumpee: Alex Rider (played by Otto Farrant)

Seasons: 3 (24 eps 2020-2024)

_______________________________

S01

Ep2: hit by a van, sedated, kidnapped, handcuffed, head bleeding. Says in a harsh tone to the guy interrogating him "look, i don't feel good. I hit my head in a van.", torture by loud noise and water (nothing physical 🙄).

Ep4: drugged, loses balance and falls on bed, wheeled in a bed while unconscious (in and out of consciousness).

Ep5: just liiittle flashes of the "experiments" done on him while unconscious (They didn't show an actual scene).

Ep6: again with the useless flash backs of the experiments done on him and they're brief. Restrained in a bed, resists but pushed back by force, drugged by injecting a needle in his neck, losses consciousness, wakes up delirious and is being interrogated in that state. Hit by a car but it's not even shown, passed out on the ground.

Ep7: still on the ground, (& at the hospital, defibrillation but turned out it was fake he was fine 🙄), told he has mild concussion. Hit on the head & fell to the ground, beaten, in an explosion, passed out & blood on his head.

Ep9: in a fight & hit & fell on the ground.

_______________________________

S02

Ep1: ptsd (paranoid af and still being haunted by the past stuff 😂)

Ep3: chased & exhausted & bruised face.

Ep4: electrocuted, coughs blood, "his heart is gonna stop if we keep going." (But nothing actually happens 🙄)

Ep8: fight & thrown to the ground.

_______________________________

S03

Ep4: in a fight with his tutor and hit many times and exhausted. His team gangs up on him and they put a cover on his head and start beating him up, on the ground with a bloody face. Given an oxygen mask to inhale "pain killers" but it's actually poison. In a choke hold and struggling

Ep7: arrested. Blindfolded

Ep8: manhandled. Told that if the substance he inhaled got triggered he'll die in 3 minutes. Held by 2 men and having chest pain from the poison. Struggling to walk up stairs and sudden chest pain, falls from the pain, kicked and hit with a pool while he's already so weak but he's still fighting, on the ground, briefly strangled with a pool, slammed against the wall and falls unconscious. Wakes up, laying on the ground and his life is flashing by his eyes BUT THE POSION DIDN'T DO ANYTHING HE WAS UNHARMED EVENTUALLY 😭😭😭

Very disappointed in this show it had a great potential the whump sucks 🙄

[whumpndump]

Sleep Tight

CW: Needles, Injections, Medical Equipment, Non-con Touching (Nonsexual), Restraints, Mentions of Death

This is kinda weird but like... most of my stuff is tbh.

======

It had been days since Whumper had last let Whumpee sleep. When not being tortured for his owner's amusement, Whumpee was kept tied in stress positions, his limbs straining against the chafing rope as he tried his hardest to close his eyes and relax. It was futile though, as any perceived attempts to sleep would be punished with a sharp slap to the face. He was beginning to think that perhaps he would never sleep again, and Whumper would just keep him awake until he eventually died from the strain on his body. Today, however, would be different.

At the point in the day when Whumper would normally tie Whumpee up, the man instead crouched to his cowering victim's eye-level, a look of dark and twisted compassion in his eyes.

"Whumpee, you seem very tired. Would you like to sleep?" He asked gently, stroking the other man's face with a surprising softness. In any other situation alarm bells would be ringing in Whumpee's head, but he was so incredibly tired he just nodded with a choked back sob.

Whumper picked the trembling form up with strong arms, and carried him into a room Whumpee had never seen before. There, he lay him down on possibly the softest bed he had ever felt, strapping him in place with multiple leather buckles, before covering him up with a thick, warm quilt. Whumper appeared to continue moving around, as if preparing something, but Whumpee was so very tired that he simply slipped into sleep as soon as his eyes fell shut.

Several hours later Whumpee's eyes fluttered open, feeling refreshed and comfortable, if a little sore. Waking up properly, he scanned his surroundings, noticing an IV drip attached to his arm, and a tube coming from …between his legs, into a bag hung at the end of the bed. Strange.

Looking to the side of him he was a little startled to see Whumper hovering nearby, a look of faux concern plastered on his face.

"Oh dear, are you awake already? Well that just won't do, you were so very tired earlier, that cant have been enough rest! Go back to sleep darling." Whumper cooed, saccharine sweet. Whumpee thought to protest, to ask why this monster suddenly seemed to care about his well being, or to say he didn't need to sleep anymore, but before the words could form he felt a sharp prick in his arm. Suddenly his surroundings started to grow dark, and the last thing he saw before falling into unconsciousness once again was Whumper, holding an empty syringe and smiling.

He wasn't sure how long he spent in his dreamless sleep, but eventually Whumpee awoke once more. As he sluggishly remembered his situation he became frantic, thrashing against his bonds and trying to escape. Against his better judgment, he began to yell and scream for help, thinking perhaps someone could hear him from this new room.

All the chaos caused Whumper to burst in, cold eyes locking onto Whumpee, quickly filling with that faux warmth he had come to despise so very much. The man ignored Whumpee's thrashing and crying, calmly striding over to a table in the room where he filled a fresh needle with some unknown sedative. Tapping the implement gently to remove any air bubbles, Whumper encroached upon his panicking victim.

"What are you doing up?" He smiled, "I told you to get some rest." Quick as a flash he held down Whumpee's arm and injected him, sending him to sleep once again.

Whumper put the needle to one side, hovering over Whumpee's prone form. He stroked sweat slick hair from his forehead, relishing in the slight whimper the touch elicited from him. He pulled up a chair beside the bed and simply sat and watched, taking in how vulnerable his captive was like this, and how much control he had over him. Before, when he was keeping Whumpee awake for as long as possible, he knew that the game would have to end eventually, whether via sleep or death. However, this new game could last for a long, long time.

Perhaps while Whumpee slept he'd add more straps and gag him, considering how noisy and erratic his reaction was this time. That was sure to bring the man to a whole new level of panic. Whumper let his imagination spiral as he thought of all the things he could do to Whumpee as he slept, giving him only a moment to process what was happening, before leaving him unconscious and vulnerable once again. For now though, he simply watched his new toy's chest rise and fall beneath the blankets.

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #8: Tape IV (Killswitch)

Masterlist

content: lab whump, captivity, immortal whumpee, vivisection, blood/gore, organ stuff, mention of body weight/starvation

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Another benefit of the freezer would be its numbing properties. Ether wasn’t cheap to come by, and neither was chloroform. Giving him another concussion was risky. Heather didn’t know the long-term effects of all these injuries. She would rather not put Jackie in a coma, even if he was a petulant little prick. 

Besides, she was curious. How long before his body gave way? Would it ever? How much could she remove before it proved fatal? Was there a limit to his pain? Was there any mechanism hidden in that biology to numb him, something like a killswitch in his nerves? Or would he feel it all indefinitely? Like a perpetual motion machine, sustained by his own kinetic energy. An automaton of infinite force, a system that would never stop. 

And, all these reasons aside, there was one glaring benefit. If nothing else, the pain would teach him a lesson. Teach him to think before he acted.

She wondered what he thought about all this. If Heather was immortal, she’d be thrilled. Then again, Heather was not being held captive as someone else’s guinea pig. Perhaps he didn’t find any of this as fascinating as she did. Not that she was going to ask him, of course. That information was irrelevant. Nothing but a distraction.

 “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” She tore the blanket off him and let it fall to the ground. “It’s a new day and we don’t have any time to waste. Get up.”

He suppressed a yawn. “Hello.” His eyelashes were coated in frost, she noticed. So were his lips, and the joints of his hands. The curls and coils in his hair had gone stiff.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Fine.” The corners of his mouth tilted in what could almost be called a smile. “How are you?”

“We have no time for such pleasantries.” The recorder clicked to life. “Tape four, I think. Jackie over here has been in a deep freezer for well over seven hours. How do you feel, Jackie?”

“Oh, I’m okay. Cold, I guess. Thanks for the blanket, by the way.” 

She ignored that last comment. “Subject has not gone unconscious, evidently. Meaning he is immune to asphyxiation and hypothermia. How many fingers am I holding up, Jackie?” 

He studied her hands. “Five?”

“Great. And how would you rate your pain, on a scale of one to ten? One being nothing at all, ten being unbearable agony.”

“Like, a four? Everything sort of hurts.” He laughed softly. “Sleeping helped.” 

“Yes, rest is important. I expect you to take care of your basic needs. I won’t have a test subject who’s too tired to be coherent. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sat up in the freezer, letting one hand rest on the ledge. “Can I get out of here, then?”

“Not yet. Just wait a few minutes.”

Keeping him calm would be crucial. Keeping him from moving, or lashing out. Or panicking. Something like this would be distressing, for sure. Heather had considered giving up, but she was not a coward. She wasn’t afraid of a little blood. Jackie would be fine. If he was upset, he’d get over it. If he was angry, he could wallow in his own rage. That was fine with her. It would be fine. Better to rip the bandage off now.

“Jackie.” She leaned in a little. “I need you to do something for me.”

“What is it?” His brows furrowed slightly. The corners of his mouth went tense, less of a smile and more the start of a frown.

“Relax. Don’t look so worried.” She cupped his face in her hands. His eyes went wide at the sudden motion. “Jackie, I need you to look at me. Can you do that? No,” she said as his gaze flicked behind her. “Look at me. Don’t look down.”

“Okay? Why?” He held her gaze, though there was a degree of uneasiness in the depth of his pupils, the way they seemed to tremble. 

“That doesn’t matter.” She let go of his face. “Lay down."

He shifted, though she could tell he was reluctant. Ice crackled beneath his weight. Though his legs did not fit comfortably in the freezer, his torso lay flat. One hand was placed on the freezer ledge, and the other was curved up against the polystyrene wall.

"Thank you," Heather said. "Take off your shirt, please."

“Shirt? What?” 

“Well, I suppose you can keep it on. I’ll clean it off later.” She retrieved two zip-ties from her pocket. Heavy-duty zip-ties, the hardware employee had assured. Thick, made of rigid plastic, difficult to break. 

A couple hours earlier, she had secured two hooks on the outside rims of the freezer. Restraints were necessary for certain procedures—even under anesthetics, the sudden reflexes of an injured body could interfere with a surgeon’s work. Restraints were necessary for a patient’s safety. And the hooks were low enough to be comfortable. They stuck out only a few inches above his shoulders. That would, at the very least, be a comfort.

“This is just to ensure you won’t move,” she said. “It’s distracting, you know, if you start moving around. That’s all.” She began securing his wrists as she spoke, pulling the plastic straps up, ensuring that nothing could slip out. Jackie regarded these motions with an expression that was decidedly not calm, but he remained silent. 

“There you go.” She finished the second zip-tie up and brushed her hands off. “How are your wrists? Is the plastic too rough?”

He shook his head.

“Good.” Heather began pulling on her rubber gloves. She had brought in another table earlier, longer and made of plastic, where she’d arranged her tools. The scalpel, the pair of scissors, the bone saw, the many jars, her pistol—one never knew when things would go sideways—and a variety of forceps and clamps. “Close your eyes if you need to. Oh, and try not to make too much noise. I’ll be done in a moment.”

“What are you—” He attempted to look over her shoulder. 

Heather tilted his head back towards her, clasping his jaw gently in her hand. “Stop asking questions.”

He asked nothing else, if only because she refused to answer. With the scalpel held behind her back, she lifted his shirt. The fabric bunched just above his collarbones. His chest was now visible. The scars above his heart had completely disappeared after the fire, like nothing more than a line drawn in the sand. She observed the steady movements of his lungs beneath the skin and bones, with as much clinical detachment as she could muster. He really needed to eat more. Another week of hunger and his ribs would be visible through the skin. 

She brought the scalpel to his chest. He tensed beneath the blade. As she dragged it through his skin, he gasped. She opened him up all the way from the start of the collarbone to the section of skin above the hips, in a double-sided Y pattern. 

It wasn’t all too different from dissecting a frog or cat. She had also worked on human cadavers before, in her university years. It never failed to amaze her how similar all bodies were. Those organic structures were an endless source of fascination. All people, whatever their worth or power or beauty, could be reduced to nothing more than blood and bones with only a blade and a couple of well-placed cuts.

Jackie’s insides were normal. A few pulls of the scalpel later, she could see all the central organs laid out before her. Blood glittered between the tissues, glazing every surface. Stomach, lungs, liver, intestines… nothing out of the ordinary. His heart was beating abnormally fast, however. Wrought with spasms, possessed by a waterfalling panic. His lungs, too, worked quickly. A beautiful system of muscles and tissues and blood. Nothing was damaged or mutated. Nothing indicated the source of his immortality.

“Subject is biologically typical,” Heather informed the recorder. “No abnormalities, as far as I can see. I’ll start dissecting the organs and go from there, I think.”

His head tilted to one side, so that it rested on the ice. “Heather.”

“Shh.” She placed a hand on his cheek, without looking up, before realizing that her gloves were smudged with blood. A line of red painted his face. “Oh. Sorry about that. Everything is okay. Calm down.”

“Heather,” he repeated, a little more insistently. His voice was low, barely louder than a whisper, and heavy with emotion. “Stop.”

His nails were digging into his palms. An anchor to keep him steady. His knuckles were going pale from holding on. His eyes had glassed over. His pupils went out of focus. His lips were trembling, with all the delicate subtlety of a butterfly crawling out of its chrysalis. His arm shifted, as if to fight the restraints, but he could only shudder and sink further into the ice.

“Don’t move,” she warned. “Don’t even try. Not while I’m working. Your insides will fall out, and that won’t be pleasant for either of us. And stay quiet. I'll gag you if I have to.”

His gaze was fixed on her, but he ventured a single glance down—this did nothing to calm him. His breathing came in short, shallow bursts. 

Heather grasped his jaw much harder this time, forcing his head up. “I told you to look at me. Don’t move again. Don't think about it.” 

She let go. With the bone saw she broke a few ribs open—he flinched hard, jerked his wrists against the zip-ties—then she dug the scalpel into an exposed artery. With a hand to stem the blood flow, she sawed it off from the body. Much to her surprise, the tissue was healing faster now. Within seconds, the artery grew back, sewing the gap shut. His body was learning, it seemed. Or it was trying to keep him conscious.

After three more attempts, she ceased her sawing and moved on to removing the liver. The organ was of regular color and size, being large and reddish-brown. It was cut out with comparative ease. 

Jackie swallowed. “Is that mine?” 

“Let me check the label.” She laughed at her own joke. “Aren’t you something special? How are you doing any of this?”

He shivered. He was no longer looking right at Heather, but in fact someplace behind her. He didn’t seem to be listening anymore.

“I’m not done yet,” she said. “Hang on. Give me five more minutes.” 

Heather moved on to his intestines. First, she had to reopen his skin—compared to the heart, it healed extremely slowly, but it still healed. Then, using the scissors, she cut the small intestines away from the ligaments holding them together. She lifted them out of the body. 

“Fascinating.” She inspected the organ in the light, tilting it this way and that. “Does this hurt?”

He nodded fervently. 

“Are you sorry?”

He waited a second too long to answer. She crushed the intestines in her fist.

He was pierced by a shuddering gasp. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please, stop. Don’t.” The muscles in his shoulders tensed up, as she let go of the organ. “Please, don’t do that again.”

“It looks like you’ve finally learned some manners. Remember this feeling, Jackie. I want you to remember this the next time you even think of escaping.”

“I—” Another deep gasp, a longer one. Tears glistened in his eyes. He coughed. He coughed again, harder, a sound that would leave his throat sore. Blood dripped from his lips. “Ow.”

“Well, you can still speak, so it can’t hurt that much.” She wiped the blood off his mouth with a gloved finger. “I’ll finish up in a few more minutes. I’d like to take a souvenir or two, first.”

"A souvenir.”  His breath hitched. “Like this is the fucking Eiffel t—tower." 

She pressed her nails down, watched him squirm. "You're not being very polite, Jackie."

"I’m sorry. St—stop.  I'm sorry.”

Heather was fascinated by his compliance. She could do anything to him now. She had power over him. He could beg all he wanted, but she didn’t have to stop. She…

…felt a slight twinge of pity. He was obviously upset. Close to a panic attack, if he wasn’t already there. Who wouldn't be? Heather couldn't blame him for trying to escape, or for acting a little rude. She didn’t like it, of course, but it was to be expected. He’d been torn out of his old life like nothing more than a flower from the earth. It would take some time to get used to this, no matter how kind Heather was. She was a reasonable person. All things considered, she was actually a nice person. And he was so helpless, so fragile beneath the cold metal of her instruments, that she felt something close to sympathy. 

“Okay.” She put the intestines back in his body, eliciting yet another soft gasp. “Close your eyes, Jack.”

She retrieved an injection from the table, filling it with the anesthetic drug. Once she had measured the correct amount, she pressed the needle into the base of his neck. He did not struggle—he knew not to, or he had lost too much blood to care. His eyes lowered, then closed. He fell unconscious some time after. His body relaxed, and his head slumped over the edge of the freezer. Those fleeting, shallow breaths began to slow. 

“Well." Heather turned to the recorder with a slightly embarrassed smile, even though she was alone. "That was… that was definitely...”

After a moment of deliberation, she put the injection away and returned to her subject. “Subject’s pain receptors function as normal. Immortality doesn’t account for that. Good to know, I suppose.” She severed the small intestine entirely from his body, then placed it on a sheet of wax paper.

 “There’s one thing I’ve noticed,” Heather continued as she worked the scalpel. “Certain tissues heal slower than others. My hypothesis is that the vital organs, like the heart, take priority over the less essential ones. It takes a toll on the body, I assume. Making all those new parts. Skin and hair heals the slowest. That’s only an educated guess, however. I’ll need to run a few more tests before I’m certain.” 

She cut a section from his large intestine. “I’ve not the slightest clue how or why this is happening. Perhaps a biopsy will reveal something…“ She placed the section in an open jar. “I’d love to examine his skeletal structure. His muscles, as well. All of him, really.”

By the time she was done, all the jars had been filled with Jackie’s organs and tissues. Some of the smaller jars held his blood. She had managed to remove a section of his ribs as well, though it had taken a significant amount of force to saw off. In the end, she had quite the collection. The only problem would be fitting it all in her spare freezer. She could dispose of some of the parakeet hearts and dog brains, Heather supposed. This was much more important. 

This changed things.

[autobot2001]

A Terrible Fall

@juneofdoom

Day 16 "At least it can't get any worse." | Stairs | Concussion

Whumpee has been busy with an important project with the deadline getting closer. They don't eat much and barely sleeps. No one knows this since it's normal for Whumpee to be in their office for hours. Being the last to leave. "The deadline is tomorrow," Whumpee worries. They decide to get food to bring to their office. Hating their office is on the second floor. Extra pointless walking.

A few co-workers, including their Friend, watch Whumpee walk towards the stairs, looking distracted. "Whumpee!" Their Friend yells. Whumpee doesn't hear them in time. The co-workers watch Whumpee fall forward and down the stairs. Immediately someone calls 911 while the others hurry to stop Whumpee's fall, but they fail.

Whumpee is unconscious when they land on the floor. Whumpee's Friend and the others are worried. They know not to move Whumpee. The others are relieved Whumpee wakes up quickly but still worries about what injuries they could have. No one can go with Whumpee to the hospital because they are only friends. The boss allows Whumpee's Friend to go to the hospital. "They live alone, and their closest family is three states away. They'll need someone to help them, and they trust you," the boss explains, "keep us posted."

Whumpee's Friend knew they'd be waiting. Hoping to be on time. Worried if Whumpee's emergency contact was a family member. Sure, it's logical, but not when there's no family nearby. They watch a doctor talk to the receptionist, and the receptionist points to them. The doctor explains how Friend is Whumpee's emergency contact. They are allowed to see Whumpee.

"They have a mild concision and broken wrist," the doctor explains, "I don't want them going home alone. They told me to call you." Whumpee tries to shield their eyes from the light as the doctor and Whumpee's Friend reach their exam room. They smile hearing their Friend is here, and they can go home after the nurse gets their release papers. "So, am I staying at your house or taking you to mine?" Friend asks. "I'll go to your house," Whumpee smiles, "I don't know how much help I'll be getting some stuff from my house." "Pain relief should kick in by then. If not, I can manage while you wait in the car. Our boss will understand if I need to take time off too. At least it can't get any worse." "Deadline, like tomorrow!" "Our boss will understand." Friend decides to call the boos now, putting the call on speaker phone. "Noting we can do now," the boss says, "I can get someone else to finish though the report will be a little late. It's better than making you come to work." "You can relax now," Friend says. The two know they're lucky to have an understanding boss. Friend can take time off with Whumpee.

Whumpee couldn't help Friend get items from their home but trusts Friend will know what to get. "Ok, clothes and other supplies for a week," Friend comments after putting a suitcase in the car, "I can get more things if I need to, but the doctor thinks you'll be able to go to work and not need support in a week."

Even with pain relief, Whumpee needs to lie down. Friend brings them to the guest room rather than the couch. "You think you can eat something before going to sleep?" "No." Ok, I'll put a snack on the nightstand, and we'll figure out dinner later." Friend leaves Whumpee in a dark room. They plan on checking on them every half-hour. They know the timing seems excessive, but they worry after watching Whumpee fall down the stairs. They worry this could get worse.

Whumpee is awake at five and feels they're able to eat. Friend did make their favorite soup. Whumpee laughs, seeing their Friend made a large pot, but Friend quickly says they'll make something else when Whumpee wants for dinner. "You're fine," Whumpee smiles. Did I scare them that bad? They think, worried.

Whumpee doesn't mind lying on the couch while their Friend reads a book. They hope they're not making Friend unable to watch T.V. and that this only lasts a while. Though their Friend seems to enjoy the book, they're reading.

The two figured a routine would be established while Whumpee recovers. The two like the time together. Realizing they need to plan more time together outside of work.

After a few days, Whumpee asks to try to play a card game. There's a little thinking involved. Whumpee hopes they're well enough, though they'd like to return to work. They have an appointment tomorrow and can inform their doctor they did fine playing a card game.

Whumpee's Friend brings them to the doctor, where Whumpee is told they can return to work in four days, even with how well their recovery is going. Their broken wrist is healing nicely but still needs to be in a cast. "Hoping to leave so soon?" Friend jokes. "No, I'm looking forward to doing more things with you." Whumpee smiles. "Maybe we can watch a movie tonight, but at home for now."