#female whumpee

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

i know the whump community hates women characters or whatever but the lesbian in me is dying for bloody femininity please

let them have thicc thighs and bazoinkas and wear dresses with the hem ripped to shreds so they can run faster. have them sprint in heels. have them use their stilettos as weapons when they jam it into a person's eye. girls kissing girls. beautifully manicured nails chipped and broken away or idly tracing the length of a blade. fishnets and stockings with runs gouged in them. low cut blouses that leave their collarbones exposed to be traced with the tip of a weapon. tight dresses that hug every curve to distract wandering eyes while they spike a drink. girls kissing girls. long silky hair to be wrapped around a hand and pulled. messy curls. a sultry villainess or a vixen in distress. smeared lipstick and mascara running down their cheeks. jewelry ripped from their necks and earrings torn from their lobes. clawing their way out of the carnage to emerge victorious, drenched in blood, beautiful in their madness. being upset that their hair was forcibly cut or their favorite bra was snapped or missing their skincare routine. girls kissing girls. feeling icky when they've been stripped of their womanhood. being empowered when they reclaim what's rightfully theirs through any means necessary. using their sweet face and lilting voice to draw a false sense of security in their victims. feminine rage and revenge. being underestimated because what could such a pretty little thing like her do? girls kissing girls. ultra femme cottagecore babe drenched in red. black leather dommy mommy being the gentlest caretaker. sisterhood. to be kind and nurturing or cold and cruel. did i mention the girls kissing girls.

[slashthrashandcrash]

that's how that movie went right

[hurt-and-comfort-me-please]

I'm Curious...

[bamber344]

when you see some cool whumpy art and you're like "oh nice finally some art with a female whumpee!" but nope it's another twink

[dresden-syndrome]

I'm back comrades👌

I've always drawn suffering state enemy boys before but I'm in a big lady whump mood now... So here's a sneak peek into my all-female AU (basically EESU being ruled and opposed by girls) - more precisely, my favorite ladies out there😂

Class 4 counter-revolutionary political offender SB-7067 (Radmila Štušková) and Minister of State Security Elfriede Wilhelmina Günther. There they are.

Sorry for such a long break! I really needed some motivation to continue working. Don't worry comrades, EESU isn't going anywhere :)

Art tag: @painful-pooch @prismpanic @generic-whumperz @suspicious-whumping-egg @onlywhump @whumpedydump @whumpthefifth @monarchthefirst (please let me know if you wanna be added too!)

[sapphicccici]

I drew Detali losing her arm because I'm a slut for amputation whump. Enjoy

(if literally one person likes this I'll write about how she lost it)

[dearorowhump]

hi friends. i'm not new to whump but new to this community :>. i'm happy to meet all of you! you can call me oro, i use any pronouns, and i'm 17. i'm trying to get back into writing and read some cool stuff -- send me links to your work please! big fan here of immoral lesbians. anyway. nice to make everyone's acquaintance!

tropes i like:

superheroes

parental caretakers

lady whump

[whumpering-heights]

Volume warning!! In this short, this voice actress demonstrates different types of screams, and I thought.... That's something the Whump Community has to see. Or hear, rather.

[syncopein3d]

Got another one of those whump story ideas no one's going to write for me and debating if I'd ever finish it, but I'll never know if I never start!

The Warm One Part 1: Velvet

CW/relevant tropes (I'm a bit new to this format, so let me know if I miss any): living weapon, lady whump, magic whump, traumatic restraints, implied past injury, off-screen whumper, servant caretaker, other species caretaker (Orc)

A living weapon, but instead of a crying twink with his hair in his eyes chained to a wall it's an exhausted woman, always beautifully dressed and scrubbed raw and flawlessly groomed by her captors, frail and hollow-eyed inside her brocades and silks. A set of magical goads built into bracelets pierce her at all times, limiting her power and engendering punishment if her current minder says the word. She's been less cooperative of late, and she's starting to react less to the pain, so her owner has decided to let her pick her own toy as a treat.

She passes over every single one in the line of beautiful servants, barely looking at them. Instead she points to the big shaggy soft-bellied orc carrying firewood behind them. "That one."

Her current minder protests, but the weapon stands firm. She knows her value and she wants that one. She has never asked for anything. After some argument, her wish is granted. The door to her finely appointed chambers is unlocked, and the orc, now trimmed and dressed in velvet, is nudged inside at spear point.

They look at each other for a long moment. The weapon sits in her window seat, heavy-eyed, leaning wanly against the wall. The orc probably weighs three times what she does. His hands are rough from work, and a long scar trails past his right tusk.

"Why me?" He asks into the silence. "Milady."

"None of the others looked warm," she whispers hoarsely.

He considers that for a moment. "You're cold?"

"Always."

So the orc goes and gently picks her up and folds himself into the window seat - it creaks in protest. And the weapon settles herself with her cheek resting on his chest, the piercing cuffs curled in a fold of his tunic to warm them. As he pulls a velvet blanket over them both, he hears her sigh.

"Don't be afraid," she says weakly, held by hands that could snap her like a twig. "I won't hurt you."

Part 2

[wolfeyedwitch]

Trying Not To Cry: A Vampire's Lament

(this title is far longer than this snippet of writing deserves but apparently that's what it's getting called)

CW: female vampire whumpee, it as a pronoun, internalized dehumanization

Masterlist

---

The vampire was trying its hardest not to cry.

It was no stranger to hiding its emotions. It had done that for years now, even before it was turned. As a gutter brat, it, she, had shown only the emotions that might endear her to those she begged for their scraps. 

The same principles had applied when it was first turned, when it first became a filthy thing no longer worthy of a name. When it had worked in the blood house, it had honed its acting skills so it lied with words and deeds. It would play whatever part it needed to, whether that be the cunning temptress or the distressed damsel. 

This should have been the same. It wasn’t. The penalties for mistakes were far more painful, here. As a human, the worst that might have happened was that she would die. 

Here, they wouldn’t allow the vampire that mercy.

It wasn’t even about the emotion itself. The vampire’s trainers wanted it scared. They might mock or taunt it for its tears, but they wouldn’t punish it. 

It just couldn’t afford to lose even the small amount of blood in its pink-tinged tears.

———————–

Taglist:

@kim-poce @cupcakes-and-pain @nonbinary-disaster @onlybadendings @neverthelass @its-mysweetlittlesecret-blog @ghostfacepepper @someonesnamesblog @rainbows-and-whumperflies @extemporary-whump @thecyrulik @myhusbandsasemni @heart4brains @kixngiggles @whumpsday @whumppsychology @elrysdoesstuff @towerlesskey @inkkswhumpandstuff @whumpycries @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @haro-whumps @pigeonwhumps @cc1010foxy

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

Women In Whump Pt. 1

[slashthrashandcrash]

I cannot and will not ever get over the bathroom scene we were robbed of (amongst other scenes)

[blackrosesandwhump]

March of Pain Day 7: Please

CW: mild lady whump, male whumpee, magic whump

“Please, let him go!” the princess cries, straining desperately at the ropes binding her to the stake.

Held chokingly tight in the enchantress’s grasp, the knight struggles a final time then gives up, his body turning limp. The enchantress's magic blade hovers an inch from his abdomen, ready to impale him through. He can’t fight anymore.

But the princess can.

“Let him go,” she repeats, summoning power from deep inside, power that sends pleasant fire spreading up her arms. The ropes suddenly feel less tight.

“And why would I do that?” the enchantress questions, her voice distorted and inhuman. Her creaturely form, towering and scaly black like a giant serpent’s, looms over the knight and the princess, overshadowing them.

But the princess will not let the shadow overcome her.

She takes a deep breath. The last resort. She might regret what she’s about to do, but she has to save the knight, and all other hope seems lost.

“Because I asked nicely the first time.” She closes her eyes and lets her magic unbind itself inside her.

@marchofpain

[painsandconfusion]

Sir

Little Fox - Part Fourteen

(tw: impalement, hand gore, broken bones, fingore, burns, punishment, escape attempt, murder, blood, carnage, corpse, rotting corpse, death, intimate whumper, needles, injection, dead body, gore)

[Previous | Masterlist | Next]

Kara had long fallen numb, just staring at the spatters of crimson and watching the blood dry. Puckering around the edges and flaking away in others. 

It was probably hours, but to the mind that swam in darkness and agonizing blur, it seemed like an eternity.

Or. Maybe just a few moments. 

Alec returned, whistling a nursery rhyme as he trotted down the stairs, filling the small basement with clanging echoes of his heels hitting the sharpcut steel, accented by the piercing whistle. 

Kara’s eyes mashed shut, chin tucking into her shoulder. 

Alec’s laugh warmed the sharp sounds away as he stepped up to her, kneeling on the blood-smeared cement - evidently not caring if the tacky red stained at the knees of his jeans. 

“Aww..little fox, you look so tired.”

There was barely any malice behind her voice. She couldn’t muster much at all. Just a semi-robotic, dull, “ffuck you.”

Alec raised a brow, leaning back. “You want me to leave again, then huh?”

Kara’s eyes pinched desperate, flicking up to him.

Alec smirked down at that. “No?”

She swallowed thickly, tongue pressing to the back of her throat and sticking in it’s dryness. “..nno.”

Alec’s smirk warmed just a touch as he reached out, delicately combing hair from her face with gentle fingers. Her skin shivered and pinched under his touch anyway. “You ready to get down from there now?”

Kara’s eyes closed again. She was tired. So tired. Tired and sick and trembling with the static, numbed pain. “..y es”

Alec hummed, knuckles hooking under her chin to pry it up - face curling toward him. “Ask nicely.”

Kara’s stomach rolled. 

The smallest piece of her, long buried in darkness, wished she would say no. Spit in his face. Lash out and kick him. 

But her legs were all but numb. There was no spit in her mouth to hurl his direction. She had no more quips to give. No tools to use against him. Not even for something as simple as this. 

“..pl-ease” crackled from her dry throat. 

Alec hummed a smile, pinching her cheek lightly and shaking it like she was a goddamn toddler. “I think a ‘sir’ would make that ask stick a little better, don’t you~?”

Kara grimaced, face pinching around his grip. Trying to ignore the bruise even if every flicker of pain made her head spin. 

Fine. 

She wanted to lay down. She wanted to be done. She didn’t want to be here anymore. 

She couldn’t sit here, kneeling and nailed to a pole any more. 

She wanted to be done. 

So the words slid out of her, clattering down from her lips, dispassionate and empty. “..please sir.”

A grin pulled across Alec’s face now. He let go of her cheek, thumb smoothing out the forming bruise. “Good girl. And here I thought you were gonna be difficult.”

Regret immediately blooms in her gut as Alec stands, wandering toward the shelves to grab something - supposedly to get her down. Even Alec had more faith in her. 

Shame starts sprouting up alongside the regret. 

Metal pulls rippling clangs from the shelf as Alec drags a hammer from its place. “This is going to suck. You know that, right?” 

As if her stomach wasn’t already in knots. 

She didn’t know why she was so stupid as to assume that when she was ‘done’ she was done. But no.

No, there was a fucking nine inch nail ripped through her hands - of course getting down was going to hurt. 

Kara’s eyes squeezed shut again. If she weren’t completely out of tears, they’d be rolling down her cheeks again. “..y-yeah-”

“Good.” Alec kneeled down in front of her again, reaching up to wipe a little blood away from the head of the nail. “I’m going to hurt you. Very badly. Then you’ll go back to your room and I’ll get you some food and water and you’ll sleep.”

She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see his face as it pressed closer to her. Feeling his warmth parallel her own as he reached up to where her tingling hands fell limp on the nail.  Her arms once again stretched up a little - shaky in their attempt to take weight off the wound. “..kk-kay-”

Her breath was coming shallow again, churning her stomach in short, choppy punches. Quick and breathy as she tensed - ready for the hurt. 

It was blinding. 

She’d thought her hands were finally falling numb, but as the cool steel pressed against her palm they started tingling to life just in time to feel every little ripple and snap of the bones in her palm. 

A ragged, raspy wail clawed up her throat as she felt bones break and flesh rip. It rang through her skull and left her empty, crashing to the concrete once the nail was gone. 

Glitching, shaking arms tried to pull closer to cradle her mutilated hands to her chest, but they wouldn’t quite listen. 

Alec sighed, sitting down cross-legged. He took one of her arms, ignoring the scream that followed. His hand started working up it. Gripping and massaging at the muscle. Making sure the shoulder and elbow were properly in place. “You know, you’re not the only one who’s had a bad day.” Slightly teasing, but there’s a bitterness behind it. 

Kara’s eyes finally opened, blurred by hot, salty tears - evidently she’d had some left after all. She just..stared at him. Half pleading, half judging. Her fingers twitched, pulling squeaks and whimpers out of her as he worked blood back up her arms, one at a time. 

Blessedly, he did manage to stay away from her hands, working only at the fiery muscles until her arms were able to move properly. 

“Alright, that should do ya.” He let her arms fall back to her, letting her clutch them against her chest, breaths short and punching down her throat as she tried to get a grip on the pain. 

It wasn’t going well.

Alec nodded toward her door. “Go on, get back to your room.”

Kara’s eyes strained up, across fifteen feet or so of concrete toward the open door. 

She looked back at him, desperation and exhaustion in her eyes. How was she supposed to get there? Her hands were ruined and her feet burned to oblivion and back. 

Alec just rolled his. “I don’t care if it hurts, just get there. You can crawl.”

She just..stared.

Alec’s eyes darkened a little. “Or I’ll nail you to the beam again and you can stay out here?”

A little panic surged through her, and she pushed herself up to sitting. Almost. 

Pausing for a breath.

“Go.”

Kara’s stomach churned - it didn’t seem to be stopping that new favorite activity. She muttered out a ‘ffine-’ and fell onto her elbows and knees, forcing half numb legs to shove her forward through the agony. 

The thick, pointed steel of the hammer curled around her jaw, pulling her back to face Alec. “What I’m looking for here is a ‘yes sir’.”

She didn’t have it in her to fight anymore. 

Fuck, she just wanted to lie down why couldn’t she just lie down??

But she didn't want to stay here - didn't want to spend another second next to the long-cold corpse.

The words dropped from her mouth without much care. “Yesssir.”

Alec hummed in approval, letting the hammer fall away from her face. 

Kara didn’t know how she shoved through - probably because individual steps didn’t hurt that much more than holding still. That, and the blind fear of Alec bringing the hammer down on her skull if she took too long. Either way, she dragged herself - somehow - back into her room, collapsing on the floor by her bed. 

Alec didn’t follow. 

She had a few blessed minutes of solitude. The cool concrete pressed against the edges of her burns, pulling soft whines from her throat, but soothing aching muscles anyway. She just let herself lie there, eyes closed against the pain.

But pain returned anyway. It pushed open the door, holding a small glass and a box. Wearing a soft smile. 

“Awwww,” it cooed. “You’re so cute all curled up like that.” He shifted to sit on the bed, arms scooping up under Kara to pull her up to him. 

She blanched at the pain, head swimming and whimpers falling from her lips. He didn’t care. She ended up curled up in his lap anyway. 

“Shh..no more hurt, I’m just getting you some basics.” He reached for the glass, pressing it to her lips.

Kara hesitated, breath stinging against her ribs. “Whh..at is-”

“Mostly water. Some vitamins. It’s warm but won’t burn you. It’ll help.”

Her nose wrinkled up, but she let the rim of the glass slip between her lips, hesitant at first, then drinking greedily as he tipped it up.

Little by little, he let her finish off the glass, then sat with her, hand carding softly through her hair. 

She didn’t care much at the prick of the needle. That much was familiar. What she didn’t know was why. Why he cared to give her her daily doses. Why he cared to get her prescriptions right. She didn’t bother wondering how he knew what she took or how often. She was done questioning his sleuthing skills. 

She just..curled into him, exhausted, twitching, and oddly grateful for the touch. The estrogen. The water. The bed. 

She knew vaguely that she should be pulling away.

Should be upset.

Should be rejecting this. 

But instead, she just found her eyes closing, breaths rough but shallow. Small. Curled into him and relishing the fingers in her hair.

She let go, letting him whisper soft praises and slipping away into a gray fog. 

[Previous | Masterlist | Next]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @mabledonut @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing  @there-will-always-be-blood @wormwriting @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @bandages-andobsessions @deltaxxk @warm-my-whumpee-heart @whumpy-catfish @whumpasaurus101 @looks-better-in-blood)

[avvail-whumps]

ok so my mind right now is going brrrrrr. Don't blame for the thought but like. What if Leo was a female. Like imagine fem!Leo having that dreaded feeling that you get when you start your periods. And then they're like scared of how to tell Roy about this and then the awkward thing going on. Like cmon. Would Roy actually get her some chocolates or make it worse for her? :)

we’re gonna give fem!leo the name leona for the sake of this but yesyes anon gender swaps love it 🫶

Leona remained curled up on the bed—her bed?—in this room she was so unfamiliar with. She would admit, it was a much needed upgrade from the horrible basement she had spent so long confined in. At least the sunlight on her face was a glorious change. 

But still, she had a glaringly obvious problem that she didn’t know what to do about. 

Aside from her broken ankle, Leona knew her period had started. Just after everything that had dragged her down, something like this was the cherry on top. She had taken so many painkillers that the usual twisting pain in her stomach was faint and in the back of her mind. But she knew it. 

She’d checked and she’d already managed to bleed through her clothes. 

Maybe it was the added stress that had caused her such a heavy flow, but she felt awful. More awful than she had done so far. How was she supposed to tell Roy about this? She highly doubted he was the kind of person to have any pads or tampons in his house - not if he had a frequent girlfriend, but even then, who would want to date that lunatic? 

After minutes of contemplating and growing increasingly uncomfortable without any support, she forced herself to grab her crutches and check the bathrooms. Her head swam a little as she did. Even with the painkillers, there was still a lingering dizziness in her skull.

It brought her out in a hot flush just to hobble over to the bathroom, where she awkwardly balanced on one foot to search the cupboards. She softly bit her lip, muttering under his breath in desperation. 

“Please, come on…” 

Her eyes flickered to the door, paranoid she’d heard a noise, but continued sliding shower stuff out of the way to see if there were any miraculously tucked away. Leona grew increasingly frustrated, a dreaded feeling pooling in the bottom of her stomach. She wanted to cry. This wasn’t fair. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Roy about this, knowing he would more than likely torment her further than he has done already, but she couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. 

“There’s blood on your bed, lion.” 

Leona almost toppled over at the sudden voice by the bathroom door, and her head whipped around to meet Roy’s eyes. He approached her before she could find her footing properly, his fingers sweeping under her chin and tilting it so he could get a good look at her face. 

“Did your wounds reopen?” He asked in a murmur, making her heart race in her chest when his eyes flickered briefly over to the bathroom cabinet. “What are you rummaging around for?” 

Leona’s lips wobbled open. She sucked in a sharp breath when he tilted her head to the other side, frowning slightly to himself. 

“I…” Her throat closed up. How could she say this? “I was…I need some…”

His brow raised, his eyes trailing over her body. “Words, pretty girl.” 

She squeaked slightly when he spun her around, and his head tilted as something caught his eye. He hummed to himself, before an expression of realisation flickered on his face. Leona’s own went completely red in humiliation. 

“Oh,” Roy deadpanned. 

Leona hadn’t checked to see if it was visible. She could only assume what he was thinking right now, just waiting for him to say something embarrassing or taunt her. He pushed her back, patting her shoulder. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t have anything for you to use,” he shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the prospect. She wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that he didn’t seem to care and might leave her to bleed through all of her clothes, or the idea of him ripping into her for something she couldn’t control. 

“But, it’s just…” She trailed off, swallowing the lump in her throat. She felt icky and in dire need to scrub herself clean. She needed something. “I-I can’t just leave it.”

“I know,” Roy chuckled, like the idea was funny. “But there’s nothing here. Do I look like someone who would need them, lion?” 

She went quiet again, and her eyes dropped to the floor. Her fingers tightened around the crutches, her back feeling constricted and her face feeling flush. Being kidnapped was one thing, but having to deal with this at the same time? With nothing but painkillers to help her get by? 

She winced slightly when Roy’s hand pressed against her forehead, before it softly trailed down her cheek and brushed over her bottom lip. 

“Alright,” he smiled, only cruel in her eyes. “Just because you’re pouting like that, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll run you a bath so you can clean yourself up for a bit. I’ll drive into the city and buy you enough pads to last you.”

Leona’s eyes lifted up just a fraction, glancing up at him through her eyelashes. Just the sound of the word bath and her heart soared into her throat like a cloud. Roy gently tapped her chin. 

“I’ll have to keep you down in the basement again,” he murmured shortly afterwards, and it took seconds before her heart was slamming into the bottom of her stomach again. 

Her lips curved into a desperate frown. “No, please…” 

“Do you want them or not, lion?” The mercenary warned, and she swiftly shut her mouth. He seemed to find that amusing, and tucked some of her hair behind her ear like she was a delicate glass doll. How was such a cruel man capable of touching some like that? “I’ll be a few hours tops. Maybe a little more - you can cope until then, right? I’m sure you can use some tissue paper while you’re waiting.”

Leona had already thought about that. Although not the most comfortable option and a terrible one, it was worth putting up with it if he would get a load of proper products in return. Even if she had to spend another horrible minute in the basement. A few hours would probably feel like a few days. 

She slowly nodded her head, and Roy patted her cheek. “Good girl.” 

He leaned over the bath, turning it on. Leona watched curiously, biting the inside of her lip as she stared at the fresh water starting to rise. She watched as Roy rolled his sleeves up, offering her a brief glance. 

“I’ll change your bedsheets,” he told her, and she tore her eyes away from the water with a small wince. “Get you some fresh clothes. I know you don’t want to go back down there, and I know it was part of the deal that you wouldn’t have to. I’ll make it comfortable for you.” 

Leona slowly nodded her head, before her grip tightened on the crutches once more. “Tampons…” 

“Hm?” 

She dropped her gaze in embarrassment. “I prefer tampons over pads.” 

Roy was silent for a beat of a moment, before his lip curled into an amused smirk.

“Regular?” He guessed, and she shyly nodded her head. 

Although she had been terrified to be locked back in the basement, she suspected the chocolates that the mercenary gave her hadn’t been as normal as she’d thought. She briefly remembered feeling all drowsy as the man lifted her up, bundling her up in his jacket and comfortably laying her down on the basement mattress. 

When she next woke up, Roy aided her ascent back up the stairs, and the bathroom had enough packs of tampons to last her months. 

Months. 

She didn’t want to be here that long.

[hold-on-a-little-longer-whump]

Quick!! Link a scene or piece of work you're created that you're proud of! First one that comes to mind!!

*bounces in place* ohohohohoho you've gone and done it now!!! Feast your eyes on this scene from one of my many WIPs - I hope I'll finish it one day. It really is one of the Big Three of my Magnum Opuses.

Below the cut:

Female whumpee

Mute whumpee

Disabled whumpee

Female Caretaker

Recovery

Mentions of Scientific/Medical Trauma

Bruises and bandages

Collapsing

Fatigue/Weakness

Samira slept for another day. Until the pangs of hunger and other necessities grew to be too much to ignore. She drew in a slow breath and sighed, then lifted her arms in a stretch. The skin of her elbows pulled uncomfortably and she stopped at the telltale sensation of scabs beginning to split. Even now, days later, she felt the bone-deep ache from her journey here. The dull throb of a lingering headache. The pulsing pain in her knees. Her hands still held a tremor without the slightest provocation. More than anything, she wanted to go back to sleep until the soreness went away, but nature had other ideas.

Turning her head, she saw she was alone. The lights to the room were dimmed low, and the only other source of light came from the glow of a safety light in the bathroom five feet away. Blessedly, she saw the IV pole was on the same side of the bed. All she had to do now was walk. Piece of cake. Pulling the blanket back, she slung her legs over the side of the bed. She stopped long enough to wonder at the sight she saw.

Socks. Soft, fuzzy yellow socks with grips on the bottoms. She turned her attention to her gown. It, too, was buttercup yellow, decorated with bumble bees and daisies, and the hem - stopping at her knees - even had the tiniest decoration of white lace. She longed to rub the material between her fingers, but the bandaging on her hands prevented her from doing so. It would have to wait. Besides, the thick wads of cotton taped over each knee ruined the effect. Her skin, she noticed, was far paler than its healthy cinnamon color, and even the patches of vitiligo, normally rosy, held a sickly shade. She frowned, feeling like the ghost of her former self.

Gripping the IV pole for balance, Samira scooted forward. Tentatively, she settled her feet on the floor. No fear driving her to move. No dizziness. It didn’t matter how many times she had tried to stand on her way here. She was stronger now. She was rested. She could do this. Carefully, as if to balance on an egg without breaking it, she put weight on one foot. Her knee began to quake and she grabbed the IV pole with her other hand, clinging to it, and the momentum of doing so forced her full weight forward. Quickly, she brought her other foot forth to catch herself.

For the briefest of seconds, she teetered, awkwardly poised between the IV pole and her fawn-like legs. She could feel the cuts in her palms reopening as she clung to the pole, the gauze slackening her grip. Then the wheels of the IV pole rolled. Samira flailed, gasping as her crutch moved before she was ready, and tried to snatch it back. It fell, and she followed, knocking a metal tray and its contents to the floor with a great crash.

She might have cringed at the noise if she hadn’t instinctively tried to catch herself. Though the gauze cushioned the fall somewhat, it didn’t stop her knees and elbows from cracking against the hard tile - biting through the cotton and clawing at her already-shredded skin. Tears sprung up and a mute yelp rattled her throat before she could stop herself. She bit her lip until she tasted blood, and still a hoarse sob wrenched itself from her chest.

Hurried footsteps sent a dart of panic up her spine, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. The lights switched on, then a set of hands were on her. She flinched, but they didn’t release her.

“Samira.” Jean. Jean was there. “Samira, it’s alright. It’s just me.”

Without waiting for a response, Jean lifted her back to the bed as easily as a child might lift a dropped doll. Samira tucked her hands beneath her chin, arms pressed against her chest, and tried to control her breathing - all while fighting the urge to curl in a ball right there. Hot, thrumming pain rolled up her limbs, coiling into tight knots and biting, clawing, digging into her bones. Why did it hurt so much? How could things go wrong so quickly? She opened her eyes from where she’d squeezed them shut, peering between wet lashes at the mess she’d made. Fresh, unused medical supplies lay strewn about on the floor. The IV pole lay on its side, and the tray had skidded a couple feet away. She drew in a shaky breath, shame heating her cheeks.

Automatically, an apology tried to leave her lips. Instead, it came out in a pitiful wheeze.

Mistaking the gesture for one of pain, Jean smoothed a hand over Samira’s back. “It’s alright, Samira. Do you want something for the pain?”

Samira shook her head and hid her face behind her hands, the gauze absorbing her tears.

“It’s okay if you do. You don’t need to be brave, not here.”

Samira shook her head again, gulping back another sob before it could surface.  She already owed them so much, and it shamed her to anticipate their response to her inability to speak - and now, it seemed, the inability to walk. Had the Team left any part of her untouched?