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So Little Time (pt. 2)

@badthingshappenbingo​ prompt: “Left for Dead” Fandom: None Requested By: Anon

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Through the fog in Ev’s vision, he can tell that Kody and Tiana are helping him up Tiana’s driveway. He’s half-walking, half-dragging his feet against the gravel. The night air is cool and smells like mud.

The blood rushing in Ev’s ears is so loud that he almost doesn’t hear the man say “Drop him.”

Tiana and Kody freeze. A figure dressed in all black is standing by the bushes in Tiana’s lawn, pointing a gun at them. He speaks again, this time slower. “Drop. Him. Or I will shoot all three of you dead.”

Thoughts are racing through Tiana’s mind as she makes a few quick calculations, and then she whispers to Kody “Drop him. I have a plan.”

“I’m not going to drop him!” Kody sounds close to tears.

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So Little Time

Based on this post.

The first person Ev calls is Dory, the team leader. 

“Who is this?” Dory asks, and she sounds so much older than when Ev had left the team all those years ago. 

“It’s Ev.” Ev grits his teeth against the pain from the wound in his side. “Look, I-”

“Ev? Oh my God,” says Dory, letting out a sharp laugh. “You better have a good reason to be calling me.”

“I’m dying. I got shot, and it’s too late for me. Now shut up. I need to tell you some things.”

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So Little Time (pt. 3)

@badthingshappenbingo​ prompt: “Deathbed Confession” Fandom: None Requested By: my sister, lmao Trigger Warning: Temporary death

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Safe.

But it turns out that the opposite is true.

Tiana wakes up at 4:08 in the morning. It takes her a few seconds to realize what woke her up, and then she hears a groan. Her gaze falls to Ev.

His bandages are completely soaked through with blood. Sweat beads on his face.

Tiana stands up immediately. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she says, rummaging through her closet. She pulls out a clear bag and tosses it on the bed. “Kody! Wake up. Now.”

Kody opens his eyes. “Wh…” His lips start to form the word, but then he turns his head and sees Ev. “Oh, fuck.”

“I know, that’s what I said!” Tiana’s voice is shrill with anxiety. She unzips the bag, pulling out needles and tubes. “He needs blood. But he’s O-negative, which means he can only get blood from another O-negative. I’m B-positive. What are you?”

“Oh my god, I’m O-negative.” Kody’s mouth is dry. He sits up in bed, rolling back his sleeve. “How do I do this? I’ll give as much as I need to.”

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29-Day Whump Challenge - Day 24

Day 24: Begging || Stockholm Syndrome

Thanks to @bluebadgerwhump for tag-commenting on my Kyle stuff, because I’d been sad that I didn’t have a way to give him a little more comfort, and then I thought about him with today’s prompt, so… yeah. Hope you like it! I promise there’s eventually comfort.

Previous Kyle installments: doesn’t want to be put down, drugged, concussion, branded (shower flashback), punished (memories),

Prompts by @yuckwhump

Challenge tag list: @inky-whump​

tw: disorientation, tw: dizziness, tw: nightmares, tw: whip, not really a trigger warning but i need to stop writing crying bc i always make myself cry

*****

Kyle was in one of the boss’s secret former-warehouses. The long, long hallway felt like it stretched forever, but the concrete floor, glaring fluorescent lights, and corrugated metal walls like the ones the boss used to separate out smaller spaces were all familiar.

He was dizzy, everything reeling in front of him, which meant he was hurt, which meant he needed to get to the barracks before the boss saw him and decided he hadn’t learned his lesson.

He started forward, but the hallway seemed endless, going on and on even as he felt himself move forward.

There were no doors, and he decided that must be the problem. He was in the wrong part of the hallway. He needed the part with doors.

He ran a hand along the wall, hoping his fingers would tell him about a door even if his eyes missed it with all the spinning the world seemed to be doing.

His hand thudded into the wall, harder than he’d meant it to. It clanged loudly off the metal, the sound sending waves of light across his vision in a way that was, quite frankly, disconcerting.

He heard footsteps behind him and his heart dropped into his stomach.

It was the boss.

Every fiber of his being knew it was the boss.

He stumbled forward, trying to run into the swaying, swinging world in front of him, but found himself moving with Hank’s limp, slowed down and stuck.

The footsteps behind him were unhurried but relentless, and his own heartbeat was suddenly horribly, horribly loud in his ears, thumping multiple times between each heavy step of a steel-toed boot.

The faster he tried to run, the slower the limp made him. Hank’s limp. He had to find Hank. Something was wrong. Something was wrong, and Hank needed him. Hank couldn’t be here. Not with the boss. Not without his legs.

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2019 - Coming Home

“Kai, I’ve got to touch you.” 

Makes a noise in his throat, pushes himself deeper into the glass box. Tries to get up, orders himself to get up, because if he doesn’t that man’s gonna make him and he’s going to touch him and-

He kicks out, when a hand wraps around his ankle. Over the worn fabric of his jeans. Feet bloody- he’s not wearing shoes, why isn’t he wearing shoes- Drags him out slowly like a fish on a hook. Kai can’t hold himself up, lets his back hit the concrete as he gazes up at them. 

Doesn’t know which one is Kellan and which one is Hazel. Both have dark hair, can’t tell if it’s brown or black. He tries to remember, tells himself that these faces are familiar, but they’re not. 

“Holy shit.” 

One of them kneels next to him. Tries to touch his face, but Kai moves back so fast that he nearly slams his head onto the ground. He’s spent, used up, can’t handle reading anything else. 

He must make a noise, some sort of sound, because the hand moves away. The man puts a hand on the back of his own neck. 

“Sorry.” 

“Help me get him into the car.” 

Hands come close again, and a burst of adrenaline makes Kai sit up. Can’t push them away, not without touching them, and the cement’s cold underneath him as he pushes himself back. 

“Don’t. Don’t touch me.” 

“Alright, alright but you need to- fuck Hazel, is that blood?”

It is blood. A lot of it, crusted along his hairline. Dripping onto his shoulder, and soaking into the sweater. Back’s a mess, although they can’t see it. He knows he’s torn a few cuts open. 

“Kai, can you walk?” 

He shakes his head before he realizes he’s even doing it. Falls back down onto the cement, and recoils when one of the men grab his head to keep it from hitting the ground. 

Closes his eyes, waiting for the onslaught of thoughts. Objects are straightforward- memories, touches. They don’t think. 

He’s going to pass out, if they don’t make him stop reading. 

He doesn’t though, when  the hands settle him on the ground. Tilt his head to see where the blood is coming from. 

“He needs a hospital.” 

Kai blinks up at the stranger over him. Green eyes, brown hair. Lips pursed in a straight line. 

Kai blinks again. Cement’s not bad to read. Shoes, spilled drinks. Rain. 

Realizes a second too late that he’s not reading the man. 

He puts a hand against the man’s chest and shoves him back. He can’t feel him. He can’t feel him and it’s a trap and he doesn’t even know who the hell these people are and he needs to go. 

Almost falls against the phone booth again when he gets his feet under him. The world spins, the two men blurring together as he takes a step. Not sure which direction he’s going, until he rams into a shoulder and realizes he’s walked straight into one of them. He tries to move back, but a hand wraps over his covered arm and holds him steady. 

“Kai?” 

“No, no,” World tilts to the side and he squeezes his eyes shut. Dizzy and tired and feels like all the blood’s been drained out of him. “No, let me go.”  

They don’t let him go. His knees buckle, almost slam onto the ground before a second pair of hands grab around his middle. They press against his back and it hurts, it hurts and he kicks out, tries to slither out of their grip. 

“Kai, calm down. It’s just us. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” 

Shakes his head. Feels the other man’s chin against the nape of his neck but he can’t feel it . 

“Why, why can’t I-” 

They’re moving. Out of the street, into a car. Black, air conditioning blowing against his face. Laid out in the backseat, on top of the man. Head against his chest and arm around his stomach. Trying to sit up and he can’t, feels something warm and wet trickle down his spine. 

“I’m calling Jasper.” 

“What? Kellan, we need to go to the hospital. He’s got blood all over him.” 

“Do you think he wants the fucking news all over this? Again?” 

A memory pushes forward. Sick people, dying people, hand wrapping around a bed rail and feeling air push out of his lungs like he’s been punched. 

“No hospitals,” he says, even though the two aren’t listening to him. 

“-fucking EMT, not a doctor.” 

“No hospitals,” Kai repeats. Louder. The man underneath him stills, bends down so he can look Kai in the eye. 

“Fine.” 

Hazel. Kellan. Kai can’t seem to figure out which is which. The one in the front starts speaking into a phone. Kai can’t see him, the way he’s laid out. The other shifts underneath him, starts trying to push Kai up so he’s sitting. Uses both hands to hold his shoulders when Kai starts to fall. 

He flinches, when warm hands go to the blood on his face. Push his hair back to find where it’s coming from. Kai keeps his hands wrapped around himself, away from the seat of the car. He can’t feel the man when he touches him, and it feels like he’s lost one of his senses. Like he’s looking at the man with his eyes half closed. 

“You knock your head?” he asks. Prods at a tender spot along Kai’s hairline and pauses when Kai’s face screws up in pain. Doesn’t wait for an answer. 

“Might have a concussion. You sure you want to do this at home?” the man asks over his shoulder.

 The driver doesn’t answer, still on the phone, jerking the car to the left. It makes Kai sway in his spot, puts a hand out to touch the side of the car stop forgetting your damn takeout, car smells like dead fish now and scrambles to move away from it. Doesn’t get far, between the door and the man and the pounding in his head. 

“-clear the bed. Don’t want him to-”

The man shakes him. Pats the side of his face when Kai starts to sag, head falling down towards his lap and pain lighting up across his skin as he swallows down his nausea. 

“You ever seen it this bad?” voice close to his ear, loud and sharp. 

“No.” 

“Kai.” Hands shake him again and his eyes fly open- doesn’t remember them closing- slumps against the man’s chest, forehead against his collar- can’t feel that either- while his fingers numbly grasp the man’s jacket. Soft cotton, forest green. Quiet. 

“No, no. Kai, c’mon. You gotta stay awake.” 

“Tired,” he slurs. Lets his eyes close again. “I’m tired.” 

“Let him sleep. Probably wiped himself out.” 

“He’s bleeding too much. Need to make sure that he’s, that he’s-” 

The man’s hand touches his back. Feels the warm blood soaking his sweater. Curses and starts tugging it off. 

Kai shivers, when the thin fabric peeled off and discarded on the floor. Bent to the side for a second, so the man can twist around to see. 

“Holy shit.” 

“What?” 

“He’s got, what the fuck. What the hell is this?”

 “Hazel, what?” 

The man doesn’t touch the cuts on his back, and Kai sighs. Wraps his arms around himself. Cold.  

“Just, just hurry up. How far away is Jasper?” 

Jasper. The name rattles around in his head, reminds him of burning tobacco and green eyes. Except, that’s not right, because he’s thinking of the man sitting above him, his eyes. Doesn’t remember Jasper, can’t put a name to the face. Can’t figure out who Hazel is and who Kellan is and who Alice is, and neither of them have said anything about her. 

Feels the man shaking him again. Doesn’t react this time, just lets his hands go limp on the man’s jacket. Quiet. The man’s quiet, his jacket’s quiet, his hands are quiet. Tries to tell the man to leave him alone, that he’s tired, that he needs to sleep. 

The words come out, jumbled and soft, pressed against the collar of his shirt. Still shaking him, voice rising, but Kai’s too far gone to care.

[whumpwhiteboard]

Random Whump Scene

It’s dark, nothingness. Whumpee is barely aware of themselves. They are comfortable. Warm. They slip in and out of this barely-there awareness several times before they realize it’s noisy. Not just noisy, it’s voices. Someone is speaking. Loudly. Commanding. Whumpee doesn’t fully understand what they’re saying but somehow manages to follow the command to cough anyway. They slip in and out some more. The voice commands them to cough some more. A terrible choking feeling seeps into their awareness but then it’s gone leaving only a tight breathlessness in their chest. The yelling returns. Whumpee tries to sit up, tries to see what is happening, but they can’t even tell if their eyes are open. It’s so hard to move. They try to sit up again, the breathlessness growing, fear beginning to set in. The voices are yelling but Whumpee can’t understand. They can’t breathe! They need to sit up but something is stopping them! Panic surges. There are hands holding them down. On their arms, on their shoulders, holding them tightly, keeping them from breathing! They thrash and try to push the hands away. There is yelling right in their ear, and they suddenly understand the words. “Stop! You need to calm down! You’re going to pull your stitches out!” What stitches? What’s going on? They want to obey but there isn’t enough air. “can’t breathe!” they finally manage to gasp out.

Finally, the yelling stops. The hands on their arms and shoulders loosen and slide around to Whumpee’s back, helping them sit up.

Whumpee slumps forward, gasping for air in their near unconscious state. Suddenly, the end of a clear corrugated plastic hose appears in their vision. They didn’t even realize their eyes were open, staring at their hands in their lap. The hose is attached to a small chamber containing a clear fluid. They recognize the device. Grabbing the nebulizer with shaking hands, Whumpee holds the open end of the hose in their lips, inhaling deeply, slowly. Exhale through the nose, inhale through the mouth again. The unpleasant bitter taste of vaporized medication helps to ground them. It is still hard to breathe, adrenaline fueled panic is still racing through their mind, but they remember where they are. They are safe. They will be able to breathe easily again soon. They are being cared for.

[whumpwhiteboard]

Overwhelmed

Jewel doesn’t have healing powers, but her empathy does help with healing.

A touch upon unconscious Fletcher’s forehead allows her flashes of pain in- “His ribs are broken. Take his shirt off, I’ll give him an injection to ease the swelling.”

A hug for Elana (pain, frustration) tells her the older girl needs more painkillers.

A friendly hand on Archer’s shoulder (stress, exhaustion) sends soft comfort over their overworked leader as she prescribes him bed rest.

But it doesn’t help her when the two strangers they rescued from the ravine yesterday won’t stop arguing.

“Can you give me my phone? It’s in the bag.”

“I don’t have the bag.”

“You lost it?”

“No, you never let me carry it! You always blame everything on me!”

“Please, just give me a minute to work,” she asks over and over, as their bickering turns into anger.

She can’t touch them without feeling all of their frustration and none of their symptoms, so she has to diagnose them the long way, with a physical inspection.

Each accidental brush of skin on her patients (irritation, frustration), each fleeting jolt of anger leaves her feeling more anxious than the last.

Finally, jittery and uneasy, she concludes her inspection and sits in the corner of the room with a notebook, writing down her findings. Neither of them need immediate treatment, thankfully. She doesn’t think she could treat them in this state.

“You don’t trust me, do you? You think it’s my fault we’re in this mess!”

“Well, if you hadn’t-”

“No! You’ve never trusted me! After all I’ve done-”

(Anger, hatred, fury)-

Crash!

Jewel has fallen out of her chair, covering her ears and shaking.

Panic fills the room, deafening and grating; the two don’t know what’s happening, why she’s on the ground. They’re cursing, blaming each other-

“Stop!” Jewel has her hands over her ears, shaking, knees pulled to her chest. The anger in the room cuts to her core.

Archer comes storming into the room, eyes blazing. “What happened?” He roars.

(Rage).

More anger, big and loud and scary, fills the room. Oh, Archer’s furious, and she doesn’t know what’s going on.

The words dissolve in the chaos, and she just knows the room is filled with fear and anger, suffocating and looming over her like a tsunami. Jewel shrinks back, trembling, squeezing her eyes closed.

(AngerfuryhatefearwhathavewedonePANICRAGEWHATDIDYOUDO)

(Worry).

A soft wave of concern cuts through the sea of deafening anger threatening to drown her.

She cracks open an eye to see Wren crouching before her, one hand brushing a sweaty strand of hair from Jewel’s face.

Wren signs a warning to her, then bundles Jewel up in her arms and leaves the room, using her foot to slam the door closed on the way out.

Slowly, as they walk up the stairs and down hallways, the intimidating anger reaches the edges of her reach and fizzles, subsides under Wren’s steady, simple concern and desire to protect.

The mute girl carries Jewel into her bedroom, one arm curled around her shoulders, and lays her down on the mattress.

Rest, she signs to Jewel. We’ll take care of it.

With a smile, she pulls up the quilt and tucks Jewel in, as if she were a child again. Then, as Jewel closes her eyes and snuggles deeper into the blankets, Wren leans forward and presses her lips to the younger girl’s forehead.

(Love).

[whumpwhiteboard]

do you know any good podcasts w whump? 😚♥️

skdkskskks the penumbra podcast!! And I mean the Juno Steel series, not The Second Citadel, ’cause I’ve only listened to Juno’s. But anyways, like honestly, that podcast is so damn good in e v e r y possible way, I can’t think of a single flaw. And Juno gets hurt a ton and the voice acting is so on point. Just, ahh 💕💕 I could go on a whole rant about Penumbra but I’ll spare you all and just say that my life would not be the same without Juno Steel. Also it’s so gay, like, the amount of all sorts of lgbt+ people is insane, and it’s like all the characters are my favorite?? And then you have the very common whump ranging from collapsing bookshelves and being stabbed in the arm, to being mind-tortured in a very painful manner and losing an eye and whatever the hell else. Like, it’s a lot and I love every second of it. Also a lot of emotional whump.

Okay phew let’s see what else there is

Another one that had a little bit of whump is CARAVAN, and I really loved that podcast but be warned that it does get a bit mature at times. It’s also super gay, lol. But it was really weird and funny and yeah, overall really nice!

Marsfall has some as well, though I haven’t listened to the whole thing yet. It’s really promising so far!

The Two Princes also has some, though it’s a bit more laid-back and not as serious because this one is a more fairytale-like, probably aimed for an audience of like 12 and up. The story is of two rival princes falling in love while saving their kingdom from a curse. It’s an adorable story though. Also, as I went to double-check the name on spotify, I noticed they released a second season a few weeks ago!

Archive 81 is another good one. Though I haven’t finished that one yet either, and haven’t really gotten to any whump, the way the story is progressing is making me hopeful. So... I’m not sure, but it could have some. 🤷🏻‍♀️ but even if it doesn’t, it’s still worth a listen!

Other than that I can’t really say, I’m still fairly new to podcasts so I haven’t listened to that many and most of them are awfully whumpless :((

If anyone else has any recs please tell us! I need more whumpy podcasts as well 😏

[whumpwhiteboard]

Merry Whumpmas everyone...

TW: blood, torture, mentions of death, shooting

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Prompts: caretaker soothing a whumpee who’s in pain.

- “Shh, shhh…”

- “It’ll be over soon.”

- “I’m right here with you.”

- “Here, squeeze my hand.”

- “Do you want me to hold you?”

- “I know, I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”

- “Oh, sweetie…It’s okay, just cry it out.”

- “Don’t look at it, [Name]. Just look at me.”

- “Hey! Hey…You’re going to get through this.”

- “The pain reliever should start kicking in any minute.”

[whumpwhiteboard]

Whumptober Day 11

@whumptober2019 ‘s Prompt: Stitches

When they get home, Ezra flings the door open ahead of them with a look. “Axel!” he calls. “Axel, need ya!”

Fern shudders in his arms. They feel dizzy, wrong, and over all of that hurt. Their back burns and seizes, clenching in roiling waves around the hole in their flesh. They feel hot, they feel cold, so cold, and the blood leaking across their skin and sticking their shirt to their back with clammy, icky trails starts hot but gets cold so quickly, and they hurt and their body is torn open and it hurts.

“Axel!” Ezra’s bark echoes through the house. Fern whimpers at the clash of it next to their ear. Nearby, something whines, and Ezra jerks in surprise.

“The fuck,” he mutters. “Whaddya know about that.”

Books, mail, and an abandoned coffee mug clatter off of the dining table and into a haphazard pile underneath it at another look from Ezra. He sets Fern down on the freshly-cleared surface, laying them on their front. They rest their face on their crossed arms and watch Ezra jog to the bathroom for the first aid kit.

“Okay, time to play doctor,” he announces on his return. “Axel must be out, so you’re stuck with me.”

Fern tries for a smile. Something whuffs under the table, and then a wet black nose pokes over the edge to nudge their elbow. “Oh! Oh, ouch,” Fern winces. “The, the dog’s here?”

“Yeah, he followed us home I guess,” Ezra says, digging through the first-aid kit. “Okay, I’m gonna get started, alright? Gotta clean this first.”

Fern nods and hides their face in their arms. They don’t want to watch, feeling it is bad enough. Ezra snaps on a pair of gloves, and then peels their shirt up away from their back. Air on the wound makes Fern shiver, and that makes their back spasm, and they whimper into their arms.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Ezra says. His gloves hand pats their back, up where their shirt still gives them an extra layer of protection, and then a warm cloth, watercupboardwatergloves, swipes carefully over Fern’s back, cleaning sticky blood off of their skin. Fern squeezes their fingers around their opposite wrist and endures the feeling of cloth scraping against the edges of the knife wound.

“You’re doing great,” Ezra praises as the cloth lifts away. “We need to disinfect this, next, kay?”

“Mmn, kay, will it, will it hurt?”

“Yeah, a bit. It’s gonna sting, but we gotta keep this clean, we can’t deal with infection, here, and we don’t want to get you needing a hospital.”

He’s right, of course he is, Fern knows they can’t go to any regular doctor, they’d be found out and sent back to an agency. They take a deep breath and nod. “Okay.”

There’s a slosh of liquid, and then a cotton ball, sopping with cold disinfectant, swipes across the stab wound. It burns, it feels like their skin is being scraped open, and it’s working its way deeper inside of them - Fern cries and tries to curl away from the hurt of it, twisting and sobbing on the table. The dog whines, shoving his nose up against their arm again, and then Ezra’s hands are on their shoulders, holding them steady so they don’t roll off the table.

“Hey, hey, Fern, you’re okay, I know it stings but it’s gonna be okay, you’re doing great,” Ezra’s rush of words tumbles across them. “I’m sorry, I know it hurts. But you’re all cleaned up now, almost done. You’re doing great, Fern, you’re being really brave.”

Fern turns their head to peel up at Ezra, pressing wobbling lips together. It still hurts, a lot. “I, I am?”

“Yeah, course! This shit stings, you did great.” Ezra examines the sluggishly bleeding tear in Fern’s skin and frowns. “I think we’re gonna have to stitch it, though.”

Fern flinches. “Stitch it?” they repeat. “Do, do you have to, Ez, please, I don’t think I w-, want that,”

“Aw, I bet not, fiddlehead. But it’s too deep to fix without them. The sutures are sterile, see? They’ll be real quiet for you, they’ve never been touched. Gotta reuse the needle, but it’ll be quick.”

“But it’s, it’s sewing my, my skin, Ezra, that, that, I don’t, Ez, please, ple–hk–lease,”

“Hey, hey, Fern,” Ezra kneels by the head of the table. He cards a hand through Fern’s hair until their words tumble to a hitching, sniffling halt and they look at him tearfully.

“It’s scary, huh?”

Fern nods, dragging in a shuddery, sniffling breath.

“Have you had stitches before?”

“O-once, I, I,” Fern’s hand drifts over the short, vertical scar on the back of their neck. “I, I don’t re- remember, what, what for,” they sniff again, trying to calm down.

Something tightens around Ezra’s eyes, and his hand stills for a breath before resuming the soothing motion through their hair. “That’s okay, Fern, you don’t gotta try to figure it out. What’s important is that you know you can handle it, yeah? You’ve already done this, so it’s no big deal, right?”

“Oh. M-maybe?”

“Yeah! You’re already an old hat with stitches, you’ll do great.”

“Mmn, mkay.” Fern puts their head down again. Ezra shifts to stand beside the table again, and things rustle in the first aid kit. The dog pants softly under the table.

His gloves hand settles on the hot-cold-hot skin of their back, and then a needle pokes the sensitive skin next to the stab, in and through their skin, and Fern tells themself they won’t scream or writhe away, but they can’t help their flinch.

The needle passes through their skin, and Fern reads Ezra, leaning over the same table with a gash carving a bright red divot into his shoulder. His pain shadows their own, echoing across their skin and compounding it. They read Axel’s fingers holding the needle, Ezra’s, Axel’s, Ezra’s, both time and time again, stitching each other up, stitching other people, being stitched themselves.

The needle slides through their skin and out again. String follows, sterile sutures that are strikingly quiet after the ghostly pain and worry the needle carries. Fern shudders.

The needle pierces the other side of the stab wound, and Fern reads all of it again. Sutures follow, quiet tugging after noisy sliding pain, and their skin pulls together.

The needle pokes through their skin again, and Fern hums, squeezing their crossed wrists and tipping their head back and forth against their arm. Through, and through, and pain, and pain, others’ and their own, circling through their body and pulsing across their nerve endings in the rhythm of heartbeats that aren’t their own.

Through, and through, and pain, and pain, and their skin pinches closed and their blood slides, hot and then cold, across their back. Through, and through, and pain, and pain, and Ezra, and Axel, and more, and more. Tears wash trails down Fern’s wrists and puddle on the table beneath them, and they think they might be making some sort of noise, but it’s hard to tell what’s them and what’s the needle.

Snip.

“There,” Ezra says, and for a minute Fern doesn’t register that he’s speaking, present, instead of just a whisper across their Path-sense. “It’s done, it’s done, Fern, you did so great.” He wipes up the last of the blood and carefully pulls their shirt back down before circling the table to crouch by their head again. “Hey, you okay? It’s all over, you were so brave.”

Fern hiccups and lifts their head, scrubbing at their face with the palm of a hand. “’sover,” they repeat soggily. “I, I was? Thanks, thank you, Ezra.”

“Shit, Fern, you don’t gotta thank me, I know that hurt.” Ezra rubs their shoulder. “You wanna get cleaned up, take a nice hot shower? I’ll get you some pain reliever too.”

“Mm, yeah, that sounds good.” Fern takes a shuddery breath and pushes themself up to a seat on the table, screwing up their face when moving pulls at the stitches. They accept the pills and water that Ezra brings, and then scoot down with his help and head for the bathroom. 

There’s a whine from behind them, and the dog darts out from under the table to dance at their side. Fern stops, balancing a hand on the back of the couch, and offers the backs of their knuckles for the pup to lick. “Oh, Ez, what, what are we gonna do with, with him?”

Ezra lifts a shoulder and grins. “Guess we’ve got a dog.”

[whumpwhiteboard]

Bridal carry vs. Piggy back

Bridal carry

- usually unconscious

- good for emergencies - “we need to get out of here NOW and I don’t have time to assess your injuries”

- could be bleeding/holding pressure on their own wound while being carried

- can’t walk?

- rescuer gets to comfort them better as they’re more face to face. Cue forehead kisses. Whumpee can bury their face in rescuers neck or shoulder.

Piggy Back

- drifting in and out of consciousness but cognizant enough to keep their arms around rescuers neck/shoulder

- Maybe they have injuries to their back preventing bridal carry hold. Burns? Whip gashes?

- good for longer distances when whumpee can’t walk - “I will get us out of these woods so help me.”

- whumpee gets to lay their head on their companions shoulder and contemplate existence

[whumpwhiteboard]

Help! I’m on big comfort kick right now. I need some gentle post-whump caretaking drabbles, please. The whumpee still in pain and flinching after their ordeal (torture?) and their lover looking after them, treating the injuries and softly murmuring that they’re safe.

The whumpee couldn’t stop shivering.

It was ridiculous. No longer in a damp, grimy cellar, wrapped in a blanket on the sofa with a fire going and their hair still smelling of shampoo, and they were shivering.

“Pathetic.” The whumper’s sneer was only in their head, but sounded as loud as if they were in the room. With a whimper, the whumpee shut their eyes and curled up tighter.

“Hey.” Someone touched them and they flinched away sharply, relaxing when the caretaker’s quiet voice reached them. “I’m just gonna check your bandages, okay? Make sure you’re not still bleeding.”

The whumpee nodded shakily, holding out their arms to the caretaker. The latter rolled up the whumpee’s sleeves, running their hands lightly over the bandages that covered painful cuts and burns. “They look alright. You’re going to be fine.”

The whumper’s voice hissed in the whumpee’s ear. “You’re so weak. Worthless. Just wait till I get my hands on you again, and you’ll know what real pain is.”

The whumpee let out a shuddering breath, trying not to cry, not to flinch, because the whumper was here, they were, and they were going to take the whumpee back and hurt them and–

They shivered harder. Just then, warm arms wrapped around them, holding them close. The caretaker’s voice came from somewhere above them, gentle fingers stroking through the whumpee’s damp hair. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re safe now. I promise. No one’s gonna hurt you again, I swear. It’s okay.”

They murmured the words over and over soothingly, and bit by bit the whumpee’s shivers eased, drowsiness taking over. They tucked their head against the caretaker’s chest and closed their eyes, allowing the quiet reassurances and the warmth to lull them to sleep.

And for the first time since being rescued, the whumper did not appear in their dreams.

[whumpwhiteboard]

Prompts: caretaker soothing a whumpee who’s in pain.

- “Shh, shhh…”

- “It’ll be over soon.”

- “I’m right here with you.”

- “Here, squeeze my hand.”

- “Do you want me to hold you?”

- “I know, I know it hurts, I’m sorry.”

- “Oh, sweetie…It’s okay, just cry it out.”

- “Don’t look at it, [Name]. Just look at me.”

- “Hey! Hey…You’re going to get through this.”

- “The pain reliever should start kicking in any minute.”

[whumpwhiteboard]

When the whumpee is rescued, reaching out for the caretaker who is like "i don't even know where I can touch you without hurting you." But the whumpee doesn't care, they just want to be comforted. And the caretaker carefully searches through the blood to make sure they aren't going to make things worse before gathering the whumpee into their arms and holding on, hand stroking through hair or on forehead, and whispering words of comfort

That conjured up a beautiful scene in my head. Thank you, Nonny ❤️

[whumpwhiteboard]

OCTOBER APPROACHES!

And so does Whumptober 2019! Feast your eyes on this year’s gut-wrenchingly glorious Prompt List, and get inspired to create some killer content starting October 1st. There are some changes to the tagging system from last year, so be sure to give the attached Event information a read! If after reading you still have questions, feel free to send an ask to @whumptober2019​ or reach out to the event creator, @la-vie-en-whump​ !

We hope you’re as excited as us to watch the Whump Community come together once again for a month of bone-crunching creativity and collaboration!

-Kat

The official Prompt List, Event information, and FAQs are all transcribed below the cut.

Keep reading

[whumpwhiteboard]

Hello, whump community.

Heya! I'm Yosh and I'm a twenty year old living life. ;)

To be QUITE honest, I'm somewhat new to Tumblr as a whole, so if I'm doing everything wrong, please tell me.

As for whump, I've been obsessed with it since I literally 5 or 6 years old, in different ways of course, and I've only known that a whole mob of us exist for a couple months due to stumbling upon the term here. I lean heavily towards the comfort and post injury side, with good caretaker vibes 👌🏻👌🏻 The best, I think, is when you get to see the whumpee broken, but see the rescue and care after too.

I've been writing fiction for a long time, although I haven't had time to write much at all for a little while now because of work and school (tis the life of a twenty year old pursuing a degree and juggling bills at the same time 🤦🏼‍♀️). I am definitely going to make time to share my characters and put out whumpy scenes with them, though, if everybody wants!!

Just a tiny about me as a person: Im a photographer, drummer, and Jesus freak. I love talking to literally anybody, whether we agree on everything or not a single thing. I love the colors red and deep yellow, but not together! Tex-mex food is life. Also, I'm super NOT girly, but I'm definitely a girl 🤘🏻🤙🏻