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jasmines-library · 6 months

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I'll Make This Up To You

WHUMPTOBER DAY SIX: Prompt: made to watch

Summary: after being kidnapped by the joker, Jason is forced to watch you being tortured when you beg to take his place.

Warning: Blood, beating, gore, cursing, punctured lung.

Word count: 1.3k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Your entire body throbbed. Your wrists hung limply from rusty chains that dangled from the ceiling. Your bare toes struggled to relieve the burning that spread down your arms and into the sockets of your shoulders, but your bare toes only skimmed the floor, not providing you with a fraction of release. The groan, and clanging of the chains on the other side of the room, alerted you to the other presence in the room. He was still wearing his black suit with the red bat insignia printed across his chest.

“Hood?” You murmured from across the room, trying to grab his attention. The boy groaned, bleary eyed before mumbling your name in response.

“Are you okay?” He asked, testing the strength of his chains albeit to find that he was firmly stuck.

“Yeah” You nodded. “What happened? I don’t remember anything besides-”

A blinding light piercing through the darkness. Shattering glass, a scream. Then nothing.

“The crash.” Jason finished for you.

You were about to speak again; to utter another string of words when you were silenced by a catatonic laughter.

The Joker barged his way through the double doors to the room. They slammed loudly against the wall as pushed up his sleeves. Although Jason was still wearing his mask, you could sense the fear rising in his body.

“Isn’t this nice?” He said, walking around the two of you. “My two favourite birdies all in one place.”

He smiled a toothy grin, his face too close to yours for comfort before whipping back around to Jason and wiggling his fingers. “How’s it hanging Little Robin? Did ya miss me?”

Jason tried to recoil from the man before him, but the chains only allowed him to swing feebly back and forth. This elicited another manic laugh from the Joker.

“Now, I would say that I'm sorry to do this to you again, but that would be a lie, wouldn’t it?”

He ran his finger along Jason’s hooded jawline, before trailing his fingers down to his neck and to the hem of his mask which he tore from his face.

“Hiya, Jaybird.” He said, giving him a wink. Jason stiffened at the nickname. “Oh how I missed this pretty face.”

“Fuck you.” He spat.

The Joker pulled back, placing a hand to his chest in mock hurt and cackling once more. “Your words wound me, Jason. Like father like son I see.”

The sound of an old, metal cart being pushed with a squeaky wheel by one of his goons filled the room. On top of it lay an assortment of weapons and tools, two of which you identified as yours. Another man tugged in an old camera. “I think it’s time that we send the bat a message.” he trailed his fingers along the edge of the tray, before picking up a small knife and twirling it between his digits. “He needs to stop getting on my last nerve and you, my little birdy, need to learn to keep your mouth shut.”

His last sentence was exaggerated with a swing of his arm, which landed a well placed cut to Jason's cheek.

“Hey!” You yelled, squirming against your restraints. “Get the fuck away from him!”

The suit-clad man spun around slowly, tilting his head and the knife towards you.

“Oh? The little bird has something to say. Tell me, Y/N,” He provoked as his goon removed your mask from your face. “What are you gonna do about it? What are you gonna do when I drive your very own knife through your beloved Jaybird’s heart? Hmm?”

“I told you to leave him alone.” You spat back in his face.

The Joker's eyes turned dark as he narrowed them coldly at you. His grin dropped as he turned back around and slashed another line against Jason’s face. He groaned, eyes wide as he began to relive his past time with the man. You felt your heart clench, you couldn’t let him go through that. Not again, you couldn’t watch as he tried to fix himself. You couldn’t watch him suffer again.

“Stop it!” You yelled at him, only for the other man to cover your mouth firmly with his hand. You fought hard, shouting until your voice went hoarse. “Please…hurt me instead.”

The man stopped, a shit eating grin exaggerated across his features. “Smile for the camera.”

~~~

Your head hung limply, chin resting on your chest. Blood trickled down your temple, oozed from your nose and clung to almost every inch of your skin. Inch deep cuts lay littered across your skin, along with a multitude of The sound that left your mouth was barely a scream as he drove the knife into the flesh of your thigh.

Jason had tried to keep from crying out; each yell or vulgar comment leaving you with another scar to add to your collection, or another fingernail ripped out from its bed, but he couldn’t bear to watch you suffer in place of him. It made his stomach twist into knots. He prayed that Tim would be able to hack the livestream that Joker was feeding to the cave and reach you before something fatal happened.

Jason squirmed in the chains. They clanked together loudly. “Leave her alone!”

The man tutted before you, turning away and leaving the knife lodged within the muscle.The vigilante was about to let out a sigh of relief when he watched the Joker's fingers dance over the various bloodied tools and towards the wooden bat.

Before the dark-haired boy could make another sound, the bat was slammed into your ribs. You gasped, eyes flying open as you swung on the chains. You heaved a ragged gasp as he swung hard again, crying out as you felt your ribs shatter. You let out a haggard cough, tasting the copper on your tongue as blood coated your tongue and dribbled from your mouth. The rib had punctured a lung.

The villain's laughter morphed with your and Jason’s shouting. The wooden bat clattered on the floor, but was soon replaced by Jason’s pistol. He cried out loudly. “I hope you’re watching, Batsy.” Joker, picked up the camera, zooming in on your face. “I want you to see the light leave her eyes.”

“I’ll do you one better.” A voice sounded behind him.

Looking over his shoulder, the villain was greeted with the dark cowl of Batman’s suit. The taller man grabbed the villain, swinging him into the wall. The three other boys jumped into action, tackling the goons. Fueled with anger and determination, it didn’t take long before they were releasing you from the shackles that tugged agonisingly on your body.

You landed in a heap on the floor, wheezing loudly as Jason collapsed to his knees beside you, fingers pressing harshly against your thigh. You whimpered.

“I’m sorry. Stay with us, I'm sorry.”

“I’m fine- ” You tried to dismiss Jay’s worry. You didn’t want him to feel any guiltier than you knew he already did. Your head dizzied as you were hoisted into the air by a strong pair of arms.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated it like a mantra. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

You shook your head. “Jay…this is not your fault.”

“But-”

You cut him off with another ragged cough, spilling more blood from your lips. He forced his legs to move further.

“Not your fault.”

Instead of fighting back, he decided to pull you closer. “I’m gonna get you fixed up Y/N. I promise. I will make this up to you.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY FIVE ⛤ DAY SEVEN ->

🏷️ taglist

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

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bltzgore · 9 months

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GOOD LORD I love giving whumpees broken ribs!!!

Struggle to breathe. The anxiety over not being able to take a full breath, and maybe not knowing why! The desperate gasps! THE PAIN! The recovery time my dudes! Holding them as they try to press on through the battle! Ah yes.

Ok, that's all. Everyone can go back about their business.

#whump #broken ribs #whumpee #whump prompt #just midnight thoughts #whump writer thoughts #Bltz is glitching a little #dont mind me

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aceofwhump · 6 months

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Whumptober 2023

Day 31: Alternate - Broken

Once Upon A Time 2x12

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

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whumpetywhump · 5 months

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Flowers For Algernon - Ep. 2

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whumpslist · 11 months

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9-1-1 6.18 episode “Pay It Forward”

Character: Eddie Diaz, portrayed by Ryan Guzman

Type of whumps: into a bridge collapse and trapped into a van, broken ribs and many grunting in pain, rescued, grabbed by his arm and pulled out, moaning in pain and grimacing, hanging around holding his torso and grimacing, helped walking into ER and many grunting.

(video source: ©FOX)

#9-1-1 #Eddie Diaz #Ryan Guzman #whumpedit #whumpslist short clips #whumpslist #TV series #TV show #serie tv #telefilm #whump #whumps #trapped #broken ribs #grunting in pain #moaning in pain #grimacing #holding his torso #helped walking

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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 5 months

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Whump Prompt #1313

Anon asked:

Do you have any prompts for a whump involving CPR? I discovered your blog and instantly fell in love😊

Thank you for the kind words! I have a couple, but I want to preface that I am in no way a medical professional, so I am relying on internet sources.

CPR alone is unlikely to restart the heart. Its main purpose is to restore the partial flow of oxygenated blood to the brain and heart. The objective is to delay tissue death and to extend the brief window of opportunity for a successful resuscitation without permanent brain damage. (Wikipedia)

Unlike the movies, people do not just gasp awake. Apparently, it is quite uncommon for people to suddenly sit upright as though noting happened. Maybe your characters are shocked by this, as they expected their friend to just be 'fine' straight away...

CPR can also have quite a few side effects (CPR Select)

For example, our whumpee is most definitely going to have bruised, cracked or broken ribs.

Your whumpee could aspirate, causing aspiration pneumonia (mild emetophobia tw) (Penn Medicine)

And finally, your whumpee could suffer some form of damage from hypoxia - where their brain is starved of oxygen. Maybe those who administered the CPR feel intense guilt, as instead of being dead, the whumpee may have a lower quality of life/suffer through the consequences and rehab.

#whump #writing #prompts #cpr #death tw #angst #emetophobia tw #broken ribs #guilt #complications #ideas #worry

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uuuhshiny · 1 year

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Sean Bean in Stormy Monday

Aftercare

#by uuuhshiny #Sean Bean #stormy monday #whumpedit #uuuhshiny's gifs #power #broken ribs #bruises #caretaker #undressing and cleaning #yum #nice #gifs are slow cuz they move slowly cuz he HURTS :)#пиписька :D #he's like a spooked animal - afraid but bearing the care #even that early in his career #his body acting is phenomenal

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fallenwhumpee · 6 months

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Traitor

• Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Masterlist •

Warnings: This is uuuh... heavier than my usual, and a bit quick in pacing? Probably. Mentioned torture, broken ribs, dysfunctional family, sickfic, intimate whumper, self-destructive behaviour, implied past abuse (in form of training).

"We don't need a babysitter!"

"Hush, you will wake them up."

Leader didn't stir, still pretending to sleep in the uncomfortable position they were stuck. They didn't mean to stay up, they had been awake for longer than they could remember, but the sleep just didn't come.

"They can't just decide for us or tell us what to do. We're not a bunch of newbies," Youngest continued, now more silent.

They... their intention wasn't restrict anyone. They were given to this team because of their ages being close, but even after months together, they felt like an outsider. At least now they knew the reason.

"I know you're still upset for them letting Villain come with us, and I am, too, but this is not the best time to talk. They just did what you wanted with less violence," Medic cut in, more silent.

"Better," Right Hand scoffed. They must be the one who warned Youngest. "But I believe there is another reason. We don't make reports anymore, so who knows which lies Leader fed the agency with? And..."

"And what?"

"There are rumours of a traitor," they finished.

Leader couldn't stop themselves from drawing a sharp breath, but it left unnoticed.

"You think Leader is..." Youngest whispered. "But that's not possible! It's true that they're too serious, but we've been together for so long."

"Yet we know nothing about them," someone finished.

"Leader knew we had a past with Villain, yet Leader let them come our home. They trust Villain for some reason, but..."

"It's concerning. They wouldn't team up with someone tortured them, but we can't be sure, " Medic completed, hesitant.

"We don't know if Whumper did. None of us saw."

Leader didn't know what they did to earn Right Hand's hatred.

"I patched them up myself!"

"Can't it be faked?"

Nothing could've broken Leader's heart more than the deep silence. Leader only wanted to be— what they wanted wasn't important. But for the first time, they thought they could be enough for something.

They couldn't be more wrong.

And not only that, now they looked suspicious to everyone. Just perfect. One more failure to add the never-ending list. Their team distrusted them enough to think they could do such a thing.

It was their fault. They were assigned to a close-knit team, ready to be a family, but Leader was late, and they failed to close the distance and formality.

With time, Leader found themselves negotiating between the agency and the team more often than not. It took them too long to realise that they were only meant to be a bridge, never belonging to a side. It was the only role given to them from both sides. A leash to the team and someone who could get them out of trouble.

Because neither their team nor their superiors were pleased with the results. Their team was reckless, rushing everything and running blindly when one of them was in danger, ignoring everything else. And the agency was too strict, probably looking for the smallest mistake to disband them. Leader was the only thing between, and keeping the balance was starting to cost too much.

The car jolted, Leader hitting their head lightly. They groaned, faking their movements not to give away their involuntarily eavesdrop, and the others just stared at them. No one had the guts to tell all of those to Leader's face, apparently.

-•-

After a long and uncomfortable silence, they were home. They carried Villain to the infirmary without a word to the others. There was no need. Leader had forced them too much and this was the payback. Even if the team didn't think Leader was a traitor, this decision was one thing the team was not ready. It was also the first thing Leader forced them to.

"I'm not looking at them." Medic said firmly as Leader came out. Leader knew what was coming, so they let Medic breathe and waited.

"I'm not looking at them, not after all they had done."

"I just want you to make sure they're not dying." They tried with a soft voice, ignoring a headache starting to bloom in their temples.

"You weren't the one who patched Youngest after everything!" Medic paced in the room shortly, huffing with anger. "You weren't the one who held them as they woke up with nightmares!"

Leader lowered their gaze slightly.

"You weren't there when they broke down and begged us to stop the pain."

No, Leader wasn't. They had done everything to keep Youngest out of Whumper's wrath, rather successfully, but Villain had taken on Youngest a few times Leader wasn't able to take more, especially towards the end. After it, they were too busy with making sure the team was free to look after Youngest, had three meals a day, and kept agency out of their tail while recovering from—

So, no. Leader wasn't there. They had been busy.

"I should remind you that there's someone who possibly needs the same support you have once given to Youngest. But I'm not asking you to do that."

With that, Medic looked away.

"I'm just asking you if they need it. I'm sure it won't be hard to come up with a diagnosis for the meeting. That's your job, isn't it?"

"I will try," Medic answered, voice thick with embarrassment. Good. Leader could now focus on the next thing.

They went to the briefing room as Medic disappeared into the infirmary. The big screen opened with their command, the shadowy silhouettes waiting for them.

The mission report went well, only trouble being Villain. The agency suggested things Leader would never approve. Luckily, their insistence with Medic checking over Villain gave its fruits.

Medic was almost crying as they barged in and told the list of scars and wounds yet to be healed. Too similar to Youngest, they whispered to Leader. If Leader was less than collected, they would let out a long, relieved sigh that Medic wasn't going to argue with Leader's choice about Villain when they woke up. But they were not, and they kept their face straight. There was going to be time to breathe when they were locked and safe in their room.

After Medic, everyone agreed that kindness would be a better approach. Leader couldn't help but let their shoulders slump a bit, knowing they had gotten at least one side's approval.

The call dropped soon after, and Leader felt a movement behind them. Quickly turning, Medic froze on their place, a hand stretched to reach them. Medic drew back without touching, Leader rubbing their one arm subtly to ease their discomfort.

"Villain will wake up soon."

Leader nodded.

"I think it would be better if they saw you first. We had... not the best start."

That was the only apology they were going to have.

They smiled slightly. "Of course. I'll be in infirmary in a moment."

Medic took the dismissal, and Leader slumped the second they left the room. They were too tired to deal with anything, and they knew that if they left the room, another confrontation was inevitable. But this time, they had an evidence for making people understand that Villain had been a victim as much as them, if not more.

With a groan, they pushed themselves back to their feet. They gave themselves a moment to still their trembling limbs. They were going to be alright. With stable steps and even breaths, they marched to the infirmary.

"Medic," they greeted. "What do you have for me?"

"Too much, too little. We're fine, Youngest is a little unsettled, but no injuries. You would better avoid Right Hand. They are just a little overprotective of Youngest and reasonably angry because of al lof this, you know."

Leader nodded them to go on.

"For Villain, nothing broken, but so much bruises. Wrongly healed wounds... knife marks, and..."

"I do not need a full report." They cut to save Medic from telling more. Whip marks, electrocution, possibly some nerve damage. Leader recognised some of the scars. Too similar to— they had to focus. "Tell me if they will recover, and when they will wake up?"

"I did my best. And I can't tell. If you don't want me to restrain them, you should stay here. It's nearly dinner time and you know we always eat together."

"Yes, alright. I'll stay here. You enjoy your meal." They swallowed the bitterness. There was no need to get upset. They had never been 'we' with the team.

"Good. Let me know if they wake up."

Leader sat to a chair, and at some point, everything blended into each other as they felt their body weight down and pull them deeper towards the silent lullaby their mind chanted.

Blinking, they cursed themselves for nearly drifting off on watch, the first thing they remembered being trusted with in a long time. They stood absurdly, ignoring the dizziness and shaking their head until their vision cleared.

A cry drew their attention, and they made their way to the bed, pushing down the panicking Villain.

"Calm down," they tried, gentle. They always thought they would be doing this to their teammates, not the enemy.

Surprisingly, Villain listened.

"I'll call Medic, is it alright?"

Villain nodded. Leader would like to keep being kind, but they had to get something out of this, or they were both doomed.

They pressed the call button and leaned over Villain.

"I will be honest," Leader started. "I told my higher ups that you're valuable, and I need to give them something soon. Anything works. A name, a place. Even just the numbers of Whumper's forces. I'm sure you understand that I don't want to gain information in other ways. Despite my job, I hate seeing blood."

"I see," Villain whispered, perhaps too stunned. Leader was bad at dealing with people. "I will help."

"Thank you."

-•-

Weeks after accepting Villain, Leader found themselves more tired than ever, with agency pressing for any information and the team having an awkward time with Villain hanging around freely.

Medic was first to warm to the newest addition, even if only a little, so it was weird to hear Villain laugh when Leader knew Medic was away.

Leader made their way to the common space but stopped at the doorframe, too stunned from seeing Youngest of all people sitting and laughing with Villain.

With a relieved sigh, Leader made their way to the kitchen, ignoring the jealousy starting to bloom in their chest. It took Leader months to get a genuine laugh from Youngest.

They buried the tought immediately.

Instead, they focused on what to cook, repetitive movements carrying their thoughts away. They had some time until the agency gave them their next instructions, and they needed peace if they wanted to keep going.

And probably some rest, considering how tired and sore they felt. They were leaning on the counter but still felt too heavy on their feet, struggling to focus.

"What are you doing?"

Leader flinched, taken off guard by the sudden appearance of Right Hand. "Cooking," they answered honestly, not wishing to talk about anything else.

"I mean what do you think you are doing?!" Right Hand snarled. "You just left Youngest alone with them."

"I didn't want to disturb them. They looked like they were having fun."

"Why do you refuse to see? Villain is evil."

"Would you torture me to save Youngest?" Leader asked, cutting sharply. They wouldn't normally do that, but the topic wasn't about them. It was Villain, and someone had to stand up for them. Right Hand frowned as a response.

"Would you?" Leader asked again. If they had said Medic instead of themselves, Right Hand would think. But the answer was obvious.

"Yes," came finally, after so long that Leader thought they would only stare. "But that's irrelevant."

"Why?" Leader asked, but this time they answered themselves. "Because Youngest is family, and one should do everything to keep their family safe." They stopped for a second to let it sink. "That was exactly what Villain was doing. Whumper had their family as a hostage."

"It's not the same! And it doesn't excuse what they did."

"No it doesn't," they turned their head, staring to Right Hand. "But it means you can't judge them solely from their actions. What do you see when you look at them and Youngest?"

They were cut by a notification, an unknown number texting them an address. Leader deleted it before Right Hand could see, but it only earned a suspicious glare. They cursed to themselves, apologising and leaving with a rush. They had to be at the other side of the city in half an hour.

-•-

"You make me look suspicious," Leader greeted Mentor, not caring about their attitude. There had been a time they would tremble with Mentor's one word, but they grew up. Sometimes, Mentor still tried to order them around, but Leader was getting better at standing against those. On a good note, it made Mentor proud, to see Leader managing on their own. At least, that was what Leader wanted to think.

"That's no proper way to greet someone."

"Neither appearing years later with only a location to go is. Just tell me why you came back," they replied back.

"They're suspicious. Wanted me to get a hold of you." Mentor looked just as Leader remembered. Not even a day older.

"You don't trust me," Leader hid the hurt tone in their voice with a fake anger. They weren't supposed to feel hurt. Mentor and them never had a close relationship, and they shouldn't have assumed Mentor would side with them over the agency.

"You're no traitor. But someone working directly above you is."

Mentor's confident tone was the only thing they needed to relax completely.

"I taught you. You can't be a traitor. However, I don't trust you to do what the agency wants you to do."

"And what is it?" they asked. They knew the answer already but had to hear from Mentor.

"They think you are too slow with the progress with Villain."

"I won't torture them," was their immediate answer.

"No, you won't. I would be more concerned if you obeyed the agency this time. I didn't raise a monster. But you have to find a solution. The higher-ups need something in exchange if you want to keep Villain."

So Leader did.

In six hours, Leader was back with the information and a promise to Villain that there was no cleaning duty for a week. They desperately wanted to sleep, their throat hurting from talking too much while interrigating Villain. They needed something warm, free of caffeine despite it being the only way to keep themselves awake at that point. They had texted the emergency number in their contacts, and another location dropped in. This time, it was close enough to walk, and the fresh air was like a blessing to the warm feeling clinging them.

"You look awful," Mentor greeted.

"That's where I learned greeting," Leader muttered.

"I thought you had passed your moody phases by now."

"You look old, but I neither tell this as a greeting nor to your face," they countered. They were sleepy, and they were less tolerant of Mentor, given... everything that happened between them.

"I taught you some respect," Mentor scoffed, sitting down. "Anyway, tell me what you have."

You would look like this if you had everyone breathing down on your neck too.

Leader bit back those words and put a smile on their face with a subtle deep breath.

"I know where Whumper's bases are."

-•-

Leader sank into their blanket, hoping to catch some break. Their blanket was too warm, causing them to realise how cold they were before with the chills wrecking them.

They were soon asleep, but sleeping until morning would be a miracle. Their door was banged before the sun was up.

Leader sat up slowly, their head pounding and vision blurring. The door opened before they could answer, and Right Hand came in with a concerned expression.

"What happened?" Leader croaked, shaking their head slightly to get rid of the exhaustion.

"Agency is making an emergency call."

That was not unexpected, but Leader hoped that it could wait until the morning. Right Hand's expression turned into annoyed with Leader's slow movements. Leader would care, but they felt too sore.

Right Hand let them be, and Leader opened their wardrobe—all black and hard to see in dark. They found their sweatshirt with little struggle, and got dressed. The mere action was enough to leave them exhausted, but they forced themselves to go on.

With the headquarters being close and hour being too early, they walked there at a steady pace. Leader found the once soothing wind freezing, their focus slipping every once in a while.

This continued through the meeting, too, much to their annoyance. Luckily, it was for a coordinated attack on Whumper's forces, and Leader knew every detail of it.

But their eye catched Mentor in the corner, staring directly to them. Mentor disappeared when Leader blinked, and Leader went out right after with a swear.

Following the doors opening and closing, they caught up Mentor in a small briefing room. They coughed as they tried to calm their breaths, their lungs burning with the effort.

"Don't tell me you are out or practise," Mentor didn't even spare a look to Leader bending slightly to their knees, drawing strength from the nearby table.

"Just tired," Leader countered as soon as their coughs subdued, leaving them quite drained. But they couldn't let themselves drop to the chair, a warmth they hadn't felt since their trainee days creeping up. Embarrassment.

They were glad that their hair was covering their ears.

"I, too, am tired but perfectly capable of a little chase. Now listen up because you're going to take one of the bases."

You can't be serious, Leader bit back. They sat down right after Mentor, trying not to make it look like they collapsed, but their mind stuck. No one could handle a base all by themselves.

"It is relatively a small one, at the outskirts of the city. You just have to blow up the foundation of it. Explosives are already prepared, and your truck is ready."

"I..." Leader didn't think they could do it alone, but also they couldn't voice their concern. They were given an order. "What about— what about my team?"

"They're out under someone else's command. And I'm afraid it will stay like that until the agency is clear that you're no traitor."

"This is a trick," they murmured, their controle slipping for a moment. Mentor's gaze softened, and Leader immediately hated the pity. "If I survive, I'm the traitor. How can I prove myself?"

"Just do your job as told. I know you won't let me down and this ridiculous matter will slove itself."

Leader opened their mouth to protest, but a wheeze escaped.

"Are you alright?" Mentor asked immediately. The concern in their voice was foreign. Mentor had never been worried about Leader before.

"Yes," they answered firmly. Mentor reached out to them, but Leader didn't let them. Leader knew they would fall apart at the smallest break they were given. They were in a bad shape, with how emotional and tired they felt, unbecoming of the person they were. They could push through those usually, and crumbling beneath pressure was never an option, until recently.

"Are you sure—"

"I said yes. If this is to relieve your coinscience, i dont need it now. I'm fine and I will do as you told." They cut sharply. I needed when I was young, went unsaid.

Mentor stated silent, and Leader took their leave.

-•-

Leader approached the base with a calculated yet faltering steps, the burdens of exhaustion and their nervousness weighing them down. Each step felt like an eternity, and Leader had to steady themselves against the structure's cold exterior to prevent a fall.

As they worked to plant the explosives, Leader's trembling hands fumbled with the devices. Their body screamed for rest, and the piercing pain in their temples seemed to meld with the weak thud of their heartbeats.

Still, the job had to be done.

But time was a cruel master, and as Leader tried to slip away from the base, they stumbled into the watchful eyes of Whumper's men. It was a trap, and the moment they realized it, it was too late.

Leader found themselves surrounded, their weapon useless with an empty magazine and weak. Panic gnawed at their chest as they faced their captors, a mocking smirk playing on their faces.

But what drained Leader's spirit more was the unexpected appearance of Whumper himself. The cold, empty eyes that had haunted Leader for so long now stared directly into their soul.

"You look even more pathetic than the last time we crossed paths, Leader," Whumper sneered, his voice a chilling echo in the dimly lit space. "Did your agency finally realize you're a little sick puppy? Kicked you to our doorstep, did they?"

Leader tried to summon the strength to respond, but their voice came out as a mere rasp.

Whumper's laughter, a guttural, unsettling sound, filled the room. "I see you've lost your bite, too. How the mighty have fallen."

Whumper's chilling laughter echoed through the room as he closed in on Leader, his shadow casting a sinister presence. "It's almost poetic, isn't it? The great Leader, broken and defeated. What does your precious agency think about you now?"

Leader's voice was hoarse, but there was a spark of determination in their eyes. "They think... they think I'll get the job done."

Leader's vision began to blur as Whumper's men pulled them up.

"You see, Leader," Whumper whispered, leaning closer to their ear, "yoi resort to lies you want to believe. You've failed. But you don't cry. No. Thats not who you are."

Whumper pushed them to the wall from their neck, and Leader gasped, struggling to breathe.

"Any other person would be crying for their teammates or trainers. But you don't have anyone to cry. You are truly alone, and you know it.

Leader knew they wouldn't survive this, but they'd be damned if they didn't take Whumper down with them.

With one final act of defiance, Leader reached to their pocket. They hit Whumper, slipping a tracker to their sleeve as they pushed the remote, triggering a series of explosives placed throughout Whumper's hideout. The chain reaction of blasts tore through the structure, bringing it crumbling down.

Leader's vision blurred, and their body went limp as debris rained down around them.

-•-

When Leader's tracker went on, Mentor's heart stuttered.

They realised something was wrong when Leader didn't check in for transport. And the tracker could only mean that Whumper got away. Leader would never use it if it weren't for last resort.

"They must have let Whumper run away," one mused next to them from the operation centre.

"No," they whispered. "Something— something is not right. I'm getting them back."

They motioned to their friend, knowing they would need help.

#whump #whump writing #leader whumpee #leader whump #tw torture #broken bones #broken ribs #dysfunctional family #sickfic #intimate whumper #self destructive behavior #implied past abuse #no this wasnt actually how tired i felt ever since the beginning of the month #sorry for taking so long #but been so busy #and feeling sick even after recovering #queue

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limited-hero · 1 year

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Chapter 2 page 16-17

The little imp pulled out the sword! Where are they heading to now, i wonder?

previous /// next

#limited hero #LH #zelda au #LimitedHero #Zelda limited hero #the legend of zelda #comic #tloz #update #imp #master sword #broken ribs

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jasmines-library · 6 months

Text

Oh, Baby.

WHUMPTOBER DAY 21. Prompt: Vehicular accident.

Fandom: supernatural.

Summary: on the way back from a hunt, an out of control car veers into yours sending it hurtling off of the path and into a tree, leaving you trapped. Too far from the hospital, the Winchesters are left with the task of getting your body from the car as they wait for Cas to arrive.

Warnings: car crash, dislocated shoulder, broken bones/ribs, blood.

Word count: 1.4K

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Dean was driving too fast. His foot was pressed all the way down on the pedal as he let the impala fly down the road. He was drumming along to the rhythm of the music as you and Sam sang. The hunt had been successful and spirits were high. The three of you were looking forward to a hot shower and a warm bed, because the night was cold and an eerie chill hung in the air.

The October chill had cast a fog over the road, which obscured everything further than a few metres ahead, but Baby was nearing Kansas and Dean knew the roads well, so he wasn’t too fussed by the narrow roads.

But what happened next came out of nowhere. Another passing car had skidded off of the road and veered into your lane. It smashed into the left passenger side of Baby, sending her sliding off the path. Your side of the car took the brunt of the impact as it collided with a tree. The motion sent your body sliding roughly into the door with a force that was sure to leave bruises. The glass spiderwebbed and then shattered, raining down hundreds and thousands of tiny glass flakes over your head.

Dean groaned when the car stilled, sitting up abruptly. His chest felt tight where the seat belt had flattened against his ribs, so he fumbled to unclip his seatbelt. As he twisted he caught sight of his brother whose head hung low against his chest. There was glass in his hair and a small cut on his temple.

“Sam.” Dean reached over to shake his brother. “Sammy.”

Sam sat up abruptly but immediately regretted the pull in his side. “What..?”

“Are you ok?” Dean took in the caved in metal, pissed that he would have to rebuild it again.

“Fine.” Sam brushed the glass from his hair as he too surveyed the damage. But his eyes widened and he gripped his brother's arm when he suddenly remembered you in the backseat. “Y/n.”

The two of them manoeuvred their bodies in the small space so that they could face you. Some of the roof had caved in, which made it hard to see, but they managed to make out your unconscious body in the darkness. It was crumpled against the doorframe. Your head rested on the window ledge, hair matted with blood from where it had collided with the frame and scraped against the shards of glass. Your arm hung at a concerning angle, and they were almost 100% sure your shoulder was dislocated, but they couldn’t tell from this angle.

Dean reached over the seat, straining his body but you were too far away for him to reach you, so he tried to call your name. You didn’t move.

Dean cursed and pushed hard on his doors to open it. “See if you can get her door open.”

Sam forced the door open and clambered out of the car as his brother made his way round the crushed bonnet. Half of your door was completely obscured by the tree that had made the car stop spiralling out of control, making it impossible to open the door.

Dean rammed his fist into the side of the car in a fit of rage.

“Fuck! Sam help me move the car.”

The Winchesters shuffled round to the back of the car and began to haul the car away from the tree. It took a great amount of effort and their boots leaving dents in the frosty ground of them to move the impala, but when it finally inched far enough away from the tree and your door was visible, they breathed a sigh of relief. But immediately took it back when they tugged in the misshaped handle and the door didn’t budge.

Then Dean tried to rouse you again, reaching through the window and rousing your body. You whined as all of the pain flooded in at once.

“Sweetheart?”

You twisted your head to glance up at him through droopy eyes. “Dean?”

“It’s us.”

You whimpered as you tried to shift, pinned down by your seatbelt. “Hurts.”

“We know sweetheart. We’re gonna get you out of there. Just hold on for us okay?”

You nodded, but made no noise.

Sam tried the handle again but it was stuck down firmly as if someone had welded the pieces together and then encased them in a layer of concrete just to make sure that they were secure.

He then considered the window. They could pull you out from it but that would run the risk of injuring you further, especially with the shards of glass jutting out from the bottom. It was far from Sam’s first choice, but at the moment it was looking like their only option.

“Give me your jacket.” He reached out a hand to his brother.

“What?” Without his jacket the cold air would bite at Dean’s skin. Sam knew this, but Dean’s jacket was thicker than his and would provide you more protection when they moved you.

“Just give it to me.”

Dean shrugged it off after pocketing his phone and placed it in his brother's hands who then laid it across the bottom of the window and leaned forwards to talk to you.

“Okay Kid I need you to unbuckle your seatbelt. Can you do that for me?”

You fumbled blindly for the buckle, wincing at the tug on your arm and ribs, both of which were already forming dark bruises and were more likely than not broken in some places. You relaxed as the pressure lessened, but without the fabric keeping you in place, your body slumped forwards.

Sam hooked his arm under your shoulders ready to guide you out of the window. “This is gonna hurt sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

When Sam tugged upwards you screamed. Every inch of your body burned as he slid you out of the window. The strain on your shoulder was immense, and the brothers were now certain that it was dislocated.

“Stop.” You begged. “Please.”

Sam’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry but I can’t.”

He pulled you out the last stretch of the window without adding too many cuts to your fragile body, only a few nicks here or there. Dean helped ease you down onto the ground.

“Cas is on his way.” He told his brother, who gave him a brief nod of acknowledgment because his full attention was on you. It was too far to get to the hospital in time.

“We have to pop it back in.” Dean told him, gesturing to your shoulder. “If we leave it like that it’s going to get worse.”

Sam bit his lip. “I know.”

“Please… it hurts” you whimpered. “No more. Please.”

“Just a little bit more and then it’ll stop. I promise.” Sam told you, bracing his hands on your shoulders as Dean leaned you against his chest. You cried into his chest, clinging onto his shirt to hide from the cold.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

“On three.” Sam said. “One. Two-“

He rolled the joint, forcing it back into place before you had time to brace yourself. You cried out sharply, nursing your arm as tears flooded your cheeks.

Shakily he removed his hands.

“All done, y/n. All done.”

Dean rubbed your back gently and cast a worried gaze at his brother who towered above the two of you.

It was fateful waiting for the flutter of wings. Dean held you close to his chest as you shivered. Whether it was from the pain or the cold he didn’t know, but they had to keep forcing you awake when your eyes drifted shut. As Dean held you, Sam made work of trying to salvage anything from the car. He had found a blanket wedged in the backseat and draped it over your shoulders.

At last, Cas finally appeared.

“I am sorry.” He rattled out. “I came as soon as I could.”

“Can you help her?” Sam asked.

He reached out and placed a gentle hand on your forehead from where a blinding light was emitted and then a wave of calm washed over you, soothing all your aches and pains before you fell asleep against Dean’s chest.

“She should be fine now.” Cas instructed “she just needs to rest.”

“Thank you.” Dean pulled your sleeping form and smiled gently into your hair, glad to still have you by his side for a while longer.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 21 ⛤ DAY 23 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

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bltzgore · 7 months

Text

I doth drabble...

Background info:

Whumpee is being held at the base of a group of whumpers (maybe for interrogation, or ransom, or maybe just entertainm). There is this sort of arena where some of the whumpers like to take turns beating whumpee in the cement floor. This scene comes on the tail end of one of those beatings.

Tw: broken bones (specifically ribs), collapses lungs, blood in the lungs, bruising, strong language, mentions of sci-fi augments, pain relief drugs

Laying on their stomach was brutal. Whumpee wasn't sure they still had a fully intact rib left in their torso. But they were exhausted. This round had only gone three hours, not the shortest, but hardly the longest they'd suffered through.

This didn't change how horrendously the position they were laying in made their entire chest burn, and their lungs practically spasm with the strain.

They needed to move. They needed to breath properly.

So, Whumpee began to arrange their hands against the ground, well, one of their hands. Their left shoulder had stopped working right since the particularly vicious handling whumpee had received about an hour and a half into this session.

Still, they worked against the shaking of their right arm and pressed up. Slowly, they shifted the weight off their abused chest cavity and were rewarded with a fuller breath.

Whumpee was figuring out which way to let themselves back down when there was a sudden pressure on their back that dissuped the careful architecture of their current position.

Whumpee crashed back onto their stomach. The second they made contact with the floor, their world went black. Their mouth gaped in a scream, but their lungs were on fire. Nothing left their mouth but a strained wheeze like sob.

The world pieced itself back together in patches, their vision crept back at a snails pace, as they tried to handle the shock and the lack of oxygen.

The pressure, which had now been identified as Whumpers foot, pressed down harder, making whumpee gasp and immediately regret it, siezing up with rabid heavy tears. The less oxygen their body got the more it struggled, forcing whumpee to squirm and aggravate almost all their existing injuries in the process.

Whumper grinned, "That's right, you fuckin' worm." They dug the toe of their boot into whumpee's back.

Whumpee's spine arched, and their face contorted. They felt their ribs scraping together and displacing, stabing new holes into their lungs, crushing into everything they were supposed to protect.

"Can't even scream." Whumper laughed, deep and satisfied, "how pathetic can you get?"

Whumpee's vision was fraying at the edges, pain lighting up every corner of their body as they writhed under the pressure. Whumper was right, they were a worm.

Whumper removed their boot and let whumpee breathe, unconscious creatures were no fun.

Whumpee tried to breathe in. They tried so hard, but they couldn't breathe deep enough to get their vision to clear. They could at least stay awake though. That was something, right?

Tears ran down whumpee's face without permission, whumper sneered, and pulled whumpee's head up by their hair. "Damn, you look awful. With that many broken bones, maybe it'd be more humane to put you down." They laughed at their own joke, "You want that little worm? Want me to make it all stop?"

Whumpee blinked heavily as their view of whumper cycled through degrees of blur. They weren't sure they wanted to hear themselves answer that question.

Whumper had opened their mouth to continue when from across the room-

"Hey! The hell are you doing? The boss said 'e needs 'em alive, dumbass."

Whumper dropped their grip on whumpee's hair and stood, turning to go address the source of the voice. "I wasn't actually gonna do it, caretaker."

"The hell you weren't." They muttered, then more directly, "You're time is up anyway, get the fuck out you freak."

Whumper sighed, "Yeah yeah." And started off. "Patch 'em up better this time, maybe then they won't break so easy." Heading out through the door.

Caretaker growled something more obscene than usual and climbed up onto the arena floor. They knelt next to whumpee, who was trying to move again, lacking the lung capacity to cry properly.

Caretaker set the makeshift medical kit down and gently drew whumpee off the floor, taking the weight mercifully off their torso. They shifted how they were sitting just enough to lean whumpee's back against their chest to keep the weight pressing against bones that weren't as damaged.

They could feel all of the small movements whumpee's muscles were making in their failing attempts to protect themselves. All of the light twitching of muscle that had been pushed to their brink. They could feel whumpee trying to breathe. Stuttering, wheezing, shaking.

With the gentle treatment, whumpee's body had a free moment to remember the fluid building up in their lungs. Whumpee tried to cough, and it was hell. A spray of red on the cement floor and their world went white. Their sobbing picked up enough to just be heard over the wheezing. But their body didn't take the hint, it just wanted to expel the collecting blood.

"I know, kid, I know." Caretaker soothed, holding them up with one arm and rooting through their medical supplies with the free hand. It stopped on the cool glass of the syringe and brought it out. Caretaker closed their teeth on the cap and tugged it off. "This'll help, just hold on for me." They forced the needle into whumpee's arm and pressed down the plunger, sending the clear liquid in, to work its magic.

As it took effect caretaker layed them back on the floor for assessment.

A gentle warmth slowly traveled through whumpee, pooling in places where the pain was heaviest, and making it hard to think. That was ok with whumpee though, they didn't want to think anymore. Not about the agony, not about the hopelessness, not about how they had almost said yes to whumper.

Whumpee felt a hand on their cheek, thumb carefully brushing away a new tear. They leaned into it, and whimpered. The only soft touch in weeks. "Evrything h-hurts." They whispered.

Caretaker felt their heart clench, but they kept it out of their voice, "I know, kid. I'm gonna fix it."

Caretaker started by investigating what was clearly going to be the biggest problem. The ribs. So they carefully drew up whumpee's shirt. Holy shit. What had whumper been thinking?!

Whumpee's skin was a galaxy of black and blue, with sick undertones of yellow and un-oxygenated red. When their chest rose it rose wrong, there were inconsistencies... dents, in the usual contours of the ribcage, and places that reshuffled themselves as they moved.

For a moment, Caretaker was paralyzed. This was such a mess. They weren't even sure how many ribs could be saved. They were going to have to open up and replace, and they barely even knew how to- caretaker shut down the spiral. They needed to think clearly... as clearly as they could.

First, the things they knew they could do. Drain the blood from the lungs and the air from the chest cavity. Then, they could worry about reconstruction. Because that's what this was going to require, if whumpee was going to live, much less live through another one of the doubtlessly impending beatings whumper or whumper 2 was going to give them the moment caretaker stepped away they needed to open-

Caretaker caught the spiral again, focusing back on their breathing, slowing it.

"It's bad-" They stopped for a few half breaths, blinking slowly, and looking up through half lidded eyes, "isn't it?"

Caretaker looked down at whumpee. They hadn't realized it had shown. They hadn't meant to let it slip. But they wouldn't lie, "Yeah, whumpee. It's bad."

"Am I- g-gonna?" They couldn't say it.

"No." Caretaker was sure this time, "Not if I can help it."

"I-its gonna h-urt though, i-isn't it?"

"Yes."

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #whumper #whump prompt #whump scenario #whump drabble #beating #tw broken bones #broken ribs #broken bones #bltz loves ribs #tw language

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