thewhumphut

[thewhumphut]

WoW Birthday Whump Day 9

Prompt: Aftermath of rescue / Sickness / “You’re burning up.” Additional Content: torture mentions

“I’ve got you. It’s okay. I’ve got you now.”

Whumpee whimpers softly, leaning heavily on Caretaker’s shoulder as the car makes a sharp turn. Caretaker holds them close, gently laying them down so their head rests in their lap. 

Whumpee looks awful. They were only with Whumper for a few days before Caretaker found them, but that was clearly enough time to do a lot of damage. They’re covered in deep purple bruises, their clothes tattered and bloodstained. The signs of torture are clear - straight, intentionally placed cuts on their thighs and cigarette burns on their palms. One of their eyes is swollen shut, and their nose is clearly broken.

Sighing, Caretaker brushes Whumpee’s hair from their forehead. Their skin is unnaturally hot under Caretaker’s touch. “Shit,” they murmur. “You’re burning up.”

“Don’t feel good,” Whumpee groans, their body twisting awkwardly like they’re trying to get up.

Caretaker stops them with a firm hand, laying them back down. “Don’t move, Whumpee. I’ve got you. We’re going to the hospital right now, okay? You’ll feel better soon.”

Whumpee doesn’t seem too convinced. “It hurts. Everything hurts.” Hot tears leak from their eyes, making streaks in the dirt caked on their cheeks. 

“I know. I’m sorry. We’re almost there.”

[thewhumphut]

A whumpee with a fever that just won't come down.

The caretaker is besides themselves with worry. They've tried everything. Ice packs, uncomfortably cool sponge baths, medication. Whumpee's temperature just refuses to go down, as they whimper in pain, shivering miserably.

Caretaker strokes their hair sadly.

"If your fever doesn't go down soon, I'll have to take you to the hospital. It' way too high and nothing seems to work."

Whumpee's eyes fill with delirious tears. They don't want to go to the hospital. They want to ride this out in the comfort of their own home, with caretaker, not in a cold, lonely hospital room.

[thewhumphut]

if you can, and no pressure if not, but i needed to request a little blorbo idea. but i had this idea that whumpee is poisoned by whumper but doesn’t know, as whumper was someone the entire team trusted. caretaker, who is a medic, is checking up on whumpee who presumably just has a fever, only to notice potent delirium and confusion, blown out pupils, excess sweating, tremors, and weakness.

content: sickfic, poisoning, betrayal

It was supposed to be a little check-up. Routine. Give Whumpee some medication, check their fever, all that; but Whumpee was sick as a dog and Caretaker was quickly realising that these symptoms were not just a common cold.

“Whumpee?” They stared into those dilated pupils and knew something was severely wrong. “Whumpee, can you hear me?”

“‘m not feeling good…”

“I can see that. Whumpee, can you focus on me? Look at me.”

Whumpee’s head lolled to the side, their eyes fluttering closed. They were drenched in sweat, shaking, unable to even hold eye contact for more than two seconds. This wasn’t good.

“Whumpee, listen to me. Did you eat anything strange in the past few days? Accepted a drink from strangers? Anything where you could’ve gotten drugged or poisoned?”

“‘m sleepy… ‘m gonna… sleep a bit…”

Caretaker lightly patted them on the cheek to try to keep them awake, barely succeeding. “Whumpee, listen to me. Did you accept any food or drinks from anyone outside of the team?”

Whumpee blinked once, twice, slow as an affectionate cat. “No.”

Caretaker furrowed their brows. But these were symptoms of drug abuse, or poison.

Suddenly, a horrible feeling crept into their body, up their spine and settling in their throat. “Did you accept food or drinks from anyone on the team? Did anyone offer to make you lunch or dinner?”

Whumpee rubbed their face against the pillow. “Huh?”

“Did you accept food or drinks from anyone on the team, Whumpee?”

“I dunno… Can’t remember…”

Caretaker swallowed. “Okay. We’ll take care of whatever’s going on with you, and then… then we’ll figure out this situation. We’ll deal with it later.”

[thewhumphut]

Concussed Oliver (part 2)

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The air in the waiting room felt tense.

Keiko was there before the girls had even gotten Oliver there. About twenty minutes after that, Jordan had the mind to call Isaac and tell him what had happened. The blonde was there in a flash, looking distraught.

None of them were saying anything. Eliana had an arm around Jordan’s shoulders, her lips pressed to the black-haired girl’s temple. Birdie had no fidget toy, so she’d started cracking her neck and picking at the skin on her hands to the point where she’d broke skin and was bleeding a bit, and Spirit had to find a pen for Birdie to click so she’s stop picking her hands.

Keiko was holding Amberlynn’s hand while Amberlynn just stared off at nothing. And Isaac just wouldn’t stop bouncing his foot while his heart raced.

“Oliver Brown?” a doctor said, coming into the waiting room. Eagerly, all of them stood and looked at the man.

“He’s fine,” the doctor said, and all of them sagged in relief. “Tests prove that it’s a mild concussion. He’s resting now. Have you contacted his family?”

“I called his parents,” Keiko answered. “They didn’t pick up, but I left voicemails and texts.”

“Can we see him?” Isaac asked, a bit of impatience in his voice.

The doctor opened a small sympathetic smile. “I can take you to his room now.”

— — —

There was a weird smell in the air when Oliver woke up. It smelled like bleach, and Oliver hated that scent. It just wasn’t pleasant.

There was a pulsing pain in his head, but not as bad as he remembered it being earlier. Still, his head felt like it was spinning.

When he squinted his eyes open a bit, getting the world into focus, Oliver first noticed that the room was dim but not pitch black. He then noticed that he wasn’t alone.

There was a small sofa in the corner of his room, and a chair beside it. Amberlynn and Keiko were curled up on the chair, and somehow, Eliana, Jordan and Birdie were all squished together on the couch. All of them were sleeping.

Spirit was sitting on the floor, on her phone. And Isaac was on a wheely chair by his bedside, asleep with his arms and head on the bed and holding Oliver’s hand in his.

Blinking a few times, he squeezed Isaac’s hand a bit. The little pressure made the blonde stir and lift his head a bit, blinking sleepily before he realized Oliver was looking at him. Suddenly, the blonde’s eyes widened and he whispered, “Olive?”

Oliver squeezed his hand again, smiling tiredly a bit. “Hi,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse and sore.

Isaac smiled back, looking relieved, and squeezed Oliver’s hand back.

“Hey, Oliver,” Spirit said from where she was sitting, having heard Isaac and Oliver whispering and realizing he was awake. She stood from where she was sitting and went to the opposite side of the bed from where Isaac was. “You gave us quite the goddamn scare.”

Oliver’s smile faltered slightly. “I’m sor—”

He was cut off by Spirit hugging him.

“How long was I out?” Oliver asked when Spirit pulled away, looking between her and the blonde.

“Since, like, five-thirty in the morning,” Spirit said with a shrug. "It’s almost 1pm. That’s why everyone’s asleep.”

“How the hell did you bump your head?” Isaac asked, shaking his head. “You guys were having a sleepover, and none of the girls knew how you rattled your damn brain. So, what happened?”

Oliver said nothing for a second. Then, his cheeks turned five shades redder, looking embarrassed. “I. . . I was dancing to the music that was playing while I took my shower, and I slipped and hit my head on the wall. I didn’t say anything ‘cause. . . yeah.”

Spirit raised a brow. “You were embarrassed about that? Oliver, Isaac is the moron who stood on a cafeteria table in middle school and screamed ‘food fight’, only to get no reaction from anyone. Slipping in the shower is nowhere near as embarrassing as that.”

Isaac shot a glare at Spirit. “Are you ever gonna let that go?”

“Never.”

Oliver chuckled a bit, only to wince when the bit of laughter made his head throb a bit.

“I’ll go find your parents and tell them you’re awake,” Spirit said to Oliver, and the boy’s eyes widened.

“My parents are here?!Why?!”

Isaac scoffed. “Because you busted your head. Duh.”

Spirit squeezed Oliver’s shoulder before walking to the door and leaving. With everyone else in the room still sleeping, it really felt like it was just Oliver and Isaac.

“You feeling alright right now?” Isaac asked. He was still holding Oliver’s hand.

“Yeah,” Oliver sighed, sinking back against his pillow. “My head hurts like hell and I’m wearing a paper gown instead of pants, but I’m fine.”

Isaac wheeled his chair to the side a bit so he was closer to Oliver’s head. Still holding Oliver’s hand with one hand, Isaac used his other to brush Oliver’s hair away from his face. He chuckled, looking at the wall. “Dancing in the shower,” he chuckled. “You’re in the hospital because you danced in the fucking shower!” Isaac began to laugh quietly, shoulders shaking.

Oliver flushed a bit, still slightly embarrassed, but then he also began to laugh quietly.

When their little quiet fit of laughter was over, Isaac squeezed Oliver’s hand again. “Next time, maybe take a bath,” he whispered.

Oliver squeezed back. “Yeah, I think I will. I don’t wanna ruin another sleepover by having to be driven to the hospital in the middle of the night.”

Isaac’s humorous look became slightly softer, and he bent down, hugging Oliver and not letting go. “I’m happy you’re fine.”

Oliver sighed, pressing his temple to Isaac’s. Then he chuckled and whispered, “Hell yeah, I’m fine. There’s no way dancing to fucking Grouplove was gonna be how I go out.”

[thewhumphut]

Can I please request a concussion story. A bad concussion and a character that just refuses to go to the hospital even though they feel and are soooo sick:)

This took a lil longer than I thought it would🥲.

!emeto warning!

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“Who brought chips?” Eliana asked, shouting so everyone who was scattered around Jordan’s apartment could hear.

“Not me,” Birdie said from across Jordan’s huge living room. “I brought the cookies.”

“I brought the charcuterie board,” Amberlynn shouted from Jordan’s guest room where she was collecting all the pillows and blankets she could. “I brought facemasks, too, by the way.”

“I think Oliver’s bringing chips,” Jordan said, hugging El from behind and kissing her cheek. “But if he’s not, we’re screwed.”

Spirit was in the kitchen, music blaring on her headphones and chopping tomatoes and basil. She was the only one who hadn’t brought anything since they’d all agreed to put her in charge of cooking. The apartment smelled incredible, filled with the scent of the five small pizzas she was making, one for each of them. Except one for Birdie who hated pizza, and Spirit was making pasta for her.

Amberlynn came out of the guest bedroom, carrying a mountain of pillows and blankets to the couch that she couldn’t even see. She was going in the wrong direction, towards the kitchen, and Birdie laughed as she helped to guide the poor girl.

Suddenly, the front door opened and Oliver came in, a few grocery bags in hand. “Hey,” he said, smiling as he went to the kitchen with the bags.

“Did you bring chips?” Eliana asked, walking over to her phone on the coffee table so she could put on some music.

“Yeah,” Oliver answered.

Eliana let out a dramatic sigh, loudly groaning, “Thank God!”

Oliver chuckled. “I’ve got Salt & Vinegar, Cheetos, kettle chips, Doritos, and tortilla chips with salsa.”

Spirit, for the first time since she started cooking, lifted one of her headphones to focus on Oliver. “You brought salsa?” she asked, and Birdie cackled because of all things, it was salsa that got Spirit’s attention.

All the chips were put into bowls, the salsa in a little dip dish, the cookies on a plate, and all of the stuff was put on Jordan’s coffee table along with the charcuterie board. Spirit took the pizzas out of the oven to cool, and the fun began.

Jordan had a hoard of boardgames—they were kind of an obsession of hers—and they played one after the other. Jordan won Monopoly. Spirit won Trouble. The game UNO became intense, and Amberlynn won that one. As for Birdie, she won everything else—Clue, Connect 4, Guess Who, etc…

Oliver and Eliana won nothing, but Eliana was fine with that since she was having fun styling and un-styling her girlfriend’s hair over and over, and Oliver was enjoying himself too much to care about winning or losing.

When they ate the pizzas that Spirit made—and Birdie ate her pasta—they put on The Devil Wears Prada and watched that until the movie ended around midnight.

Facemasks came after that, and all six of them took selfies in the bathroom mirror.

For over an hour, they all just talked about whatever they could think of. Spirit ate more than half of the tortilla chips with salsa—mainly because it was the hot kind of salsa and not the mild kind—and Amberlynn suggested that they should make hot chocolate, even though she ate the most out of all of them.

By two in the morning, Jordan had literally fallen asleep on the living room rug, and instead of waking her up to move her, Eliana just threw a blanket on top of the girl.

“Can I shower first?” Oliver asked, holding his PJs that he’d quickly gotten from his car.

“Go ahead,” Eliana said, focused on painting an elaborate starry design on Amberlynn’s nails.

“Fine with me,” Spirit said, watching Demon Slayer on her phone while Birdie began to also doze off with her head on Spirit’s lap.

Oliver went to the bathroom and grabbed a towel from a closet on his way there.

The music in the living room was still playing. He was quietly singing along to Light Switch by Charlie Puth—the song currently playing—as he stepped into the shower. Jordan had a habit of taking all of the tiny shampoos, conditioners and mini-soaps from hotels, so Oliver was using some of those.

The song in the living room changed, and suddenly TongueTied by Grouplove was playing, and Oliver couldn’t help but bounce on his heels a bit to the beat of the song while mouthing along to the lyrics.

He quickly regretted that decision when, suddenly, he slipped because of the soapy water and fell back, too quick for him to even react. He didn’t even yelp, but he did grunt when his head hit the wall, hard.

He opened his eyes, blinking heavily, and then closed them again. After five minutes or so, he opened them again, confused for a second. There was a ringing in his ears, and he felt dizzy.

He sat up, groaning and planting a hand on the back of his head, massaging the sore spot there. The hot water still rushing over him made the spot sting a bit.

He stayed sitting for a second before he felt steady enough to stand and get out of the shower. He got in his PJs, and left the bathroom, the back of his head still throbbing.

No one mentioned hearing any kind of thud from the bathroom, and Oliver realized they must not have heard it with the music still playing, and he was thankful because he honestly felt a little embarrassed about it.

Birdie was zonked out on the couch, so Spirit showered next. Then El, and then Amber.

Later, Eliana and Amberlynn were playing a round of Connect 4 by themselves, and Spirit was still watching anime when Oliver suddenly felt really exhausted.

He grabbed one of the many pillows and blankets, curled up on a sofa chair, and fell asleep.

— — —

At four in the morning, Oliver woke up with his head pounding. Not just hurting like a headache, but absolutely throbbing!

He groaned, pressing a hand to his temple as he blinked dizzily, trying to remember where he was. Suddenly, he noticed that in the dark room, Spirit was still awake on the couch, on her phone with her headphones on. Everyone else was asleep now.

Oliver uncurled, on the sofa chair, resting his elbows on his knees and clutching his head in his hands. He could feel saliva pooling in his mouth. The floor was swaying beneath him—

“Oliver?”

The voice was too loud.

“You okay?” Spirit asked, her voice actually pretty quiet since everyone else was asleep.

Oliver looked up at her tiredly. “I’m fine,” he whispered, yawning and then wincing when that caused a spike of pain in his head. Then he asked her, “Why’re you still awake?”

She stayed quiet, saying nothing for a minute before shrugging and saying, “Not tired.”

Oliver was in too much pain to notice if there was something off about Spirit’s answer.

Dizzily, he halfheartedly mumbled something about going to the bathroom and stood, only to immediately sway on his feet and almost fall back down. His head felt detached from his body and all too heavy at the same time. . . if that made any sense at all?

Spirit noticed his slight stumble and looked up from her phone, taking out her headphones. She watched as Oliver stumbled weirdly over to the bathroom. But maybe he was just still half-asleep?

Spirit was about to put her headphones back on when she heard Oliver let out a pained yell that startled her. “Oliver?” she asked, her alarmed voice loud enough to have the others stir and to have Birdie groan and blink awake.

Birdie rubbed her eyes and mumbled, “Spirit, why’re you awake?”

Spirit didn’t answer, standing and all but jogging over to the bathroom. The door was open, the light was on, and Oliver wasn’t even all the way inside, curled up on his knees in the doorway with his eyes squeezed shut and his hands clutching his head, fingers pulling at his hair.

“Shit,” Spirit cursed, crouching beside him and putting a hand on his back. “Oliver, what’s wrong?” She wasn’t whispering, and the loudness of her voice caused Oliver to whimper and making his face screw with pain. Tears even began to roll from his eyes, and Spirit had no idea what to do.

Just as she was about to go wake up the others, Oliver gagged, and the force was enough to make the pain double in his head.

“Crap. Okay, let’s go to the toilet,” Spirit said, softening her voice to try and sound comforting, not because she realized that she was being too loud earlier. “Just a few steps.”

Oliver groaned as Spirit made him stand up, taking on almost all of his weight, and brought him over to the toilet.

He hovered over it, eyes still squeezed shut in agony. “Thh’lit,” he murmured quietly, and Spirit had to lean forward a bit to hear him try again and mumble, “The light. . . h-hurts.”

Eyes widening, Spirit stood and quickly turned the lights off. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, and she crouched beside Oliver again. “What’s going on? Is this a migraine or something?” Oliver didn’t get migraines though. Right?

His eyes were still closed, but not squeezed shut so tightly anymore. He didn’t answer though, and he gagged before bringing up a stream of half-digested puke into the toilet, sobbing from the pain that the force of puking brought to his skull.

Spirit’s eyes widened even more. “Shit. Why are you crying, Oliver? What’s wrong?” Spirit wasn’t a soft person, but Oliver was literally the sweetest person alive, and seeing him crying and in pain brought out this very very rare side of Spirit.

“Head. . . hurrrts,” he groaned before gagging again.

“Spirit? What’s going on?”

Spirit turned her head and saw Birdie standing in the doorway, looking confused and stunned.

“Bird,” Spirit, sighed, sounding relieved. “Something’s wrong with Oliver. Wake the others up, and then call Keiko. I don’t know what—”

Suddenly, Oliver threw up again. The sound of liquid hitting liquid made Birdie gag, and Spirit whisper-yelled, “Go!”

Birdie went back to the living room, and Oliver groaned, coughing and spitting up a small stream of bile.

Suddenly, Amberlynn and Eliana came to the bathroom, and Spirit heard Jordan on the phone in the living room.

“What’s going on?” Amberlynn asked, crouching down next to Spirit. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Spirit said, rubbing Oliver’s back. “I was awake and he went to the bathroom, and he says that his head—”

Spirit was cut off when Eliana suddenly turned on the lights and the sudden brightness made Oliver cry out in pain, once again clutching his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Turn off the fucking light!” Spirit whisper-yelled at Eliana, and the girl quickly shut the light back off, whispering, “sorry sorry sorry!”

Oliver threw up again, chocking on his sick a bit and Spirit thumped his back lightly to help.

“His head hurts,” Spirit said. “I don’t know why though. He doesn’t get migraines, right?”

“I don’t think so,” Amberlynn said, reaching a hand forward to cup Oliver’s forehead. He didn’t have a fever.

Oliver groaned, spitting into the toilet and murmuring, “I don’ffffeel good.”

Jordan came to the bathroom then, her phone still pressed to her ear. “Keiko’s on his way. He asked what’s wrong with him.” Her voice was alarmed and too loud, and Oliver let out a whine, wincing.

“Lower your voice,” Amberlynn said, her voice soft. “He has a headache and he’s throwing up a lot.”

Spirit looked away from Oliver, focusing on Jordan. “Tell Kei that Oliver’s sensitive to light and loud sounds. He’s in a lot of pain.”

Jordan repeated the words to her brother, her voice now quieter. After a second, Jordan said to Spirit, “Kei says to feel through his hair to check if there’s some kind of bump or something.”

Check for a concussion? Spirit was a bit unsure that a concussion would be the case, but she began gently feeling through Oliver’s hair anyway. Lo and behold, she felt a bump on the back of his scalp that made him grimace and whimper when she touched it.

“Shit,” she sighed. “Kei’s right. I think he’s concussed.”

El’s and Amberlynn’s eyes both widened.

“How the hell did he get concussed?” El asked, looking shocked. “He was fine earlier.”

“I don’t know, but that’s not important right now.” Spirit squeezed Oliver’s shoulder. “Are you done?” she asked in a voice that shocked the other girls in the bathroom. Spirit noticed their surprise and her cheeks flushed a bit with embarrassment, but she ignored them and focused on Oliver.

He spat one more time in the toilet before nodding.

“Okay.” Spirit looked at Amberlynn. “Help me get him up.”

Jordan was still talking to Keiko on the phone while they half-dragged Oliver out of the bathroom.

Birdie—not wanting to deal with the puking—had instead helped by bringing some pillows and blankets back to the guest room and setting it up for them to bring Oliver there.

By the time Oliver was lying on the bed, he was almost completely out of it because of the pain.

“Should we take him to the hospital?” Birdie whispered from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling the blankets up to Oliver’s chin and gently rubbing a hand on his forehead. Birdie had naturally cold hands, and her cool skin was a comforting feeling to Oliver.

“Maybe,” Eliana shrugged, sounding unsure.

Oliver frowned. “I don’need a ‘sspital. I’mfffine.”

Spirit scoffed at his slurred disagreement, and Jordan repeated Birdie’s question to Keiko. After a second, she said, “Keiko says that taking him to the hospital would be the best idea. He’ll meet us there.”

“Noooo,” Oliver whined, shifting on the bed. “Mmmm’fine. I’m okay. Jusss’ a lil’dizzy.”

Amberlynn frowned at him. “Oliver, you can barely speak.” She looked at the others. “Should we call an ambulance, or should we just drive him there?”

“I can drive,” Spirit said, leaving the room to grab her keys.

Oliver was pouting while blinking dizzily at his friends. Despite the fact that the world felt like it was spinning and his head was pounding, he didn’t want to go to the hospital. Not for any particular reason other than he just didn’t want to. “I don’nneed t’go to the ‘spital.”

Amberlynn and Jordan got shoes and a jacket on Oliver before trying to get him on his feet again.

He whined as soon as he was upright, knees buckling and almost taking the girls down. His feet were nearly dragging as they took him out of the apartment.

When they got out to the parking lot, Spirit had gotten her car and pulled it up so they didn’t have to walk far.

“Get him lying down in the back,” Spirit instructed. “We can’t all fit in my car. “Jor, you come with us. The rest of you, follow in Amberlynn’s car.”

Spirit’s tone had all of them listening. Once Oliver was in the back seat, Jordan got in the passenger side with Keiko still on the phone. The rest of the girls went straight to Amberlynn’s car since Birdie had grabbed all of their phones, wallets and keys beforehand.

Spirit was a fast but safe driver, and made sure they were going quick while being smooth enough to not rattle Oliver in the back seat.

Jordan looked at Spirit and noticed her grip on the wheel was so tight that her knuckles were pale. “Hey,” Jordan whispered, making Spirit jump slightly; a show of how tense she was. “Everything’s fine,” Jordan assured her.

Spirit nodded, letting out a deep breath. “So much for sleepover night,” she grumbled.

Jordan let out her own sigh before whispering, this time more for her own sake than Spirit’s, “Everything’s fine.”

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Part 2?????

[thewhumphut]

Me checking my blog repeatedly seeing if I reblogged any new posts like I’m looking for something to eat from the fridge

#whump

[thewhumphut]

24. Bedridden or 66. Bedside Manner, with comfort/caretaking from the team? Leon's gonna need it... (can be a continuation of something else, or a standalone, up to you)

He definitely does 😭 (For this prompt list)

Bedridden/Bedside Manner

"Fuck," Leon hisses weakly, arching backwards into Piers' arms as Jill tears yet another of the barbed spikes free of his thigh, the sound coming out closer to a sob. His breaths come harsh in his chest, one hand squeezing Chris's meaty palm in a death grip where he's decided to lean into Leon's space from the edge of the dusty bed, the other clawing into Piers' arm where it's been wrapped securely over Leon's chest. He shudders, sweat dripping down a temple.

"One more," Jill says grimly, to which Piers subtly tightens his hold. She doesn't give Leon a chance to prepare himself, cutting deep into his leg and yanking the final spike out in a gout of fresh blood. Leon can only gasp, spasming.

"Got--got anything for the poison, yet?" he slurs, feeling the burn of it through his veins now that the overwhelming source of pain has dulled. He thinks someone responds, but then Jill clamps down hard on his leg to provide pressure and Leon can't stop himself from passing out entirely.

He comes to with a cough, blinking blearily at the sensation of a cool cloth against his forehead, a callused thumb so large it can only belong to Chris sliding gently beneath his eye to collect the tears that have fallen there. He's still slumped against Piers' solid body, shivering weakly despite the warmth his fiancé provides. Leon moans.

"Shh," Chris soothes from Leon's left, Piers' hand smoothing over his hair as he shudders involuntarily. "We've got you."

Another, smaller hand is propped under his knee to hold it up, white gauze and bloodstained bandages visible in his blurry vision when he glances down. He winces as Jill pulls the top layer tight, bare thigh pale where it sticks out from beneath the thin blanket thrown haphazardly over his legs. He's still wearing his jacket, the distant growl of BOWs audible outside of the shack they've crawled into for shelter.

"Piers," Leon croaks as Jill finishes what she'd been doing and gently tucks his injured leg under the blanket, pulling it up until the top edge is aligned with the neckline of his t-shirt. "P-Piers--"

"It's okay. I'm here," Piers murmurs in a low voice, holding Leon tightly when his body spasms for what feels like the hundredth time.

"Piers..."

He can't remember what he'd been about to say. Chris's hand slides back into his, squeezing as Leon's eyelids flutter. He stays like that for a moment, trembling--until Piers is helping him slightly more upright, the metal edge of a canteen meeting his lips. The water is cool and soothing enough that Leon can reopen his eyes, Jill's solemn face meeting his where she holds the canteen on its side. Chris is beside her, looking worried, but Leon doesn't have the strength to comfort either of them. He's starting to feel a little sick, if he's honest, the full weight of whatever had been in those spikes wreaking havoc on his system.

"Thanks, nurse Valentine," he rasps when Jill pulls away, mainly in an attempt to lighten the mood. If anything, it makes the lines on Chris's forehead even more pronounced, voice lacking in enough conviction to play off his condition. He sighs. "We should--keep moving."

"Absolutely not." Piers is firm, then softens. "There's no way you can stand without help, and we have no idea what the toxin might do to you. Just rest."

"He's right," Chris says softly, voice too gentle. His brown eyes are wide and watery when Leon manages to look, a forced smile on his face like he's trying to convince himself that it's real. Jill pats Leon's uninjured shin.

"Sleep it off, Kennedy," she says roughly but not unkindly as she sits down in a chair near his feet, in typical Jill fashion. As if following the order, Leon's muscles suddenly relax, the cottony haze in his mind becoming more pronounced as he sags into Piers' arms. He whimpers. Spasms.

"It's okay," Piers whispers, voice cracking. Leon doesn't have the energy to ask why. He reaches up blindly, hand getting caught in the blanket until he can free it to brush his fingers against Piers' jaw.

Unconsciousness takes him.

[thewhumphut]

Writing Prompt 116

A high hero, drugged either by an enemy or by choice, stumbling into the villain's hq looking for their parent, Supervillain.

[thewhumphut]

Whumpril 2024 - Day 2 - Sweat

Some sheep spot a lone lamb in distress

TWs: collapse, illness

Sweat rolled down Mariano’s face as he readjusted the bundles of wood over his shoulders. The village they were staying in had been attacked just days before–he wasn’t feeling up to helping rebuild, but no one really was. Everyone was hurt. Everyone was sick. The mages who had swarmed had been crafty and wicked. 

Only Mariano’s previous training had kept him on his feet during the fight after he’d been hit by one of their curses. Even with a fresh fever roaring through him, he’d sent them off with fresh, blackened burns and visions of white pact rings glowing in the dusk and smoke. They'd won, even if the victory didn't feel sweet.

That morning, Bastian had flown out to help gather supplies. A few of the villagers rode on his back clutching fabric and containers for food and water, anything to sustain them while they figure out the full extent of the damage. Mariano’s current job was to help secure some sheep for one of the farmers.

Mariano stumbled as he made it to the field where the sheep were kept, only just managing to stay on his feet. The fluffy, still-skittish animals eyed him as he carefully lowered the bundles of wood to the grass. Their fencing had been destroyed, and they were almost done repairing it. This was the last of the supplies that they’d need.

He wiped at his forehead, breath coming even more shallowly than it had only hours earlier. “Maybe…I need to loosen my bindings.” He muttered to himself, reaching beneath his shirt to give himself more room to breathe. It didn't help, so he turned to go find the farmer and move on to the next step of the fencing, unable to remember the preferred knot to secure the fence together.

Mariano didn’t get very far. His knees gave out and he crumpled, hitting the soft, sun-warmed grass hard. He blinked, whining as he unsuccessfully tried to get his hands up under himself. He just couldn’t get his arms to move. They felt like lead, his leather gloves seeming to weigh as much as Bastian. He couldn’t even get to his knees, not with how heavy his boots felt.

The sun beat down on him, soaking into his hair, into his skin, warming him further. It was like it was trying to outdo the lingering curse. He needed water. He needed shade. He wasn't going to get either on his own.

Sweat rolled down Mariano’s face as the sun traveled along its leisurely arc. It dripped down his hairline as the sheep grew curious. It rolled along the bridge of his nose as they laid down around him, nosing at his shoulders and hair and face.

That was how one of the villagers found him, hours later. He lay half curled in the grass, surrounded by sheep, sun-flushed and only half-aware. The sheep never scattered as they approached–all eyes fixed on them as they ran forward.

The sheep stayed nearby instead, as calm as if Mariano were a hurt part of the flock that needed tending. Odd, the villager thought as they tried to rouse the Kingslayer, starting to drip water between his lips. The sheep weren’t ever this calm around strangers. 

@bxtterflykxisses @whumperofworlds @honeybees-125 @inscrutable-shadow

[thewhumphut]

I’m a sucker for whumpees who go too far in an attempt to be strong or useful and then end up hurting themselves. I have always had this scenario in my head where there’s some sort of apocalypse and Whumpee is sort of the “physically weak” one of the encampment. They are so frustrated at their lack of being useful that they attempt to prove themselves by doing something very rash, like going on their own to prove they can take care of themselves, or physically training too hard. They fall ill, they get lost all alone, they break a bone, etc. and it’s someone from the camp who finds them and saves them. Whumpee is absolutely devastated that they would become such a burden because of their own insecurity, but Caretaker shows them that they ARE useful, maybe Whumpee is super intuitive, knows how to cook or forage, is a positive light to the others in a time of darkness.

[thewhumphut]

Whumpee who was human before Whumper thought it'd be fun to give them wings is learning how to properly care for them from a winged Caretaker (complete stranger to Whumpee) early post-captivity Whumpee still isn't used to having big ol' bird wings, so it makes the feeling all the more unsettling and adds even more difficulty for Caretaker who's really just trying their best bonus if Caretaker pulls a feather and Whumpee just fucking Spooks

content: nonhuman whumpee, winged whumpee, comfort, rocky recovery, noncon bodymod aftermath

Whumpee sat on the edge of the bed, uncomfortable with how close this… stranger was as they helped tend to their new wings. Caretaker was nice and all, but really, that was all they were. A stranger. A winged stranger, a helpful stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.

“It’s hard to care for wings on your own,” Caretaker said, sounding nervous. They were likely just trying to fill the silence. “It’s much easier when you have someone else to help prune, and… stuff like that.”

“Mhm.”

They weren’t going to entertain this. They were still processing the fact that they had wings, they didn’t want to make smalltalk.

“But it’s important to care for them. Uh… Maybe I could help out regularly. If you wanted.”

“I’d rather learn to care for them myself,” they said defensively.

Caretaker paused for a moment. “But I just said—”

“You said it was inconvenient to care for them on my own. Not that it was impossible.”

Caretaker worked in silence for a while. “I see. Well… It’s, it’s really not ideal, but I suppose—”

Whumpee felt a tug on one of their feathers and they jumped, spinning around to see Caretaker with both their hands up in the air to show they didn’t mean any harm. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Whumpee folded their wings protectively (and to avoid knocking over anything behind them — they weren’t yet used to how much space they took up), glaring at Caretaker. “I’ll just take care of this myself, thanks.”

They turned on their heel and stormed out.

[thewhumphut]

Prompt #51

Since captured, Villain hasn't left his cell at all, not even when "yard time". Hero usually is stalking around the prison to gather information from the inmates' conversations. So, one day while hidden in the shadows, he hears two cellmates comment about Villain's late behavior.

Feeling a little bit responsible, that very same night Hero decides to visit Villain's cell for a wellness check. Villain has always struggled with his mental health, so Hero ends up, as weirdly as it sounds, acting as his guardian.

[thewhumphut]

five sentence fic —extreme delirium

Caretaker placed the cold, wet cloth on Whumpee's forehead, trying not to panic at the way every breath they drew was little more than a wheeze.

"Mommy?" Whumpee rasped, and Caretaker's heart shattered further; Whumpee's mother had passed more than two years ago. "Mommy, I don't feel good..."

"I know, sweetheart," Caretaker said softly, gently caressing their feverish cheeks. They desperately hoped tomorrow would be a better day for both of them.

[thewhumphut]

Whumpril Prompt #20

Touch Starved

TW:

Whumpee was alone.

Whumpee was nearly always alone now. Before, they had a life. They had friends. They even had a lover. But now, they were alone.

Unfortunately, there were times when they were not alone. It is unfortunate because the only times whumpee is not alone is when whumper is with them, and that is worse.

Whumper is a torturer. For fun. Who does that?

Whumper does the normal torture things, like cutting, and burning, and all the typical stuff. But their favorite is psychological torture. Whumpee is learning that the hard way.

In all the time that whumper has had whumpee, they have never touched, skin on skin. Whumper has always had a pole, or a whip, or something else similar. If they had to touch, whumper would wear thick, cold gloves.

And whumper never spoke. Whumpee found that out the hard way too. Speaking is not allowed. If whumpee speaks, they don’t get food for a week, and they are left in solitary. This happened so often in the beginning that when whumper finally came to let them out, whumpers face was like a terrible angel. Whumpee had never been so glad to see someone they hated so much.

All of this meant that when caretaker finally found whumpee, they didn’t believe it.

Whumpees door creaked open, and they looked blearily up from the floor. The light was bright behind the person, and all they could see was a silhouette.

The shadow walked slowly towards them, and their eyes adjusted to the light. This was not whumper.

Whumpee shrunk back into the corner, desperately afraid. They hadn’t seen someone other than whumper since before they were taken. They must be dead.

“Hey there,” the shadow said. Their voice was loud and grated against Whumpees ears. “I’m caretaker, what’s your name?”

Whumpee shook their head, eyes wide and frightened.

“That’s ok, you don’t have to tell me. Is it alright if I sit next to you?” Caretaker advanced.

Whumpee shrunk even further back, but caretaker was undeterred. They plopped down right in front of them, criss-cross-applesauce.

“I need to ask you some questions, but it’s ok if you don’t want to talk. Just nod yes or no, ok?” Caretaker assured.

Whumpee nodded.

“Have you been here a long time?”

Whumpee nodded.

“Have you been hurt?”

Whumpee nodded.

“Can we help you get out of here?”

Whumpee started. Get out of here? What do they mean, get out of here? That’s impossible. They tried. But… maybe these people knew how to? Speaking of that, how did caretaker even get in here in the first place? Who are these people? Maybe they aren’t with whumper after all; maybe they really do want to help them!

Whumpee slowly nodded. Caretaker smiled.

“Lovely. Can you stand?”

Whumpee shook their head. They hadn’t been able to stand up since whumper broke both of their legs.

“That’s ok, I can help you. Can I help you?” Caretaker was being awfully nice.

Whumpee nodded, and caretaker leaned over and took their hand.

Oh my. Caretaker was holding their hand. It was warm, and soft, and inviting. Whumpee was going to be sick. They pulled their hand back swiftly as if it had been burned, and cradled it to their chest.

“Oh, are you alright? Did I hurt you?” Caretaker was worried. For whumpee. Caretaker took their hand. And it felt good.

What was whumper going to do? Would they put them in solitary for weeks? Months? How much food would they get? Touching is definitely not allowed.

But before whumpee could keep stressing, they felt strong arms wrap around them.

Whumpee immediately tensed, freaking out. But it was so warm, and comforting, and soft.

Whumpee couldn’t do anything but melt into the feeling and allow caretaker to gently lift them up off the ground and carry them away.

[thewhumphut]

The team sends one of the newer, younger ones out on a simple mission. However, just an hour after they've set off, the weather takes an unexpected turn for the worst. As the snow piles up, the team debates on whether or not to go and find them. Some say that this is just part of what it takes to be on this team, and others say that they're too inexperienced to handle a mission in a raging winter storm.

As more time is wasted, the snow falls faster.

Eventually, a small search party lead by the team leader is formed to find their missing teammate. Hours go by with no such teammate in sight. They start losing hope, until someone notices a tiny dot in the distance of the vast, snow-covered field they're in. It takes them a second to realize what it is. Then they run as fast as they can, the dot growing bigger.

It's their teammate, curled up into a tiny little ball, shivering violently, half-submerged under over two feet of snow. Everyone is more than relieved to have finally found them, but also incredibly worried about what's to come.

[thewhumphut]

Hello once again, Meraki! I hope you’re doing well :)

If you’ll be in a writing mood this week… do you mind continuing the Experiment story? It would be great to see more caretaker comforting poor scientist :)

Also, no pressure! It’s absolutely fine if you don’t want to!

Welcome back! I accidentally stayed up 2 hours past my bedtime to write this. Oops!

Experiment: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

-----------*-***-*-----------

“Please, don’t pass out again. If you pass out, I’m going to have to take you to the hospital. They don’t really like me there, so I’d rather not have to do that.” A voice sighed far too close to Whumpee. 

“No more.” Whumpee’s mouth felt thick. Their throat was so raw that every word was fire. “Please, don’t make me do it.”

“Talking! Hey, that’s great. Saying real words is great progress, but you don’t need to speak. It looks painful.” The person sounded further away. If Whumpee’s body weren’t shaking so badly, they probably would have relaxed with relief from the distance. 

“Okay. Okay, you’re still awake. Seem pretty aware.” The voice was approaching again. “Think you could try to open your eyes? I’ve got the blinds closed this time, so the Sun won’t shine in your eyes this time.”

The Sun. Whumpee had seen the Sun again. Their eyes shot open as they frantically searched for the covered window. It was there, a mere arm's length away. It existed. “The Sun. Please, let me… Let me see the Sun. Please. Please, I… Need. Please.” The window was so close, yet so far. If they could only summon the strength to lift their weak hand and move the blinds.

“Hey, now. Calm down. Lay still. I’ll, I’ll open it, but I have to… You can’t attack me again if I’m going to reach the window. You just… You know what? Okay. Just try to stay calm. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

A large hand pressed against Whumpee���s chest, pinning them to the bed. 

This was it. Whumpee didn’t have the strength to fight back. They could feel the weakness holding their body to the bed even without the restraining hand. They knew what that weakness meant in the face of punishment they couldn’t escape. Even if it was the end, Whumpee knew they couldn’t go down without a fight. 

All they could do was grab the person’s hand, but Whumpee was determined to make them feel the weight of the life they would take. The hand pressed slightly harder as Whumpee’s nails dug into their skin. Their vision was blurred to see much more than a body leaning over them, so they closed their eyes. It wasn’t much, but they felt a sort of pride in their defiance in the face of their death. 

A bright light shone through Whumpee’s eyelids. They could feel the new warmth despite the other person seemingly moving away. Without looking, Whumpee knew when they opened their eyes, they would see the Sun. 

It was sunset. Yellow, orange, pink, and purple danced across the scattered clouds visible through the window. Actual sunlight shone brightly in their eyes, moments away from disappearing below the horizon. It hurt, but they refused to close their eyes again in case when they opened them again, the window would be gone.

“I’m sorry. Let me fix that so it isn’t shining in your eyes,” the person said.

“No. Please. Don’t take it away.”

“I’m not closing the blinds. I just want to stop it from—”

“Please.”

“Yeah, alright.”

The kind person let them sit and watch until the sun had set and the last light of day barely lit the surrounding land. It was a beautiful sight. They had a vague memory of leaves falling from a tree before, but this time, they could see what lay outside the walls of the strange building they found themselves in. 

An apple orchard. Rows and rows of bright green trees with bright red apples decorating their branches. 

“I’ve got peaches, strawberries, and grapes too. You can try some later. Fresh fruit will do you some good.” This time, Whumpee let their head fall to the side as the stranger spoke. Their voice was soft, almost respectful. “I couldn’t find any ID on you. Can you tell me your name?” 

Whumpee frowned. They hadn’t been allowed to say their name since Whumper took them. For this person to ask for their real name, could it mean they were actually free? They hadn’t hurt them. They opened the window. 

They couldn’t take any chances. They had already been so disrespectful, fighting them and demanding they open the blinds on the window. “I am Whumpee. I have no name.”

“I have no idea what that means.” The person didn’t look angry. They even smiled as they pushed the hair from their face. “I don’t think you remember, so I’m Caretaker. I’m a farmer. My fruits are the best in the country! I’ll prove it to you if you’re hungry. If I leave you alone, are you going to try to run away?”

It was real. They were free. Whumper had no reason to keep pretending. Even if it was fake, Whumpee was going to take advantage of the kindness for as long as they could. “I’m allowed to eat? Please, I’m so hungry.”

Caretaker grinned. “Yeah, sure! Just wait here for a second. I’m gonna go get some.” 

A shock of fear burned through Scientist. No, Whumpee. They weren’t supposed to even think that name. But… if they were free… It didn’t matter. Caretaker was leaving them alone. They couldn’t bear to have the first friendly person in so long leave them so soon. “Don’t go! I don’t want to be alone.”

“Hey! Okay! Okay. I won’t go. It’s okay. You’re safe here.” Caretaker pulled a chair closer to Whumpee’s bed. “Why don’t you want me to go?” 

It was irrational. To feel such a strong attachment to the first person to treat Scientist like a human being instead of some sort of incompetent healing drug factory. Especially someone who was likely to betray them if Whumpee told them what they had done. It had always been a weakness of theirs. Scientist trusted everyone. It seemed that being captured and tortured by Whumper until they agreed to make an impossible drug hadn’t changed that.

“Please, just stay. You’re so kind. I just want… I just want to feel safe.” Scientist was shaking again. This time, tears blurred their vision instead of a feverish sweat. They needed someone to hold them, someone to tell them that everything would be alright. At that moment, their doctorate, fear, and doubts that this was real didn’t matter. Like a small child, Scientist needed a hug. 

“Hey there. It’s alright! You don’t need to cry.” Caretaker knelt at the side of the bed. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

This person was an angel. Scientist nodded as hard as their weakened body would allow. 

“Okay. I’m going to touch your shoulder. I’m not going to hurt you. You just seem like you need some good old-fashioned physical contact.”

At first, Scientist was grateful for the amazingly warm hand that rested exactly where Caretaker said it would go. But that warmth quickly turned to burning heat that left Whumpee gasping for air, just like they had when Whumper branded them. They had claimed Whumpee as their personal property. “Don’t. Don’t touch me.”

Caretaker sighed. “That’s going to make this whole comforting thing pretty hard.” They scratched the back of their neck for a moment, letting Whumpee settle until they felt like Scientist again. “Tell you what. How about I lay down? I promise not to touch you unless I have your permission. You can lay against me or something?”

It didn’t take long for Scientist to agree and for Caretaker to situate themselves on the bed. Yet, laying their head on Caretaker’s arm wasn’t enough. They could still feel Whumper’s hands trying to pull them away. It left them gasping, “Please, help. Please.”

“Alright. I’m going to help. Do I have permission to touch you? I need to move you, and then I’ll let you go.”

Scientist nodded desperately. 

One moment they were curled in on themselves on the bed, and the next, they were draped over Caretaker’s chest. Their head rested just under the other’s chin, and their arms immediately wrapped around Caretaker without Scientist’s permission. Just as promised, as Scientist’s breathing began to slow and their heartbeat matched Caretaker’s the other didn’t move or touch them in any way. It was almost as if they had become a living doll for Scientist to hold until the monsters left them alone. 

“That’s it.” Caretaker cooed, “Just relax. Go ahead and take a nap. I’ll get you some food when you wake up.”

Scientist wanted to listen, but something was bothering them. Something they remembered about the first time they woke up. “Not an addict.”

“Yeah, I think I believe you on that.”

“Kidnapped.” 

“Yeah. What can I do to help you? Is there anyone safe I can call? Seeing as you showed up the way you did, I don’t think you want me to call the police.”

“No cops. No one left.”

“Can you tell me your name?” 

It was now or never. One way or the other, Scientist had chosen to trust this stranger. “My name is Scientist.”

[thewhumphut]

you have never truly known fear if you haven’t accidentally rebloged a whump prompt to your main “normal person” blog and not your writing blog