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whump-about-it · 4 days

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Bathing in Whump

Ooo the vulnerability! The intimacy!

-Carefully positioning Whumpee in the bathtub to prevent their casts from getting wet.

-Helping Whumpee get in/out of their clothes before or after a bath if they're too beaten up.

-Blood being washed away, revealing huge bruises and scrapes.

-Caretaker carefully carding their hands through Whumpee's hair, washing out all of the dirt and blood.

-Bathwater stained pink from rehydrated blood.

-A sponge bath for a bed bound/unconscious Whumpee.

-Whumper forcing Whumpee to bathe in ice water, not allowing them to get out until they're suitably clean.

-Whumpee obsessively scrubbing their skin raw, desperate to get everything off of them.

-Soap stinging the small cuts on Whumpee's knees and elbows, the already inflamed skin becoming even more painful.

-Whumpee being so tired they almost fall asleep in the bath.

-On the Run Whumpee having to bathe in unclean river water.

-Sick Whumpee having to take a cool bath to break their fever, shivering all the while.

-The implicit trust and nonsexual intimacy of allowing someone to help you bathe, love it!

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whump-about-it · 19 days

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Last Hope

@whumpril Day 10: Adrenaline

CW: Probable misuse of medication (not for plot purposes, but because I'm not a medical professional and am basically making this up), criminal Whumpee, blood loss, fear of death.

Nothing had gone as planned. Whumpee was supposed to get into the compound, download the virus, and get back out. It wasn't supposed to take more than an hour. They weren't supposed to run into anyone. Least of all Whumper. Now Whumpee was bleeding uncontrollably from a knife wound in their chest, and running blindly through the labyrinthian facility trying to escape Whumper and find some kind of exit.

Thank God Caretaker had insisted on coming along. Whumpee had argued that this was a one man job, and they could drive their own getaway car. But Caretaker was a worrier, and apparently a vindicated one now. Whumpee could only hope they would get back to them to hear Caretaker tell them that themselves.

Struggling to stay focused as they ran through the building, trying to remember where they had gotten in from, Whumpee turned down a dark hallway lined with doors. Whumpee hadn't remembered being in this area of the building before, but with Whumper at their heels they could barely complain about the ample hiding places it provided and stumbled forward, one hand staunching their bleeding as best they could and the other grabbing at doorknobs, hoping against hope that one of them would swing open. Finally, at the end of the hall, one of them did with such a loud screech it made Whumpee's blood run cold even as the slipped in and locked the door behind them.

The dark room beyond seemed to be some sort of chemical lab. The walls were lined with counter spaces topped with severely sterile looking machines and locked cabinets. A part of Whumpee's mind drifted towards the idea that there was probably something valuable to steal in the room, before a sudden thunder clap of pain radiated from their chest through the rest of their body so intense that their knees gave out underneath them and they fell to the floor muffling a cry.

It had vaguely occurred to Whumpee before that the only reason they had gotten as far as they had as of yet was because of the adrenaline pumping through their body and numbing the pain and panic coursing through them. It seemed to have been starting to ware off now though and the room swam in front of Whumpee as they rolled onto their back and grasped the bloody hole in their chest with both hands. The contact elicited a disgusting squelching noise and another thunder bolt of pain that made Whumpee's eye site go grey momentarily.

Concentrate! They ordered themselves, their eyes sweeping around the room dizzyingly. There was a window at the far end of the lab. Whumpee couldn't tell if it opened or not, but they could at least be able us it their barings as to where Caretaker might have stationed themselves if they could get to it. That would be no use though if they bleed to death before they got out of the compound, which was a dangerously real possibility right now, so Whumpee continued to scan the room until their eyes finally landed a large metal box screwed to an adjacent wall with FIRST AID written across it in large red letters.

Whumpee pulled themselves into a sitting position and the world wavered in front of them. They could feel the little blood they had left in their body rushing away from their head and heart and towards the open would between their upper ribs. A nauseating feeling washed over them and Whumpee had to fight the urge to pass out. They knew they wouldn't wake up again if they did. This also served to confirm that there was no way Whumpee was going to be able to stand in their current condition. So once they'd gotten their senses back Whumpee resolved to start scooting across the floor on their butt, holding their gushing wound with both hands and fighting for consciousness the whole time.

When Whumpee was halfway to the first aid kit however, they suddenly became aware of the sound of heavy footsteps rapidly becoming louder. They froze and pressed themselves up against the nearest cabinet, holding their breathe as they listened to Whumper's familiar footsteps run down the hall past the room they were in, then back a few seconds later, disappearing back the way they'd come and back into the depths of the compound. Whumpee gasped for air as they heard Whumper's footsteps disapear. There was was a sudden rush in their heartrate that didn't seem so dizzying, and a shock of renewed adrenaline ran through them that they used to leverage themselves to their knees to quickly crawl the rest of the way to the first aid kit.

The adrenaline had run out by the time they got there, and Whumpee teetered on the edge of consciousness as they pulled the first aid kit from it's box on the wall and flung it open. Breathing was getting so painful that Whumpee was beginning to wonder if the knife had punctured their lung after all.

Hang in there, they told themselves. You just need to stuff the wound. Whumpee collapsed against another set of cabinets. Most of their energy spent, and ran a bloody hand over the supplies in the kit, feeling rather than seeing for the packets of gauze. Instead their hands ran over something plastic and cylindrical. Hovering over it out of exhaustion more than curiosity, Whumpee quickly realized what they were feeling. It was an EpiPen.

It took Whumpee several seconds to figure out why their slowing heart leapt with joy at the feeling of the medical device under their finger tips. They didn't have any allergies, and though they'd been trained in how to use an EpiPen, they'd never had need to before.

Epinephrine. Adrenaline. Their mind sluggishly eked out the thought, followed by a half forgotten memory of Caretaker explaining to them how adrenaline worked by constricting blood vessels.

It was a terrible idea. Part of Whumpee knew that. But they were desperate, and probably not thinking straight. And they knew that if they didn't stop the bleeding somehow they were going to be dead soon anyway.

Slowly Whumpee's fingers closed around the EpiPen and they dragged it out of the first aid kit and towards their body. It took them several tries before they managed to get the safety cap off, but once they did they held it up with a shaking hand and hovered over a space just above their wound. They knew that when being used for it's intended purpose, you where supposed to stab the patient in a larger muscle. But when used for bleeding Whumpee considered that they wanted it as close to the veins they were trying to target as possible. Whumpee sucked in what they hoped wouldn't be their final breathe and bit the inside of their cheeks to gag their own scream then drove the pen into their muscle with all their remaining strength, pressing the button at the opposite end before the pain could paralyze them.

Please let this work. Whumpee prayed to any God that might be listening. This is my last hope. Please let this work.

Authors Note: I just want to reiterate that I am not a medical professional and am nearly 100% certain that Epipens can not actually be used to stop bleeding. Please don't try to use them for anything other than their intended purpose.

#whump #whumpril #whumpril2024 #whumprilday10 #adrenaline #whump drabble #tw bloodloss #tw stabbed #tw fear of death #tw chased #tw misuse of medication #criminal whumpee

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whump-about-it · 20 days

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Someone You Deserve

@whumpril Day 9: Self Doubt

CW: angst, empathy fatigue, conditioned whumpee

Whumpee was already asleep when Caretaker got home from work. Curled up on the couch in a nest of blankets and pillows and a tear stained face as they snored softly in contest with the low drone of the tv show they'd fallen asleep watching. They had a bed, but they preferred to sleep anywhere else. Too comfortable they had told Caretaker, I don't deserve it.

Caretaker sighed and took their shoes off quietly, so as not to disturb Whumpee's slumber. If they woke up they would be a mess of apologies for not being awake to greet Caretaker at the door, and Caretaker wasn't in the mood to talk them off another metaphorical ledge tonight. Anyway, Whumpee almost never slept this soundly.

A cold meal Caretaker had asked Whumpee not to make sat on the kitchen table. Caretaker realized with a pang that they had forgotten to tell Whumpee they would be home late tonight. No wonder they were on the couch. No wonder their face was tear streaked and splotchy from crying themselves to sleep.

Caretaker slumped in a kitchen chair and put their head in their hands. How could I be so stupid? They shivered at the thought of Whumpee cooking for them, cleaning, getting ready for the two of them to eat together once Caretaker had gotten home. Had they been excited? Did they hum to themselves as they cut the carrots? Dance around the kitchen while they waited for the oven to preheat? How long had they waited before they realized Caretaker wasn't coming home? Had their food gone cold too? Had they cried at the kitchen table? Wondering if it was something they had done that was keeping Caretaker away?

After a minute Caretaker stood up and went back to the living room, intending to wake Whumpee up and apologize, but they paused in the doorway realizing they didn't even know what they wanted to apologize for. Coming home late? Forgetting to call? For being the worst possible person for Whumpee to rely on?

The doctors had said that it wouldn't be easy. Whumpee's recovery would be slow, and Caretaker needed to have patience, for both of them. But this couldn't have been what they meant. It had been months and Whumpee had barely made any progress. They still rarely spoke if not asked to. They jumped at the slightest moves. And had even called Caretaker "Master" a few times, which made Caretaker's blood run cold just to think about.

Surely Whumpee deserved better than this. Caretaker was falling woefully short of providing what Whumpee needed and they were so far behind they didn't even know what they were doing wrong. Apologizing wasn't going to solve any of that.

Caretaker sighed again and turned back into the kitchen. Tears pricking at their eyes from their anger about their own woeful inadequacy at caring for their friend. They were exhausted, and in a bad mood. It was probably best that Whumpee didn't see them like this. Instead Caretaker scrapped their cold meal into the trash and poured a glass of water, bringing it into the living room and placing it on the coffee table in front of Whumpee as a peace offering for when they woke up. Finally Caretaker placed a small kiss on the top of Whumpee's head before going to their own bedroom, resolving to call in sick tomorrow and spending the day trying to be the person Whumpee deserved.

#whump #whumpril #whumpril2024 #whumprilday9 #self doubt #whumpee x caretaker #whump drabble #tw angst #empathy fatigue #recovering whumpee #conditioned whumpee

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whump-about-it · 21 days

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Can I Stay Here Tonight?

@whumpril Day 8: Bloodshot

CW: injuries, implied beating, implied torture, implied captivity, exhaustion, implication that Whumpee may be in hiding and/or unhoused

It wasn't unusual for Whumpee to go missing for days or even weeks at a time. No one ever really knew where they went when they disappeared, But they always came back, and usually in one piece. So everyone had long since stopped worrying.

Caretaker had barely even noticed Whumpee was missing again. Only just realizing they hadn't seen them in nearly a week the same night Whumpee showed up again.

It had been raining cats and dogs all day, and Carertaker was having a pleasent evening in, watching trash tv with their roommate and playing a game of cards when the window that lead onto their fire escape eeked open and Whumpee came tumbling in.

"We have a door you know." Roommate told them, barely fazed by Whumpee's random appearance. Whumpee had a talent for slipping in and out of places unnoticed. And considering the late hour, they had probably assumed the roommates would be a sleep.

Whumpee stood up and closed the window again behind them before so much as acknowledging the apartment owners, who stayed on the couch watching them curiously. They were soaking wet. Unsurprising considering they had just climbed three stories on an outdoor stairway. Their usually baggy clothing clung to their skin, reminding Caretaker nauseatingly of just how small Whumpee actually was. It also didn't escape Caretaker's notice that Whumpee was wearing the same clothing that they had been in the last time the two had seen each other; some five days before.

"Sorry to intrude." Whumpee said in a dead pan voice when they finally turned to look at Caretaker and Roommate. They had dark circles under their eyes and a cut next to their left ear. Caretaker thought they looked paler than usual, but it could have just been the way their water-darkened hair stuck to their face.

"I just need to borrow your bathroom."

It was the only explanation Whumpee gave before they walked past Caretaker and Roommate towards their bathroom down the hall, water dripping them their sopping clothes as they went. Caretaker's eyes followed Whumpee as they disappeared. There was a tired slump to their shoulders and an unevenness to their gait that made Caretaker think they were concealing a limp.

"First aid kit's under the sink!" Caretaker called after them, but Whumpee gave no indication of having heard. As soon as Caretaker heard the sound of the bathroom door click shut they turned back to Roommate and frowned. Roommate didn't look too pleased about Whumpee's sudden appearance in their apartment. Those two were not each others biggest fans, but they put up with one another for Caretaker's sake, so Roommate seemed to have decided to keep their mouth shut for now.

"I should go check on them."

Roommate nodded in agreement.

"I'll put a kettle on."

Caretaker went to their room and grabbed a clean pair of sweat pants and a fresh t-shirt they didn't think would be too baggy on Whumpee before giving the bathroom door a courteous knock and entering. They knew Whumpee would have preferred their privacy, and probably would have locked the door if they could. But as it was, the lock on the bathroom door had been broken as long as Caretaker and Roommate had been lived in the place, and it was Caretaker's place after all, so they refused to feel bad about inviting themselves in.

Inside the bathroom Whumpee had stripped down to their underwear and was sitting perched on the edge of the bathtub, the first aid kit sitting open on the lowered toilet lid next to them. Mostly nude, it was obvious Whumpee had been in some kind of trouble. They had bruises all up their torso and arms. There was another scabbing over cut on their collar bone similar to the one by their ear, and shredded up skin on the outside of their left leg from mid-calf to upper thigh that looked like they had lost a fight with a cheese grater. Their knuckles were scabbed and bruised and there were concerningly dark purple bruises around their wrists. The worst of their injuries however seemed to be a series of deep gashes on their forearm that Whumpee was currently picking glass out of with a pair of tweezers.

"I'm fine." Whumpee said defensively, barely looking up at Caretaker as they walked in.

"Yeah, you look fantastic." Caretaker set the clothes down on the vanity and went to crouch next to Whumpee. It was by no means the worst condition Whumpee had ever stumbled into their apartment in, but they didn't look good either. Up close, Caretaker could tell that Whumpee was indeed paler than usual. And their eyes were deeply bloodshot. In fact their whole body language screamed at exhaustion, and Caretaker wondered if they had slept at all since they'd last seen them.

Caretaker knew better than to ask what had happened. Or where Whumpee had disappeared to. Whumpee had never lied to Caretaker, but they would down right refuse to answer such questions. The two had spent days worth of time arguing about it. Caretaker wanted to help. Of course they did, and they'd rather prevent Whumpee from getting hurt than patch them up after the fact. But Whumpee had their secrets, and as they often liked to point out during their fights, Caretaker had known that when their lives had first become intertwined with one another. Caretaker knew Whumpee thought they were protecting them by keeping so many secrets from them. But they also knew Whumpee could disappear and Caretaker would never see or hear from them again if they tried to dig to deep. So they resigned themselves, as they always had, to helping Whumpee where they were permitted too, and praying they knew their limits otherwise.

They watched Whumpee for a few seconds as they tried to pick the pieces of dark colored glass out of their own weeping arm. They weren't doing a very good job of it. Their hands were shaking violently. Whether from cold, or pain, or tiredness, Caretaker didn't know.

"Here, let me." They finally said and plucked the tweezers from Whumpee's trembling hands before they could refuse. It was a testament to just how awful Whumpee must have been feeling that they in fact didn't refuse Caretaker's help, and even turned their arm to give Caretaker a better angle on their wound.

They didn't flinch as Caretaker plucked the tiny pieces of glass from their skin. They almost never did. Caretaker did however pretend not to notice the way their eyes were getting waterier and more bloodshot as they worked. Soon enough all the glass was out of the wound and Caretaker was cleaning it with an alcohol swab and taping a gauze pad over it. Whumpee gave an audible hiss when the alcohol made contact with heir broken skin, but still didn't move. Afterwards, Caretaker insisted that they be aloud to clean the road rash on Whumpee's leg as well before they put clothes back on. Whumpee gave in oddly easily and leaned their head against the wall as Caretaker worked, their red eyes slipping closed slowly.

It must have been the exhaustion that was making them so malleable. Whumpee was never this easy.

"You were hoping Roommate and I wouldn't catch you breaking in didn't you?" Caretaker poked gently as they worked, wondering if Whumpee may just be tired enough to let something slip.

Whumpee hummed in response and nodded vaguely, still not opening their eyes.

"Done it before." They mumbled after a second. The only surprising thing about that was that they admit it.

"Were you in handcuffs?" Caretaker decided to poke a little deeper. They were almost finished with Whumpee's leg, and those bruises on their wrists did look very painful. Even half asleep though Whumpee knew better than to let their guard slip, and the two remained in silence with the unanswered question hanging between them, until Caretaker was finished working and the kettle was whistling in the kitchen.

"There," Caretaker said resolutely when they'd finished. "Now put on the dry clothes, and where ever you want to disappear too tonight, you're at least staying for a cup of tea first."

Caretaker stood to leave, considering where they should situate themselves outside the bathroom to make sure Whumpee didn't slip out any windows without making it look like they were hovering. Before they could make it more than two steps however, Whumpee had reached out a hand and weakly grabbed Caretakers wrist.

"Can I stay here tonight?" Whumpee asked in a meek tired voice. They looked up at Caretaker with what they could have only describe as puppy eyes. If puppies eyes were usually glassed over and bloodshot that is. It was still enough to crumble any resolve Caretaker might have had about the situation, if there had ever been any in the first place. Whumpee rarely asked Caretaker for anything, and they had never asked to spend the night. Whatever had happened to them this time, it must have been worse their physical injuries let on.

"Of Course you can. You never have to ask that. You're always welcome here."

#whump drabble #whumpee x caretaker #whump #whumpril #whumpril2024 #whumprilday8 #bloodshot #stoic whumpee #tw injuries #tw implied torture #tw implied captivity #tw implied unhoused whumpee

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whump-about-it · 21 days

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Whumpril 2024 - Day 8

Bloodshot

@whumpril

Tw: language!, vomit, helplessness, implied beating, anger

The door bell ran for the 4th time. "Bloody hell." Caretaker mumbled to himself, paddling the blanket away and crawled out of his bed. The room was chilly and a quick look, showed a blurry 2:48 am on his alarm clock. He brushed a hand through his own hair and over his sleepy face to get his bearings, while coming up to his legs.

Shuffling towards the front door it rang again. "Yeah, coming." He half loud mumbled again, naked feet left prints on the cold floor making a path to the door.

His hand grapped for the door handle. The moment he pulled and some weight started to press onto the doorleaf from the outside, the thought jumped in, that at this time of night, it could easily some buglars.

Surprised by the weight on the door, he had to hold it strongly, so it wouldn't push him away.

A step to the side. No burglars! His hand automatically let go of the handle and he stepped forward to catch the limp body.

The door flew open, his own body was almost pulled down, when he took a hold of the dead weight now in his arms. "Johnny? Fuck!"

He grapped his friend under his limp arms and pulled him completely inside the appartement. An elbow against the lightswitch and a hard kick to the open door. It fell shut with a bang, at 2:49 am in the morning.

Caretaker pulled Johnny to the couch and laid him down on the cushions. Getting to his hunches, a few light slaps to the pale cheek. "Ey, Johnny. Can you open your eyes for me, man?"

Half a minute passed, some more light flaps and the limp form stired on the couch. Eyelids fluttered open, it looked exhausting, just watching the attempt. His eyes bloodshot, some veins dark red in glazy white, his iris too small for the semi dark room. His left eye already swelling shut.

"The fuck, man! What happened?"

Some undeceiferable movement in his ghostly white face. Dry lips weakly parted, to reveal bloody teeth. "T..th...they got m..." His jaw visibly clenched. Caretaker, yet shocked by the forming bruise on his left side of his face, but still quickly thinking on his feet, grapped for the bowl of some rubbish from the coffeetable and emptied it.

Johnny was already retching and weakly leaning towards the edge of the sofa. The bowl went under his face and Caretaker turned away. More out of respect as of disgusted. He studied Johnny shaking body from his kneeling position.

His friends short hair was sweaty, spiking in all directions. Only now Caretaker saw the blood on the back of Johnnys head. Sweat was glistening on his pale, almost translucent face. A stream of blood had painted a red line down into the back of his collar. He was shivering all of a sudden and Caretakers hand took a hold of his shoulder. Johnnys flinched, wiggled in pain and a moan slipped out. Caretaker pulled carefully on the collar of his friends shirt and took a glimpse of the purple bruise, that was creeping up his back.

Johnnys fingers were digging into the couch, knuckles white from strain, but bloody from fighting back.

"Fuck!" Caretaker exhaled, then he got angry. "I'm gonna kill these cowards."

My masterlist

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whump-about-it · 22 days

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@whumpril Day 7: Hesitation

Years after their rescue, the one thing that would always stand out in Whumpee's mind when they had to think about Whumper was the times when they would hesitate. Whumper had been sadistic, and evil. They took unbridled joy in beating Whumpee until they couldn't get off the ground. Torturing them to the point they couldn't even think of their own name. In the time Whumpee had spent with Whumper, they never heard a kind word. Whumper had had a knack for needling out Whumpee's insecurities and using them against them. Hurting them even in the places physical pain couldn't touch.

But sometimes Whumper would hesitate. They would pause with a whip or a bat raised in the air, ready to rain down more pain on Whumpee's shaking body. Or stop midsentence, before giving the punch line to whatever insult they were working towards.

Whumpee never understood the hesitations. Whumper never stopped. They never changed their mind, apologized or lightened up on their torture. Ultimately, the fact that Whumper hesitated, never changed the outcome of what was happening. Yet those few moments stood out in Whumpee's mind in a stark contrast of confusion against a backdrop of anguish. The were the moments Whumpee thought about the most. And the thing they hated about Whumper the most; because they couldn't hate them for it.

#whumpril #whumpril2024 #whumprilday7 #hesitation #tw beating #tw angst

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whump-about-it · 23 days

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Solid Ground

@whumpril Day 6: Dizziness

CW: vomiting, trauma recovering, dissociation, mentions of kidnap, drugging, memory loss, mentions of shooting.

The room was spinning around Whumpee. Warping and tilting dizzyingly enough to make their stomach spasm with nausea. They wanted to close their eyes against the living kaleidoscope in front of them but they knew that if they did they’d be trapped in the darkness behind them. The inside of their head had never been a particularly pleasant place to be, but it had been especially torturous as of recent events. So they stayed staring ahead of themselves, not even daring to blink until they were forced to by way of someone shining a light directly in their eyes.

Whumpee had forgotten there were other people in the room with them. Well, forgotten may have been the wrong word. They had been hearing talking, even yelling at a few points, but they hadn't registered any of the human noise, tuning it all out in favor of the spinning existence around them and the screaming voices inside of their head. Remembering that they weren't alone oddly settled the voices a little and the kaleidoscope with it. After a few minutes Whumpee was able force themselves to turn their head towards the person who had had been examining them.

Caretaker stood out in blessed focus against the backdrop of the the still spinning room. They must have been on duty because their normally soft knit sweaters and baggy jeans were replaced at the moment with much more professional work scrubs. They still looked back at Whumpee with the same familiar, laughing eyes though, even if their smile was a little sad.

"Hi Whumpee. Are you back with us?"

Whumpee swallowed, a metallic taste in their dry throat, and blinked at Caretaker slowly. They weren't exactly sure they could speak yet, but they didn't want to nod to let Caretaker know they'd understood them. The act of moving their head a fraction of an inch had been dizzying enough to make bile rise in their throat, and they didn't think it would stay there if they tried any more movement. Caretaker seemed to take Whumpee's blinking as a good sign though. Because they smiled again and patted Whumpee's hand.

"Getting there." They said more to themselves than to Whumpee.

"Who did I shoot?" Whumpee asked suddenly, the words slipping out of their mouth in a blank voice before they knew they had thought of them. They couldn't remember having shot anyone, but they knew they had, just before they had ended up here with Caretaker sitting in front of them.

"No one," Caretaker answered quickly "You missed."

"Who?" Whumpee asked again. Caretaker's eyes darted around the room before answering.

"My brother."

Oh, that's right.

Caretaker's brother was Whumpee's boss. Whumpee had been trying to get cleared for field duty again after being kidnapped by Whumper's men. During the shooting test they had tried to imagine the paper targets were Whumper and their goonies, taking all their anger and fear out on them with each shot. But that was when everything had gone down hill.

Whumpee had been drugged the whole time they'd been kidnapped and couldn't remember most of what had happened while they were in captivity. The memories had been coming back fractured and slowly over the past couple of weeks and Whumpee had been trying hard ignore them. Suddenly focusing on the memories, the little fragments of faces and voices that Whumpee could conjure in their head, had caused a sudden onslaught of confusing memory to wash over them. It had been like a tsunami crashing down on them and leaving behind broken debris of memory, suddenly all there and all at once, but not together. The memories of their kidnap had mixed with memories from childhood, teenage years, even seeping into the present. Whumpee didn't know what they had done to cause Caretaker's brother to call out their name, but Whumpee had heard it in Whumper's voice. Of course they had reacted.

The room began to spin faster again, and Caretaker began to sway in and out of focus. Whumpee gasped at the memory of shooting at their boss, and their poor stomach gave out. Bile was rising in their throat again, and before they could control themselves they were vomiting all over the floor.

Caretaker just had time to jump out of the way of the splash zone and pirched themselves on the edge of the bed next to Whumpee rubbing their back soothingly as Whumpee began to uncontrolably sob and shake.

"S-sorry" Whumpee managed between sobs.

"Don't feel bad. Someone's already grabbing a mop."

Whumpee shook their head and resisted the urge to throw up again.

"You're brother."

"Oh. Don't feel bad about that either. You know half of his employee's want to shoot him anyway, my self included most days. Anyway he deserved it. I told him you weren't ready."

Whumpee pulled themselves out of their doubled over position and glared at Caretaker.

"Don't look at me like that." Caretaker retorted "I know you. You bottle things and pretend to be fine until you have the convenience of dealing with them at your own pace, which is never. Sometimes those bottles explode. I warned my brother, but you had him fooled into thinking you were ready."

"I am ready."

Caretaker gave Whumpee a significant look and gestured at floor.

"I'm fine." Whumpee tried to argue even thought there were still tears streaming down their face "I'm just... dizzy."

"We put you on a mild sedative, it could be that. Or, Teammate body slammed you into the ground pretty hard. I was actually checking for concussion when..."

Caretaker trailed off as Whumpee shook their head. Ironically, the room had stopped spinning around them, but the statement still stood.

"Inside my head." They tried to explain. "It's just been dizzying recently. I can't tell the difference between my memories and my nightmares. Even the memories that slip through, they don't tell me anything about what happened. And I shouldn't be reacting like this. The nightmares, paranoia, the vomiting. I've been through shit before, and I wasn't even hurt that bad this time. If I just get back to work, give myself something to distract me, I can get back on solid ground."

Caretaker was silent for a moment, rubbing Whumpee's back and considering their words. After a minute they slipped their arms fully around their friend and pulled them into a tight hug.

"That's not how these things work." They told Whumpee in a low voice. "Every trauma is different, and you've never experience anything like this before. You were kidnapped, and drugged, and have no idea what happened to you. Of course you're scared. Pretending it didn't happen isn't going to make it go away."

Whumpee sat stiffly in Caretaker's arms. They felt clammy and gross. Their skin was crawling and they were shaking like a leaf. They had just gotten their crying under control but they could feel the tears welling up again and a hard lump settling in their throat.

"But..." They whispered frogily "how do I make the world stop spinning?"

"You have to face it." Caretaker told them. Then hugged them tighter when Whumpee let out an involuntary sob. "You don't have to do it alone. There are lots of people who want to help you. Lean on us. We'll be your solid ground."

Whumpee finally relaxed into Caretaker's hug. Dissolving into tears again as they did. They let the tsunami wash over them. Soaking them until they were an embarrassing puddle of raw emotion and fractured memory left sitting in the aftermath. It was terrifying. It was painful. But it was the stillest the world had been in a long time.

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday6 #dizziness #whump drabble #whumpee x caretaker #stoic whumpee #emotional whump #tw trauma recovery #tw dissociation #tw guns #tw kidnap mention

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whump-about-it · 24 days

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Greater Good

@whumpril Day 5: Reckless

CW: exhaustion, self-blame, difficulty breathing, mentions of being choked

continuation of yesterday's entry: Aftershock

Medic was unconscious for less than a minute. It felt like no time at all for them, but it was evidently enough time for half the medical tent to have panic attacks and the acting head of medicine to take a personal interest (or more accurately, personal frustration) in their case.

"Oh good, you're back with us." the Medical Director huffed when Medic's eyes fluttered open, flinching as the Director rubbed some sickly sweet gel on their gums less than gently. They were lying on the cot Whumpee and Caretaker had previously been occupying. They were both still nearby. Someone had found a chair for Whumpee to sit in at Medic's feet, and Caretaker was looking worryingly at Medic over Director's shoulder.

"What happened?"

Medic weakly pushed Director's hand away from them and licked away the gel in their mouth. Their voice was raspy suddenly, and lying down was making breathing harder than before. But the ceiling of the tent was still swaying above them so Medic didn't risk trying to sit up.

"Low blood sugar?"

"Among other things." Director growled "You're blood oxygen is even lower, and I'm betting those bruises on your neck have something to do with it. Drink this."

They shoved an apple juice into Medic's hand and left their line of sight. Caretaker glared after Director before helping Medic to sit up so they could drink the juice. Swallowing the liquid was difficult, and Medic had to take tiny sips to tolerate the pain of it.

"I thought I told you to take a break after that incident." Director began to scold Medic as they drank. "What happened?"

"I was going to," Medic rasped "But Whumpee walked in right afterwards and..." They trailed off, not wanting, or feeling the need to continue. Whumpee gave Medic an apologetic smile and reached out to pat their foot comfortingly. They opened their mouth as though they were going to say something but Director plowed on before they got the chance.

"And when was the last time you ate? You're not diabetic or hypoglycemic, so you shouldn't be having a low blood sugar unless you're starving."

"I had one of the protein bars the volunteers passed out."

That seemed to be the last straw for Director.

"That was the last time you ate!" They yelled. "That was over a day ago! Medic! How could you be so reckless and irresponsible! People's lives were in your hands you idiot! You can't help anyone else if you're not taking care of yourself. What if you passed out while treating someone! What if you passed out while doing that surgery on that asshole's wife! He would have actually killed you, and you would have deserved it! -"

It sounded like Director was going to continue but Caretaker abruptly interrupted. Standing up so fast Medic got dizzy again, and placing a hand firmly on Director's chest.

"Stop it!"

In all the years Medic had known Director, they had never heard anyone speak that way to them. Director was the kind of person who commanded respect, even if they didn't entirely deserve it. Medic should have known they'd meet their match with Caretaker though. They were always looking for a fight, one way or another.

"They don't deserve to be talked to like that. We've just had an earthquake. Their friend was missing, and they've been working none stop without sleep for two days. Of courses Medic isn't thinking straight. It took them nearly being killed to get offered a break for God's sake! And no one has tried to provide the doctors food other than a few protein bars? Not to mention relief isn't due for another day. If anything you're being the reckless one. You're people are going to start dropping like flies soon if you keep this treatment up."

Medic's heart broke for Caretaker in that moment. As tough as their love could be at times, they were the most loyal friend Medic had. They were always the first to come to Medic's defense, no matter the situation. After two days of being blamed for everything under the sun (including in at least one circumstance, the sun itself), it was nice that someone was finally trying to stand up for them. But in this instance, it was an ill-founded defense.

"Caretaker," Medic reached out and tugged at Caretaker's wrist before they could continue admonishing Director. "It's not Director's fault. We were given breaks, I just skipped them."

Everyone stared at Medic with wide eyed expressions. Whumpee seemed to be coming down from their adrenaline and looked too tired to be anything more than surprised by Medic's admission. Director looked like they were going to start yelling again if they weren't already leaning away from Caretaker like a scared animal. Probably a good idea since Caretaker looked like they were going to hit which ever one of the two spoke first. Luckily for the both of them, it was Whumpee.

"Why?"

Medic took as deep a breathe as they could manage and trained their eyes on Whumpee because they didn't want to look at the other two.

"I wasn't going to be able to sleep with you unaccounted for, and I wasn't allowed to join the search parties during my breaks. All I could do to distract myself was to keep busy. And people just kept coming in. And the injuries kept getting worse. They needed as many hands as they could get. So I just kept telling myself it was for the greater good."

Medic cut themselves off. Their tired, oxygen deprived brain hadn't comprehended their words until it was too late. Quickly they snapped their head back to Caretaker and Director. Director looked, surprisingly, somewhat sympathetic to Medic's explanation. It was impossible to tell Caretaker's expression however as they had buried their face in their hands. Medic was certain though that they were both thinking about the same thing. The last thing Caretaker had yelled at them before marching out of the tent to go searching for Whumpee two days before.

God damn you and your greater good mentality! If that's how you feel, you better save every God damn person you touch until Whumpee is found!

"Oh Medic" Caretaker mumbled into their hands. It sounded like an apology. A moment later they lowered their hands and turned away Medic, not quickly enough to hide the tears in their eyes.

"I think we can agree Medic can't work in their condition." They told Director in a much softer voice than they'd addressed them in previously. "I'm going to take them both home to rest. When will you need Medic back here?"

As Director and Caretaker began to discuss what Caretaker should be doing to care for their friends, Medic watched Whumpee, who seemed to be getting a little more color in their face, even as their eyes were drooping and they were listing to the side, loosing themselves to exhaustion. Medic could relate. Now that it seemed final that they were not going to be working anymore today, they could also feel their eyes getting heavy, and all the pain they had been ignoring for the past few days was seeping in. They knew Caretaker was probably going to yell at them again when they were feeling better, and there was a strong possibility that Director was going to discipline them once this was all over, but all they could feel now was relief.

#whumpril #whumpril2024 #whumprilday5 #reckless #whump #exhaustion #whumpee x caretaker x medic #tw choking #tw passing out #tw self-blame

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whump-about-it · 25 days

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Aftershock

@whumpril Day 4: Swaying

CW: I don't know how to tag the content on this one. It's set inside an emergency medical tent following an earthquake so use caution with that as needed. There are no graphic injury descriptions, but there are mentions of death and grieving. Also, general disregard for personal health, implied acute stress disorder, and very briefly reference strangulation.

It had taken them two days to find Whumpee after the earthquake hit. Medic had been called in immediately after the initial quake, meaning that they couldn't help Caretaker look for their friend. Something Caretaker had yelled at them about for what felt like hours before marching out of the medical tent in a huff.

That was okay. Caretaker was just concerned for Whumpee's safety. Lots of people had been yelling at Medic in the past couple of days for less reasonable things. A few going so far to blame the quake on Medic, and even lay their hands on them in a few instances. Caretaker had at least apologized once Whumpee was found.

In the end it had turned out to be the best possible situation as far as Whumpee was concerned. Rubble had fallen on them in the initial quake and they'd been trapped for those two days they were unaccounted for. But none of their injuries were outright life threatening, and by some miracle they had had both food and water within reach the whole time. One of the after shocks had loosened their rubble prison and Whumpee had actually managed to free themselves and stumble to the medical tent on their own, where Medic was in fact the one to "find" them despite Caretaker's frantic searching.

Now, a little over an hour after their reunion, Whumpee and Caretaker were sitting together on a cot situated closest to Medic's station, sipping apple juice and nibbling on the peanut butter sandwich Medic hadn't had time to eat themselves. One of Whumpee's arms was in a sling and their other was so heavily bandaged Medic was actually somewhat surprised they were able to grip the sandwich. They were still worryingly pale. Medic had had to put stitches in their stomach and back, and would have liked to have given them a blood transfusion. But with the need so great right now, the blood bank had determined they wouldn't be a priority as long as they didn't pass out.

"Do you think you can stand?" Medic asked Whumpee from where they were kneeling in front of them. It was a gentle hint that Whumpee should give up their bed (and their doctor) to some of the more grievously injured people still flowing in. No one had said anything to Medic about prioritizing their friends over other patients, and Medic had seen plenty of their cohorts do the same over the past two days, but they could still feel the judgmental eyes at the back of their head, and the hypocritic oath poking them from the back of their mind.

In the first twelve hours after the quake the medical tent had been bursting with people, most of whom were in about Whumpee's condition at worst (though Medic had lost their first patient within the first hour). The number of people flowing in was much less now. Though most of the cots were still full, and the injuries were starting to get worse. Fewer people were walking out of the rubble of their own accord, and those being brought in on wheelchairs and stretchers had their injuries aggravated by time. The calls were getting closer, and the situations more dire. Medic couldn't count the amount of emergency surgeries they had called for in the past twelve hours alone. A few of them so badly needed that Medic had been forced to preform them themselves right there in the tent. Two of those patients hadn't made it.

Considering the setting, and the fact that Medic, though talented, did not specialize in surgery, that was, in a technical sense, a good statistic. It didn't feel good though when the screams of the first patient's mother were still echoing in their head louder than any of the other screams current of remembered over the past few days, and the bruises around their throat left by the second patient's husband were making swallowing a chore. Medic did what they could though, and they had to continue.

Caretaker glared at Medic halfheartedly at the obvious nudge, but the look disappeared from their face when Whumpee nodded, and abruptly tried to stand.

"Hang on." Medic clapped their hand on Whumpee's knee a little harder than they had intended to and forced them back down.

"You're going to want to be careful of your ankle. We haven't got any available wheelchairs and you can't use crutches with your arms like that, so Caretaker, you're going to have to help them."

Caretaker nodded earnestly before wrapping their arms around Whumpee and helping them up gingerly. Medic followed, gripping onto the cot heavily as they got themselves off the ground and tried to ignore the exhaustion washing over them.

The simple act of standing up had made Whumpee go paler somehow and they swayed on their one good foot, leaning on Caretaker as the two wrapped their arms around each other's shoulders.

"That's it, take it slow." Medic instructed as the two hopped in a small circle together to get used to the human-crutch situation. They turned to the tiny table they had been given for their stuff as soon as they were sure Whumpee wasn't going to pass out.

"Here" They handed Caretaker their keys. "My car is parked just behind the generators and unless something happened in the aftershocks, my place wasn't damaged. You two should go there and get some rest. Make sure Whumpee keeps eating and drinking fluids. Call me if they pass out or the stitches tear or something."

Caretaker frowned for some reason, but took the keys.

"When are they going to let you out of here?" Caretaker asked a little tightly. Medic shrugged.

"I don't know. Can't be long, there's already a volunteer coalition on it's way to help out, but it could still be a day or so."

Whumpee was frowning now too.

"I'll doing fine." Medic reassured them, ignoring the way their head was pounding, and muscles aching, and stomach grumbling, and the remembered screams reverberated around their head. "They wouldn't let me work if I wasn't. Now go."

"Call me if you need anything." Caretaker insisted. And Medic was just opening their mouth to promise they would when the ground, and the tent, and everything around them began to sway.

Aftershock!

Medic pushed Whumpee and Caretaker back down onto the cot before the shaking could make them loose balance and get more hurt. Both let out twin cries of surprise at Medic's actions as the swaying intensified and a ringing noise thundered in their ears. Their throat went dry for some reason as the light in the tent began to fade. Something must have been happening to the generator. Despite all that was happening around them though, both kept their eyes on Medic.

"Medic!" Caretaker stood back up again and grabbed Medic by the shoulders just as the swaying made them loose balance. "Are you okay?"

"The after shock!" Medic tried to tell them, though the words seemed to be coming out funny.

The last they they remembered before everything went dark was Caretaker's concerned retort.

"What aftershock? Nothing is shaking right now!"

#whump #whumprilday4 #whumpril2024 #sway #whump drabble #whumpee x caretaker x medic #sort of enviornmental whump #tw death #tw grief #acute stress disorder #earthquake #aftershock #passing out

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whump-about-it · 26 days

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Covering up

@whumpril Day 3: Shame

CW: hidden injuries, gaslighting, creepy whumper

Whumpee shifted uncomfortably in their seat and pulled their sleeves farther down over their hands, making extra sure the bruises on their wrists wouldn't show. Their friends sat around them, laughing and drinking; playing a foolish game, completely unaware of Whumpee's racing heart, or the injuries they hid beneath their clothes.

Whumper was being more careful now. They didn't leave marks in places Whumpee couldn't easily cover up. They didn't do anything that would leave Whumpee limping or hunched over, or unable to use their arms. They were letting Whumpee go out now, hang out with their friends, even get a job. All as long as they pretended everything was fine.

"It would be a shame if your friends tried to take you away from me again." Whumper would whisper in Whumpee's ear as they bandaged their cuts or straightened their jacket, giving them a once over before letting them leave the house to make absolutely sure nothing was noticable. "We have so much fun together you and I. Don't we?"

"Yes." Whumpee would always answer despite knowing neither of them believed it. Luckily Whumper didn't care, as long as Whumpee played their part.

And what else could they do? They couldn't go to their friends for help. Couldn't admit to them how weak and pathetic they were. After everything their friends did to try and save them they couldn't admit now that they couldn't be yanked free from the leash Whumper had kept them on. They're friends wouldn't come to save them a second time. They'd probably stop talking to them if they knew about this betrayal. And if Whumpee didn't have their friends, who could they run to to hide from Whumper?

No. Whumper was right. It was better this way. Whumpee wasn't strong enough, smart enough, brave enough, to leave Whumper. But they couldn't survive them alone either. So they covered their injuries, plastered a smile on their face, and pretended everything was fine. Anything so their friends wouldn't fine out.

#whump #whumpril2024 #whumprilday3 #shame #hidden injuries #tw gaslighting #creepy whumper

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whump-about-it · 27 days

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Healing Isn't Linear

@whumpril Day 2: Sweat No Appetite

CW: angst, trauma recovery, trauma from recovery, set backs in recovery, disordered eating, possible eating disorder? (no body dysmorphia), referenced panic attacks, referenced nausea.

The clock on Whumpee's laptop read 8:45 p.m.. They'd been staring at it since 8:41, watching the minutes pass and trying to remember if they had adjusted the time for day light savings. Did their computer do that automatically? When did daylight's savings start anyway? Was it an hour later? Or an hour earlier?

It didn't really matter. The whole mental exercise was only a way for Whumpee to distract themselves from the fact that it was well past time that they should have eaten dinner. As well as the fact that they really should have noticed that earlier.

Whumpee had missed lunch too. And all they'd had for breakfast was half a slice of toast. Whumpee should have been hungry. They should have been starving. But they felt nothing.

It had been the same the day before. And the day before that too. In fact it had been several days since Whumpee had had any sort of appetite to speak of. They'd been able to ignore it up to this point, but the realization that things were getting bad again was beginning to sink in.

It had been a few years since Whumpee had escaped Whumper. The first year after had been rough. Their physical wounds had healed quickly, but the mental recovery was almost worse than anything Whumper had done to them.

When the initial relief of rescue had faded, fear had begun to set in. What if Whumper came back? What if Whumpee couldn't acclimate to the outside world? What if no one believed what had happened to them? The anxiety and desperation had begun to wear on Whumpee in as many physical ways as mental. They couldn't sleep. When they did they had horrible nightmares. Panic attacks were a near daily occurrence and the times between them were so fraught with anxiety that Whumpee could barely leave the house.

Everything came to a head with their appetite. The anxiety is what had started it. Even at their calmest, the tightness in Whumpee's chest was so constricting that they constantly felt on the verge of being out of breathe. Having to actually hold their breathe for any reason such as drinking or chewing felt so suffocating that Whumpee began to avoid such actions as much as possible. Soon enough, the feeling of hunger began to become synonymous with impending panic attacks, and then began to be replaced by them. Before long Whumpee had no appetite to speak of, and could only manage a few bites of food before panic would set in. Even the smell of food began to make Whumpee nauseous from the anxiety of knowing that eating it was going to make them suffer.

Even as their other symptoms began to improve, Whumpee's appetite stubbornly refused to return. They had wasted away to less than they had been when they were with Whumper. A pale, shivering, bag of bones, sinking into corners and shadows anytime food was brought up. Caretaker had had to apply some very tough love, before Whumpee eventually began to improve. Threatening to check them into impatient care if they didn't agree to getting treatment. The whole idea felt too much like being locked up again. So despite giving Caretaker the silent treatment for a month afterwards, Whumpee agreed.

It had been years since that had been an issue. Other problems would resurface occasionally. Insomnia, nightmares, panic attacks. And Caretaker was always quick to check on Whumpee's eating habits when they divulged to them that things were getting harder. But until now, Whumpee's appetite, and diet, had at least remained stabled.

It was thinking about Caretaker that finally compelled Whumpee to close their laptop and stand up. They would notice something was off soon if Whumpee didn't get a handle on the situation. The only reason they hadn't yet was because work was busy for them right now and they hadn't been over to Whumpee's house since before things started up. Their work wasn't slated to die down again anytime soon either, and Whumpee didn't want to give them anything else to worry about. So they made their way to the kitchen and pulled some leftovers out of the fridge.

You're going to be fine.

Whumpee told themselves as they watched their left overs spin lazily around the microwave.

You won't have a panic attack if you eat.

You'll still be able to breathe if you eat.

The microwave beeped its completion and Whumpee took the now steaming food out to set on the counter. They were hit with the warm, delicious smell of noodles and pasta sauce which they basked in for a split second before a wave of nausea washed over them so intense they doubled over.

Oh this isn't good.

Whumpee's chest tightened. Their throat felt like it was closing. The room began to wobble around them and their heart rate spiked.

You have to eat!

Even the thought of it made bile rise in Whumpee's throat. With one last mournful look at their dinner, Whumpee tossed it in the trash where the smell couldn't nauseate them anymore.

Maybe some crackers will do better.

#whump #whumpril2024 #no appetite #whump drabble #whumprilday2 #tw trauma recovery #tw phobia of food #tw disordered eating #tw possible eating disorder #depending on how you want to define that #based on my life

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whump-about-it · 28 days

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Earned it

@whumpril Day 1: Limp

CW: angst.

Whumpee's limp had never gone away.

Everything else had healed. Wounds had closed. The broken bones had mended. Their face and rib cage had filled out to hide the once all-to-visible bones beneath them. They had color in their face again. And light in their eyes. Whumpee smiled and laughed once again. Whumpee loved to laugh. Even more so than they had before Whumper.

In all ways Whumpee had healed. But the limp stayed stubbornly persistent. They'd spent over a year in PT trying to work it out. And to be fair, it had helped. Whumpee no longer relied on crutches like they had in the beginning. And on good days you could almost not notice their lagging gait if you were just passing by. It had never really gone away though.

The doctors had said that it never would. The muscles and tendons were just too damaged. They would never regain full physical strength in their leg no matter how much they worked out or stretched. The limp was just another one of Whumpee's scars.

They could ignore it most of the time. Accept that it was just they way they lived now. But some days were harder than others. When they were tired at the end of the day or the very beginning of morning and felt like they had to drag their foot across the floor for lack of strength to lift it. Or when they were sitting on the steps Caretaker's porch, watching their friends play some pickup game Whumpee couldn't manage.

Whumpee would get frustrated and lonely at those times. Pitying themselves for not being able to be like they had been before. But they tried to keep their frustrations to themselves. The only person they could blame was Whumper. And they weren't around anymore for Whumpee to be able to yell at them. Caretaker and the others had already done so much to help Whumpee when things were really bad at the beginning. And they had never tried to other Whumpee or push them away. They didn't deserve to have Whumpee's frustrations taken out on them. So Whumpee held it in. Most of the time.

Once, when Whumpee had been visiting Caretaker's house, their leg gave out while they were on the stairs and they had face planted into the steps giving themselves a bloody nose. When Caretaker got to them, Whumpee was trying to staunch the bleeding with one hand while pounding the offending step with the other. Crying and cursing their leg for being useless.

"I may as well cut it off!" They sobbed to Caretaker as they tried to comfort them. "For all the use it is!"

"Oh, don't say that." Was all Caretaker answered, assuming their position of comforting their friend until the blood and tears were done.

"I'm sorry." Whumpee apologized when they were ready to speak again. "It's not as bad as it looks. I just tripped is all. I'm sorry I over reached."

"Oh Honey" Caretaker cooed "You didn't over react. It's okay to be angry some days. You get to have emotions. And you've earned your anger."

That became Whumpee's mantra after that day. Whenever they got frustrated, or their leg dragged or gave out. They would sit on their bed and repeat those words.

The limp won't go away. But I get to have emotions. And I've earned my anger.

#whump #whumblr #whumprilday1 #whumpril2024 #limp #whump drabble #sorry I didn't know how to end this #angst

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whump-about-it · 1 month

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¿Por qué no los dos?

There's two kinds of caretakers.

The one tending whumpees bedside as they're unconscious in the hospital.

The one hunting down the whumper that put them there.

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whump-about-it · 1 month

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As much as I love Whumpee x Caretaker...

Rb if you think Caretaker can be a brother, a friend, or just some guy who found Whumpee at the right place, right time and stay that way

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whump-about-it · 1 month

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Villain stared at Hero, who stood bleeding all over his expensive doormat. ‘Hey.’ The Hero croaked, swaying to a side. They tried for a charming smile, but there was blood in their teeth. ‘Mind if I…crash here for tonight?’

And then they did crash. Into the fucking floor.

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whump-about-it · 1 month

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"Tell me what I did wrong." Villain's voice was edged with concern, serious to an unusual degree.

Hero glared, still trying to catch their breath. "Nothing. We've tried to kill each other numerous times, stop acting like this is anything out of the ordinary."

"Our spats never led to you having a five minute panic attack before now." Their voice was straight to the point, wanting to know what's different this time. They've exchanged blows plenty of times, almost every interaction of theirs being harsh words spit defiantly, fists cracking against flesh, bared teeth, and sharp nails digging into skin.

Hero always gave it as good as they got, and that was the violent and addictive dance they've repeated over and over. Today was different, Villain doesn't know why, but it was different. What started out as one of their usual fights ended abruptly with Hero gasping for air, panicking, eyes looking as if they were a million miles away at the moment.

They don't know what set Hero off, and they certainly didn't know what to do. Villain did their best to help them ride it out despite the unfamiliarity of this contrasted with their typical relationship, and when they calmed enough, they wanted answers.

"Obviously, something upset you. I can't concentrate on fighting you if you're going to panic like this in the middle of it."

Hero narrowed their eyes more, their face flushing with embarrassment and irritation. "Oh well, I wouldn't want to inconvenience you! Maybe you should have taken the opportunity to finish me off."

Sighing and rethinking their words, Villain speaks more calmly. "That's not what I meant. I don't want to upset you again. You may be my nemesis, but I don't care for unfair fights." They use a hand to tilt Hero's face up, not unkindly. "I need your mind and attention on me when it's the two off us. Anything less, and it's not fun."

Hero scoffs but doesn't move their head away. "It's nothing you did. I just get memories sometimes." This is all the information they're willing to divulge, if only to get Villain to stop questioning them with those eyes that look too soft right now.

"Hmm... something someone else did?" Villain bends down closer, voice too sincere, grasp not painful enough, "would you like me to kill them, sweetheart? Would that help keep you focused on me?"

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whump-about-it · 2 months

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caretaker assuring whumpee that they’re safe now.

the hard part is over.

maybe whumpee’s fever has finally broken. they’re soaked through with sweat, blinking wearily back to lucidity, and caretaker rocks them in their arms. “there you are,” caretaker cries. “welcome back. it’s okay. you’re okay.”

maybe whumpee is out of surgery and waking up in a hospital. caretaker sits by their bedside, holding their hand and pressing kisses to their forehead. “you’re safe, whumpee, you’re in the hospital. it’s all okay. you’re safe now.”

maybe whumpee’s bleeding has finally stopped. caretaker leans back on their haunches, exhausted, hands bloodstained. “i think it’s over,” they tell whumpee with a soft smile, tucking whumpee’s hair behind their ear. “look at that, i think you’re gonna be just fine.”

maybe whumpee has just been removed from a perilous situation. caretaker refuses to leave their side— hugging them close, rubbing their back. “i’m here, i’m here, whumpee. i won’t let anything hurt you again. you can rest now. you’re safe.”

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