allthewhumpygoodness

[allthewhumpygoodness]

I like sketchy medical experiments as much as the next whump fan, but I tend to prefer hmmm....less so the "imprisoned in The Facility" (though that can be fun) and more a scenario where a character has willingly volunteered to have this done to them. Maybe for money. Maybe for some other reason. They've signed up to stay in this place for a certain amount of time while they're tested and experimented on, reassured that it's all to protocol and they'll be perfectly safe.

Or they go out to some apartment in the dead of night where a drug or cure is being tested by someone who "knows exactly what they're doing", having needles poked into their arm and suffering whatever the consequences are, and after a few hours a wad of cash is passed into their shaking hand and they're sent home. To wait until the next time they're called in. And the next time, and the next.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Thinking about when a Whumpee does some slight thing or makes some small noise that just absolutely melts a reluctant, gruffer or at least more serious caretaker just melt with pity.

Whumpee's piteous whimpers in their restless fevered sleep that make Caretaker pause on their way to their own bed to cover Whumpee back up with the blanket they kicked off or to put a damp washcloth over their forehead

The sniffling, coughing, groans of genuine distress from a Whumpee puking in the bathroom that brings caretaker reluctantly bringing a glass of water and kneeling beside them to rub their back

Speaking of physical touch, the sound of relief Whumpee, sensible or insensible from their fever, makes when Caretaker, perhaps reflexively rubs, gently scratches, or strokes some part of them (head/back/neck/stomach ect.). Releasing some unrealized tension, quelling some distress they couldn't have articulated in the moment if at all. Maybe Caretaker tries to stop at some point thinking Whumpee has fallen asleep only for Whumpee to let out a soft moan of distress at the loss of it that resumes them.

Caretaker, a stranger, turning from annoyance to compassion after Whumpee, (who they've just found) afflicted by some severe weather as well as their injuries, struggles valiantly to drink some appropriately temperature contrasting drink as they're so weak or shaking so badly. Caretaker intervenes to help and Whumpee's shuddering & hitching relief as they're finally able to imbibe some cold water or warm tea softens Caretaker's tone as help to tilt the cup/bottle/flask and offers further assistance with treating their injuries

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Sick Whumpee Prompts (Cold/Flu)

Stumbling because they’re lightheaded

Shivering/wrapped in a blanket/hugging a heat pack

Burning up/sweating/taking a cold shower

Drinking tea/hot chocolate

Eating soup

Curling up on the bathroom floor

Drinking ginger ale/eating soda crackers to calm their stomach

Panting because their chest/nose is congested

Puffy red eyes

Painful and persistent cough

Throbbing headache

Swigging cough syrup out of the bottle to get through the day

Stomach cramps

General confusion/inability to focus

Fever dreams/floating in and out of restless sleep

They’re relatively compliant cause they have very little energy

They’re 100% exhausted constantly

Aches and pains throughout the body

Pale, clammy skin

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Last night I was hit with the wonderful concept of characters fainting at an airport.

There are plenty of contexts this could be placed into, but specifically what I was considering was the idea that they came down with something very quickly and suddenly while on their plane, without warning, and spent the latter half of the flight shivering and dizzy and trying to stifle coughs in their elbow.

They make it off the plane somehow, shaky and weak though they are, keeping their eyes straight ahead on whatever point on the floor isn't moving at the moment.

But halfway down the walkway to the baggage check, they get hit with a wave of lightheadedness that doesn't just go away even when they squeeze their eye shut. They're sleep deprived and dizzy and nauseous and suddenly overheated, sweat soaking their back and neck, and so violently in public that the sheer social terror of being sick is worse than the discomfort itself. They try to ease themselves slowly to the ground but before they make it their knees turn to water and they collapse to the ground, to the shock and concern of their fellow passengers.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

What about something with a whumpee who falls through ice?

this turned into some kind of winter epic but I hope you enjoy 😂

One minute, A's standing on the frozen lake, waving at B and C back on the shore. The next, they hear a sharp crack—and they're through the ice and underwater.

The cold feels like a thousand knives—so blinding that A can't see or feel, much less figure out which way is up or down. After a few seconds, they gain their bearings, only to feel the horrifying thud of the solid ice above their head.

Their desperate scream is muted as they hit the ice once, twice, three times, to no avail—

get me out get me out get me OUT

Their lungs burn as they fail to hold their breath any longer, and they suck in a mouthful, then another of water, colors swirling and flashing as their pleas for oxygen go unheard—

—until suddenly their fingers punch through to sharp, clean winter air. A sputters and coughs as their lungs fight to expel water, and they whirl around as they try to get their bearings, then seeing B and C waving and shouting something their ears can’t quite parse out.

A frantically claws at the ice at the edge of the hole, a pained sound escaping from their throat as the thin ice breaks every time they try to grab hold. They feel their muscles seizing up, but force themselves to keep kicking, keep fighting. They can't die. Not like this.

But as the minutes drag on, and B & C are nothing more than moving blurs of color on the shore and their limbs begin to stiffen, the fight within them starts dwindling.

Hold on, A. Come on. Hold on. Don't give in.

“A! Grab on!” A rope suddenly appears a few inches from them, and A kicks toward it with all their might. Their fingers are too numb to hold on very tightly, but they manage to wrap it around their wrist several times and give a weak tug.

“P-p-pull!” It’s a choked whimper, but B and C must hear their small voice because they feel the tug against their skin, then feel their numb, burning limbs scraping over the ragged surface of the ice as they’re dragged back to the blessedly solid shoreline.

As their trembling body meets the cold black rock of the shore, they’re consumed with the terror of what just happened. But when they take a breath to sob, they’re choked by more coughing as their body fights to rid their lungs of the frigid lake water.

B rips off their coat and wraps it around A’s quaking body, hoisting them up in their arms, gently stroking their rapidly freezing hair from their forehead. “Shhh…you’re okay. You’re okay. We’ll warm you up in no time.”

A can’t still their clattering teeth or their gasping breaths enough to respond.

————————

An hour later, A’s still violently shivering despite being wrapped in a blanket, their feet submerged in a steaming bucket of warm water, seated in the chair closest to the fire. They cinch the blanket tighter with cold, aching fingers, pulling it up over their ears and nose. The fire is banked high and crackling, but it does little to displace the bone-deep chill in their core or quiet their rattling teeth.

The first minutes after the rescue were hazy—first jostling and numb as B carried them and sprinted back to the cabin, then cold and dark, and murmuring voices, and frozen clothes peeled away and replaced with warm, dry ones on their ice-cold skin. Slowly, the colored blobs gave way to the forms of their frantic friends, wool blankets, muttered curses and sparks that turned to a healthy flame.

If only warmth would come.

The thought of getting warm was all-consuming for A as they shiver with cold chills. The bucket of hot water was somehow painfully hot and just not warm enough. The blanket around their shoulders was too thin, and they could still feel the icy water on their skin. The fire should be bigger. But none of the thoughts can make it out of their clattering jaw with any semblance of order.

However, as if B heard their thoughts, A feels them gently drape a second blanket around their shoulder, then feels their hands sweep up and down their back to generate warmth.

C watches them from the other side of the hearth, poking at the fire to stir the flames, eyeing A with concern. “How are you feeling?"

An honest answer bubbles up in their mind. I thought I would die down there.

Instead, they force out a weak “J-just c-c-cold,” before coughs steal their voice again. And though not their first thought, it is true. They weakly rub their arms with shaky hands, desperate to try and help B generate a spark of heat. “I c-can’t g-get warm.”

At that, B leaves and then returns to the fire with something wrapped in towels, handing it to A. “Here. This will take the edge off a bit more. You've had quite a chill.”

A clutches the warm bundle closer to their body, desperate for the warmth to permeate their core. “Th-th-thanks.” Another round of coughing burns in their chest, the lake water still unyielding. They feel B’s hand on their shoulder, rubbing gently, and they look up to see B’s concerned frown as their hand traces up to their damp hair.

“We shouldn’t leave your head wet. Don’t want you getting sick.”

A doesn’t have the energy to explain that they just spent a substantial amount of time in a freezing lake, which pretty much negated the benefits of keeping their head warm by now. But they don’t mind the feeling of B gently toweling the melting water droplets out of their hair, and they lean into the soft touch long after their hair is dried.

A figures they must look pitifully cold, because B continues to run their fingers through their hair, and C, who usually avoids most physical touch, hugs A close to them on their other side, helping them sip from the cup of tea since their hands are too shaky to hold it.

Three hours later, A’s still deathly pale, but they can manage an intelligible sentence, and their hands are still enough to curl around another mug of tea, and they’d managed to eat a little soup for dinner. What their friends can’t see is the ice that clings to A’s bones, the superficial heat unable to thaw the chill that had gripped their core. They're out of the danger zone, but they're still just....cold.

Between the exhausting hours of shivering and the events of the day, it's no surprise when their head starts bobbing, and their eyelids start feeling like they’re weighted. They’re not sure when the transition from waking to sleeping happens—they only feel someone gently lifting their bundled form off the couch to take back to their bedroom. B leaves and returns with two more blankets, draping each of them in turn over A and tugging them up to their chin. “You just rest now,” B whispers, gently smoothing down A’s hair before.

Despite the warm layers, A just can’t chase the cold out of their achy bones. Chills crawl across their skin, and they clutch the pouch of hot water closer, trying to envision themselves sinking into a hot spring, or sunning themselves in a field on a hot summer day.

A strange childhood memory resurfaces in a dream—of swimming in a frigid lake too long on a hot summer’s day and emerging blue-lipped and chilled through, of a relative wrapping them in a dry blanket and holding them close in the warm sun.

The memory is full of comfort and they long to re-enter it—but the memory frosts at the edges, and they slip out of the dream-relative’s arms and are plunged back into the lake. The lake freezes over and washes over their ankles, knees, waists as the cold seeps back in, unrelenting, unreleasing, coming from the inside out.

The black water rushes up to their neck now, but A's frozen in place, unable to move or even scream as the water closes over their head—

—and suddenly they're awake, coughing up a lung, unable to take a full breath. Somehow, they’re colder under the blankets than they were in the lake, like the lake had stolen their fire and left them an icy, empty shell. At the same time, they feel sweat prickle on the back of their next, chilling in the cold air, and as A struggles to draw in a full breath, they get the sensation that something is very, very wrong.

The rest of the night consists of hours of restless tossing and turning, sweating and shaking, trying to stifle the relentless coughs. They wake in the early blue dawn feeling chilled and congested, chest heavy like an iron bar is resting across them. A draws the blankets closer and rubs their arms, trying to generate a little warmth in their achy bones. Everything hurts—even the joints in their fingers and toes, and there's a violent cough that burns in their rib cage every time it seizes their lungs.

The fireplace. That's warm.

The thought of heat propels A to jerk to an upright position. As the blankets tumble off their shoulders, the wintry air sends a sudden, violent chill throughout their whole body, rattling their teeth so hard they're scared they chipped a tooth. Bad idea. They scramble for the top quilt, fumbling as they wrap the precious layer back around themselves and dive back under the covers.

But it’s not warm enough—nothing is warm enough. They hug their knees to their chest and huddle under the blankets, too wracked with shudders to embark on the trek to the fireplace, too exhausted to move, chest burning, and so, so scared.

They don’t know how long they lay there, trembling and coughing, alone. They only feel the hand rest on their shoulder, then move up to their forehead to push away the damp hair, a whispered curse floating out into the air that they can see.

Why can I see words?

Why is my hair still damp?

B's face enters their field of vision, their cool hand on A's forehead.

Why is B cold?

Amid the thoughts, A hears pounding footsteps. They barely register that B is gone before B is back, dragging a half-awake C with them.

"B? What's wrong?" C’s voice is hazy from sleep, and A sees them rub the sleep away from their eyes.

"A's caught a bad chill from the cold water. And they're burning up."

"My....my chest...." A gasps out.

C comes closer, leaning against A’s chest to listen more intently to the rattling sound that comes every time A breathes, then lays the back of their hand against A's cheek. When their face is visible again, it's painted with ridges of concern.

"B, get the fire going."

"C, what's wro—"

"B, now." C's tone sends another chill down A's spine. "And get some water boiling, and those herbs from the pantry."

C's voice is so firm that B doesn't question it again, and scurries off to the main room.

Despite B not receiving an answer, A has to know. In their weak, cough-roughened voice, they rasp out two words: “What's.....happening?"

C gives a small smile, meant to comfort, which only confuses A's feverish brain further. "After your little swim yesterday, you’ve come down with a bout of winter fever."

Winter fever. The words alone send an ice pick through their heart. Winter fever makes its way through their village every year during the coldest months, stealing breath and warmth and life from too many to count. It can strike after a bad chill, or getting one’s feet wet, or even if you don’t warm yourself enough by the fire.

“Am…am I gonna die?”

"Shhhh....you'll be fine. I've helped many a relative through winter fever, and you're going to be no exception.”

A nods, still scared, but anchored by C’s confident voice.

Ten minutes later. A is plopped in front of a fire that's even bigger than yesterday, a pot of water giving off steam that casts a cloudy haze in the main sitting room. They’re nested in two warm blankets, hot water bottles at their feet and on their stomach to try and combat the constant fever chills.

C slowly peels away the layers of B’s blankets and pajamas over their upper body, exposing the skin of their chest to the cool air of the room. A grits their teeth to hide the chill that threatens to tear through them as they feel the goosebumps prickle over their whole body, squeezing their eyes shut at the painfully strange sensation.

Then, a pleasant warm feeling spreads across their chest, and A opens their eyes to see C laying a steaming towel soaked in some type of herb-scented mixture. It’s strong and pungent and not particularly good-smelling, but A instantly feels some of the tightness in their chest ease at the warmth and the medicinal scent.

“Old family remedy. It’ll ease the pain a bit and get you breathing better to get your lungs fighting again.” C nods toward B, who’s refilling a bubbling pot over the fire. “The steam will help, too.”

A coughs weakly, a sharp, rattling sound that makes both B and C tense. “Wish…wish I’d never gone on that lake,” they say, bottom lip trembling. On top of feeling awful, they’ve trapped B and C into caring for them. “Now you’re stuck helping me.”

“Hey, hey, none of that.” C’s at their side, carefully thumbing away the tear that’s slipping down their cheek. “You’d do the same for any of us. Who knows, I’ll probably break a leg hunting, or B will accidentally poison themselves with some root they think is edible.”

A tries to laugh, but a cough steals away their breath. “M’sorry for crying. The past couple days…”

“They’ve been rough, I know, love. I know.” C’s hand cups around A’s cheek, then drapes down to squeeze their shoulder. “But we’re with you. You don’t have to do this by yourself, okay?”

A nods readily, not trusting themselves to speak.

C nods back, glancing back at the fire. “It’s time to change the cloth—don’t want you getting chilled.”

A’s too tired to do more than just track C with their eyes as they move to the fire, get a new cloth, and swap out the cooling one with the gentlest of movements all while keeping A nested in blankets. They’re still feverish and achy and so tired, but the fear is evaporating as quickly as the steam from the pot over the fire.

I’m not alone.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

It's B who's always been the party animal, not A. But they're friends, and B has way more other friends than A does, so where they go, A goes too.

"It'll be good for you," B told them before they set off, throwing an arm around their shoulders. "You need more friends who aren't me."

Maybe, grudgingly, A would agree. Still, they have no desire to spend their night in a stuffy apartment full of drunk people they've never met, either bored out of their mind or anxious out of their skin, depending.

But they're B's friend, so for the first twenty minutes of the party that's exactly what they do.

And for a while, it isn't too bad. The party isn't crazy loud - nobody's smashing windows or dancing on the kitchen table or getting into fistfights - but it's still too much for A to comfortably join in. They spend most of it quietly petting B's cat in the corner, bottled water in hand, giving quick smiles and at most a few words of greeting to whoever notices them. Just-enough smiles, 'I'm-not-a-creep-I-just-have-no-idea-how-to-talk-to-people' smiles. Most people don't talk to them at all, though, so there's no reason for anything more.

After a couple hours, in which A has slowly pried themselves from the corner and the cat and gets used to hovering near the closest snack table, things start getting hazy. The lights in the room are blurring a little, the outlines of people and objects smudging in between blinks - they've never needed glasses before, but this is what they'd imagine it feels like. If they'd been drinking anything other than their own bottled water, they would've worried somebody spiked their drink. They feel weird, and disoriented, and bad.

Worse, whatever this feeling is, it's come on too quickly for them to notice it happening.

After some time they find themselves seated back on the couch, though the cat is now nowhere in sight. Sounds are too loud, even the dim light is too bright, and above all they feel somehow removed from the rest of the room, floating somewhere far away with no roots in the world they're seeing. And they're sniffling. When did their nose start running?

Disjointed as they are, it takes them much too long a moment to realize someone is talking to them.

They turn their head slowly, alarmed at how dizzy it makes them. A face hovers close to theirs, eyebrows raised and expression questioning. They have to blink hard to make the features come into focus.

"I haven't seen much of you tonight," says this new person, a small smile playing on their lips. Flirtatious almost, it clicks into A's fuzzy brain.

"Oh," is all they can say.

"I don't think we've met."

A shakes their head, trying to clear it. "I'm A," they say.

They struggle to remember if they've ever spoken to this person before, but their brain seems to be blocked, leaving them unable to speak let alone think. "You're not B", they say eventually --realizing a second later what a stupid sounding thing to say that is.

But the figure next to them laughs. "Took you long enough to notice. I'm C. Have you had one too many?"

A swallows, their throat tight and scratchy. "I don't drink."

"Okay, I believe you," says C, sounding like they don't believe it at all. "Are you a friend of B's? We've been friends for ages, I'm surprised I've never met you before."

Whenever C moves, it's like a fuzzy halo of light around them shifts a moment after, following just a little too far behind. Their face is bright; it kind of hurts to look at them and it's kind of mesmerizing and A isn't sure what to do.

"Hey, A? Are you with me?"

A blinks, suddenly extraordinarily tired. The face in front of them is swaying and blurring and looks so very wrong...

"I'm fine," they mutter. "Just pretty tired. Long day."

C gives what looks like a sympathetic smile, but their eyebrows form a slight crease. "Are you ok? You're sweating."

"Am I?" They feel chilled if anything, damp and clammy.

With a slight smirk, C folds part of their sleeve over their hand and brushes the fabric across A's forehead. The sleeve melts into their skin. "There," they say, "all better."

But even as the words leave their mouth, their expression changes from playful to concerned, a frown sprouting up. To A's surprise, their hand stays where it was, resting on their temple, then flips over so their knuckles brush the skin on their forehead ever so gently. A can't stop looking at them, the outline of their face is glowing...

"Oh," they say softly, "you've got a fever."

It takes a second for them to process what's being said, because they feel like they're standing halfway inside a weird world where the edges of things melt together and voices are too long and minutes are too tall and surfaces sparkle like dew...and even when they do they have to shake their head, fighting to clear it first. "I...do I?" Does it matter?

There's a soft pressure on their face as C keeps their hand in place. "You feel like you do...why haven't you told anyone you're sick?"

"I'm - not - "

It's like they're looking at a photograph with the contrast turned way up - shadows are so dark they can hardly see the corners of the room anymore, and the lights are blinding. They try shaking their head again, but everything swoops around them like a rocking ship. Is that the earth turning?

C taps them on the shoulder, and then they're standing up and towering over A. "B has a guest room somewhere. Let's go find it, shall we?"

Before they know it they're being pulled to their feet, swaying as the ground swoops out from under them, and gripping the nearest steady thing - which turns out to be C's shoulder. They hadn't realized just how badly off they were until now, only upon standing to they feel how weak and wobbly their knees are, or how badly their back and legs and head ache, how heavy they feel.

They cling to C. The party blends and melts around them; shapes crumbling into one another, sounds too muffled and twisted to make out. It makes A so dizzy they're almost sick to their stomach, struggling to focus on anything that isn't moving.

As it turns out, that one steady thing is C's shoulder.

The rest of the journey is a blur, but the next thing they know they're somewhere much quieter and darker, and a pair of hands is guiding them to lie down on something soft, drawing a warm cover over them.

It takes their brain a moment to catch up. "Whose bed is this?" they mumble once it does.

"It's a guest room," says C's voice from somewhere close by. "B won't mind. I'll check with them later, but I'm sure it'll be fine."

To their horror, A feels tears prickle at the corners of their eyes. Even lying down in the warmth and the dark, they feel so miserable. "B doesn't care about me," they say. They aren't sure where this is coming from, but once it's out, it's out. "They - they left me. I haven't seen them all night. They don't want me here..."

C makes a soft, sympathetic sound. When A opens their eyes again they're sitting near them, one hand gently on their shoulder. "I'm sure B still cares a lot about you, they're just caught up with things right now. Once I tell them you're sick they'll be all over you trying to help, you just wait."

A sniffs. They can't deny C's good at sounding reassuring. "Everything hurts."

"I know. I'm sorry. I wonder what you've caught...if it came on so quickly it could be the flu...why don't I get you some water and a couple painkillers, that should help - "

"Wait, C -" A tries to sit up but right away collapse again in a cold sweat, head swimming. Their fingers find C's sleeve and grip it. "Please don't go yet. Just...just one more minute."

It feels like an hour that C pauses for, not moving. But then they sit down on the edge of the bed, one hand tentatively reaching up to stroke A's hair. "Okay. One more minute."

The shadows are still too dark, oppressive and threatening, while the light from the little lamp C turned on hurts their already sore eyes. But C's hand is gentle and soft, maybe cool and maybe warm but either way it's soothing on their skin.

A hardly knows them - at all - but curling up closer to that kind hand is easy. It's natural. So that's just what A does.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

for the ask meme: could you do 🥶 and 🛋? i absolutely LOVE your writing 💙

Another VERY old ask that I'm so sorry for not getting to earlier!

🥶- chills and shivers 🛋 - sofa naps

A knew they were sick. They'd known it from the moment they woke up that morning with a tickle in their throat, their eyes tired and arms weirdly weak and shaky. They'd known, but ignored it. They didn't have time to be sick.

So they'd gone into their shift at the grocery store just like on a regular day, fighting to ignore the tiredness that seemed to weigh them down from head to foot, worsening the longer they stood there, or the fierce chills that the strong A/C wasn't helping one bit. It was October, did they really need to leave it up that high?

Due to one of their coworkers already being down sick (another reason why they couldn't just stay home) and shifts being wonky, they barely got a lunch break. It didn't matter - they weren't hungry anyway.

By the time their day ended and they hobbled out into the damp, windy evening, their bones felt like they were made of lead. A cough had started up in their chest sometime in the afternoon, at first occasional and swiftly becoming unavoidable, and they were so dead exhausted they could barely stand, let alone walk. It took all the effort they had to first drag themselves onto their bus home, and then stay awake once they were in their seat. They allowed themselves the window as a prop, startled at how soothing the cool glass felt against their cheek. Logically, they knew they were probably feverish, but with the chills gripping them head to toe they hadn't realized how warm their face was.

It started to rain. A watched the icy pellets patter against the windows, too tired even to feel dread at the thought of walking the rest of the way home in all that.

They were half asleep by the time their stop was announced, and had to shake themselves to so much as process the fact that they had to get off.

Clambouring down from their seat was painful, their limbs sore and stiff and not cooperating, but stepping outside was definitely worse. The rain had quickly become a downpour, and within only a few minutes of being in it they were soaked to the skin and shivering harder than before.

One more step, they told themselves as the ground swayed under them. Just one more. They kept up this mantra until, dizzy and ready to collapse, they found themselves at the door to their apartment.

It took them almost a full minute to get inside, their brain not working fast enough to remember where their keys were at first, their hands so shaky getting the thing into the door once they did was an effort. But they were home. Finally, they were home.

A peeled off their wet jacket and boots, considered changing out of the damp shirt and jeans they'd been wearing all day, only to conclude even that was too much of an effort. They curled up just as they were on the couch, just enough strength left in their limbs to pull an old blanket around themselves. Their last thought before they drifted into an uneasy sleep was that they'd forgotten to leave the front light on for their roommate when they got home later that evening.

Strange and awful dreams plagued them. They thought they heard voices calling their name, but when they looked around for the source of it they saw only a little bird down a hallway ahead of them, piping out its song. Then they got closer and the bird was the size of a car, and when it opened its beak it let out a terrible scream...A turned and ran but it was like running through molasses and the floor seemed to be falling out from under them...then they were lying in some icy, barren landscape with only a three legged dog for company, walking around with its tail as a fourth foot and singing Christmas songs...

I just want to go home, they thought desperately. How far away was home? How had they gotten here, anyway?

A tree branch swung down and tugged at their clothing like a long, clawlike finger. "Stop," they muttered, their voice hoarse. "Please, just let go of me..."

"A? I think you're having a bad dream, it's just me. Come on, wake up."

With a gasp and a dry cough, A emerged and found themselves in their own living room, in their apartment. Their heart was pounding, the blanket around them had been kicked away in their sleep but someone had laid another over them, tucking it up to their shoulders.

That "someone" was sitting on the edge of the sofa beside them, looking deeply concerned. "Hey there," said their roommate, B. "You were thrashing around in your sleep...I thought it would be best to wake you up from whatever that was."

They'd been sweating, the now icy layer of perspiration only adding to the dampness of their clothes, making them shiver so hard their teeth chattered. B's face above them seemed to split in two, the two Bs blurring back together. A squeezed their eyes shut.

"Thanks," they said, feeling like they'd swallowed glass. "Sorry - I didn't mean to upset you..."

"You didn't. Are you okay? No offence, but you look terrible."

A ran a shaky hand over their face, feeling distantly the heat of their skin. "I'm...I think I might be a bit sick. I think."

B let out something that was close to a snort. "You think?" Their hand came to A's forehead and it was all they could do not to beg them to keep it there, so wonderful was the cool relief. Their frown deepened. "I'm going to get you some water. You just stay here, okay?"

As if they had the energy to do anything else. A lay there silently, trying to ignore the way the walls around them tilted and swayed as if they were on a rocking ship. One thought penetrated the walls of their exhausted brain - B knew. They didn't like people being near them when they were sick. They didn't like anyone knowing. It was much less overwhelming to just deal with it on their own time, in their own way.

"Here you go." B was back, holding a glass of water in one hand and a thick winter blanket in the other. Despite their unwillingness to accept help, A almost cried in relief at the sight.

B helped them sit up to drink, a feat that left them so weak and dizzy they seriously didn't think they'd ever be able to move again. But when they unfolded that blanket A wrapped it tight around themselves without hesitation. "Cold, were you?" said B with a sympathetic look.

"Freezing," they answered. In all honesty, the blanket did little to help. They were still chilled to the bone.

B plucked at their damp sleeve. "You should change out of this. Did you get caught in the rain?"

A nodded, still shuddering. B gave a pitying sigh. "Why don't you get some dry clothes on before you do anything else, hm? Do you want me to help you get to your room?"

"I - I don't think I can," they said. They didn't think they'd be able to stand in their state, let alone find their way into their room without collapsing.

B looked at them. "Then I'll do you one better. Wait here."

They left before A could protest, and came back later with a pair of sweatpants and their warmest hoodie. "These'll do. Get changed, take your time. Don't worry - I'm not looking."

As weak as they were A had no choice but to take their time, slowly untangling themselves from the couch and burying their shaky limbs in the warmer clothes, relieved more than anything to just be dry again.

When they were done and curled back up on the sofa B turned around cautiously. "Made it okay? Good." They picked up A's damp clothes from where they'd dumped them unceremoniously on the carpet. "I'll throw these in the drier for you."

"You don't need to," said A through chattering teeth. "I'll - I'll get it myself - "

"Hush." B pulled the blankets back over them in a motherly sort of way. "You stay right here. I'll be back."

"No - B - wait -" A reached out and grabbed hold of their sleeve, the only action they had the energy to complete. "You don't have to help me. You don't have to do anything. I can take care of myself."

Before they knew it tears were in their eyes and they had to fight not to let them fall. Even they couldn't understand why they felt so deeply anxious about it. Only that they felt like they didn't even know B, they'd only been roommates for a little while, and the thought of them trying to do too much for them was far worse than the thought of just having to power through it by themselves.

"Hey, don't get upset," said B, resting a hand on their cheek. "Please don't be upset. I promise not to baby you or anything - I just think you need a bit of help right now." They paused, brushing the hair tentatively away from A's eyes. "I don't like seeing you hurting, that's all. It would help me if you let me help you a little."

That was too much. The tears they had been hiding slid out silently onto the pillow - the same one they buried their face in to hide this fact. "I'm sorry," they muttered. "I shouldn't be this upset. I just - I really do feel that bad."

The hand started to stroke their hair. This was really, really too much. "I know. I'm sorry. I know it's hard but just - try to let me help, okay? Let me know what you need and I'll do my best."

A wasn't sure what spurred it, but they let their fingers slide down from B's sleeve to entwine with their own. "Okay. Thank you. You're too nice, B."

B squeezed their hand. "I think I'm just nice enough."

[allthewhumpygoodness]

they slowly blink awake in the cold light of dawn, the bluish tint hinting at new fallen snow on the ground. they’re weighed down by quilts, barely able to move, but most of them is snug and warm, save for the tip of their icy nose. how’d this happen? they groan softly, unable to form their lips around the words, trying to remember the moments between getting sick and this.

“Shhh, you’re alright.” their friend fades into their vision, bundled in a winter coat and wearing a woolen hat. the friend bends over the bed and checks the temperature of their blanketed friend with a fingerless-gloved hand. “Still warm, but I’m not taking chances with you until the heat’s back.”

“what….happened?”

“surprise fall storm caught the grid off guard last night. half the city lost power.” the friend chafes their hands and tucks them under their arms, hunching their shoulders.

the sick one is too tired to respond, but it’s not lost on them that they’ve got all the blankets on them, while their friend has none.

so they tentatively lift the closest corner of the lowest blanket and motion to their friend. “Stay with me?” they ask softly.

The friend smiles and obliges, scooting under the covers. In a swift motion, they tug the hat from their head and pull it down over the sick one’s ears. “always,” they reply quietly as they huddle with their sick friend to wait out the outage.

(note: inspired by a post I can’t for the LIFE of me find - I’m gonna keep searching but until then all credit to that post)

[allthewhumpygoodness]

What kind of environmental whump tropes/settings do you enjoy the most?

anything that involves whumpee being soaked to the bone. heavy rain, being caught in a heavy storm at sea, falling asleep on the beach and being swallowed by the tide. it's all delicious because it always leaves whumpee so helpless and vulnerable.

the panic that comes with drowning. fighting for breath as their strength dwindles, with nothing but the inability to accept that no help is coming keeping them afloat. the hopelessness when they plunge beneath the waves for what feels like the final time.

or, if caught in a downpour, how quickly whumpee becomes a pathetic shivering mess. there's nothing i like more than clothes being plastered with rain to whumpee's body. it makes them look so fragile and worn down, especially when they refuse to take them off when they reach shelter because their mind is so clouded with cold that they can't recognise help when it is offered.

hypothermia, shivering, fevers. hair and clothes plastered to skin. the general aesthetic of heavy rain. it's good stuff.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Sorta as per my last reblog: CHARACTERS GETTING SICK DURING A PARTY

I'm thinking like, catching the flu and actually getting sick over the course of the few hours they're there

So they're fine at the beginning, cheerful, eating and drinking and chatting...

And then they start to feel really run down, really fast

Zoning out on the couch, suddenly exhausted. Other characters think they could be drunk/high, but soon realize they're completely sober and just really out of it from a rising fever

Lights looking too bright, the rest of the room looking too dim. Weird halos around lamps, the TV screen.

Someone falling asleep curled up on the sofa, found and given a blanket by another party goer who thinks it's adorable at first -- only to realize they're a bit too warm

Maybe they had to get all the way across town to reach their friend's house, and now it's either late enough that buses aren't running, or they don't have money for a cab, or they drove but they're in no state to do so now, or maybe their friends are just worried enough about them that sending them home alone at all isn't something they're comfortable with...so the easiest solution is to just let them spend the night

Taking someone's temperature in a bathroom late at night with only a night light on, the sounds of the party still audible outside the door

Letting them sleep in somebody's bed, dimming the lights and closing the door, asking people to keep things quiet when near that room because there's someone inside trying to rest

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Speaking of sleep in whump. I do in fact have a vivid daydream about a group hanging out together nd having fun until suddenly one of them shushes everyone else and theyre all like ???? tf

And the camera pans over to The Character. The one who still insists theyre only part of the group bc theyre forced to be. Who will come to the parties but always sits in a corner and mopes. Who has, very clearly, never lowered their guard around others. Always tense, always on edge.

And right now? Right now they are asleep. Just completely knocked out. Asleep in a way that cannot be faked, that everyone in the team immediately recognizes as genuine. Perhaps even snoring a bit! No one remembers ever seeing their face like this - completely relaxed and peaceful, their usual scowl smoothed over.

Needless to say everyone treats it with the importance it deserves. After all it's a major step forward, a sign that the character is finally putting their trust in them. Feeling safe enough to leave themself completely vulnerable in their presence. Knowing they'll keep them safe and not take advantage of that trust.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Things Sick Characters Do...

›› refuse to admit they’re sick while literally swaying on their feet (“I’m fine.” immediately crashes into the couch and doesn’t get up for 2 hours)

›› that stubborn little forehead crease when they’re trying to pretend they’re not in pain but they definitely are

›› saying “I’m not cold” while shivering like a leaf and glaring at the blanket you’re offering like it insulted their honor

›› wearing like… 3 hoodies. and a beanie. and a blanket cape. looking like a lump of denial with a nose

›› flinching when they cough too hard, like it surprised them and they feel a little betrayed by their own body

›› that specific exhausted way of blinking, slow and confused, like their brain is buffering every time you ask a question

›› apologizing for being sick. like their immune system personally offended you. like they should’ve scheduled it better

›› getting clingy in that low-energy, wordless way. like reaching for your sleeve or sitting closer without saying anything

›› drinking tea like it’s a punishment. making a face after every sip but still doing it because someone made it for them

›› trying to pretend they’re still useful. doing tasks badly. insisting on helping and then immediately sitting down like “okay I need a nap now”

›› using exactly zero words to communicate for three days. just grunting and side-eyes and one finger raised when they need something

›› being deeply offended by how gross they feel. muttering “I hate this” every few minutes like their own mucus is their nemesis

›› standing up too fast and doing the classic “whoa. gravity’s intense today” stagger

›› texting you things like “bring soup. i am dying. goodbye” but then surviving anyway, unfortunately for the drama

›› finally accepting help after pretending they didn’t need it, and getting weirdly quiet when someone tucks the blanket around them just right

›› looking genuinely surprised when someone takes care of them. like it never crossed their mind that anyone would

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Whumpee wincing as Caretaker applies healing salve OR sighing in obvious relief

Feverish nightmares OR awake and tripping balls delirious (though they're both so so good it was near impossible to choose)

Caretaker massaging Whumpee's stiff aching shoulders OR their sore aching feet

Post-rescue longtime suffering Whumpee being assisted by Caretaker to take their first bath/shower in ages OR the moment when Caretaker helps them settle comfortably into a warm soft bed

Caretaker gently pressing an ice pack onto Whumpee's injuries OR making them a hot water bottle for muscle/stomach pain

Whumpee being comforted by a food or drink they've never tried before while sick/injured/whatever (eg: never had ginger tea but finds it soothing once they're given some) OR being given something that brought them comfort as a child (eg: used to get graham crackers as a treat when they were sick so Caretaker gets them some)

Time for another Whump This or That! :)

Whumpee wincing as Caretaker applies healing salve OR sighing in obvious relief

Feverish nightmares OR awake and tripping balls delirious

Caretaker massaging Whumpee's stiff aching shoulders OR their sore aching feet

Post-rescue longtime suffering Whumpee being assisted by Caretaker to take their first bath/shower in ages OR the moment when Caretaker helps them settle comfortably into a warm soft bed

Caretaker gently pressing an ice pack onto Whumpee's injuries OR making them a hot water bottle for muscle/stomach pain

Whumpee being comforted by a food or drink they've never tried before while sick/injured/whatever (eg: never had ginger tea but finds it soothing once they're given some) OR being given something that brought them comfort as a child (eg: used to get graham crackers as a treat when they were sick so Caretaker gets them some)

[allthewhumpygoodness]

"They're more scared of you than you are of them" prompts:

Soon-to-be-Caretaker has been keeping an eye on someone who they've seen out on the streets that appears to be on the run from something. They finally attempt to make contact one night, trying to stay calm and hide just how terrified they are of this semi feral person who is clearly VERY good at looking out for themselves when in trouble and currently looking at them like a cornered wild animal. And then they see the untreated injury. They get a better look at the expression in their exhausted eyes. And right away can tell that whatever they've been through, they're much more scared of Caretaker than Caretaker ever could be of them right now. And gaining their trust will require them to proceed very, very gently

Or the reverse: feral on the run Whumpee who is terrified of everyone they encounter but also desperate for help, seeing an exceptionally wary person approaching them and trying to appear as harmless as possible so they won't scare them away and will actually get help

A deconstruction: Whumpee with Abilities who's been experimented on and tortured by Whumper for god knows how long to better understand or exploit their powers, finally revealing their powers to their highest degree -- possibly having repressed them out of fear in the past -- and for once they see fear in Whumper's eyes

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Whumperless whump event day 1

"Fate really has is out for you, huh?"

The gentle sound of dripping water fills the room as Caretaker slowly wrings out a freshly dipped rag. Candlelight dances off the droplets as they hit the surface in the bowl below.

"Hmmmf."

"You know, you really ought to be more careful," Caretaker says as they softly dab the cloth against Whumpee's temple. "What's next, a broken leg? You're really not making things easy for me."

"Do you think I meant to get sick?" Whumpee rasps. "I swear, I cleaned and rebandaged it every night just like you said."

Unable to keep themselves from grinning, Caretaker moves to undo the bandaging on Whumpees thigh. Sticky with pus, it's meticulous work. Caretaker has to wetten, unwind, wetten, unwind, the fabric until it finally comes off. Not sooner than Whumpee can complain about the water running down their leg though.

"If you cleaned it properly I wouldn't have to give you a whole bath just to take a look at your wound", Caretaker teases.

"I told you, I did!"

"Mhm..."

Some time later, Whumpees wound is cleaned and the sticky bandage is replaced with a freshly white one.

"Hey," Caretaker says as they softly put their hand against Whumpees cheek. "Are you okay?"

Affectionally, Whumpee grabs Caretakers wrist to press their hand even closer.

"Yeah."

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Big fan of sickfic whump that happens at night.

Like there's seldom a bad time to write whump happening, but nighttime is special sometimes.

Caretaker waking up to a desperate phone call or commotion nearby and having to navigate the situation while still at least a little under the blur of sleep

NIGHTTIME WHUMPY CAR RIDE. It's dark, it's scary, maybe raining, caretaker maybe has to drive slow and has to juggle Whumpee's distress and their automotive safety

if they go to the ER the burning fluorescent lights can add an extra element of distress (maybe Whumpee burying their head into Caretaker's shoulder to "escape" it)

Caretaker having to hit up a late-night pharmacy; tired, groggy, looking desperately for something that will at least maybe help. Maybe they have to bring Whumpee in with them and try to guide & comfort them, that or leave them while they run the errand and hope they aren't doing too badly for however long it takes

Changing out whumpee's bed sheets in the middle of the night, while they'd both rather be asleep but now Whumpee is sat off to the side mumbling apologies, maybe outright crying as caretaker cleans up and tries to reassure them.

Caretaker falling asleep after Whumpee finally drifts back off either with them in the bed or sat in a chair next to it, maybe rubbing their back, wiping their face with a damp cloth, or stroking their hair.

(also: please tag me if you use these prompts for fanfic or your Ocs! <3)

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Thiiiiiiiinking about food in regards to Caretaking.

I touched on it a bit in my (first?) this or that whump post, but like. Yeah....

The classic soup and/or tea, trying to bring some warmth and strength back into a weak & shivering whumpee; some do it out of pure tradition alone, but still the love is true and it's gently steaming in that mug or bowl

A badly feverish whumpee's hitch of relief as they take a first sip of cold juice where you can tell it's such a relief to them to hydrate a little since they're just absolutely burning up

a Whumpee who's forcibly had teeth removed or have had them aching for a long time in bad conditions finally given something soft by a kindly caretaker after being rescued. Warm soup, fluffy rolls, apples or potatoes baked soft, just finally something that doesn't hurt. Caretaker will do more of course, but Whumpee is already grateful to the point of tears at what they've already done

A stoic, stern, or hypercompetent Whumpee expecting the bare minimum if any care from anyone else with a sore throat so bad they can hardly speak being surprised with ice cream or popsicles by Caretaker, getting them to break down their emotional walls a bit

Caretaker gently soothing a pukey sick whumpee through nibbling on some crackers or sipping some ginger ale

A medieval or fantasy Whumpee growing and brewing chamomile tea for Whumpee's awful chronic headaches, stirring in honey and lemon, drawing curtains closed and re-soaking the cloth over whumpee's eyes when they bring the tea in on a tray