#There's also amputation whump but I'm not sure I can write that so uh. Use your imagination.

[nat-1-whump]

We need to give winged whumpees more love. Consider:

As hurt, we've got...

Sick Whumpee struggles to sleep because their wings make lying down tricky. This makes them extra miserable when they're already sick, tired, and desperately need to sleep but just can't get comfortable.

When Whumpee gets badly injured on the field, it takes the whole team to pin them down so they don't thrash around and make it worse while Caretaker tries to treat them. They've got people holding their legs, arms, and wings, and as much as Whumpee screams and writhes in pain, they don't let go. While they try to pull their wing from their teammate's grip, Whumpee accidentally dislocates it.

Whumper restrains Whumpee and rips their feathers out, one by one... Or all at once, if they are so inclined.

Whumpee gets caught in some kind of trap that covers their wings in gunk, effectively pinning them to the ground as they desperately try to escape from Whumper.

Sick with a horrible fever, Whumpee feels freezing cold no matter how much they're actually burning up. They keep trying to wrap their wings around themself for warmth, but Caretaker keeps stopping them by spreading their wings out. Whumpee groans as they try to pull their wings back. Caretaker whispers an apology, but they still can't let Whumpee risk making their fever worse.

Whumpee gets knocked out in midair, plummeting to the ground completely helpless. Or slamming into every tree branch, rooftop, or clothes line on the way down.

And as comfort, there's...

Caretaker gives Whumpee a warm bath and massages the dried blood out of their feathers. By the time they're done, Whumpee is fast asleep.

Caretaker repositions the pillows and blankets on Whumpee's bed into a sort of nest, trying to help Whumpee get as comfortable as they can. Afterwards, they bundle Whumpee in a blanket, wrapping Whumpee in their own wings first to make the blanket fit around them better and provide some extra warmth.

After Whumpee gets badly injured, Caretaker bandages up their wings, trying to soothe them whenever they cry out from the pain. Unable to fly, Whumpee gets increasingly impatient with themself over the following days. Caretaker notices their frustration and gently encourages them to take it easy and let their wings rest.

Whumpee uses their wings as a blanket for both themself and Caretaker as they snuggle together on the couch.

When Whumpee can barely walk due to their injuries, the weight of their wings only adds to the struggle. Though they encourage Whumpee to stay in bed and rest as much as possible, Caretaker is happy to wrap their arm around Whumpee's waist and help them around the house. Whumpee rests a wing on Caretaker's shoulders as they make their way to the kitchen for some warm food.

Caretaker asks Whumpee to hold still so they can draw their wings in their sketchbook. They say it's so Whumpee can see what their wings look like without trying to bend backwards in a mirror, but there's a silent understanding between the two that it's because they're both craving some time together. Whumpee starts to feel stiff from holding their wings out, but they can't help but smile a bit at the way Caretaker leans closer to watch the light move across their feathers. Though Whumpee had never seen their wings as anything particularly beautiful, they set off a sort of sparkle in Caretaker's eyes.

And maybe some wing-related dialogue, such as...

Whumper grinned, picking up a pair of wire cutters. The tool glinted in the flickering torch light. "Well, you've gone and flown a little too close to the sun, didn't you, Whumpee? Not to worry, though. You'll never fly again, when I'm through with you."

"Oh, why won't you sing for me, my beautiful songbird?" Whumper drawled as they ran a finger along Whumpee's throat. Whumpee only glared back. If it weren't for the muzzle, they would have spat on Whumper's shoes. They squirmed in their restraints, leather straps binding their wings close to their back.

"Oh, you poor thing... What happened to your wings? C'mere, let me look at them..." Caretaker pulled Whumpee into an embrace, grabbing their wings with gentle hands. Their breath hitched as they noticed that, under the tattered feathers, Whumpee's injuries were even worse than they thought.

Caretaker slapped sick Whumpee's cheek, trying to wake them up. "Hey, Whumpee, um. Listen, y-you're fever's getting worse and I just need to know... Whatever you are, do you go to a doctor or a vet?" They weren't exactly prepared for this winged stranger to show up on their doorstep half-dead. While they might have normally found their dilemma a bit comedic, right now it was hard to laugh. Whumpee desperately needed medical help, but they had no idea where to take them.

"Ngh-stop! Let go of my wings, or so help me I'll---" Whumpee's protests turned into a scream as Caretaker poured antiseptic onto a cloth and pressed it against their gaping wound. Whumpee passed out from the pain, falling limp with tears still streaming down their face. As their vision faded, they heard Caretaker's whispered apologies.

"Six months for the feathers to grow back?!" Whumpee's lower lip started to quiver. "B-but... I can't fly..." They took a wing in their hands, running their fingers along the bare, bloody skin where their feathers had been ripped out. Caretaker reached out to put a hand on Whumpee's shoulder, but Whumpee flinched back. A tear rolled down their cheek, stinging them as it landed right on an open cut on their wing. "Nonononono, th-there's gotta be something you can do! Anything! Please... I want my feathers back."

Just... Wings. Yeah.