#Whumpee/Caretaker

[whump-side]

"You should have seen the other guy"

[marvel-ous-whump]

Whumpee and Caretaker have been friends for years, both secretly in love with and pining for the other. Whumpee gets taken by Whumper, then rescued and while in the hospital, loopy on painkillers and half-asleep. they tell Caretaker that they love them. Caretaker is surprised, but doesn't believe it because Whumpee

- is on *all* the Painkillers. - has been through massive trauma - Is half-asleep when they say it.

So when Whumpee wakes up properly and doesn't seem to remember the confession, Caretaker doesn't bring it up. Until like six months later, Whumpee says it again, wide awake, completely lucid and having been to a few therapy sessions. And Caretaker finally says it back

[peachesofteal]

WIP Wednesday? (I wasn't tagged but indulge me anyway?)

He cups your cheek, warm thumb gently moving across your skin, sweet, molasses thick affection, like the cough syrup that you used to swallow when you were young. “Do ye want some tea?” Yes. God yes, a thousand times yes. Yes, you want the tea. Yes, you want to fall into the bleak darkness of drugged sleep, the vat of unconscious that swallows you whole every time. You want the buzz of numbness, the shadow of an orphic, endless pit. You want to slink away from everything, from them, from whatever this is, from what’s happened to you. 

“Yeah, I-“

“Johnny.” Simon says his name softly from the kitchen. “Let’s wait a bit on the tea.” His brow furrows, venetian blue eyes catching the light just so, sparkling down towards you, sea foam, sea glass and ocean spray, all mixed together into kaleidoscopes that spiral outward from his pupils, and when he frowns, you swear they darken. 

“She’s in pain.” He protests, straightening to full height.

[anarchypumpkincowboy]

So we all know Porter’s got the jacked up pick up truck, and Jace definitely has a motorcycle. Now I want you to imagine a dark winter night. A snowstorm is coming in. They’re on a back road in the middle of nowhere.

There’s no one else around and they’re both being absolute asshole drivers to each other. Porter’s got road rage, and Jace is just being a bitch to be a bitch. Maybe he's had a few drinks. For whatever reason Porter's getting pissed the fuck off from this little shit on a motorcycle swerving between the lanes. He's revving the truck, he's riding his ass, but every time he tries to pass him Jace will swerve in front.

Now imagine they're coming up on a curve. They both know its there, but neither are slowing down or chilling out. Jace hits a patch of black ice. The swerving veers him right off the side of the road into a deep ditch, and Porter slams on his breaks, jumps out of the car with a flashlight, and starts making his way down the side of the ditch. He wanted to teach the dude a lesson sure but he doesn't want him dead. And the snowstorm's really picking up by now, the temperature has dropped to well below freezing. If he leaves that little shit's as good as dead.

Jace had been thrown off the motorcycle, but he couldn't've landed in a better spot honestly. He's pretty banged up. One leg is definitely broken, and moving the flashlight up it's looking like at least one of his arms is too. He's still conscious though, trying to push himself up and failing miserably. Porter snaps at him to quit moving or he'll make it worse before gently, oh so carefully, feeling him over for any more serious life endangering injuries. Not immediately finding any, he moves to pick him up, being careful with his head and removing his helmet, he starts walking them back up to his truck.

He'd planned on going back and grabbing the motorcycle but it's completely totaled at this point. But anyways he lays Jace down in the backseats and tries to secure him as best he can. The roads are too bad to get all the way back to town, let alone to a hospital, and Porter's already used up all his spell slots. He has a cabin close by though.

He takes them both to the cabin. Jace has been wavering in and out of consciousness the whole drive but he was coherent enough at one point to say his name. Porter gets them inside. He gets Jace out of his wet clothes as gently as he can before laying him down on the guest bed. Grabs some extra blankets and cranks the heat up. Does what little he can for the injuries before he can rest and use lay on hands.

The next morning after he's had some healing Jace is looking a little better, but he's still pretty injured, both of his arms had definitely been broken and he'd cracked a couple ribs too. And the cabin is completely snowed in. Even with Porter's truck there's no getting out of here for a few days at least. Guess Porter's stuck taking care of an injured little shit who just so happens to have the prettiest golden eyes he's ever seen. And hey maybe this accident's taught the little elf a lesson about driving recklessly through a snowstorm on a motorcycle

[cold1dead1eyes]

29. "i won't let them hurt you anymore."

oscar is thrashing around on his bed. it’s not full blown mania, but he’s squirming desperately, like he’s trying to crawl out of his own skin. kenneth knew that something was wrong the minute he retreated to his own room instead of sleeping in their shared queen.

“no. no. no. no.” oscar mutters under his breath. his eyes are half open but hazy, tear tracks dragging down his cheeks. kenneth collapses next to the bed. he reaches out and pulls the blanket off of oscar.

“hey, sweetheart. you’re okay, you’re okay.” kenneth whispers, making sure not to touch oscar. it wouldn’t help his panic, touch is the last thing he needs right now. oscar is shaking so hard that his staggered teeth are clattering. he curls up into a ball and fists his hands into his frizz of curls.

“stop, s’hurting, no, stop. s’hurting emmett.” oscar slurs under his breath. he’s not asleep, just too deep into his episode to be lucid. kenneth turns on the bedside lamp and strips the blanket off the bed. oscar isn’t fully gone yet. he’s just started slipping and with any luck, if kenneth goes by this tactfully, he’ll be able to pull him back before he falls in.

“kenneth! kenneth!” oscar screams. screams. he groans and cries into his pillow, awful and breathless. the raw scratch of his throat makes kenneth feel sick. if he didn’t know any better, he’d be panicking now too just from the sheer desperation in oscar’s cries.

“i’m here, oscar. i’m right here. i’m right here.” kenneth gets in close to whisper. not too close. just close enough to shroud oscar in his voice, and a shiver passes through oscar’s entire body.

“oscar, open your eyes.” oscar shakes his head. his knobbly knees are tucked up against his chest. kenneth’s hands are itching to reach out and smooth out the death grip he has on his thin legs, but he knows that he has to get oscar out of his episode before he can comfort him.

“kenneth, please, make it stop. make it stop.” oscar sobs. his pillow is soaked with tears. he huddles closer and rocks back and forth, still squirming, trying to rip out from a body that hurts so badly even when there’s no danger.

kenneth softly shushes him. he keeps going until oscar’s whimpers fade out into hiccups, then until he goes silent, breathing heavily. he leans down again and whispers.

“open your eyes, sweetheart.” slowly, tentatively as if he’s expecting to lose his vision from it, oscar peeks his eyelids open. his glass prosthetic eye stays stagnant in its socket, but his other eye is bloodshot from crying. kenneth smiles, shaky, trying to hide the awful tremble in his limbs. this never gets any easier.

“good. just like that. good job, keep them open, okay oscar?” oscar nods. he looks exhausted, like the exertion of his panic attack was enough to wipe him out completely. kenneth brings up one shaking hand. he holds it over oscar’s thin form, a safe distance in case he denies.

“i’m going to touch you now, okay? just on the arm.” thank god, oscar nods. he bites his lip too hard and tries not to cry when kenneth’s hand comes down onto his arm. his breath hitches, but kenneth just strokes his skin, gently and carefully.

“see? you’re safe, it’s okay. there’s no one here but me.” oscar’s eyes peek open a little more. he lethargically turns his head, as if to check. he sighs thankfully at the empty room and reaches out to grab kenneth’s arm with two small, shaky hands.

“do you want a hug?” kenneth asks, and oscar’s eyes fill with tears. he nods aggressively and reaches his arms out. kenneth lets out a breath of air he doesn’t remember taking and clambers into bed next to oscar.

“shh, you’re okay. you’re okay. i got you, darling. i’ll keep you safe.” he whispers as oscar hiccups cries into his chest. he holds him flush against his chest so that he can hear the pounding of kenneth’s heart through his ribcage. steady and strong and safe.

“i won’t let them hurt you anymore.” kenneth promises. oscar lets out a higher pitched keen, choked off and pained. kenneth bundles him closer into his head. he rubs his shaking back and holds him as oscar breaks apart in his arms.

prompt from @whumpay

[whumpblrful]

His Warmth

Axesuke & Negasumi, 300 words

FebuWhump Day 2: “flinching”

Natsumi thinks Yuusuke is unfairly cute. His smile is bright, still, if a little manic. But so be it. He’s suffered enough to be justified in his tight faces and tighter movements.

He’s warm, too. Comforting, and she isn’t used to this. To someone she can trust. Chinatsu died a year ago, after all, and it feels like both yesterday and a hundred years ago.

She reaches for his hand as they take a short break to watch an old movie.

(How long has it been since she’s been able to rest like this?)

He jumps, pushing her back. She’s too shocked to fight it.

“Yuusuke?” She asks. Yuusuke’s eyes are wide, but then he blinks.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m… something it still feels like I’m back there.”

Natsumi shakes her head, going back over, an holding out her own hand.

“No, it’s fine,” she says. “I know how you feel. If it… I would help you leave.”

Yuusuke just shakes his head, taking her hand and pulling her close. Natsumi snuggles against him.

“No,” he says. “Forget it. Everything I want is here.”

Natsumi nods, but she still worries. Yuusuke’s so strong, but he’s hurt.

“Are you sure?” She asks, “you’re so quiet about your past. I don’t want you here, just for me. You barely know me.”

Yuusuke just smiles.

“I don’t regret a thing,” he says. “Except…”

Natsumi tenses.

“Except what?” She asks, and Yuusuke’s face falls in an instant. His eyes close, and he looks… broken. He is not supposed to be broken. He is supposed to be bright, and sure.

She puts her hand on his heart.

“My sister died,” Yuusuke says. “Because I lost. Nothing will ever change that.”

And Natsumi…

Hikari Natsumi does not know how to fix him.

[justbreakonme]

“Please… I’m so tired.”

“Then sleep. I’ll stand guard.”

“I thought you said it was safe here?”

“It is. But you don’t feel safe, do you?”

“…not yet.”

“Then I’ll stand guard, till you can.”

[whumporama]

Whumpee who is recovering after the whumpTM, but it's not going great. They're so frustrated with themselves, with their caretakers, just with everything. Everyone is so soft and understanding and it bothers them and they want to scream, but they know they should be grateful.

Until Caretaker comes along. Caretaker isn't 'nice' like the others, they don't take bullshit. They're good for Whumpee, but they don't baby them. They treat them like an adult with anatomy, and it's so refreshing for Whumpee.

"You want to stay up, fine. But you will tell me when you can't anymore, because if I have to drag you off the floor we're both in trouble. Understand?"

"Stop whining. What do you need?" (And then they get or do whatever it is without issues or judgement.)

"Want to tell me why you're doing worse today?" -- "No..." -- "Okay."

"Where does it hurt?" -- "It doesn-" -- "Don't give me that, I can see it hurts. Now tell me where."

Caretaker trusts Whumpee to know what they need, and lets them know again and again they won't take this nonsense of hiding their pain. They're practical, and kind, and Whumpee needed that.

[jordanstrophe]

Caretaker finds whumpee bound and gagged, unable to move and whimpering for their attention. Caretaker skids to their knees and pulls whumpee into their arms.

Whumpee, with their arms behind their back, can only press their face hard into caretaker's shoulder.

[whump-side]

Do you ever make yourself a gift as an artist and draw something you weren't able to illustrate with your baby skills back when you started to draw?

[thinkingofausername]

I love when the whumpee has to reinvent themself. No, you will never be the past you again, they are permanently changed by the trauma, but that does not mean death. You just have to find you again. The people who care about you might mourn, you might as well, but getting to know each other again can be quite interesting.

[defire]

Whumpee that's never had genuine comfort before

(comfort stuff)

Caretaker trying to be gentle and whumpee freaks the fuck out--"what are you doing?!" With paranoid wide eyes

"I'm cleaning your wounds...." "Not like that you're not. Here, give me the needle."

Caretaker trying to comfort them--"fuck, you've had it rough" and reaching out for a hug and whumpee just stares at them

Whumpee trying to be "nice" to caretaker by slapping them on the back painfully hard and making boisterous vague remarks that are supposed to be compliments

Or, whumpee staring at caretaker wondering how to say "thank you" in a way that won't get them beaten up, like last time

Caretaker impulsively hugging or touching them out of kindness and whumpee flinches away and grabs the spot like it burns

"You've always taken care of your own wounds?" Caretaker says. Whumpee frowns, confused. "Who else is supposed to do them?"

"Look, I get that you're trying to be nice, caretaker, but I have it handled," whumpee trying to get themself across the kitchen by leaning on the counters.

"I do not need you. It's okay. I'm not a burden."

[the-bar-sinister]

Recovering whumpee completely vacant and dissociated while caretaker takes care of them. Staring off into space while caretaker washes their body and tends their wounds. Only barely responding when caretaker touches them soothingly.

[martyr-inthedark]

Make your Whumpee tired.

Whumpees that have been deprived of sleep by Whumper, so much so that they don't remember how to walk in a straight line and can't figure out whether the recent appearance of little black bugs in their cell are real or a hallucination.

Whumpees that can't get a full night's rest. They doze off, only to be jolted awake by their own anxiety of not knowing when Whumper would come back. Perhaps they are awakened by phlegm-coated coughs induced by their illness. They are awakened by nightmares, or by Caregiver who is worried they may succumb to hypothermia, or by a thunderstorm, or the rough blanket scratching their open wounds, or so on.

Whumpees who pull all nighters to protect their friends or lovers.

Whumpees whose eyes burn when they finally can close their eyes. Whumpees whose muscles twitch, who can't stop yawning no matter how hard they try to stifle it. Whumpees with dark, glassy eyes. Whumpees who are slow to react or have a hard time keeping up with the conversation. Whumpees with throbbing headaches. Whumpees with brain fog and memory loss.

Whumpees who have been on the run and have over exhausted their bodies. Their muscles and joints continue to scream long after its over. Whumpees with extensive blood loss. Whumpees who are malnourished.

Whumpees whose survivor's guilt keeps them awake, wondering what they might have done differently, whether it was all their fault, or why they were the ones to live.

Whumpees whose bodies are in chronic pain or illness and who have to hide it, causing muscle and mental fatigue. They keep going with a smile until they collapse or pass out.

Whumpees who break down in tears, begging to be left alone so they can rest. Whumpees who sob when they are told that the bed in front of them is theirs to use whenever they want.

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

We all know about magical fatigue as a whump trope for magical overuse. Now I raise you: Magical euphoria.

Magic that feels good to use. It leaves the user dizzy and lightheaded, a giddy energy rushing through their entire body. It's enough to leave the most stoic whumpee giggling madly, to make the most obedient soldier go rogue. It's a power that ultimately, inevitably, controls its user.

Mages aren’t trusted to act on their own. They can’t be, not when each spell costs them their sanity. Not when, in a daze of manic joy, they’re just as liable to destroy the enemy as their allies.

And so they need a handler.

Imagine Caretaker in this situation. Forced to watch Whumpee throw themselves into madness, to turn themselves into an unthinking weapon under the demand of some uncaring general. Having to put aside their affection for Whumpee as a person, and analyze them as a tool.

It’s Caretaker who decides when Whumpee is still fit for battle. It’s caretaker who has to look into their dazed and distant eyes, blood dripping into a too wide smile, and decide if Whumpee has anything else to give.

It’s Caretaker who decides when they’re too far gone, when Whumpee needs to stop. And if Whumpee can’t, it’s Caretaker’s job to make them stop. Even if that means using force, even if it means hurting them, because letting them run wild isn’t an option.

And when the battle’s over, when Whumpee is either led or dragged away to the medical wing, Caretaker’s the only one brave enough to tend to their injuries. They wrap bleeding, scorched fingers without a word, the only sound being Whumpee babbling, mad ramblings. Caretaker knows they won’t remember any of this. They still talk to Whumpee anyway, soft, comforting words they hope will bring Whumpee back faster.

And when whumpee’s eyes finally clear, when their body sags with exhaustion they’re just now able to feel, Caretaker feels nothing but grief, because it’ll start all over again tomorrow.

[whumpy-bi]

Thinking about a rescuer/caretaker barging in and immediately softening when they see the state the victim is in—skittish, terrified, trying to get away from them.

The immediate softness and compassion of “No, no, I’m here to help.”