#delirious whumpee my beloved

[whumpbug]

whumperless whump event day 18: i dont see it @whumperless-whump-event

hallucinations / fever dreams / “it's just a nightmare. you're safe.”

see this post for character information!

caretaker: Archie

whumpee: Simon

guys this is like my 2nd favorite fic i wrote for wwe its so silly

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Archie hadn’t heard from Simon in nearly three days.

He had been taking a break from patrol after a bad rib break left him laid up in bed for a few days. Simon vehemently stated that it was forbidden for Archie to do anything more physical than climbing the stairs to his apartment. 

Usually, Archie would have fought him on this, but he didn’t really want to this time. A break sounded nice, especially if he got to spend it with Simon.

Which is why the radio silence confused him.

Typically, when Archie is on house arrest for an injury, Simon texts him often to check up on him, and if not that, he comes over to see Archie in person.

Sure, rib fractures weren’t the most serious thing Archie could be recovering from, but it still didn’t explain why Simon wasn’t having him report his pain on a scale of 1-10 every four hours.

So, Archie did the only logical thing there was to do.

He broke into Simon’s apartment.

He really needed to get better locks on his window. Archie finally clicked it open, and slipped into the kitchen. He hissed a bit as the movement pulled at his still sore side.

“Simon?” Archie called out, his voice a bit quiet just in case Simon was sleeping.

There was no response.

He ventured further into the apartment, noticing that even the apartment looked like it hadn’t been tended to in a few days. There was old fruit on the counter and dishes piled up in the sink and papers strewn about everywhere. It was completely out of character for Simon, who was one of the most organized people Archie knew.

Archie started getting a weird feeling. Simon being kidnapped wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, so that was always a possibility, but it still didn’t feel quite right to Archie. There were no signs of struggle, no signs that any person had been here in a few days.

He took a few more steps into the small living room, intending to go check on Simon’s bedroom when he heard a creak.

He froze.

There was a whoosh sound, and before Archie even had time to react, someone was tackling him to the ground and pinning him there.

“Woah, what the hell?!” He shouted, easily dodging the clumsy punches thrown his way. 

“Get out'f my house!” The figure shouted.

In the slivers of street light coming from the window, Archie finally caught a glimpse of his attacker’s face and--

“Simon?!” He shrieked, ducking from another swing of his fist.

“Get out!” Simon slurred, nearly falling forward with a flair of his arm. 

Archie got a better look at him now, his vision finally adjusting. Simon was breathing erratically. There was a deep flush on his cheekbones, and his eyes were glassy and hazy. Even in his voice, Archie could tell he wasn’t all the way there.

That explained the absence, then.

“Simon, it’s me. It’s Archie. You need to calm down--”

A knee flew up to meet Archie’s middle. Right where his ribs were wrapped up. A strangled cry escaped him.

“You’re not g’nna take me again..” Simon panted, squinting down at Archie as he hissed in pain.

“Fuck, Simon..” Archie groaned, finally grabbing Simon’s wrists and pinning them to his side. Simon did not like this, and began squirming and thrashing in Archie’s grasp.

It was no secret that Simon was taller than Archie, but his strength didn’t begin to compare. Archie gritted his teeth and sat up, pulling Simon off of him while still keeping his arms restrained.

Simon weakly tried to wrench himself out of Archie’s grasp, but dizziness began washing over him rather intensely, and he just groaned.

“J-Just.. leave me alone,” He demanded, but it came out as a soft whimper.

Archie frowned, feeling Simon’s fevered skin beneath his grasp. He approached him once again, kneeling in front of him.

Simon looked utterly and completely out of it. He was blinking slowly, trying in vain to focus his eyes on something. Underneath his hostility, though, Archie could see he was terrified.

“Hey. Look at me. It’s just me, it’s Archie. No one is here to hurt you. You're safe. It’s just a nightmare,” He said, voice gentle. He reached up to cradle Simon’s cheek, but also to gauge the fever and.. yup. He was absolutely burning.

Simon blinked again at Archie, tilting his head like he was seeing him for the first time.

“..Archie?”

Archie breathed a laugh. “Yeah bud, it’s me. Somethin�� tells me you’re not feeling too good..”

Simon fluttered his eyes closed and shook his head. 

“M’cold..” He murmured, and as if to punctuate the statement, a brief shiver wracked his frame.

Archie frowned sympathetically and reached over to the coffee table to flick on a lamp.

He used this opportunity to get a better look at his friend. Simon was wearing an oversized t-shirt that looked suspiciously damp, and some pajama bottoms. His socks were mismatched, which isn’t that odd, but for Simon, completely out of character. He was also rocking a severe bedhead, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. Knowing Simon, he probably hadn’t.

Simon was swaying slightly where he sat, looking positively miserable. Archie sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead, smiling softly when Simon melted into the touch.

“How long have you been feeling sick?” He asked, threading a hand through Simon’s sweaty hair.

Simon shrugged. “Since.. Tuesday?”

“Simon, it’s Friday.”

“...Oh.”

Archie sighed softly and wrapped his arms around Simon’s trembling form. He peppered kisses across his warm face and carded a hand through his hair once again.

“How about we get you all cleaned up and into bed?” He offered, standing with a sharp wince.

Simon nodded before noticing Archie’s hiss. He squinted at him in confusion.

“Wait.. your ribs.. how’s the pain?” He questioned softly.

Archie smiled sheepishly. “Well, they were getting better until uh.. well, y’know..”

Simon suddenly remembered what he had been dreaming of previously, and blanched. 

“Oh.. shit, Archie, m'so sorry..I thought..” He trailed off, covering his mouth with a hand.

“Ah, it’s fine. You didn’t mean it! Let’s just get you into the shower, alright?” Archie’s voice had a hint of mirth.

Simon nodded, still feeling his ears burn red with embarrassment.

“I will, however, have you look at them when you’re feeling better. You’re surprisingly strong, even when dying of the plague.”

Simon mumbled more apologies as Archie led him into the bathroom, hiding his face in his hand.

Archie huffed a small laugh. He was never going to let Simon live this down.

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[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.

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

Love love love fake-outs in whump because there's just so many angst potentials ranging from "oh no :(" to "oh my fucking god"

Whumpee finally managing to escape, running as fast as their legs will carry them right into the arms of Caretaker who tearfully tells them they'll never lose them again...only to wake up and realize it had been a delirious dream from blood loss

Someone coming across Whumpee who begs them for help, pleading for rescue, and this poor stranger is so startled and hurriedly assures Whumpee that everything will be okay, they won't let anything happen to them, they'll call the police and...haha, sorry, couldn't keep a straight face any longer. Whumper, did you get all that? Send me a picture of that face, it's too priceless.

Caretaker has finally found Whumpee after so long and are working on getting the shackles off, whispering soft praises and promises that everything is all over now, there's nothing to be afraid of because Whumper is...well, they thought Whumper was dead, but apparently they had just enough strength to come up behind Caretaker and slit their throat

Whumpee has been rescued from their hell, picked up by a kind stranger who's none to happy to hear about Whumper's antics, but don't worry, Whumpee will never have to experience that kind of torment again...because what their new captor has in store for them is much, much worse than the child's play that had been described

Whumpee is dragged away kicking and screaming from their beloved Caretaker, begging for Whumper to show them mercy and that they don't deserve such cruel treatment, promising to be good if they only let Caretaker go...but Whumpee, what are you talking about? Caretaker is the real Whumper, don't you remember? When they kidnapped you so long ago? What did they do to your mind?

Caretaker is just so relieved to have Whumpee back by their side again, their wounds carefully treated and cuddled up close, refusing to part from Caretaker ever again after being rescued...everything went according to Caretaker's plan, now that Whumpee's had a taste of what life would be like if they tried to leave, they'll never want to let Whumper go. I mean, Caretaker.

[sickfictropes]

It'd be cute if Whumpee was still thinking about Caretaker even when borderline delirious from a nasty fever. Caretaker makes them some tea and Whumpee takes it gratefully but also tells them to get themself some too. Caretaker spends a bunch of time researching how to cook a nausea-friendly liquid-based dinner for Whumpee and when they're in the process of making it, Whumpee has to remind them to be sure to eat something too. Caretaker sits down at Whumpee's bedside to tell them a story—nothing too interesting, just something about their day, to help them fall asleep. But Whumpee ends up listening intently and leaving comments and asking questions at every turn.

This isn't exactly a caretaker-turned-whumpee situation—Whumpee is still the one who needs the most help, and the focus is very much on them. But they love Caretaker and they know they have a habit of overextending themself when they feel responsible for someone. And looking out for someone goes both ways.

love this!!! i've written this trope a few times, and it's one of my favorites. sick character putting themselves last my beloved!! i love when whumpee has to be like "hey the last thing we need is for you to be out of commission, too," and the only reason that they finally rest is purely logistical. and you can pair it with a nice "caretaker blames themselves for what happened and is desperate to fix it, meanwhile whumpee let it go the second it happened and was never angry in the first place" :)

[whump-or-whatever]

I might have made a post about this before but whatever if so I’m doing it again.

I absolutely love when whumpee is made an example of. When their torture at the hands of whumper is displayed to others to make a point.

This could be done via torture in front of a crowd; a video which is streamed, broadcasted, e-mailed, mailed, left as a physical copy for caretaker to find, etc.; whumper calling caretaker so they can hear what’s happening or whumpee wearing a wire to the same effect; sending pictures, or what have you. I suppose sending body parts could also work to some degree.

In any case, the primary reason that whumper is hurting whumpee is to put on a show for others to see. Whumper’s actions are pointless without some sort of audience.

The purpose of this can be to prove Whumper’s personal power, or whumpee’s personal weakness. It could stand for the ultimate triumph of Whumper’s cause or side, or the failure of whumpee’s. It could be a lesson to others not to follow in whumpee’s footsteps, or a fear tactic to make people do as whumper says. Or it could just be to gloat or get revenge.

The fact that someone else is witnessing what whumper is doing increases the suffering for both whumpee and the witnesses.

Whumpee might be embarrassed at how vulnerable they are and the fact that this shows weakness. They might also be upset that caretaker is going to know exactly what happened and worry that it will change how caretaker see them. Alternatively, whumpee might be upset because they know caretaker will blame themself for whats happening even though it’s not their fault.

Caretaker, of course, probably does blame themself and gets angrier the longer it goes on. If they can, they might beg whumper to stop. Knowing what exactly is being done but still being unable to help makes everything a hundred times worse.

And the entire time whumper is using the duality of the situation to their advantage. They taunt both whumpee and the audience. They humiliate whumpee and use that to instil fear or piss off those watching.

Whumper says things like: “your beloved caretaker is watching” | “see how even the mighty whumpee is no match for me” | “now everyone can see how pathetic you are” | “caretaker, if you want them come and get them” | “this should be a lesson to all of you that there are consequences for disobedience” | “I have waited for this moment for so long and now everyone will witness my revenge”

The best part of all is when whumper is trying to make a point, but in order to make the point they actually have to break whumpee, but whumpee just will not break. So the torture just goes on and on to the point where whumper is tired, whumpee is nearly delirious, and everyone watching just wants whumpee to give in to end their own suffering. Still, whumpee refuses.

This may or may not be my favourite whump trope of all time, in case y’all couldn’t tell. (Although I suppose it’s technically a combination of many tropes.)

[straightupsickfics]

Teacher Anon💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛"No ok but a caretaker gently shushing a feverish and delirious whumpee will NEVER fail to Fuck Me Up. Maybe it's paired with the dabbing of a damp cloth against their overheated forehead, or a soft "oh honey no, that's not what I meant," when scared and confused tears form in the whumpee''s eyes, or maybe just a quiet and tired "hush now, go to sleep," after hearing the whumpee ramble half-coherently for an hour.... it eats me alive"

THIS👏🏾IS👏🏾ED!!! Picture BABY BOY TEACH HAVING A FEVERISH NIGHTMARE. STEDE HAS NOT BEEN SLEEPING BECAUSE HIS POOR HUSBAND IS SUPER SICK. ED WAKES UP AND STARTS WHIMPERING. STEDE JUST GENTLY RUBS HIM DOWN WHILE KEEPING HIM SUPER CLOSE. ED TEARY EYE LOOKS SO OUT OF IT THAT POOR STEDE IS JUST WORRIED. BUT HE KNOWS THAT LOOK AND FASTER THAN THE FLASH, HE GRABS A HANDFUL OF TISSUES AND HOLDS THEM TO ED AS HE COUGHS AND SNEEZES IN THEM. DOES ED CRY? 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 DOES STEDE HUG HIM CLOSE? 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

Yes...YES I AM KEPT AWAKE ABOUT THIS!!! *Furiously writing Headcanons for this in a binder*

wahhhh the answer to ALL of those questions is yes honestly :((( emotional sick person ed teach my beloved <3

esp if his bad dream had anything to do with stede at all, like not being able to find him / something bad happening to him / waking up in the dream and stede wasn't there or something, he would definitely cry when he wakes up and realizes stede is literally right there making sure HE is okay <3

[whump-go-brrr]

I just saw a commercial for the season premiere of the good doctor and Jesus Christ

[whumpshaped]

ok so from whumpster-dumpster (they listed methods)

what about

Drug torture. Injecting the whumpee with drugs that’ll make them drowsy and delirious and more vulnerable to manipulation, that always gives me the whumperflies. (Copy pasted :) )

for Seth in the dark spk?? imagine the feeling of no control and humiliation but without persuasion

it’s just. y know. get him.

tw noncon drugging (by needle), revenge, mention of past trauma, implied past noncon, reluctant whumper, multiple whumpers

"You still have it lying around, don't you?" Am asked with disdain, feeling the anger boiling up inside of him when Seth dared to grin at the question.

"Why, would you like to bring some home and-"

He wasted no time punching them, making Seth land on their back with their cuffed hands uncomfortably trapped underneath them. Am was on them in an instant, hands pressed against their neck and just barely holding back from snapping it like a twig.

"Dear," Bellamy's voice had that forced calmness to it that Am learned to associate with him talking about his family, and it only made him angrier. How shitty of a human did you have to be in order to compare to the Vertas? "I would not blame you. You know that, right? If you wanted to end it here-"

"No." Am lifted his hands and stood up. "Not here. Not before I can... see what it was."

Bellamy nodded, clearly anxious about the answer. Am felt it too. They were about to give Seth the same drug that he had given El so many times before. They were about to see what it did to humans.

Seth led them to it under persuasion, reciting the dose and the way to administer it. Am let up the spell right before he plunged the needle into their neck, watching the liquid drain from the barrel, right into Seth's blood stream.

"Please don't take advantage of my state, Sir," Seth said quietly, knowing the drug would kick in soon. He was mocking Pumpkin, both others in the room knew it, and it make them sick to their stomach.

It didn't take long for them to topple to the floor, gasping for breath. They tried to move into a more comfortable position, but their body wouldn't comply. They tried to ask to be moved, but the words came out too slurred to understand.

Bellamy covered his mouth, no doubt imagining sweet El in the same situation. "I'm going to take a break, dear," he whispered, leaving the room hastily after Am nodded his approval.

He stayed.

He crouched down and moved Seth onto his back, staring in horror at just how out of it he looked. 'The drug numbs the nerveous system, but not the brain itself,' he'd said. Did that mean he was still completely conscious? Trapped in this temporarily non-functional body, scared out of his mind?

Had El been like that?

He wiped the tears away, reminding himself that his beloved was now safe. It wasn't them lying on the floor, it was the monster who did it first. He'd brought it upon himself.

"You're so fucking disgusting," he mumbled, unsure whether Seth would even register the words. "The lowest of the low. You deserve so much worse than what we're putting you through." He stood back up and looked at the clock. "Half an hour. That's when the effects will start to wear off, right? You get half an hour of a break. Be fucking grateful."

~

taglist: @whumpsday @whump-queen @lost-in-labradorite-halls @hidden-dreamland @lonesome--hunter

[whumpbug]

Hello, bug! It’s so nice to see you posting your writing again! :)

Just a tiny prompt for your boys: feverish shivering! Imagine unusually pale and miserable Archie wrapping himself in two blankets… And maybe Simon soothing him…

Sincerely yours, anon with whumperflies :)

anon!! hello!! i was hoping to see you in my ask box! i loved this request and i initially wasn’t planning on adding delirium and all the other stuff but… well, it just kind of happened.

also, i am so sorry that i haven’t gotten to your other requests!! but i was thinking of adapting one of them to the boys as well if you’d be interested in that! either way, here is your fic! i made sure to prioritize it to make up for my absence (-｡-;)

to anyone else: see this post for character info!

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Archie was freezing to death.

He was sure of it. There was no other explanation. He had two thick blankets wrapped around him tightly, and he still felt like he was braving a storm in the dead of winter. Every muscle in his body was shaking with bitter cold.

How did he even end up like this.

He had gone to bed with nothing more than a sore throat and a slight headache, hoping a good night’s sleep would fix it. Evidently, it didn’t, and he woke up with ice coursing throughout his entire body. It was utterly unbearable.

He deliberated his options. 

He could either drag himself out of bed and get himself showered, medicated, and fed. He could do all the “responsible” things people do when they’re dying of the plague. It would be the smarter option, for sure.

Or he could stay right where he was, in his cocoon of bedding, and avoid letting his fevered skin touch the air at all costs.

It wasn’t a very hard decision. 

He buried his face into the blankets as his body gave a harsh shiver. It was the kind of cold that came from the inside. He felt as if his body was purging every ounce of heat it worked so hard to create.

He just wanted to feel warm. He was solemnly reminiscing about every time he’d eve felt warm in his life.

There was that time he went to the beach as a child, and happily splashed around in the ocean until he was ready to lay on the sand and let the sun dry him.

There was also the time he went to the county fair with his highschool friends. Sure, the heat beaming down on them had been rather annoying at the time, but Archie would give anything to go back for even just a second.

And of course, there was the most recent time. 

A few weeks ago, Archie was in Simon’s apartment getting patched up when a snow storm hit. Simon told him there was no way he was making it back to his own apartment in this weather, and that he’d have to stay there for the night.

The two spent the entire night binging movies and eating snacks and making hot chocolate and enjoying eachother’s company and—

Well, maybe that was a different type of warmth.

Still, the thought of it made Archie ache. 

Simon would know just what to do, wouldn’t he? He was in school for this type of stuff after all. He’d probably make Archie methodically list his symptoms and then usher him back to bed with the demand of upping his fluid intake and resting as much as possible. He was practical like that.

But he’d also help him in other ways.

He’d check Archie’s temperature with a gentle hand, smoothing his hair back as he did. Simon always complained that thermometers were more accurate, but he often ended up using his hand anyways.

He’d tuck an extra blanket around Archie’s shoulders and rub up and down his back, trying to soothe the fever aches and simultaneously coax warmth into him.

He’d check on him every hour or so with a fresh cup of tea or hot cocoa, and ask if Archie needed anything at all.

No, Simon did much more than diagnosing and treating. He cared. Something that Archie found was hard to come by.

He must have been more out of it than he originally thought, because he failed to notice that he started crying. A tear splattered on his pillow, and suddenly it was all just too much. He was achy and shivery and weak and tired and he just wanted someone. He wanted Simon.

He pulled out his phone, which induced another round of bodily shivers as he exposed his arm to the icy air. He flipped to Simon’s contact and began a text, but he found he couldn’t focus on the letters. He more he stared at the screen, the more his head ached and his dizziness increased tenfold. He ended typing:

“am dying. pl semd help”

And sent it.

Archie let his eyes flutter close as his phone clattered to the floor. He was so exhausted. He just wanted sleep to claim him. He was done being awake.

Finally, the blissful pull of unconsciousness dragged him down, down into nothingness.

••

Archie didn’t remember much of what came after that.

The first thing he realized is that when he woke up next, he was even colder, if that was even possible. He couldn’t move. Everything hurt.

The second thing he noticed, was that he wasn’t alone.

There was a figure beside him, working on something at his bedside table. He vaguely noted that he should probably be a bit more worried than he was. He could be getting robbed or kidnapped by some intruder, and here was, laying in his blanket burrito, doing absolutely nothing about it.

“You’re not getting robbed, you idiot,” The figure said.

Shoot, was he thinking out loud? Or maybe the figure could read minds. That had to be it, right? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. After all, he got super powers from a random drug deal.

Gosh, he remembers the liquid being cold in his veins. Or maybe he was just thinking about how cold he was right now. He was really cold.

“You’re not really cold. You’re the opposite, actually. I could fry an egg on your head, Archie..” The voice chuckled, sounding a bit.. amused?

Archie had half a mind to feel indignant at this. This most certainly was not amusing. He was really dying over here, how dare the voice laugh at him!

“Relax, you’re not dying.. not while I’m here, anyways. You’re just out of it. I'm not surprised. Your brain is practically cooking in your skull.”

Ew. Archie recalled an article he read about a man contracting mad cow disease from eating beef brain. He didn’t want anyone to cook his brain and eat it. That didn’t sound fun. Maybe that’s why the intruder was here! To take his brain!

“Ookay, that’s enough out of you," the intruder hummed. "You are making even less sense than before. I didn’t know that was possible. Let’s get you drugged up and then to sleep, okay?”

The next thing he knew, there was a spoon with sticky, bitter liquid being pressed against his lips and into his mouth. He sputtered at the taste, but eventually choked it down. Gross.

“Alright, there we go. You’ll start feeling better in a little bit..” The figure said, smoothing a warm hand over Archie’s hair. “Just try to knock out for now.”

As much as wanted to refuse, and stay awake as long as he could to prove a point, the hand through his hair felt really nice, Not to mention that somewhere in his hazy telepathic conversation with the robber-intruder-brain-eater, another three blankets were placed on top of him and tightly tucked around his shivering form. He hated to admit it, but he was finally beginning to feel thawed out.

Archie was out before he could even finish thinking about what to say next.

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