#healer whumpee

[hurtwithallthecomfort]

Ok but consider. Living weapon whumpee, but instead of a soldier they’re a healer.

A whumpee who was born with immense healing powers, and now every dangerous threat in the world wants them, because if they can’t get hurt, they’re invincible.

Maybe that makes it hard to trust anyone. Whose to say that Caretaker won’t just use them to heal up their wounds like a tool.

Or, do they meet Whumper first. Whumper, who uses them to torture other whumpees, having them healed so they can withstand much more torture from Whumper. Perhaps they’re under threat, or perhaps they’ve lost control of their own body.

The healing process probably hurts the other Whumpees. Having their bones moved around and their cuts closed at a fast rate might not feel so good. Or, it could take ages, and be agonisingly slow. That’s always an option.

Such a strong power surely takes it out of Whumpee too. Do they feel the pain of the person they’re healing? Does it exhaust them to the brink of death? A lot of possibilities there.

Maybe Whumper decides to bring them along on missions. Whumpee is subject to all the horrors of the battlefield, untrained for this and Whumper knows it. But they have to keep it together, or else Whumper will have to stop their tool from malfunctioning, since it’s far too expensive to just replace.

Also consider: Whumpee can only be in one place at a time. That’s not convenient. An easy fix though, if Whumper can just find out what gives Whumpee their powers, soon they can have more and more healing tools in no time. A shame that the experiments will sting just a smidgeon.

[ohwrite]

Healer gets killed by some dipshit and said dipshit is then hunted down by the heroes AND villains teamed up because healer was unaligned in that they healed anyone regardless of side

[clickerflight]

The Price of War - Part 2: Turn of the tide

Author's notes: WAHOOO! Dude I love this story. This chapter was def self indulgent. The worldbuilding is gonna go crazy in this story, so if you ever wanna send an ask about it, feel free to!

Masterlist - Part 1

Content: Minotaur whumpees, character death, war, battle, violent deaths, healer whumpee

......................................................................

Alo’ad woke up in his tent, content and well rested. It had been a while since his war party had taken the time to set up an actual camp to rest, and he had taken every advantage of that himself. He rolled over, eyes closed, not quite trying to fall back asleep but certainly not ready to get up yet. He could hear the other taurs waking up, a couple out stirring the fires and making food, snorting and huffing at each other quietly to keep from waking the rest of the camp.

Alo’ad chuffed to himself, his short tail tapping happily against the underside of his blankets. It was good to be alive. The night before had been wonderful, laughter and singing rising high into the night from the taurs who had successfully chased out the elves who had been attacking them so relentlessly for the past two months. Winter would fall soon, and by then the war will have been decided. Alo’ad knew his clan would be well padded for the coming winter, so the question was were the elves just as prepared and ready for the snows that would blanket the war torn land? He expected a peace treaty to be signed in the spring and he wouldn’t have to leave for war again after the winter was over. He would go home warm and comfortable except for when he went out to chase the little ones around.

Though going back would mean he would be subject to the never ending questioning of if he had put any considerable thought into who he would take as his mate.

He opened his eyes and stared up at the canvas of his tent, uncertain now. He knew he should be thinking about it, but it just seemed so unimportant at the moment. He was content being the healer of this war party. Content with being the apprentice healer under his father back in the clan. Maybe when everything had calmed down he would be able to put some real thought into it. There were many beautiful taur women to choose from, and he could even look out to neighboring clans as well. He just wasn’t…. certain. He was so small compared to the other minotaurs, and even if he looked to the other different taur clans, he would still be smaller than most of the women. Unless he looked among the cervitaur clans, but he doubted he would find much luck there. Cervitaurs were a little more skittish than the rest of the taurs and the cultures between their clans and his clans tended to clash quite a bit.

There was always the option of seeking out a human mate, but he just wasn’t very sure. His father had adapted to clan life quite well, but not all humans would. Alo’ad knew that most humans thought of them as monsters. It was why they hadn’t gone to see his father’s family all that much. The town they lived in was too dangerous for them most of the time, something they had found out the hard way when he was very young.

Still, there was time to decide, and he wasn’t completely out of options. It would just be more difficult than the other minotaurs had it. Though perhaps there was a woman in his clan that wouldn’t mind being taller than him?

He sighed a little, rolling over and getting up. It was no use dwelling on it now. He could work it all out later, after the war has been fought and winter had fallen. After whatever treaty was signed in the spring.

He put on his tunic and trews and wrapped his belt around his waist, under his tail on the first pass, and over his tail on the second. Once his tunic had been closed with his belt, he pulled on a warm robe to protect him from the morning chill and stepped out onto the dewy grass.

A couple of the taurs by the fire raised their hands to him and he raised his with a soft snort in return. He went out to the trees to do his business and came back to find water already warmed for him to start making tea for the camp. He stopped by his tent, grabbing a sachet of herbs from out of his bag and poured them all out into the bubbling water, pulling the pot off of the fire so the herbs could steep properly.

“Sleep well, healer?” a taur, Gaoug, asked.

“I did, thank you,” Alo’ad replied. “And you?”

“Really well, actually. Victory and the celebration after always put me right to bed,” he replied with a grin.

“That or it was all the mead you had last night,” Kiadhi laughed, slapping Gaoug’s shoulder as the smell of tea began to rise into the morning air. “Did you have any last night, Alo’ad?”

“I had a little. Not much. Mead burns in my throat and it is hard to really lead the chants and evening songs if I have had too much,” he replied.

“I guess that makes sense. Don’t know why you’re so worried about sounding good at a drunken victory ramble, though.”

Alo’ad shrugged. “I just do, I guess.”

“You are one of the best singers in camp,” Gaoug said. “Maybe in all of the clan. I think it makes sense to take pride in that. Especially will how all of the ladies look at you!”

Alo’ad snorted and rolled his eyes, but Gaoug put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in. “No I’m serious! They all stare at you like they want to drag you far into the trees to be alone with you.”

“You are definitely exaggerating,” Alo’ad replied firmly. “Thank you for the compliment, though.”

Jahir, an older taur who had been content to just listen up to this point, said, “He may be exaggerating, though there are women back in the clan who do look at you with interest. I have not seen you respond in turn, however.”

Alo’ad was shocked now. “I guess I had never noticed. I do tend to sing with my eyes closed.”

“Ooh, but now you know,” Kiadhi said eagerly as Gaoug leaned down to smell the tea and see if it was ready yet. “Do you have anyone in mind back home?”

Alo’ad shrugged. “I had not really thought about it. I know my mother wanted me to be a little more active in looking for a mate, but I hadn’t felt ready. After this, though, I think I will be ready to choose. I just don’t have anyone in mind.”

“I, personally, keep thinking about dear Pale’id. The spots on her face are the most perfectly formed shapes one could ever conjure to mind,” Gaoug said dreamily as he grabbed a scoop and poured some tea into his carved wooden cup.

“She certainly is a good choice,” Alo’ad said warmly, scooping up his own tea. He took a sip before he said, “I’m sure you are looking forward to going home to your wife, Jahir.”

Jahir nodded, a distant look in his eyes and a smile on his face. “I very much am. Ichta was pregnant when I left. I cannot wait to meet our little one. I should even be home in time for the birth if the snows come on time.”

“I hope they do, then,” Alo’ad replied. “I know my father is a good healer, and there are plenty of midwives, but I would love be there to help as well. I have some new tea blends I feel may help with the process. Coming out here to fight the elves has introduced me to a great many new herbs.”

“Oh yeah! We captured an elven healer a while back. You actually got to speak with him?”

“Yes,” Alo’ad said. “He was very kind in how much he was willing to share before we gave him to the herd to be put with the other prisoners. I cannot wait to go home and share the information with my father.”

The four of them continued to chat as the morning wore on and soon the rest of the camp was up and Underar moved through the war party proudly, checking on everyone before he too came to the fire for his tea.

“Kiadhi, would you round everyone up for the morning songs?” he asked.

Kiadhi nodded and got up to do so as Underar sighed, sipping at the tea and watching all of the taurs milling about, snacking on the grass from the edges of the clearing and sipping on tea. Alo’ad made sure there was enough of to go around to the 34 members of the party as they woke up and started their days.

“We made it out quite lucky yesterday. Only minor injuries and a sound victory,” Underar said warmly to Alo’ad, Gaoug, and Jahir. “I have gotten word through the sending stone that the elves will be moving to attack again soon. They have received some reinforcements, though we are not certain how many. The herd is sending a few more parties out our way to bolster us, and they should be here before we need to face the elves. I would like to stay here in camp until those parties arrive, and then we can make more plans from there. I think the herd is sending instructions with the coming parties on what exactly our next moves should be.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Alo’ad replied with a nod.

“Would you like me to sort out who should be on look out duty through the day, then?” Jahir asked.

“I would appreciate that, Jahir, thank you.”

Soon, the taurs were all gathered together for the morning songs and Underar gave Alo’ad a look. Underar, as the leader of the party, typically led the songs, but when he was feeling under the weather or perhaps had too much to drink the night before and was dealing with a hangover, he let Alo’ad deal with starting them all off.

He got to his feet, shaking his short tail to try and flick off some of the cold dew from the fur where it had rested in the grass and lowed, getting the attention from the rest of the party.

He took a deep breath and a rumble from deep in his chest rippled out, matched by the taurs in front of him, and then spreading through the crowd, the low hum filling the air and almost seeming to shake the trees. He held it and let it resonate, the taurs rumbling different, harmonizing notes, adding more and more to the chord until it seemed to reach a fever pitch. Then, he lifted his head, singing the first notes of the morning song, like the sun rising from the horizon.

Other taurs lifted up their voices, following his soon after, the notes turning to words as they praised the earth and the sun and the life and strength in their limbs. A handful of other voices took the higher song line, singing of the animals and plants waking, sounding a bit like birdsong in their pattern and timbre. It was a part usually sang by the woman, and the longer they were away from the herd, the move voices took up the bird song part as they grew to miss their home more and more.

After the last lines were sung, out broke the chanting their herd was known for.

Kalouk Kalouk Kalouk Atar Port’ad Kalouk!

Alo’ad called the chant brightly until they devolved into chatting with one another, making jokes and laughing, fully awake now and eager to start the day.

Alo’ad sat down as Underar began to speak. “Hello, my brothers! It is good to be here with you, and to sing the morning songs with all of you. It is almost the time of the first snows, and while it is tempting to rest, to fall back, it is not yet time to go home. I need the biggest push from all of you if we are to make it home victorious. Let us try and end this fight on this side of the winter, my brothers! Lets us go home strong and proud and energetic!”

Another chant of Kalouk went up and he quieted them with a raised hand. “I have received news through the sending stone, my brothers. The elves have received reinforcements and will attack again soon. The herd is sending two more war parties to work alongside us, and they will have directions for what is needed. Until then, I need all of you to repair your gear and supplies, fill your bellies and packs, and stock up. Once they get here, there will be no time for preparations. I want to be quick across the ground once they have all arrived, understand?”

Everyone nodded and there were a couple of zealous ‘yes!’s from the crowd.

“Perfect,” Underar said, his tail swished with pride. “Now, Jahir will be in charge of the guard rotations for the-”

There was a shout from farther back in the crowd, a sudden stir of fear, and Alo’ad found himself splattered with something hot and red.

He jumped to his feet as Underar swayed, an arrow through his throat and his eyes wide with fear and pain before he crashed to the ground, dead.

“Weapons!” Jahir screamed, taking charge as arrows flew through the air.

Alo’ad scrambled for a nearby shield, heaving it up just as two arrows thunked into the wood. The shield was not made for someone as small as him, so it was difficult to heft it into the right position to protect himself as he made his way back to Underar’s fallen body. He needed to be sure.

Sure enough, the fallen leader was dead, eyes staring blankly into the sky above. Alo’ad bowed his head and hummed the mourning song to himself as he raced for his tent, awkwardly maneuvering the too big shield to protect him as he worked to put on the bright green bands of a healer around his arms, wrists, and forehead. He shook off his robe, revealing the bright painted symbol of a healer on the back of his tunic and pushed the shield aside, standing and making certain the colors were visible to the elves. They had always had an agreement with the elves in war that healers were to be left alone as long as the healers were leaving the enemy side alone.

After he was sure the archers had seen him, seeing as he hadn’t be shot down, he reached into his bag, grabbing the bright green powder to smear on the tips of his horns and slung his healer’s back across his torso. He made his way through the chaos of overturned baskets, pulled down tents, and taurs gathering to make their first responding attack to the hidden elves.

The elves were very good shots most of the time. There were not many taurs to save of the fallen Alo’ad found. Among the bodies he found Gaoug, one eye clouded over, the other filled with an arrow.

Alo’ad pressed his palm to Gaoug’s forehead for a moment, still humming the mourning song he had started when he had examined Underar. Quickly, he made his way farther through the camp towards a fallen figure he could see struggling to get up.

He pushed an arrow through Medii’s arm when he had reached him an assessed the situation. The warrior thanked him warmly before standing, grabbing his spear, and joining in the push through the trees to get to the elves.

Alo’ad followed them, counting the dead and getting others back on their hooves and into the fight. There weren’t any injured unable to get back up and fight, thankfully, so Alo’ad didn’t have to drag anyone, but he very quickly ran out of the stamina potions he had brewed as he gave them to the warriors he helped.

15 out of 34 had died by the time Jahir lowed out the cries of defeat and retreat.

Part 3 - Coming soon!

The Price of war: @fleur-a-whump @percy-frayer @starsick1979 @hellodecisionparalysis @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

@thecyrulik @scatteriskity

[whumperofworlds]

Healer Whumpee rushed towards Teammate, who was heavily bleeding and close to death. They use their most powerful healing spells to fully heal Teammate.

Once Teammate was back on their feet, Whumpee suddenly collapsed, the healing spell taking its toll on them to the point they were in near-death mode themself.

[julie-z-vesnice]

Healer whumpee. Excellent medical knowledge. That's it. That's the post.

[featherlovesrobots]

These are all spectacular but I absolutely had to write something for the second prompt :)

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊

“You can’t keep doing this.”

Healer sighs, tugging the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I was expecting a ‘thank you.’”

Teammate gave her the blanket soon after the spell was over. It doesn’t help her trembling much, but she clings to it. She looks so small, sitting there on Teammate’s hospital bed, one hand pressed to the mattress to keep herself upright. The sight of it turns Teammate’s stomach.

“This is why I hate it when Leader lets you use your powers!” Snaps Teammate, throwing out her hands. “You could’ve really hurt yourself— you did hurt yourself!”

“Listen, I’m sorry I scared you. But it couldn’t have been avoided without sacrificing you, and it’s not like it’ll leave a lasting effect. I’ll recover in a week, probably.”

Teammate laughs bitterly. “Only a whole week without any healing magic. What a blessing.”

“You were going to die!” Healer cries. “I’m glad you feel fine now, but you should’ve seen yourself! You wouldn’t wake up, you were shaking, I— I had to do something—”

“Okay, fine, but why do you always have to be such a perfectionist?!”

“I am not a perfectionist,” Healer growls. “I can’t control it.”

Teammate scoffs. “Sure, you say that, but have you ever actually tried to improve at rationing?” She gestures to her middle, emphasizing the clear skin under a torn, bloody shirt. “You could at least make some kind of effort to leave a scar.”

“Ugh. Not this again,” Healer mutters, lifting a trembling hand to pull at the blanket again. “For the last time, I can’t just not heal you because you’re worried about your image.”

“It’s not about our image, Healer. It’s about you. If the public knew we had a magic-user on our side—”

Healer tenses, springing to her feet and stomping towards Teammate. The blanket around her shoulders falls forsaken to the floor. “YOU SOUND JUST LIKE LEADER! CAN’T YOU JUst–” Healer’s breath rushes out and she keels forward. Teammate rushes to catch her by the shoulders. “Healer? Healer! Hey, stay with me, alright?”

Healer tries to speak, but it comes out as a shaky wheeze. Teammate slides her hand down to Healer's upper arm, eyes widening at the feel of her skin. “You’re frigid,” she breathes. “You need another blanket.” She guides her back to the bed and sets her down. “Don’t move.”

“No,” Healer chokes out. She grabs onto Teammate’s sleeve and tugs. “You’ll… be seen.”

Teammate sighs. Healer is right — it’s a public hospital, and fifteen minutes ago she had severe blood loss and internal damage. She can’t get caught walking around like normal. Still, Healer’s skin feels like ice; like every ounce of warmth was sapped from her blood when she did that cursed spell. There has to be something Teammate can do.

“Okay, here,” Teammate says, lifting the blanket and settling next to Healer, then pulling the fabric around both of them. “Maybe this’ll help.”

Healer chases Teammate’s warmth, leaning into her chest and setting her head in the crook of her neck. Teammate tentatively moves her arm to circle around Healer’s waist, careful not to put down any pressure.

“I’ll tell Leader I’m okay when she comes back,” Teammate promises. Okay?”

“… Yeah.”

“She’ll give you a well-deserved earful for this.”

Healer huffs a chuckle. “Because I really needed another one.”

Hospital whump where everyone is really injured, including the character with healing magic, but they still pull out their IVs and sneak out of their room to pay everyone a visit and heal them, one by one.

Do they get caught? If they do, how long does it take? How far do they get? Do they get caught right before being able to visit the last person, the one they're the most worried about?

While they're searching the hospital for everyone's rooms, do they get sidetracked? Do they stumble into rooms of people they don't know? Sick or hurt strangers they can't help but heal too? Do they end up spending every drop of energy they have because they can't stand seeing so many people suffering? Or do they turn away, apologetic but knowing they need to stay focused, there are only so many people they can help and they know where their priorities lie?

I don't know I just think there's some potential here

there is totally potential, this is a great scenario!!

maybe they get to the last room and heal their friend, but collapse immediately after. friend wakes up startled, then terrified when they see healer on the ground collapsed, then anger at them for putting themselves last when they realize that their wounds are gone.

i love what you're doing here. unfocused, nonspecific healing that they can't control is a great trope, especially when it means that they exhaust themselves by accidentally healing something or someone that shouldn't be healed. their teammate is angry that the healer heals them all the way back to normal rather than just getting them out of the woods. like was it worth all your energy to make sure you healed every last bruise or scrape??

if they don't heal the team to conserve their magic, maybe their friends don't know that healing takes energy and don't understand why they're just not helping. and/or maybe they're up all night with guilt, so when their teammate gets up for a sip of water because they got that Night Thirst(TM), they're very concerned and upset that the healer isn't sleeping. maybe they're conserving magic energy, but they're certainly not preserving regular energy.

this prompt watered my crops!!

[the-broken-pen]

The hero was getting blood all over the villains nice jacket.

“I’m sorry about the blood—“ they murmured, and the villain hushed them.

“We’re almost there. Just—just stay still, okay?”

If the hero didn’t know better, they’d say the villain almost sounded afraid.

“It’s okay. M’fine.”

The villain breathed a harsh laugh, cradling the hero to their chest as they walked.

“Yes, you certainly look fine bleeding everywhere.”

There was that tone again. The hero frowned. The villain had never used that tone, especially not with them, and they had no idea what it was—

They barged into the villains apartment, as the hero realized the villain was concerned.

Oh.

The villain set them down on a couch, gently, but the hero still flinched. The villain apologized, soft and gentle, and ran their hand over the wound, assessing the damage.

The villains face went carefully blank.

The hero’s head spun, just a little, and they closed their eyes to fight it off. A moment later, they opened them to find the villain wrapping their side.

Their eyebrows crinkled.

“You—when did you get those?” Their voice cracked.

The villain looked up at them.

“Just a minute ago. You passed out,” they said calmly.

Their fingers continued deftly wrapping the bandage on the hero’s side.

“Wait. Why are you,” the hero grit their teeth as the villain brushed against the wound. “Why are you helping me.”

The villain laughed.

“For someone so observant, you miss a lot of things.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The villain shook their head.

“I knew you were a bit obtuse, but darling, really. Work with me.”

They tied off the bandages, helping the hero sit up against the arm of the couch. The villain held their gaze, cool and collected and concerned, all at once.

“Your powers stem from emotions, yes?”

The hero nodded, once.

“So positive emotions make you stronger. They can heal you, right?”

The hero had tried to keep that bit of information under wraps. Not only could they heal themselves if they were happy, they could heal anyone. They didn’t want to end up some tool to be used in some military stronghold. Still, they healed civilians when no one was looking.

If they were mad, though? They could destroy anything, tear concrete in half, send metal into dust.

The hero cleared their throat. “Yes. Positive emotions can heal me. Not feeling super happy right now, so I’ll get back to you on that—“

The villain sat back on their heels.

“Do you trust me?”

The hero blinked at them. They were ready to give them some bullshit answer about how they could never trust the villain and never would; but that wasn’t true. The villain had saved them, more times than they could count.

And between the agency and the villain? Well, the hero knew who they would choose.

“Yes,” they said hesitantly, and the villain kissed them.

Warmth flooded them, and they reached for the villain, tugging them closer, and the villain smiled against their mouth.

The wound on their side began to close, and the villain felt it. They smiled, pleased with themself, like a cat.

“I give you positive emotions, huh,” they said, still grinning.

“For someone so observant, you can be so obtuse—“ the villain kissed them, again, to get them to shut up. This time, the hero smiled.

The wound closed further.

“I didn’t know you liked me,” the hero murmured.”

“I tolerate you. I just happen to hate everyone else.”

The hero laughed, side twinging with pain.

The villain checked the half closed wound, then turned back to the hero.

“Kiss it better?”

The villain rolled their eyes.

This time, when the villain kissed them, the hero didn’t let them stop.

[a-class-attempter]

In public, Whumper would use their healing powers for good. They were seen as a national hero, going to hospitals and healing grave injuries and illnesses, saving hundreds of lives a day. But in private, they like to have a little fun. Today, they had whumpee, a pesky little nurse who had caught Whumper taking a different playtoy from the hospital. That little brat was currently in a coma in Whumper’s cellar.

Whumper spent hours with Whumpee, discovering the limits of the human body. Their hands were covered in blood, as was the entire room. Whumpee was barely breathing with the tight leather collar around their neck and half their guts lying on the floor. The only thing that kept them alive was Whumper’s powers, forcing their heart to keep beating.

[whumperer-86]

killer and Healer

[gh0sthands]

whumpees who are the ones with the healing magic. they may not be very strong or really able to protect people, but once the damage has been done, they're the ones who tend to others' wounds.

now, whumpee is barely clinging to life, and caretaker has to desperately try to remember everything whumpee taught them about healing magic and tending wounds. and whumpee is too injured to be conscious, so caretaker has to do it all alone.

[shshshquietnow]

Whumpees with powers controlled by their emotions. Maybe other than that they have controll, but when they feel a certain way their powers will NOT be tamed.

Whumpees that turn invisible on instinct when scared. Whumpers that find this endlessly amusing, using man handling and a lot of physical touch because they've "got to make up for the visual unappeal."

Shapeshifting whumpees can't control their forms when angry. Lashing out at whumpers as a large bear or wolf before being restrained, brought to a cage sense "They're so insistent on acting like an animal."

Whumpees with electric powers that get turned up to ten while in pain. Everything whumper does gives them an electric shock, making any torture or punishment very frustrating for the whumper. Even if whumpee can't control it, can't do it on purpose, even if they apologize a thousand times, they are still spurned, told that "they should know better than to try THAT little stunt again."

Empath whumpees that can't help but project their strong emotions. Whumpers having to step out of the room while torturing them, or whumpers that get the smug satisfaction of feeling a wave of relief as they walk back into the house to their whumpee. Of course no good things will happen when the whumper realizes what's going on, but that won't be for a while. Caretakers rattled by anxiety and fear so overwhelming they don't know what to do, holding whumpee too close or even running, scared they're going to hurt them all over again. But also caretakers crying tears of joy when they realize why they felt so good all day: they finally made whumpee feel safe.

Whumpees that grow armor when they feel threatened, whether that be crystals growing from their skin, or thorns or whatever else. On top of the pain of whatever whumper is about to do to them they have the pain of new material growing and pricking out of their skin. Whumpers that sigh, over compensating for the armor with the pain they cause because "You're over reacting, it's not going to be THAT bad."

Whumpees that have power over plants, flowers blooming when they feel safe and warm, withering when they're depressed or lonely. Whumper's garden never grew well, not until they broke whumpee in. And after rescue caretakers garden was rotted down to the soil, but as time went on their garden flourished, more beautiful than whumper's garden could ever be.

Whumpees that subconsciously control other people's powers, making them more or less powerful depending on how much whumpee trusted them. Whumper getting annoyed beyond belief after their powers STILL barely function, even after weeks of trying to manipulate whumpee to staying. Caretaker scared for whumpees life after a rescue, none of their healing powers working on whumpee because they don't trust that this rescue isn't another of whumper's tricks.

Whumpees that can only charm abd mind control when they're most desperate. Screaming first whumper to stop until finally right before the worst punishment they do, whumpers getting PISSED, continuing on once the enchantment wears off with new found rage because "you don't get to control me, I control you."

Whumpees with "Spider senses", knowing when whumper is approaching, feeling the tingle right before every new method of torture is used. Their senses going HAYWIRE when whumper is in the room, overwhelmed.

Whumpees letting out powerful bursts of kinetic energy when it gets too much, sending anything near them flying several feet away from them. Frustrating for whumper, sure, but even MORE dangerous for the caretaker trying to save the poor confused bomb waiting to go off.

Just yes <3

[ohwrite]

CONTENT WARNING: murder, death, violence, blood, self inflicted magical torture sort of and supervillain being a shithead

Healer ducks behind a wall, panting as they peek out to watch the fight. Supervillain is kicking Hero’s ass and they need to step in to help, there isn’t any opportunities to snatch hero away to heal them for a moment as the villain is relentless. They take a deep breath, preparing their power to dash into the fray and bolt to hero.

Springing to action, the healer launched out of their hiding spot, running to help their boss no, friend. Green glows around their hands as they dive at Hero, as soon as the two make contact a dull ache starts in Healer’s gut, quickly turning to sharp stabbing of their magic transferring the pain to them. Hero, who was knocked to the floor from being jumped on, is briefly stunned.

A loud, mean, bark of a laugh comes from Supervillain, who stands above the pair haloed by the setting sun.

“HAH! You little fools, there’s no way you can win, even with your human pain sponge!”

Healer winces, objectification always makes their power go into overdrive, the pain ramping up with it.

“Healer?” Hero asks, worried, “Will you be okay?”

“…I’ll live. Go kick that asshole into next week okay?”

“On it.”

Hero rises, making sure that healer doesn’t fall off of them and instead picking them off gently. Charging towards the villain, Hero certainly looks like the saviour they are. At least, until they get too close. Steel pierces their chest, blood pools in their lungs and on their suit. Healer’s eyes blow wide, a mirror of Hero’s own surprise. The blade is pulled sickeningly from the hero’s chest. Both they and the weapon clatter to the pavement. Healer pushes through the lingering pain from using their power before, trying to reach Hero to ensure they don’t die. When the healer reaches the hero they wince before placing their hands on the wound, it glows green and they cry out.

“Healer… darling you’ve lost, you’re already quite spent and couldn’t possibly heal a fatal wound while this tired, you really should just give up… They will not make it but you could! You could survive and even thrive if you came and worked for me!”

Healer growls, still trying to heal their friend. The glow on the wound flickers a touch, then fades slightly.

“No… no they… Hero you have to get out of this I…”

Hero’s eyes go blank the second Healer’s powers give out.

“NO! No no no!”

“Healer…. Healer you failed!” Supervillain laughs maniacally.

Healer is sobbing over the limp hero, the city is doomed to be under supervillains command. They failed.

[strawbearywhump]

A whumper with healing powers. A whumper who keeps their identity a secret to the whumpee as they're hurting them, then reveals themself as what was supposed to be a safe person. Whumpee's horror as they realize they really have no where to go, and have absolutely nothing left...

[scumashling]

Thooughts on Redo of Healer/A Whump Rewrite

CW: mentions of abuse, physical torture, noncon, misogyny, homophobia and slavery below

Incoming long post. It does have a point.

So, awhile back before I made this account I decided to do an endurance watch of a somewhat infamous anime entitled Redo of Healer. For those of you blessed with ignorance, Redo is a dark fantasy harem romance/rape revenge story based on the light novel of the same name by Rui Tsukiyo.

Set in the Kingdom of Jioral, a kingdom currently at war with the Demon population and built on the slave trade of the demi human population, the story follows Keyaru, a Healing class hero, who after 4 years of being enslaved for his uniquely miraculous abilities, (and enduring a fuck ton of emotional, physical and sexual abuse along the way) embarks on a brutal quest for revenge against his sadistic former party members/tormentors, (Bullet the Cannon Hero, Blade the Sword Hero, and most prevalently, Princess Flare, the Magician Hero who orchestrated his drugging and imprisonment.)

He gets Flare first, escaping prison, cornering her in her own soundproof bedroom, and proceeding to torture her physically and eventually violently raping her. So, now that he's gotten his revenge, does he just kill her? Call it a day and leave her a broken, ruined mess like she did to him? I mean. What more could he possibly do to bring her lower?

He changes both their faces, fakes both their deaths, erases her memories, and when she comes too, he tells his named is Keyaruga (groan) her she's his loyal attendant and lover, dubs her Freiya, and immediately coerces her into having sex with him. They then embark on a journey to destroy the Kingdom she doesn't know is hers.

Along the way, he slowly begins recruiting more girls into this party/builds a harem, often by coercive or outright nonconsensual mean like drugging/brainwashing and having a lot of sex with

Setsuna- A slave demi human wolf girl named that he purchases as a battle slave/it's okay she wants to be a slave because he's just so great

Kureha- A knight of the Kingdom who Keyaruga who he drugs and raped after she attacks him

Eve-a extremely powerful demon girl. The only one he doesn't coerce into fucking him

(note: below is all my subjective opinion.)

I wanna stress that while it is a very Whump heavy story, Redo is extremely Not Good and I cannot recommend it. And I'm not just saying that because it's a rape porn with high production values (though it has a pretty intolerable amount of extremely brutal rape for anyone who either doesn't have a hardcore CNC kink or who's brain isn't broken from reading violent fanfiction at age 13 like yours truly),it is genuinely one of the worst written pieces of fiction I've ever read. The pacing is terrible, the magic system is generic , the dialogue is atrocious, try character designs are so mediocre ( wow another hot girl with gigantic tits? How did you come up with that idea?!), the villains are all vile depraved power tripping rapist idiots who immediately get their comeuppance by the equally vile protagonist, who is always one step ahead is also so insufferably smug. Its also extremely edgy and lazy in regards to how it treats shit like slavery (pure shock value pretty much,). Because plot and theme is not the point though, the torture porn is.

Redo of Healer is also, and I cannot stress this enough, extremely extremely homophobic ( if you disagree that's fine you're allowed to be wrong <3) I won't go into it too much bc this post is already long but Blades character can be be described as every horrible stereotypes about lesbians stacked on top of each other in a trench coat. The author is so transparently trying to offend me by writing her this way that she actually has the opposite effect and gives me the giggles. Which now that I type that out is kind how I feel about the whole story. it's a pretty terribly male power fantasy about a terrible violent man who sexually tortures slightly more terrible violent men and women. And quite frankly, when I watching it , all I could think was "I could write this so much better."

Because see, even though everything I said before about redo is true, i also find it incredibly interesting:

There are a lot of Whump tropes in redo. Slavery, dehumanization, beatings, bastards Whumpees getting revenge on lady Whumpers, conditioning I think? intimate and sadistic whumpers, mind control whump, non consensual drugging, human pets. Theres prob more I forgot. They aren't handled well but they are there.

I love the rape revenge genre. I have vivid memories of getting together with my teen girls friends and watching Jennifer Hills and Hailey Stark tear apart some bastards. Based shit.

Redo is the first male victim on female perpetrator rape revenge media I've come across. it is also, the first I've seen where a victim makes their rapist into a willing sex slave as part of their revenge.

There are story elements and themes that do hold potential, specifically around power and the places lines between victim and abuser get blurry. Eg: Keyarga assumes locking away Flare's memories has made her into a new person, because Freiya is so sweet, and Flare is an abusive bitch. He eventually has to come to terms with the fact that he didn't erase Flare. They are they same person. Freiya is sweet because she has none of Flares life experience, and is with someone who shows her love and appreciation. More if this instead of a smug asshole fucking hot women because he can

When I found myself disgusted I briefly entertained the thought that I might be sexist. analyzing that thought for more then a minute I realized that ridiculous. I don't hate it for being a male rape revenge, I hate it because it's a male power fantasy. And I hate it because of Keyarga. Because he is a man who is constantly drugging and brainwashing recruiting women who cross him into his slave battle harem, all of whom he rapes has sex with aside from Eve, and even if he's not framed as a good person, he's framed as a badass. People who feel entitled to hurt others because they were hurt are not badass. They are pathetic. And more importantly, they are broken. Any story about people like him worth it's salt with acknowledge that.

TLDR I am re writing Redo Of Healer as a Serious Story about a Bastard Whumpee Who Brainwashes and Enslaves his Whumper, and Falls in love with her in the process.

It's still in its early stages. I have some picrews, some plot outlining and the basic jist of how I want to change about the characters and what I want to keep, and my partner, who's more familiar with fantasy RPG stuff, is helping me develop the magic system into something more interesting. But I do want to thank this community because I've been stewing on this horrifying story about torture and the nature of power for so long wondering who would want to read it and now that I've learned of Whump I know there is actually a chance that there is an audience.

Anyway, I've been typing way too long. I will post more about this at another time.

Also a reminder, I am new to writblr and to tumblr in general. Im still finding my footing in terms of some of the functions of the site and the etiquette/social norms/terminology, or like, the ways people follow each other's writing? Idk where I'm going with this just please keep that in mind

[theheartwhumpswhatitwhumps]

I saw you were taking whump requests!! Could you maybe do something where Whumpee is injured but is still trying to go on missions so Caretaker has to sedate them for their own good???

Sorry this took so long. I've been working on a book and all my time goes into 1) my job and 2) the book, which for the time being is an unpaid second job. But here it is at last!

Let's sedate some whumpees!!

--

cw // sedation w/ fade to black, sedation for whumpee's sake, dizziness, referenced past physical trauma (broken bones, beating), medical language, bad(??) caretaker

(as always, please let me know kindly if there are tags I miss and I will add them)

--

"Any questions?"

Leader crosses his arms and watches the team digest the mission plan. Silence doesn't settle over the room so much as turn in restless circles like an anxious dog.

Everyone wonders if they should be the one to speak up. Of course there are questions. Or, at least one. Only one that matters.

Is Whumpee really coming along?

No one looks at Whumpee, sitting straight-backed in their seat, arm free of its sling a week too early. The bruises on their cheeks and neck are long faded, but under a careful eye, a yellow tinge still lingers beneath the surface. Stitches weren't enough to make up for the small chunk missing from their bottom left, leaving it misshapen. Thanks to Healer's handiwork, Whumpee is in much better shape than they could be (or should be), but no where near completely healed.

Leader looks at each team member one by one. One by one, they feel his gaze, and Leader watches every pair of eyes drift toward Whumpee's chair. This plan hinges on everyone playing their part to the letter. No room for screw ups. No room for weak links.

Healer bounces a knee beneath the table. In the cool light, her eyes flash almost threateningly.

Finally, Leader looks to Whumpee, who returns his gaze with unwavering determination.

"No questions," they say, as resolute as a charging chariot.

--

The team is dismissed to prepare for the mission at hand. In the hallway, Healer catches Leader by the crook of his arm, her fury barely reined.

"You cannot be serious."

Leader looks down at Healer's hand, raising an eyebrow. "About?"

"Don't you dare." Healer's voice is more than angry. It's vengeful. "Whumpee should never have been in the field in the first place. They weren't ready and you knew it. But you sent them anyway."

Leader wrenches his arm free. Rather, Healer lets him loose. She can't stand to touch him anymore.

"Whumpee has skills I needed to utilize. What happened was a terrible accident--"

"They were almost killed."

Leader huffs something almost like laughter. "I'm not the bad guy here. We all know the risks. This is a job like any other, and if they can't stand the heat--"

"Listen to me. Whumpee's bones are barely healed. They haven't passed a single stress test since....since it happened. They're too weak to be of any use." Harsh, maybe, but Healer can't afford to be sensitive when Whumpee's life could be on the line. "If they get into trouble, there may not be any getting out. Not like last time."

I may not be able to fix them like last time.

Leader walks away but Healer is right on his heels. "Their role is a stationary one," Leader says, unperturbed. "Very little chance of trouble finding them from a surveillance van. If they want to back out, they need only say the word."

Fury ablaze, Healer steps in front of Leader, blocking his path. She ignores how a dangerous look flashes across his face. "Whumpee would step in front of a moving train if you told them to. To prove that they could. To make you proud. Don't you dare take advantage of that. They are not your soldier."

More than his usual annoyance, the new look on Leader's face puts Healer at unease. But she stands her ground, refusing to step aside. It's not a look of anger, of indignation at her disrespect. It's thoughtfulness. Like he's just been handed a fun new toy. Like he can't wait to see what it can do.

"Loyalty," he says, and the way the word rolls off his tongue makes Healer's stomach drop, "is a valuable gift. To give, and to be given. Whumpee's loyalty makes them an incredibly important asset to the team....and you're right, Healer. You're absolutely right. Whumpee should be safeguarded, given time to heal and regain their strengths. Effective immediately, they're suspended from the mission."

Healer can't find it in herself to be relieved. There's a caveat coming, she can feel it.

Leader lays a heavy hand on her shoulder, and her stomach drops. "We'll be leaving in an hour. Best give Whumpee one more check up, don't you think?"

--

Excitement runs hot and electric through Whumpee as they practically run to the medical wing. Time for another mission, but more than that. A second chance.

They knock on the examination room door, but don't wait for permission to enter. At this point, this room is as familiar to them as their own quarters. They've spent the better part of a month inside these sterile white walls under Healer's masterful hands.

Healer works at the counter, her back to Whumpee.

"You can't seem to get rid of me, doc!" They hop on the examination table, jarring their sore arm, but they don't let on how much it hurts. They've been practicing.

Craning their neck, they try to peer over Healer's shoulder but can't catch a glimpse of her work. Their thoughts swiftly drift to the mission, and their eyes to the anatomical posters hanging around the room. Skeletal system, nervous system, muscular, endocrine. Diagrams of the human brain. Healer had shown Whumpee what was happening in their body when she healed them from Villain's beatdown, how her powers combined with the medicine she prescribed facilitated almost miraculous repairs.

"Whip up some of your magic so I can get out of here!" Whumpee pinches a corner off the paper covering the exam table. "I still need to get my things ready. Lots to do. I didn't pack enough snacks last time. Or gauze." They shake away the memories. This time, they'll be more careful.

"I just want to make sure you're all set for field work," Healer says. Something clatters on the counter. "Can't be too careful."

Whumpee slowly flexes their sore arm, rolling their eyes. If there's one thing they've learned about Healer through all this, it's that she's inhumanly thorough. No stone unturned, no ailment untreated. Her attention to detail combined with unmatched empathy made her a good medic. The best Whumpee has ever seen, actually. And she tells it straight, the good and the bad, no lies to spare your feelings. Whumpee knows her tough love is the real reason why they've healed so quickly from the worst beating they've ever survived.

"Leader seems to think I'm ready to get back out there. I've got an important role in the plan. You heard him, he said--"

"Leader isn't your doctor."

Healer's voice was hard edges and ice. Whumpee had heard that voice before, usually when she found out that they'd been negelcting physical therapy. Whumpee felt themself shrink a bit in their seat, disappointed to have been a disappointment.

Healer exhales a slow breath, her back and shoulders deflating until she, too, seems smaller where she stands. "But…he believes in you. You've made a lot of progress. I'm very proud of you. You’re gonna do great."

Healer turns around and walks to where Whumpee, ever the model patient, sits on the cushioned table. In one hand she holds a bottle of water, and in the other, she pinches a small paper cup between her fingers. At the bottom, two blue tablets lay like pale snapdragon petals.

She holds out the water and cup. "Down the hatch."

"What's this?" Whumpee asks, but takes both from her.

Healer adjusts the pillow at the head of the table, hair obstructing her eyes. “Pain relief.”

Easy enough, Whumpee knocks the pills back. With the water, they go down smoothly. “That’s it then?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

Thrill rushes through them. Back in the field. Another chance to prove their skill. Their capability. Their worth.

Leader believes in me, they think. Healer is proud of me. They don’t know which is the sweeter thought.

They jump from the table, mind already back in their room, gathering up what they need for the mission. No sooner do their shoes touch the tile floor than that shock of thrill turns cold, then fuzzy warm, and then the lights are too bright. And the room is tilting.

“Woah—”

Their knees buckle beneath them. They reach for something to catch but it’s too late. They’re already falling and the world is out of reach.

Strong arms scoop them up. “Easy does it.” Healer’s voice.

���Healer, I…I feel…”

“I know.”

Grotesque diagrams of flayed human bodies warp beneath the harsh lights. There is something here, in this room where safety could once be trusted. Something wrong.

The horrible images all slide away, replaced by a cold, rectangular sun. Healer is somewhere, close and distant, laying them back on the table with arms too long. Softness embraces their head but Whumpee finds no comfort in it.

Half of what they mean to say is lost, butchered as it passes through the sieve of their tongue and teeth. “Healer...(help)...I'm...(feeling)...wrong."

“Shh, I know.”

Sharp metal gleams on the border of their sight but when they turn to see what instruments of pain and horror await, there are only blurred silver sheets where tables once were, and Healer’s sad eyes.

Then Whumpee understands. And they know they’d take ten broken bones over betrayal's deep, hollow pain.

Maybe there were real words on their tongue, or a scream, or a curse, but all that comes out is a high whimper—weak, pathetic, helpless—that follows them into sleep.

[viva-la-whump]

Whumpmas in July -Day 26

Day 26 - Describe your favorite type of whumpee

I love the leader or the weak one!

The leader is the one who's used to taking the pain for his team, staying as stoic as possible, holding out for as long as he can to protect his people. And when he does finally break, it's after much pain and suffering. And what's great is that since he's the protector, he's not used to being the one who is protected. But now that he's in such a weakened state, it's his team's turn to take care of him.

As for the weak one, this is the one who's not used being in such a situation and the rest make sure he never gets in trouble or gets hurt. But then the inevitable happens and this poor guy is in for a world of hurt and the others' worry for him is off the charts. He tries to be strong, but he just can't, and it seems to take forever for his team to come and save him.

OOOH!! Bonus points for the caretaker/healer! The one who heals being the one who needs to be healed! And the others aren't as skilled as he is when it comes to healing, so it's a bit of a rough ride. And when he's actually conscious, he needs to instruct them on what to do, gritting his teeth through the pain.