#unconsciousness CW

[whirl-whump]

Technological Whump (Whoopsy)

[A/N: this is technically part of a bigger story idea, but it does not want to get written. For the sake of my own sanity, I'll focus on smaller snippets for now, and just consider this a standalone drabble. Hence why the characters dont have names on purpose.]

CWs: electrocution, shock collar, seizure-like symptoms, accidental whump, pet/master whump (and the dehumanization inherent in that trope), panic, brief loss of consciousness, CPR mention, caretaker-whumper hybrid

---------

In the kitchen, Whumpee stood with his hand clasped behind his back, while his new owner fiddled with his bracelet-like remote. With every clumsy poke, he could accidentally tap a button that would make his shock collar go off, and he didn’t even seem to care. He just grumbled: “Christ, could they have made this screen any tinier!” He turned to Whumpee, holding out his wrist. “You know how this works?”   

Oh, and how. Whumpee knew the functions intimately. Did his new owner need another demonstration?   

“I...do.” he answered, carefully.   

“Great,” his owner said. “How the hell do I add a new location?”   

Whumpee hesitated. He wasn’t even allowed to touch the thing, and now he was supposed to run his owner through setting it up? Maybe he liked the idea of him putting the leech on his own collar, and that’s why he asked. Maybe this was a loyalty test.  But if it wasn’t, then maybe... Maybe he could-  

Whumper laughed, and snapped him out of his dilemma.   

“Wait, wait,” he said, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t be asking you this, should I? You could make it shock me for all I know.”   

Whumpee tensed, as though his owner could have seen his hidden thoughts.   

“I didn’t,” he protested. “I was just... surprised with the responsibility.”   

His new owner waved it off, his eyes again glued to the tiny interface. “Yeah, yeah, just forget it. I’ll figure this out myself.”   

It seemed his disobedient thoughts hadn’t been noticed, so Whumpee stayed quiet. With every tap on the remote, he tensed, waiting for something to go off. Whumper mumbled to himself.  

“Hm-hmm, use location... Yes, okay... Now where...” he scrolled down. “Ah, set limit. Perfect.” he tapped it with a proud expression. Whumpee suddenly got cold. 

“Wait, master, I think you’ve-”   

His words were cut off by the sharp shock in his neck, and he yelped. Whumper looked up. “Wrong button?”   

He had no idea what he’d done. That had just been the warning shot. And if the settings were still at the level that his previous owner put them on... Whumpee knew what would happen soon, and there was no time to explain. He turned on his heels and ran.   

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going!” Whumper called after him. Whumpee would accept the punishment later. He refused to be hurt, solely because his new owner was an idiot who didn’t understand what “limit” meant!

He stumbled down the stairs as fast as his trembling muscles would carry him. Skidding over the marble floor, he reached the elevator and slammed on the button.   

“Pet!”   

“I’ll be right back, master, I promise!” he cried back, nauseous with fear. He had to get on the street, soon, or else-  

His collar started beeping. Oh god, no..! Whumpee slammed on the metal doors, as though that could teleport him outside on time.   

He counted the beeps. Ten, nine, eight..   

He gave up and lay down on the floor. He saw his chest go up and down frantically. Should he put a sock in his mouth so he didn’t bite his tongue? Or would that make it worse?   

Five, four..  

The elevator dinged. It was too late. Whumpee closed his eyes.   

Three, two, one. A loud double beep. And it started.   

--------

Whumper ran down the stairs. If he lost his pet an hour after getting him, he’d be in so much trouble! Shit, shit, shit!   

He entered the hall and found an odd sight. The elevator door was open, but Whumpee was laying before it, on his back. He was breathing heavily and clenching his fists.   

Whumper had exactly two seconds to be confused before a pair of loud beeps came from Whumpee’s collar.   

Suddenly, he screamed like a banshee and started writhing. Was he having a seizure?!  

Whumper ran over and tried to grab his shoulder. A sharp shock traveled up his arm, and reflectively he jerked away. The entire right side of his torso tingled, and he understood: Whumpee was a live wire.   

Fuck. This felt like it was his fault.   

He tried to turn the stupid bracelet on again, but it wouldn’t read his fingerprint. Incorrect, try again. Try again. Whumper wiped the panic sweat on his hand and tried again. Then, it unlocked- but asked for two factor identification.   

Whumper could clearly see in his mind where he left his phone. On the kitchen table, all the way upstairs. He didn’t have time for that!   

Whumpee wasn’t screaming anymore, his jaw locked up and eyes rolling back. He was making choked noises that sounded terrifying. A trickle of blood left the corner of his mouth.  

Whumper’s heart pounded.   

“Hang in there, I'll fix it!” he yelled, hoping Whumpee could hear it. He ran to the maintenance closet next to the elevator. He wasn’t much of an electrician or handy man, but he knew one thing that would work. Destroying the remote sounded like it might work.

The rubber strap was easily handled with some snipping-type thing, the first sharp thing he saw. A hammer took care of the rest. He put all his fear in the slam, and the remote shattered in one go.   

Whumpee went limp. “Are you okay?” Whumper called. No response.   

Carefully, he walked over and briefly touched his shoulder. No shock. That was good.   

Jesus, his arm still hurt, and he’d only felt the current for half a second.   

A terrifying thought entered his head, and he gripped Whumpee’s wrist. A pulse. Whumper let out a relieved breath.   

He tapped Whumpee’s cheek. “Come on buddy, wake up now. It’s over.” His eyelids twitched, but no response. He was breathing and his heart was beating, so no CPR was needed, probably.... Didn’t people in movies use smelling salts for stuff like this? But Whumper only had normal salt, and that didn’t have much smell at all. Whumper scratched his head and thought of what to do.   

----------  

Whumpee was dragged from unconsciousness by a sharp sting in his nose. Dazed, he tried to move his face away from the sting, but it didn’t leave. What, where was he..?   

A sneeze racked his brain, making his headache worse. He groaned hoarsly. Slowly, his senses came back online, and he heard his new owner:   

“Ah, there you are! I knew pepper would work.”   

Whumpee’s vision swam. He couldn’t move, and his tongue was heavy in his mouth. He’d bitten it , and he tried his best to swallow the thick blood.   

He knew he had to explain: he hadn't tried to run away, he just had to get out of the range of the location that was set as a limit. But he couldn’t piece together the words, let alone summon the energy to speak.   

Whumper said something, but he forgot to pay attention. Then his head was lifted up, and a pillow put under his head.   

He tried to scramble together his braincells to thank him. It came out as a stuttering mess, and Whumper hushed him.   

Now that was an order he could follow, and he sank into the comfort.  

Whumper said something. Then another. Then his tone turned urgent.   

“Pet? Can you hear me?”   

Whumpee snapped to attention best he could. “Hm-hm?”   

“Are you experiencing..” his owner squinted at his phone and read aloud. “respiratory failure? Or uh.. cardiac impairment?”   

Whumpee blinked. He barely knew up from down, let alone what those words meant. “Dunno, master,” he slurred.   

“Hm. Probably best we take a quick stop at the EC regardless... Can you go to normal hospitals, or do I need to-” His ringtone interrupted his sentence, and he startled.   

“Shit. Okay, okay, do you feel like you’re dying right now?”  

Whumpee just felt tired. He wanted to close his eyes and let his twitching sore muscles rest. He knew the terror when he felt like he was dying. This wasn’t that. With effort, he shook his head.   

“Great, fantastic! Keep that up. Give a yell if you get worse, but I really need to take this.”  

Whumpee’s head felt filled with cotton. Distantly, he wondered if he would get punished. But that could happen after he’d rested his eyes. He closed them, as Whumper took the call with a nervous expression. 

[mischefous]

There’s this fic series I read and can’t remember the name of but in the first one I think Warriors passes out because of pain from an old injury and Time catches him and he can’t figure out what’s wrong with him, maybe u could draw something like that for ur whump art request?

first request LETS GOOOOOO! thank you Anon!

hmm, I've read a lot but this one doesn't ring a bell

but I tried to do your description justice! hope you enjoy! i apologize if i completely missed the mark on this one XD

one with the words and without hehe

EDIT! @articuno13 found the fic series this Anon was talking about!!! GO GIB IT HEEEEEAAPS OF LOVE!

[amielot]

Dream... PLEASE let him change the bandages.

[pillowspace]

human disguise au doodles made in whiteboard fox because ibispaint wasn't working

[animatedwhump]

"Just...get out as soon as you can. Promise?"

The Legend of Korra | S04E13 | The Last Stand

[dominicsorel]

What happens when someone who's not real dies? Where will my heart go? That is, if it doesn't disappear completely…

[cutechan555]

Turmoil page 10

CW // blood and injuries

Well damn didn't expect to turn out this...sad

< Previous Next >

[luck-of-the-drawings]

ehehe i had this saved as 'you tellin me theres blood in this bayou??' anyway WOW i drew this (FOREVER AGO) with only pen (ONLY PEN) and fixed mistakes by gluing paper over them. fuckinnnn WITNESS MY PEN SKILLS LOSEERRRR!! also i loooove blood in the bayou guys i miss these characters so much.... i looooved watching them all get just so so scared and clinging to eachother for dear life while crying and crying and bleeding and crying

[tophsazulas]

But loving him was red Oh, red Burning red

Zaya - Red TV (Taylor Swift)

[whumpypepsigal]

Kung Fu s03e08: “He's alive... barely.”

[ghosty-ana]

Before the first man even has a chance of getting close enough to hit them with his shillelagh, a shadow passes through Lehiri’s visage, leaving in their face the mark of death incarnate, hollow eyes and cracked bones, their smile disappearing into a display of pointed teeth peaking out of their skull through their skin. Shadows leave the ground from around them, covering the path in smoke like waves, spectral hands reaching out from it as drowning sailors on a tempestuous storm, only to clutch at the paralysed legs of the two bandits, ghosts clawing their way up to them until their perpetually gaping mouths are inches from the poor thugs terrified faces.  Some art of Lehiri, my Way of The Long Death Monk for our homebrew campaing Shattered Moon

First one is some of their teenage days at the monastery, second is they standing on their last remaining Touch of Death THP, last is their Hour of Reaping, with some description from a lore fic I wrote 👀

[open-your-eyes-and-mind]

Ich bin ein Berlinter

Original Upload (AO3)

Published 10/24/2022 - 2,273 words - COMPLETED

Summary:

"His mind felt clouded, almost full, he couldn’t think but he also couldn’t fully focus on the task at hand, it was a troubling feeling, Twilight did not like it." "His eyes felt heavy, like they were being dragged down, he stared down at his pan, however unable to focus on it"

-

OR

Loid faints in his kitchen, seemingly randomly

Notes:

See Closing Remarks

Ich Bin Ein Berlinter

Twilight paused before his door,using that moment to compose himself. Taking stock of his body, noting every minute detail.

His throat felt cold and sharp, no doubt from the intense sprinting he had done in the chilly night air. He felt the dried sweat on his hairline and what settled into the deeper parts of his face. He could still somewhat feel his heartbeat in his ears, and struggled to get his keys out of his pocket, his hands shaking from the spike in his blood pressure, the side effects of a particularly trying mission, direct from the handler.

He took a deep breath, tracking the air as it scratched past his throat and into his lungs, allowing it to fill every part of his chest before drawing it back out. He pulled out a handkerchief to dab the sweat from his face. Rubbing into the salt deposits that were left behind. He attempted to clear his throat, however all that came up was a dry cough. As he unlocked the door and stepped through the threshold, he became Loid Forger once more.

“Hello, I’m home!”, he announced to the house.

Yor stood up from an unseen couch and responded, “Welcome back! How was work?”

“It went well with the exception of a patient who became a bit violent near the end,” Loid said, making an excuse to cover up whatever exhaustion still showed on his body, not wanting to expend the extra effort to push it down more than he already has.

Yor sauntered over to help remove his coat and hat. He basked in the relief after the heavy article was removed from his form, allowing the comparatively cool air to somewhat heal his fatigued body. 

Realizing he had not heard from Anya yet he strided down the hall to the sitting room, where Yor had just come from. As he rounded the corner he saw Anya hunched over the coffee table gripping a crayon in a tight fist, making indecipherable scribbles on a paper in front of her.

 It took a moment for her focus to break long enough to notice Loid, however when she did, she immediately dropped her crayon onto the table and toddled over to Loid, wrapping her arms around his shins,

“Welcome back Papa!” she cried out,

“Good evening Anya,” Loid answered, bending slightly to put a hand on her back, doing his best to hug her back despite not being able to move his legs.

Anya looked up at his face, still gripping his legs in a bear hug, and held a blank expression for a moment, almost like he was listening to him despite him not saying anything. It was an odd habit she maintained but Loid could never find a good reason to correct it.

Suddenly she broke from his legs and announced “Papa! I’m Hungry!”, in that assertive voice she always put on after that look on her face.

Loid smiled warmly, as Yor remarked behind him, “It is about time for dinner, I’ll get it started”,

Loid turned and nodded to her, “I’ll help as well, allow me to wash up”

Within minutes they were both busy in the kitchen, enjoying their individual tasks. Yor efficiently chopped vegetables at the cutting board and Loid tended to a loud and sizzling pan. 

Loid allowed his mind to wander while he waited for the vegetables in his saute, reflecting on the mission he had just returned from. It went well, for the most part, things got somewhat messy towards the end. He glanced down at his knuckles on the hand that was grasping the pan, and noting that they were no longer red. He briefly recalled the scene of chasing the target through the darkened streets and alleys, and then… and then what.

His mind felt clouded, almost full, he couldn’t think but he also couldn’t fully focus on the task at hand, it was a troubling feeling, Twilight did not like it.

He suddenly became aware of the heat on his face, at first he assumed it was from the heat of the pan, but it began to spread. Starting on the bridge of his nose and under his eyes. The breath out of his nose felt hot, almost burning his upper lip. Then the heat spread to his forehead and the apples of his cheeks. His eyes felt heavy, like they were being dragged down, he stared down at his pan, however unable to focus on it. He ceased tossing the vegetables and held still, and his jaw slacked open slightly.

His ears felt full, like they were stuffed with a heavy cotton, also like they were being dragged down, and he became aware of his pulse in them. The sizzling of the pan grew louder, and louder, until it was a white noise like television static, and all other sounds were drowned out.

Yor turned around when she noticed that Loid had stopped moving, “Is something the matter Loid?” she asked, half expecting him to tell her to cut the onions or the peppers finer, but strangely, he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t even seem to realize she said anything.

Loid stood there, unable to lift his eyes, or hear anything but the noise of cooking food. As he stared down, his field of view became smaller, darkness inching into the edges of his vision. He felt so far away.

Suddenly he was facing Yor, did he turn around? Was he facing her before? His vision went black. His knees made an impact with the floor, he didn’t even realize he was falling. Yor yelled something, something too distant to hear, and he just barely heard a noise that sounded like metal clanging, and then he was gone.

He was against the wall, a fiery headed woman towering over him, arms folded.

“You won’t defend anyone with those sloppy blocks, agent,” She commanded, lending a hand to him. He reached out to take it, but the gloved hand grabbed it before he could complete the movement.

And then he was back in the kitchen. His eyes were open but fluttering and he could move them once more. Moved his eyes from staring at the middle distance in the direction of the tiled floor to Yor’s face, that was pushed close to his own. His jaw was slack, but was stalk still as he looked into Yor’s eyes, as was the same for the rest of his body. It was so very heavy, so much so that the idea of moving didn’t even come to him. 

“Loid,” she said, “Loid are you okay?”, maintaining an expression of deep worry,

He didn’t answer, didn’t even think to. 

Slowly his senses returned to him, he could feel his back against the oven, and his shoulders that were hunched in. He looked around the floor, how did he get there? There was an upturned pan beside them both, with half cooked vegetables scattered on the tile. 

“Loid,” Yor repeated

In that moment a single thought formed in his mind, and he declared it as soon as it took shape, “I fainted”

Yor nodded, he became aware of the hand on this shoulder. 

He put a hand to his forehead, trying to clear the fog from his mind, his hand was warm, his head pounded.

There was an impact at his side, “PAPAAAA!” Anya cried out, a little too close to his ear.

He put a hand on her head, and with both Anya and Yor there he started to feel grounded once more. Only for the hand to shoot to his head, when a stabbing headache set in.

He grasped both his temples, his hands uncomfortably warm, eyes screwed shut. 

Yor said something he didn’t catch and he felt his back touch the cool tile. Here was movement next to his face, and a small current of air hit it, and before he knew it a moist towel was on his forehead, he was starting to lose the moments between these events when a hand grabbed his own, which was resting on his chest. 

“Is that better Loid,” a voice announced through the darkness,

Loid latched onto it and pulled himself back into consciousness once more, nodding in the affirmative.

He reached up with his other hand to massage the bridge of his nose, and did his best to connect his thoughts.

He most certainly passed out, which has unfortunately become a rather common occurrence, or at least the dizziness was common. However it was normally after a shock, like when Anya brought home a second tonitrus bolt, but he was just making dinner? and in pretty high spirits. He had no clue what could have caused him to lose consciousness so quickly and that thought came with a particular dread. 

There was so much to do, the success of operation strix was constantly unsure, he had to make sure Anya studied enough, but it was never enough. His missions, each so integral to nationwide peace, he couldn’t afford to screw up a single one of them. His job, his fake job, keeping up appearances there and with his neighbors, constantly trying to quiet their suspicions. 

He simply didn’t have the time to be worrying about his health, but now he is fainting so frequently that it is becoming a pattern, that simply was not an option. So many people were relying on him, so many lives were relying on him, world peace was-

“Loid,” Yor’s voice cut through his thoughts, “You still don’t look well, would you like some water?”

He made a grunting noise of agreement, he knew he wasn’t in danger of losing consciousness, but it was still difficult to keep himself in the moment, he kept getting lost in his thoughts, yet he couldn’t remember what he was just thinking about.

Two firm hands, and two smaller ones, assisted him into a sitting position, he felt the rag that was previously resting on his forehead fall into his hands, and he began to fold in on himself, he lost the seconds before a hand grabbed his and wrapped it around a cold glass.

“Here,” Yor’s kind voice said to him, assisting him in lifting the glass to his lips.

He took a few messy sips before lowering the glass back to his lap. He held the water in his mouth, allowing it to wet his tongue, which felt like a dry piece of fabric, before finally swallowing it with a great effort. The small bit of water felt like a rock sliding down his throat. However the coldness was still able to pull him back to reality somewhat.

Light hit his eyes, he didn’t even know they were shut, he saw Yor kneeling on the floor in front of him, still with that worried expression on her face. He looked to his right slightly and saw a comically worried Anya standing there, tears forming in her eyes,

“Papaaa!! I’m sowwy did I do someting bad?” She cried out, slightly too loud, “Papa only faimts when I’m bad! Was I bad Papa?” 

Loud shook his head, “No Anya, you did nothing wrong,” he let out a small sigh, “I’m just tired is all”

Yor cocked her head slightly, wordless asking if that was the truth, Loid closed his eyes and gave an assuring nod, although he didn’t believe it himself.

“I’d like to sit on the couch, if you don’t mind,” he started again.

Yor wordlessly adjusted her position to one that could lift him up, taking his arm and putting it over her shoulders and using her other arm to support his back. Loid grabbed the counter above him and with a heave they both got him to his feet. Although he leaned on Yor a little more than he wanted to. His legs felt light, like they weren’t there, and he stumbled a few times walking down the short hallway to the sitting room. 

He slid off Yor’s arm and onto the couch, his body begged him to lay down but his mind told him to stay sitting up. He set his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead on his interlocked hands, and closed his eyes, only reopening them when he heard the clatter of a plate on the coffee table in front of him. Dreading the fact that he lost the time between sitting down and dinner being made. 

“Did you fall asleep sitting up?” Yor said to him, still with a hand on the plate of freshly made dinner, distinctly missing the onions and peppers Loid had dropped, “Maybe you should head to bed…” 

“I’ll be alright, besides, Anya needs to study,” he said, surveying the lack of school papers on the coffee table.

“I can handle all that for tonight, you need to rest,” Yor tucked a stray piece of hair back into place, and set down a fresh glass of water. 

Before Loid could answer, the couch cushion beside him sank down, he looked over to see Anya, clumsily holding a plate.

“Anya will eat with Papa today,” She said with a smirk

Soon enough Yor was setting down a third plate on the opposite side of Anya, “I’ll eat here as well, surely it isn’t bad manners to sit on the couch for dinner tonight,” She smiled.

Loid looked at both of them, on either side of him, supporting him, 

“Yes, I suppose I could turn in early tonight,” 

He pushed his hair out of his face and picked up his fork to start eating.

To start eating with his family.

Closing Remarks:

I wrote this to experiment with a new technique of writing. I tried to write the most vivid and immersive descriptions of feelings in the body with the intention of grounding the reader. For the people who like to read to fall asleep, it's meant to relax them :) Let me know if it worked

Of course it had to be whump though because it's all I write

(Also the title is a pun, it doesn't mean much unless you REALLY read into it)

Reblogs and Likes always appreciated <3

Please do not repost, edit, or redistribute in any way

[m-kyunie]

elegance.

[whump-in-the-closet]

Merry Whump of May

@themerrywhumpofmay

May 10th- "Hit the hay."

[Key | Forgetting | Warehouse]

***

(tw: broken arm, nosebleed, concussion, beaten unconscious, whumper pov)

“You’re going to give me that key,” said Villain. 

Hero's sidekick wiped the blood from his nose. He widened his stance, as if he was trying to cover the door with his entire body. No.

Villain glanced at Supervillain. “Do I break him?”

Sidekick trembled, trying and failing to stop his nosebleed.

Supervillain placed a hand on Villain's shoulder. “Let me try something first.”

Villain stepped aside, but raised two fingers to their eyes and pointed them at Sidekick. I’m watching you. 

Supervillain crouched down by Sidekick, wary of the knife held with shaking fingers. “Listen,” Supervillain dropped their voice to a bat-pitched whisper. “My lovely friend there,” Supervillain gestured to Villain standing in their leather jacket, playing with a tri-blade dagger. “Will rip you to shreds. I’m assuming you don’t want that?” 

Sidekick gripped his knife tighter. He glanced at Villain and swallowed hard. “No.” 

Supervillain nodded sympathetically. “I can help you avoid that fate, if you give me the key to this lovely warehouse. Some of my dear friends are inside and I’d like to pay them a visit.” 

Sidekick raised his knife. His voice shook but held steady. “Hero said I was to not let you in. No matter what.” 

Supervillain’s eyes hardened. “You’ll give us that key whether you wish to or not.” 

“Key? What key? Oh the key to this door here? Yeah, sorry, I forgot where I put it.” Sidekick hid behind sarcasm like a shield. 

Supervillain sighed, false sympathy dripping from their every word. “Oh, dear, you’re going to regret that.” 

It happened in the blink of an eye. 

Supervillain drew back.

Sidekick stepped forward, knife flashing, realising all too soon he had made a fatal mistake. He had forgotten about Villain. 

Too late.

Villain slammed Sidekick’s arm up towards the sky, grabbing his wrist. Kneed him in the stomach, still without letting go. 

The young man doubled over, his knife falling to the ground with a thud muted by the grass.

Supervillain picked it up. Smiled as they twirled it between their fingers and watched.

Villian twisted Sidekick’s arm behind his back.

There was a snap first, and then a scream.

Villain grabbed him by his shoulders and shoved him– broken arm first– into the side of the warehouse. 

Sidekick managed to muffle his scream this time, but not by much. 

Supervillain almost laughed. What a way to announce their arrival. Beating Hero’s precious sidekick to a bloody pulp.

Villain twisted a hand into Sidekick’s hair and slammed his head into the building. He crumpled, becoming a limp and twisted shape on the grass. 

Supervillain stopped spinning the knife. “Did you give him a concussion?” 

Villain shot them an unhinged smile. “It’s a possibility.” 

“We still need the key.” 

Villain made a disgusted noise in their throat. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Taking hold of the guard’s uniform collar, they hauled him to his feet.

Sidekick’s head rolled forward.

Villain slapped him awake. 

His face was wet with tears. How unprofessional. Villain leaned in close and Sidekick whimpered. 

Whimpered. 

What a delightful sound. 

If Villain had more time, they would have liked to see what other cries they could drag out of Hero’s sidekick. But they didn’t. Today, it was merely business. 

“I believe we were talking about a key?” 

Sidekick sobbed. Something glinted around his neck. Metallic and shining dully. 

Villain slipped a finger around the string and lifted the key into the light, where it swung for a moment. Then they twisted the string and broke it, taking the key with them. “Alright, hit the hay now, will you?”

They left Sidekick gasping for air, slumped against the building. 

Supervillain took the key from Villain. “Thank you, dearest.” 

Villain nodded and grinned up at them, who with the sunlight in their teeth, looked absolutely terrifying. 

“Let’s go pay your friends a call.” 

“Make them regret ever existing?”

“Quite so.”

[redd956]

"Hey Whumpee." Caretaker nervously greeted upon entering the room.

A bedridden figure rolled their eyes over to get a look at who was speaking. They huffed a large sigh as a response, eyes ever so slightly widening. For a moment the person stirred, limbs trying to move, even by just a bit. However their strength failed them. Whumpee gave up. Breathing heavily, whumpee opted for a watchful gaze instead, their fixating eyes following caretaker all around the room.

...

Neither truly knew each other. Caretaker just promised a friend that they could help with a quote in quote, "little problem of theirs". It was brought up to caretaker like rescue animal, or sickly family member's child.

Caretaker only sensed that something odd was going on, when their friend picked them up for the occasion. Shifty was an understatement for how they were acting that night. They rattled off a lot to caretaker as soon as the car door closed. They told a wild story of injuries, crime, backstabbing, and more. More importantly caretaker was informed that they couldn't tell another soul about whumpee

Caretaker didn't understand why til they saw whumpee themselves. Whumpee was completely unconscious then, decked out in soldier's wear. Bloodied bandages were bunched around their friend's living room floor. Their trail lead to the couch that whumpee was messily placed on in a panic.

Explanations was something their friend was aggressively against. Little bits were shared to Caretaker over time. Whumpee doesn't speak the same language as us. Whumpee isn't from any enemy lines of ours. Whumpee will be afraid of you when they wake.

What Caretaker promised to do for their friend, was show up to be caretaker when they couldn't. A few days ago whumpee woke, and it's been a mess ever since.

...

"I brought you water." Caretaker held up the cup of water in the air as if that would make whumpee understand them. They hoped their attempt of a soothing tone could convey enough alone.

Whumpee grimaced, their face blanching at the garble of words. They tried to turn their head away from caretaker's touch. A little whimper escaped from them, as Caretaker placed their palm above their forehead, which burned a bit under their touch. They breathed heavier feeling the clammy palm, heaving their chest up and down as if was a viable struggle.

"You're really warm." Caretaker worried out loud, as if speaking for the two of them would fill the void of awkwardness.

They rummaged around the bedding, lifting up the shirt to unveil a bandaged midriff. Caretaker saw the infection immediately. All they could muster about it was a sigh.

"It's never a dull moment with you.", Caretaker partially whispered.

Dull moment for the times they currently were in was an understatement, charging to prove himself. Caretaker carefully lifted whumpee's head, trickling the water into their mouth, wondering when their friend would return home. Where do they keep disappearing to?

They felt a brush a whumpee's fingers against their arm. Sad eyes met them, and they understood, that whumpee was wondering too.

[zestyderg]

Arguing with your dead mom who is either just something your brain conjured up while you're dreaming or is actually a ghost.