Hello! Welcome to my whump blog. My job keeps me very busy, so I don't post as often as I would like, but if you send me an ask, I will respond as soon as I can!
Hullo, Friends! I did a sort of introductory post a while ago, but I thought I'd go ahead and make an intro/masterlist post to follow up. I might also update this later to include more of my posts than just these few main if it seems to be wanted.
I'm Meraki, or Mer for short. She/Her in her mid-twenties. I write whump, and don't worry, no AI is used here! I try to use a variety of prompts, but my favorites are passing out/unconscious, hiding/discovering injuries, and refusing medical care. I don't have any consistent squicks, but I won't write super spicy spice.
My asks are always open! If you like my writing, feel free to send an ask with your idea, and I'll write it as fast as I can.
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Most Popular
Blindfolded
Muted
Whump Prompts
You Didn't Do Anything Wrong
Sleep
My Favorites
Ring
Chains
Thief Version 2
Pulling Punches
Not Tonight
One Condition
Don't. I'm Fine
Don't Look At Me
Series (Masterlist)
Not Sick (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8)
Caretaker found them attempting to bandage their own wounds. Their hands shook as they tried to anchor the white strip to their bloody chest, not bothering to clean the injury. It should have hurt. The stranger should have been crying, screaming, but their expression remained neutral; not a single tear joined the blood beneath them.Â
âHolyâŠâ Caretaker gasped, and the strangerâs head jerked up to search for them. âWhat happened?â
Despite the pure chaos of noise Caretaker made as they dashed for the injured person, the stranger struggled to locate them through the brush. They pushed themselves to their feet, using the tree behind them for support, and began walking awayâa slow, unsteady trek with bandages hanging off their body in multiple places.Â
The smell of vomit and blood made Caretakerâs stomach churn. A clear path of trampled and stained underbrush opened up and marked the direction the stranger had come from. It also made it much easier to follow them.
Worry tinged their voice as Caretaker gained on them, âStop! Iâm not going to hurt you. Hey, listen, you need help!â
One of the trailing bandages bounced and twisted around a sapling, and the stranger made a sound for the first time. They stumbled, pulled back into the growing tree, and collapsed as it broke under their weight. The whimpering gasp they made seemed to draw out more of a reaction than anything else had. They were afraid.
âItâs okay! Donât move. Itâs okay, I just want to help you.â Caretaker cooed as they cut away the trapped bandages and helped the stranger roll over onto their back. They could feel the person trembling with each light touch. âIâm sorry. I know it hurts. Iâm sorry. Youâre safe with me. I promise, Iâm not going to do anything to hurt you intentionally.â
âI donâtââ The personâs voice was weak and the words unsure. Their eyes widened as they looked up at Caretaker, and one hand clapped over their mouth.Â
Caretaker pulled their hand away from their face and assessed the scrapes, cuts, and scars covering every inch of it, âYouâre alright. My name is Caretaker. Can you tell me your name?â
âSpecial Unit 305. Designated title: Weapon.â The stranger gasped as their eyes rolled back. The tension in their body eased, and their hand went limp as they lost consciousness.Â
It wasnât easy to finish the job bandaging the dying stranger. Caretaker wished they had brought their hiking kit, but they hadnât expected to run into anyone on that side of the forest or to walk as far as they did. No one ever passed through the section they were in. It was dangerous, no manâs land.
To their surprise, Weapon didnât wake up through the process.Â
To their concern, Weapon also didnât wake up as Caretaker carried them back to their home.Â
Quickly and with the efficiency of someone with three incredibly clumsy younger siblings, Caretaker cleaned and properly dressed Weaponâs wounds. One on their side looked like a bullet had passed clear through. Long cuts they supposed came from some sort of knife or other blade. Bruises in the shapes of fists and boot treads.Â
Caretaker decided the last cut needed stitches. It wasnât long, but it looked dangerous, twisting from their collarbone and up the side of their neck. Of course, acknowledging stitches were needed and actually giving them are two different things. The needles and supplies they needed were in their emergency bag, but theyâd never even considered trying actually to do it before.
So, they did what anyone else would do in a situation like that. They pulled up a tutorial video and set it to play on repeat.Â
The first stitch, they had trouble getting their knot to hold. The second and third were too far apart, so they had to try to fit the fourth in between to keep the wound closed. Fifth and sixth wouldnât win them any awards, but they would work. And the seventhâŠ
The seventh would have gone exactly where Weaponâs thumb pressed into Caretaker's throat. The stranger was awake and on them faster than Caretaker could blink. With a bang, they slammed Caretakerâs head against the wall, and for a second, Caretaker saw stars.Â
Weapon stayed silent, chest heaving as their eyes studied Caretakerâs face. Their lips parted like they were going to say something, but closed without a sound.Â
Instead, their hand lifted, reaching for the thread hanging from their neck.Â
âDonât!â Caretaker gasped from beneath Weaponâs slowly loosening hold, âDonât. Itâs not done.â
âI donâtâŠâ Weapon blinked and stumbled, releasing Caretaker to support themselves with the wall on either side of Caretakerâs head. âI donât want to die.â
Caretaker tried to catch them as they fell to their knees, but Weapon was too heavy. âItâs okay. Iâve got you. Youâre safe.â
Hi there! Just checking in again, everything is going alright? Hoping so!!
btw DELICIOUS side kick story!!!! Very good, thank you for feeding us with your amazing writing!! <3
Hullo again Friend! Thanks for checking in. I'm alright but the drama continues a little, my landlord threatened my housing situation largely because I had a friend stay with me for a week (as is allowed in my contract) but he also said it's because I'm single. Still, I'm not homeless yet! And I have family I can move in with if it comes down to it.
I'm glad you liked the story! I had a lot of fun writing it. Haven't gotten to do much of that these days so it was a nice break lol
Sidekick knew what would happen the moment they met Heroâs eyes. They werenât going to stop. They wouldnât let Sidekick rest. Even if it costs Hero their life, or even better, Sidekicks life, Hero wouldnât stop until the mission was done. Until the world was âsavedâ or at least the hotel at the end of the road.Â
It was a trap. The âbad guysâ didnât hold conferences in public places to plan who they were going to murder. Sidekick knew it was a lie the moment Hero shouted the new information into the offices and demanded their assistance.Â
âListen to what youâre saying!â Sidekick had yelled at the back of Heroâs head. âItâs the plot of any villain movie. Theyâll be waiting to kill you the moment you walk through the door.â
âTheyâll be waiting to kill us, donât you mean? I donât care if itâs a trap or not. I refuse to miss the opportunity to take them into custody. All of them.â
Sidekick stumbled as Hero pulled them toward the changing rooms. âHero, please. Think about this. I donât want to die because youââ
âIâm a hero, and youâre my sidekick. It doesnât matter if we make it out alive. We will not abandon the innocent workers in the hotel to suffer through whatever sadistic thing those villains decide to do with them. Get dressed. Put on a bulletproof vest if youâre so worried about traps and death.â
And that was that.
Sidekick continued to beg Hero to reconsider the whole way to the hotel. Hero continued to ignore their pleas for their life.
When the building came down around them, Hero ran for the cleaning lady standing frozen by the door instead of helping Sidekick end their fight with Villain. Sidekick had yelled for help, screaming as the floor beneath their feet began to shake. Hero laughed and said they were lucky they were outside the structure when the floors above finally caved in. Otherwise, who would have been there to pull Sidekick out of the rubble?
If Sidekickâs arm hadnât been dislocated, they would have punched Hero in the side. Right over the spot where one of Villainâs goons had managed to cut through their suit and scratch along Heroâs ribs. They yelled until Hero got bored and turned away.
Thankfully, the building hadnât completely crushed their legs. If it were possible to call any part of what had happened lucky, it would have been that the larger chunks had fallen together and formed a lopsided shelter that protected Sidekick (and Villain) from the majority of the dangerous rubble. Not all, but enough. They were still in close enough to one piece to walk back to base, and the only Doctor that Hero allowed them to see. (For safety and confidentiality reasons, of course.)
Doctor met Sidekick at the door. âDammit, Sidekick. You look awful! If you even think about telling me you were in that hotel when it fell, Iâm going to dislocate your other arm.âÂ
âI was fighting Villain. Couldnât get out.â
âDammit, Sidekick. Where was Hero?â
âCarrying a civilian to safety.â
âDammit, Sidekick!â
Wincing as they took too deep a breath and irritated their badly bruised, if not broken, ribs, Sidekick stumbled forward to the stretcher waiting at Doctorâs side. âDammit, Doctor, what do you want me to do? I was in the building, fighting Villain, as I was ordered. Itâs not like Iâm the one who planted the bombs that brought the whole thing down. Now. Would you mind continuing to curse at me upstairs? It hurts.â
Curse, they did. Doctor cursed them as they and their nurses shoved Sidekickâs stretcher onto the elevator. A few new curses joined the mix as Doctor cut away their clothes and began treating the damage. They continued cursing as they moved aside to let a nurse finish wrapping the last wound and leaned over Sidekick to study their face.Â
They only stopped cursing when a shout and the sound of footsteps rang out in the hallway.
âSidekick! Sidekick, where are you?â Doors slammed open as Hero ignored the windows, allowing them to see into the rooms as they searched.
âHereââ Sidekicks voice broke off into a gravely cough, âHere, Hero.â
âWhat the hell?â Hero glared at Sidekick and smacked their wrapped ankle. âI needed you out there! Villain got away because you left to get a Band-Aid on your booboos.â
Sitting up despite the hollow ache in their chest, they took a deep enough breath to yell, âYou needed me? Really, you needed me? Where were you when the hotel collapsed on top of me? I needed you to help me fight Villain so we could all get out of there, but you were too busy lounging around where it was safe.â
âDo you really think so little of me? I was being a hero. I was saving civilians who would have died. You werenât there to help me stop Villain from leaving while my back was turned. Now, theyâll be able to blow up even more buildings if we donât catch them.â
âLet me guess,â Sidekick sighed, âYou were talking to reporters instead of watching Villain, and they escaped their cuffs again.â
Hero scoffed, âThe city needed reassurance that it was safe now. Donât talk to me like I was doing something wrong. Itâs a good thing they were there, anyway. One of their cameras managed to catch which direction Villain went, and weâve managed to locate where he should be.â
Sidekick rolled their eyes and lay their head back on the elevated bed. âWonderful. Take the cops with you this time. If Villain can go directly into police custody, it will be harder for them toââ
âYeah, yeah. Get your spare suit. We need to hurry.â
This time, it was Doctor who interrupted. âSidekick isnât going anywhere.â
Heroâs eyes rolled so far back, Sidekick wondered if they found anything interesting in the open space. Their posture straightened, and they switched to their heroic authority voice. âSidekick is needed to complete their mission. You gave them medical care, and theyâre obviously well enough to have gotten back here on their own.â
âThey could have died, Hero.â Doctor kept their tone low and professional. âIf they go out again, if they fight Villain, they wonât make it.â
âThey are prepared to die. We all are. Sometimes, thatâs what it takes to complete the mission and save the world.â Hero turned their gaze to Sidekick, staring at them down their nose. âGet on your spare suit. Meet me at the museum in ten minutes.â
Sidekick wanted to argue. They let their mouth fall open, letting the pain that shot through their jaw ground them. When Heroâs eyes sharpened into a punishing glare, they closed their mouth without saying a word. Tears started to build in the corners of their eyes. They blinked them silently away.
Hero left with a scoff and a victorious chuckle. âTen minutes, Sidekick.â
It was an impossible request. The museum was fifteen minutes away on foot. It would probably take them at least five minutes to get dressed again with their arm like it was. Realigned, but still painful. Since they were already going to be late, they could afford to take one more minute to prepare. One more minute to live on their terms.
One finger against their forehead took the fight from their body.Â
âYou will not leave this bed.â Doctor said, throwing a few curses after Hero.
âIâŠâ
âDammit, Sidekick!â Doctor slapped them. Hard.Â
Sidekick looked down at their hands. It was fine. Better for Doctor to get their anger out now instead of getting fired for confronting Hero later.Â
âLook at me.âÂ
Sidekick stood. The nurses made various distressing sounds, and the movement was too clumsy for Sidekickâs liking, but Doctor didnât try to stop them.Â
âIâm sorry,â Sidekick whispered.
Doctor slapped them again.Â
Sidekick stumbled, and Doctor caught their hand as they reached up to wipe away the slowly building tears. âDonât. Let them fall.â
One tear slipped free as Doctorâs hand rose to cradle sidekicks cheek. They caught the drop under their thumb and rubbed it into their skin.
âIâm shocked, Sidekick. Where is your voice? I never thought you were the type to give up.â
They couldnât help but lean into the gentle touch. âI said Iâm sorry.â
Doctor shook their head, âNo, you said youâre willing to let Hero kill you for no other reason than pride. You cannot give in. I wonât let you give up. Cry if you need to, yell, scream, curse. You can slap me as hard as you can if it means you wonât give up. No matter what, you cannot give up.â
âThereâs nothingâŠâ Sidekickâs voice drifted off as pain shot through their chest. They allowed Doctor to guide them back down onto the bed. âThereâs nothing I can do. I donât have a choice.â
A hand to the back of their bandaged head pressed Sidekickâs face into Doctorâs chest. âYou can ask for help. I know. I know, youâve been ignored in the past, but, dammit, Sidekick, this is too far. Keep fighting, donât give up, and let me help you.â
âIâŠâ Sidekick let a hand curl into Doctorâs scrubs. âI donât want to die. Doctor, please, help me. I⊠I donâtââ
As slow tears turned to sobs, Doctor didnât push Sidekick away. They didnât hush them or tell them it was okay. Instead, they held them closer and whispered into their hair, âIâm here, Sidekick. Donât give up. Iâm going to help you.â
Hello! Nothing important, just wanted to ask, how are you doing?
I'm doing well, thanks for asking! I was worried this Christmas was going to be hard but family really came together and kept things merry.
Side note: There's a different reason I've been quiet recently. In January my first children's book is going to be officially published! I've been super focused on getting everything for that ready.
Whumpee was sitting in a chair when Caretaker pushed open the door. Even though they resisted the urge, they found themselves rising to their feet anyway. The old trained habit is enough to make them pale at being discovered on furniture, and Caretakerâs lips turned down in a frown. As Caretakerâs low sigh filled the tight, inescapable space, Whumpee attempted to calm their heart and pretend each exposed second wouldnât have been an hour of torture at Whumperâs hand.Â
Caretaker leaned against the doorway. âYou donât have to do that anymore. I know you were trained, but if you could remember how things used to be, then youââ
âI remâ remember. Before.â Whumpeeâs hands shook even though they pressed them tight to their sides. Yet, it would be the stutter that gives them away. âI can see memories playing. Playing in front of me, sometimes. It's always a step away. Like, like I can't, it's not me anymore. I can't exist in the before.â
Caretaker didn't come any closer. Not that they didn't want to. Whumpee could see it in their eyes and the way their arms didn't quite rest at their sides, reaching for Whumpee. Reaching and blocking their escape.
âI'm sorry.â Whumpee followed Caretakerâs hand as they wiped their eyes, rubbed their temples, and shoved the hair from their face.
Ice crept down Whumpeeâs spine as Caretaker stepped aside. There were people, strangers they'd never seen before. They were giving them up.
âI'm sorry, I don't know how to help you. I'm sorry I gave up our past. I'm sorry I can't help you through the future.â
Whumpee has been working out in the field. They need to prepare the crops for an upcoming storm. Caretaker has to practically beg them to come inside and drink water at the end of the day. Despite their hesitation, Whumpee eventually follows Caretaker, upset with themselves for how little theyâd accomplished since their field was a main food supply.Â
Every bit of exposed skin is red with sunburn from the hot day. They swallow down the water theyâre offered with desperation they hadnât expected. Their muscles gave out as Caretaker guided them to a chair. The world was starting to spin. Their arms burned where Caretaker held onto them for support, keeping them from collapsing. A dull roar filled their ears as darkness crept around the edges of their vision. The last thing they saw was Caretakerâs lips moving frantically as they looked down on them with their brow furrowed deeply.
The sound of weight hitting the ground made General flinch. Her eyes fluttered open. Every part of her body felt heavy as she struggled to break free of the drugs threatening to pull her back to sleep.Â
A low groan rang out in front of her. General struggled to focus on the officer thrown on the ground a few feet ahead as she worked just to hold up her head.Â
âGood morning, General.â
She glared at Villain as he stepped over Officer Finance. It took all her self-control not to curse, âIs it morning already? I havenât slept that well in ages.â
Villain nodded thoughtfully, âYes, being drugged will generally do that to you.â He tapped a single curled finger under her chin and pushed a stray bit of hair from her face. The fury clenched in his jaw eased as it dripped into bitter amusement.Â
General waited. Villain wouldnât keep up the act for long. Officer Finance groaned at their feet as blood stained what was left of the soles of Generalâs shoes.Â
âWell, you seem to be wide awake and bushy-tailed now. And, I do believe that your officer here has a few questions to ask you.â Villain hauled Officer Finance up to kneel on his knees, so close that his bangs nearly brushed against Generalâs leg. âGo on, now. Ask them.â
Officer Finance shook their head. A small drop of their blood stained Generalâs pants where it landed among the other dirt and grime. âNo. I wonâtââ
He gasped as Villain stepped into the back of his knee while pulling his shirt collar tight enough to choke.Â
âO- Okay! Okay. Villain wants you to tell him where the camps are located.â
As Officer Finance finally met Generalâs eyes, she knew that he was prepared for her answer. âNo.â
Financeâs scream as his leg broke under Villainâs weight was cut off from a lack of air.
âCome now,â Villain cooed as he stroked Financeâs hair like he was trying to soothe the pain heâd just caused. âDonât you understand? I need you to say yes. Your officer needs you to answer his questions so he doesnât have to hurt. Itâs simple, easy. I believe in you, General. Youâll get this next one right.â
Villain knelt next to Officer Finance, his grip on the officerâs shirt releasing to allow him to breathe finally. He took advantage of the officerâs weakness from pain and lack of oxygen to lift his hand by his wrist and hold it in front of General. His other arm wrapped around Finance to keep him upright as he pressed the point of a knife against the center of his open palm.Â
Officer Finance didnât wait to be told what to do. âWho is leading the task of monitoring Villainâs movements?â
General snarled at Villain as she bit out a fierce, âI refuse to tell you anything, Villain. You cannot win.â
She could hear the knife grate against bone as it impaled Financeâs hand.Â
Five more questions. Five more denials. General thought she was going to be sick before Finance finally lost consciousness. He had already been beaten bloody before she had woken, and now, because of her refusalâŠ
âHow boring.â Villain dropped Officer Finance to the ground. He snapped blood-slicked fingers at the henchman hovering by the table of tools. âClean up this mess. I donât care how. Make them do it, if you want. Put her back to sleep for a while. I need to change.â
Her officers were cryingâall of them. General had never heard Officers Intelligence or Logistics cry, not before today. As the needle pierced her skin and darkness crept into the edges of her vision, she was once again glad to be facing away from her team. She couldnât hold back her own tears either.
I've got this one whump idea where Whumpee constantly jokes around and uses humour to cope with their current predicament, but then Whumper does something so terrifying/painful that Whumpee actually drops the mask, showing legitimate fear. Maybe even begging or crying. And then Whumper just looks on, surprised but pleased, like "damn, did I really make you cry?"
You can write this if you want, but if not, no pressure :>
Also, I love your writing sm <3
-Bee
Hello, Bee! Thank you so much for the prompt! This was fun to write.
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Punny
Whumpee pushed themselves up as Whumper entered their cell. They grinned at their kidnapper as they fell back onto their heels, âHey there! Good morning! Or, well, I guess itâs morning. I havenât seen the sun in how long now?â
âStill holding with your foolish, cheerful plan?â Whumper growled as their henchman wheeled in a table of tools. âYou have no clue how long youâve been here. Days, months? Why do you hold on to hope? No one is coming to save you.â
Stumbling to their feet, whumpee shifted to look at the items that had been brought in. Whumper assumed they didnât want them to notice how they kept plenty of space between them and the bloodstained chair bolted to the floor. âWhy rush it? I can walk out of here with my team any time.â
One nod from Whumper, and Whumpee folded painfully as Henchmanâs knee slammed into their gut. They kicked Whumpeeâs legs out from under them, laughing as they hit the floor hard. Between hits, Whumpee would look up at Whumper and smile, blood staining their teeth.Â
âI knee-d you to stop doing that.â Whumpee huffed as Henchmanâs knee slammed into their chin, sending them flying back against the chair.Â
Whumper didnât bother looking back as they listened to the sounds of Whumpee being strapped down in the chair. They knew what they would see. They wouldnât give Whumpee the pleasure of seeing their frustration at the lack of a serious reaction to the beating.Â
âPretend all you like. I will break you, Whumpee. Make your little jokes and hide behind fake smiling masks. You will suffer until you no longer remember what it is not to feel pain.â
Whumpee shrugged as much as their bindings would let them. âEh, Iâve never been one for masks. They really have no face value. Get it? No face? Masks hide your face.â
Enough was enough. Today would be the day they left whumpee a pitiful sobbing mess. There would be no sarcastic jokes mocking their exit despite the blood pooling on the floor. This time, Whumper wasnât going to stop until Whumpeeâs spirit was broken, or they breathed their final breath.
âWhy donât you try ripping my eyes out?â Whumpeeâs bright tone stood in sharp contrast to their sickening words. âI really canât see myself moving forward without my eyes.â
The hammer was heavy in their hands as Whumper turned back to glare at Whumpee.Â
âOoo, now weâre getting serious.â The way they shifted in their chair gave away Whumpeeâs anxiety, but they didnât look away. âTrying to hammer in your point? Nail down your ideals and turn me away from the light?â
âI am going to break every bone in your hand.â
âOh! Hey, Iâve got one for that. What do you call two spine bones that are best friends? Vertibros!â
The hammer came down on Whumpeeâs hand, crushing the delicate bones. âYouâre off your game. Weak. That one wasnât hand or hammer related.â
âB, bones.â Whumpee gasped. They pulled against their bindings, eyes closed from the pain. A small whimper escaped their lips. Soft for now, but Whumper knew how loud their cries could get. âYou really donât like my jokes? Man. I spent the whole night coming up with these puns, but I guess it was all in veins.â
Bang! The hammer hit the floor as Whumper punched Whumpee in the jaw. If they hadnât dropped the tool, the hit likely would have killed their prisoner. However, that would be letting them off too easily. Besides, as long as they had Whumpee, they had the best weapon anyone could find to keep the so-called âgood guysâ out of the way. But when they did eventually kill Whumpee, they were going to enjoy every second of it.Â
âWh⊠What time, time does a d-dentist go to work?â Whumpeeâs smile was more like a grimace as they spat a tooth on the floor at Whumperâs feet. âTooth-thirty.â
Knife, nail gun, whip, pliers, etc. There were so many choices on the table as Whumper pulled it closer to Whumpeeâs hunched form. They were weak. When theyâd first been sat in the chair, it had taken hours for them to stutter and stumble over their words like that. One good push is all it should take.
The nail gun was heavy in Whumperâs hand as they lifted it from the table and slammed a nail into the top of Whumpeeâs knee.Â
A horrified scream filled the room, followed by harsh silence. No puns. No victorious grins.Â
Whumper lined up the gun with the side of the same knee.
â...no,â Whumpee whispered.
The nail pierced their skin and slid into the space between the bones.Â
Vomiting over the side of their chair, Whumpee barely managed to take their eyes off their useless leg. They continually mocked and joked about how they would walk away from whatever Whumper did to them. This time, they may never walk again.
Whumper turned to Henchman. âGet them up.â
It seemed the haunting smile was gone. Not a single joke was uttered as Henchman released them from the chair and yanked them to their feet.Â
âWalk to the door, Whumpee.â Whumper sighed, stepping into Whumpeeâs space and wielding the nail gun between them. They reveled in the way Whumpee flinched away. âWalk to the door, and Iâll let you go right now.â
They didnât make it a single step.Â
Whumpee collapsed the moment they put weight on the seriously injured leg. They screamed as they hit the floor, body trembling. Cradling their broken hand to their chest, Whumpee tried to push through their older injuries from the past several days and drag themselves to the door.Â
A third nail pierced through the back of Whumpeeâs other knee as Whumper leaned over them to growl, âI said walk. Not crawl like a dog.â
âStop.â Whumpeeâs voice quivered, âI⊠I canâtâŠâ
Grimacing at the stains on their shoe, Whumper used their foot to roll Whumpee onto their back. Their mouth fell open at the sight of red-tinged tears cleaning narrow tracks down Whumpeeâs cheeks.Â
âSo, that was it? Did I really make you cry?â Whumper wiped up one of their tears with their thumb and wiped it on what was left of Whumpeeâs shirt. âYouâre done, Whumpee, but Iâm not.â
Whumper turned to Henchman, âGet them back in the chair. I want to see them cry again.â
So, some of you know the insanity that has been my life recently.
The passing of my grandma at Christmas, and the passing of 3 other family members this year. My other grandma falling and breaking her hip, resulting in me having to move in to take care of her and my grandpa, who is a diabetic with alzheimer's. Dealing with the near-constant triggering events that happened in their house. Supporting a friend through divorce and other struggles. Supporting my parents through the losses and the floors of their home being basically destroyed by a flood. A ton of other bullshit... well, I've had a pretty bad time.
Finally, I've had a win.
My grandma recovered enough for me to be able to go home. Of course, the next day she fell again because of a bad decision, but this time she only lightly twisted her ankle and got a nasty bruise on her arm. Either way, she doesn't need me to go back!
The point is, thank you to those who have prayed for me. Thank you to everyone who continues to stick around despite my infrequent posting. Thank you to those who have sent asks and patiently waited for me to respond. You, my friends, are amazing.
Tomorrow I'll be posting a response to the ask that has been sitting in my inbox for several days now. I hope you guys enjoy it and that we all can have a win in this crazy life.
hi! i've only read a bit of your work, but all of what i've seen are the best things i think i've ever read! the way you write is so real and immersive, and 'Indulge Me for a Moment' is such a great piece, the entire thing was just---i have no words! you're so talented!!
super random but ik u do asks: i had an idea for a female whumpee prisoner of war who's been captured, and since she's part of her country's war council, she's a super important war hostage who can't be harmed by her enemy/equal captors. i know its such a random idea, but i keep of thinking about it and have no idea what it could be, so i thought i might as well pitch it to someone else, and you're the only writing/whump blog ik :)
super random so if u don't wanna write it no pressure! once again, just wanted to say i love your writing sm!! have good day! (or night!)
Aww!!! Thank you so much, friend! It means so much for you to say that. People like you are the reason I still post when I can. You made my week!
I love the prompt! Hopefully, this is what you were picturing. I'll post the next part as soon as possible, but life is crazy right now.
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A Small but Captive Audience
âSurrender.â Villain was practically giggling as he waved his gun erratically. Maybe if they were lucky, he would accidentally shoot one of the goons surrounding them. âLay down your weapons or die.â
Generalâs backup would be too late if they were even coming at all. Villain had inside information he shouldnât have known about. Chances were, if heâd known where to find their meeting, he likely also knew where and how they would send out for help. He knew to spare her and her five executive officers. They were so rarely all together, but he had attacked on the one night they were. She had no doubt he had taken precautions to ensure his threat was inescapable.
Stepping over the body of a fallen soldier, General made sure she had Villainâs attention. âWe surrender. We wonât fight.â
Villain turned and walked off. âTake them.â
The indignant cries of her officers made Generalâs chest ache. None of them resisted until the henchmen took advantage of their inaction. They held her arms tightly so she couldnât turn to witness the beating she had doomed her officers to. She blinked back the tears in her eyes as Officer Logistics was thrown on the ground at her feet, unconscious and bloody.
Dropping with dead weight to break the hold on her arms, General reached for Logistics, desperate to confirm he was still alive.Â
âYou try that again, and youâll be dead before you hit the ground.â One of the goons screamed. She slammed her boot into Generalâs chest, sending her sprawling. With a snarl of hatred, the woman sat on Generalâs stomach and punched her in the jaw, the nose, theâŠ
âHey!â The other goon pulled the woman off her. âWhat the hell do you think youâre doing? We need her.â
As the goons threw a bag over her head, General made a promise to herself and her officers: once she escaped, she was going to find the traitor and make them pay for their suffering. She would make them bleed for every fallen man.
â000â
âWelcome home.â Villainâs voice cut through the darkness as General lurched awake.Â
The rough, woven bag over her head made it even harder to keep her breathing level. She was sitting up, tied to a cold metal chair, and could hear the movement of others surrounding her. The gag in her mouth was likely the same as the ones muffling the familiar voices of her officers behind her.
âYou will give us information. It is the only reason you are still alive. The more you tell us, the less we will have to hurt you. Consider your answers carefully, as lies will be punished severely.â
With a rough jerk, Villain ripped the bag from Generalâs head. âYou are on the war council. You will tell meâŠâÂ
General cocked her head to the side as Villainâs monologue trailed off and took in the twisted look on his face. Fury made his eye twitch and his lip curled up in a deep snarl that almost made her laugh.
âWho?â His voice was sharp as he turned to the two henchmen standing nearby.Â
Wordlessly, one of the men split away and walked somewhere behind Generalâs chair. The shrill screech of a metal door opening and closing made her flinch. This time, as the henchman walked back, several footsteps accompanied them. Not all of them sounded steady.Â
Before long, the two goons who had captured and beaten General were shoved to their knees in front of the two henchmen. Their hands were tied behind their backs, and they both looked pale. They barely seemed able to meet Villainâs eye.
âIâm sorry, Villain.â The woman blubbered as the henchman behind her shoved her face down on the floor. âI didnât knowââ
âYou attended the mandatory briefings, did you not? You were informed that General was not to be harmed.â
âYes. Yes, I went to the briefings, butââ
âEnough.â Villain waved his hand, and the henchman placed a foot on the womanâs lower back before wrenching her head up with her hair. The small, pleased smile on Villainâs face was the last thing the woman saw as the henchman slit her throat.
General didnât look away from the brutal display of power. Her officers could see her. Officer Personnelâs muffled screams and Officer Operations' shushing coos made it clear they werenât blindfolded. She wouldnât let them know she was afraid by turning her head as the goon slowly bled to death.Â
Villain turned to the second goon. âYou were complicit in this?âÂ
âSir, I didnât harm the woman. I didnât know she was going to attack General. I made her stop before she could do any more damage.â
With a slow understanding nod, Villain pulled the gun from a holster at his hip and shot the second goon through the heart. âYou should have been more preparedâstopped her before any damage was done.â
As the two goons who had assisted the henchman in bringing in the now dead victims collected the bodies, Villain tucked away his gun and turned back to General.Â
âThis is pointless, Villain.â General sighed, attempting to portray indifference. âI wonât be answering your questions, and you canât torture me to try to force the information out. You canât use me as a bargaining chip, ransoming my return, if you canât prove Iâm alive and unharmed.â
Villain sighed and motioned to the second henchman. He immediately injected something into Generalâs neck.Â
âYes, General. You are very valuable. Almost untouchable.â He tucked a stray bit of hair behind Generalâs ear. As darkness crept into the edges of Generalâs vision, he leaned in close to whisper, âYou, and only you.â
Part 3 of Rescue? Whumpee didnât want to be pulled out of their hiding spot, so what will happen when they wake up?
Here you go, Friend! Enjoy!
-----***------
Part 1, Part 2
Search and Rescue: Part 3
It took another two days for Caretakerâs fever to break and for people to give up on stopping them from sitting in the small chair at Whumpeeâs bedside.Â
The medics tried several different tactics to get them to go back to their uncomfortable cot, but none of them worked. Leaving Caretakerâs meal on the far side of the bed meant the meal went uneaten. They had recovered enough to fight anyone, including Friend, who tried to carry them away from their vigil physically. Not to mention that the years of⊠training⊠meant Caretaker instantly woke from even the deepest sleep the moment someone entered the room.
âPlease, Caretaker.â Friend begged as Caretaker bent with their head between their knees. Nausea and coughing werenât a good combination, and Caretaker wouldnât risk any of their germs getting on Whumpee. âItâs 6 feet away. Youâll be between them and the door. Just⊠lie down. Youâre still sick.â
Caretaker didnât bother with a response. They never did. Words were unnecessary when their point was made by sitting silently.Â
â000â
When Whumpee started to show signs of waking up, Caretaker could barely stand to let even the Medics close enough to take Whumpeeâs vitals. They refused to fail to protect them again. Never again. Caretaker would die first.
But Whumpee didnât wake up.Â
â000â
Friend sat on the edge of Whumpeeâs bed, ignoring how Caretaker growled at them. âDo you understand, Caretaker? The last day of the trial is today. In just a few hours, the judge will announce Whumperâs sentence for their crimes. You should come with me. Please?â
Caretaker settled further into their uncomfortable chair and resumed stroking their gloved thumb over Whumpeeâs hand. Even through the latex gloves, they could feel how cold Whumpeeâs skin was. They would have to ask for another blanket when a medic came through.Â
â000â
Shaky hands adjusted the way Whumpeeâs IV was resting. Caretaker had found themselves struggling not to vomit when Whumpeeâs ventilator was removed. Even though it had been nearly an hour since it had happened, stress continued to roll down Caretakerâs spine in salty sweat drops. If only the thin blanket they had clenched tightly around their freezing shoulders was enough to soak it all up and keep them from feeling like they were drowning in a freezing river of water.
They startled when a hand brushed across their brow.
âYour fever is back. Youâve undone all the progress youâd made. Are you happy?â Friend asked.
âNo.â
Friend jumped at the whispered response. âPlease, Caretaker. Lie down for an hour, a few minutes, I donât care how long, just take a step back and let yourself heal.â
âI canât!â Caretaker yelled as loudly as their hoarse lungs would allow. âI canât.â
âWhy not?â Friendâs voice didnât seem argumentative or angry. There was too much hope left in their eyes for that.
âI canât. I donât deserve it.â
âDonât deserve what? Help me understand. Show me what I can do to help you.â
Caretaker shook their head. âThereâs nothing groundbreaking about it. I canât leave them. Not this time. I wonât.â
Humming a questioning sound, Friend knelt in front of Caretaker. Much to both of their surprise, Caretaker didnât complain when Friend shifted the chair to kneel face to face with them at Caretakerâs feet.Â
âI wonât lose them, too. I made a promise I would keep them safe. As Past Whumpee lay dying in my arms. It was a pact made in blood, and I managed to break it in every way possible.â Caretaker flinched when Friendâs hand touched theirs. âThey trusted me to take care of them when Whumper had us, and I let them die. Now, the one person they made me swear on my life to keep as far away from Whumper as possible has almost died because of them. How can I look them in the eyes? I have to do something to earn the right to see them again.â
â000â
Screams woke Caretaker from their nightmare.Â
No. No. No. Caretaker wasnât at Whumpeeâs side. Someone had moved them back to their bed. This was their fault.
Another piercing cry stabbed through Caretakerâs chest as their legs gave out from under them. They couldnât reach Whumpee like this. Medics had Whumpee surrounded, and all Caretaker could see of them was a single twitching hand pulled to the side to expose the dark veins.
âGet away from them!â Caretaker growled as they shouldered their way through the crowd. âWhumpee, itâs okay. Iâm here.â
Breaths, sharp and stuttering, and the lack thereof made Caretakerâs head spin. They practically slammed against the bed in their rush to get to them. âIâm here. Youâre safe.â
âCaretaker?â Whumpee asked, their voice rough and mouth dry. âPlease, donât let them take me. Donât let me be like the others. I donât want to leave you all alone.â
This time, when Caretakerâs knees fell out from under them, strange hands caught them and held them high enough to look down at Whumpeeâs frightened face. And, for some reason, Caretaker didnât seem to care that they needed the help.
âWhumper is gone, Whumpee.â Caretaker ignored the tears streaming down their cheeks. It was the first time theyâd allowed themselves to openly sob in front of others since it happened. âWe got them. Just take a deep breath. I promise, they wonât ever touch you again. Youâre under my protection.âÂ
Scowl deepening, breathing slowing, Whumpeeâs body relaxed into the medicines being pumped into their blood. âNo. Please, no. Donât let them hurt you for me. PâŠplease. Run. Run, and⊠R-run and esc-cape.â
Whumpee made a mistake. They knew what theyâd done the moment it happened. The way the pain had eased and the burning pressure that threatened to cave in their chest with every breath disappeared. Not that it mattered that they knew, it was already too late.
After fighting to stay alive and conscious long enough to reach safety, Whumpee had relaxed when they saw their apartment building. The tension that had been holding them upright dissipated. It drained from their body and into the ground below them.
They threw themselves forward, but it wasnât enough. Whumpee collapsed just inside the entrance to the alley by their building. They didnât have the strength to so much as pull themselves up against the wall to rest. Without a phone or bandages, this is where Whumpee was going to die.
It could be worse, they supposed. The pain was easing, and Whumper wasnât there to mock them for their pitiful weakness. Relatively safe, dry except for the blood; a little cold, though that was likely from the blood loss. Not a bad place to die.
âHolyââ A voice was cursing far too close to Whumpeeâs side. ââyou hear me? Let me turn you over. The bleeding needs to be stopped, and I canât help you like this.â
Whumpee tasted blood as they bit down on the inside of their cheek, teeth reopening the wounds already there and flooding their mouth. Each scream dangerously wrenched up their throat was smothered until all that was left were faint whimpers. Again and again, each new positioning of the stranger's fingers seemed to press in the key to agony.Â
The dull ringing in Whumpeeâs ears turned to the strangerâs voice as the movement finally stopped. âBreathe. Do you understand? You need to breathe.â
Hmm. How does one breathe again? Whumpee couldnât remember. They couldnât figure out what they needed to do to keep their eyes open, like the stranger kept demanding. Perhaps if they rested, they would remember? Their body would breathe, blink, move, and do all the other things they could do before.
New pressure seared down their throat and filled their chest enough to make it rise. Air, precious air. Why did it hurt?
Whumpeeâs eyes opened. The stranger pulled away, but they could still feel the lingering heat of the personâs lips on theirs.Â
They could breathe again. Whumpee intentionally pulled the filthy alleyway air into their lungs. Each twinging movement of the muscles in their chest as their chest slowly expanded to accommodate was a relief as theyâŠ
They choked. No cough could dislodge the thick fluid that filled the back of their mouth. Whumpee couldnât force a cough even if it would help.
And the stranger saw. Their brow furrowed as they rolled Whumpee onto their side and nearly all the way to their stomach. One of their arms draped under Whumpee to support their chest and cradle their chin as they held Whumpee over a smaller, separate puddle of blood. They ignored the way Whumpee twitched and faintly pushed away from them to stick one already blood-covered finger into Whumpeeâs mouth and scrape out the nearly black fluid blocking their airway.
When the stranger finally rolled Whumpee onto their back once more, the sound of squealing brakes filled the silence. âHey! I got here as fast as I could. The first aid kit is in the back. Letâs get them in.â
The next thing Whumpee knew, they were loaded into the back seat of a car. Their back rested against the strangerâs chest instead of the cushions. Gentle hands peeled at the soaked and sticky fabric of their clothes as Whumpee watched their apartment fade into the distance through the rear window. All they could do was reach toward the safety theyâd lost and hope these strangers were kinder than the last person whoâd tried to âhelpâ them.
Trees. Mud. The back of Villainâs head as they tried to run away. Large raindrops and heavy, soaked clothes. Heroâs world had condensed to only what they needed to avoid as they chased the murderer in front of them.Â
A low-hanging branch to the right and a slick mossy rock make the path even more treacherous. If they hadnât seen Villain slip on the relatively flat stone less than a second before, their feet might have slipped out from under them. Unfortunately, Villainâs balance had always been better than theirs, so the pool of mud that merely slowed their enemy down sent Hero sprawling in the dirt.Â
Hero cursed under their breath as they fought to pull themselves free of the sludge before the gap between them became insurmountable. Their right shoe was suctioned below the surface, and even the gun theyâd been holding when they fell took a strong yank to remove. With their shirt also covered, all Hero could do was attempt to gain enough of a grip through the mud to cock the weapon and aim to hobble Villain rather than killing them.Â
The muted force of the gun firing sent mud back into Heroâs face. The bullet casing flew out of the weapon, but there wasnât any sign of damage to Villain or nearby trees from the bullet. Hero cursed again. If the mud had thrown the alignment off that badly, it wouldnât be much use as a long-range weapon outside of unachievable threats.
Tucking the weapon in its holster, Hero took off after Villain for the fourth time that evening. The land tilted down, and both were forced to slow down for fear of falling and sliding uncontrollably. Down further and further, until⊠it turned straight up.Â
Hero could hear low curses dripping from Villainâs lips as their cornered enemy searched for an escape. To either side, there was a little room to run, but between the narrowing of the space between trees and the drop-off curving oddly back toward where theyâd come, there was nowhere to go. They were trapped.
âSurrender, Villain.â Hero called as they drew their dirty weapon. Accurate or not, it seemed a good enough threat to intimidate and prevent Hero from having to fight them hand to hand.
Villain laughed, âTo you? No. Youâre nothing. I think Iâd rather fight.â
Closer now, Villain stood tall to their full height. They were stronger than Hero physically, but Hero always used their speed and weapons to keep them at bay. Without any backup, Villain seemed all too confident they could overwhelm them and continued to take measured steps toward Hero.Â
Hero pulled the trigger on the gun.
Boom! The gun burst apart in their hands.Â
The damaged bullet from before had never left the barrel of the filthy gun. Flames, quick to dissipate but burning hot, scorched Heroâs fingers closest to the impact point. Pieces of the weapon flew in nearly every direction as Heroâs wrist cracked, and one of the bones in their arm broke under the pressure. Their broken arm jarred out of its socket as the handle of the gun flew back and hit their shoulder.Â
As Hero cried out in pain, Villain laughed, âDid that really just happen? Lucky me!â
Villain landed a cruel blow to Heroâs gut. They seemed to almost revel in the way Hero folded over their fist. One of their hands tangled into Heroâs hair, using it to keep them from collapsing.Â
âHow lucky. For me, at least. Your weapon exploding like that could have easily killed you. Instead, I get to play with you first.â Villainâs free hand landed a solid hit to their jaw, the grip on their hair releasing to allow Hero to fall to the ground. Darkness danced around their vision, closing in as Villain caressed their undoubtedly bruising cheek. âSleep, hero. You wonât have another chance for a while.â
âThis is the end. Hold your breath and count to ten.â Sidekick sang softly to themselves. Their hoarse chuckle turned to a deep cough. Blood splattered the ground as they fell to their knees, unable to catch their balance.Â
Sidekick was a fool for letting Villain get the better of them. The red handprint around their throat would bruise if they survived the blood loss. A slash across their chest and a bullet in their leg; chances werenât good.Â
At least Villain was proving to be the greater fool. Theyâd given Hero what they seemed to think would be an impossible choice, but everyone else knew better. The first bullet had blasted through Sidekick's leg, leaving them unable to escape, at the same time as Villain revealed the location of the bomb. Even the reporters with their death-seeking cameras turned away from Sidekick to watch Hero save the towering building.
It was okay. Villain would be angry Hero didnât hesitate. They would make Sidekickâs death quick. It was likely the best outcome they could hope for in this career.
The hand that caught their arm was rough, but it kept them from hitting their head as the last of their strength gave out. The helpless way they sagged toward the hard ground would likely make up for some of Villainâs disappointment if their yelp had drawn the attention of one or two of the reporters away from Heroâs work. Pain snapped through their whole body. Their eyes, which had closed at some point, snapped open to fix on the figure standing over them.
âItâs going to be okay.â Hero said, lowering Sidekick gently to the ground. âYouâre going to be alright.â
âWhat⊠What are y-you doing?â Sidekick gasped. âYou have to, you have to hurry. The bomb.â
Villain fired a shot that Hero easily blocked. âSo this is the choice you made, hmm? Are you really willing to sacrifice a whole building full of people to save them?â
âYes.â Hero said. Their voice was sharp and dangerous. âWhatever it takes.â
Part 2 of Search and Rescue?? I love me a good rescue or recovery scene :)
(Only if you want to of course ;D)
Hullo, friend! Thanks for the ask! I love rescue and recovery, too. Let's get Whumpee and Caretaker to safety, shall we?
Part 1
-----0-----
Search and Rescue: Part 2
It hurt. Oh, it hurt Caretaker more than they ever imagined as they dragged Whumpee out of their hiding spot. Whumpee was in no condition to crawl out on their own, and none of them could fit in the small space to carry them. The hollow cry of terror and pain when Caretaker reached in to take hold of Whumpeeâs ankle shot through their chest more accurately than any bullet.Â
They hadnât realized the ankle they held onto was broken until after theyâd pulled Whumpee free. The limb wasnât resting at an odd angle, and they had gripped above the break, so they hadnât felt any shifting. They, they didnât know.
âOfficer? Officer Caretaker, we have them. You can let go.â A light touch brushed over Caretakerâs shoulder.Â
Whumpee was quiet now, cradled in Caretakerâs arms. They kept them pressed against their chest to feel every breath shifting against them. Every heartbeat was measured by the hand wrapped around their neck and the base of their head, with fingers resting over a fluttering, slow pulse. Sure, they were alive, but they werenât responding. Why werenât they responding?
A voice crashed into Caretakerâs awareness. âMove! Get out of the way. Move, now. Hey, hey, Caretaker. Can you hear me? Do you know who I am?â
Caretakerâs lip curled in a scowl even as their head started to spin from the effort of looking up. âTheyâre dying, Friend. I can feel it slowing down. Their heart. Their heart isnât beating fast enough.â
âHereâs whatâs going to happen. Medics are determining the safest way to extract Whumpee from this ravine. We donât have the supplies out here to monitor Whumpeeâs condition properly, so theyâre going to need you to hold them on the gurney and keep track of their pulse. Can you do that?â
Their arms tightened around Whumpee before they realized what they were doing. âI wonât let them die.â
Friend sighed. âWhatever the cost, right? Donât move. Theyâre almost here. For safety reasons, they will check you to ensure you're capable of performing the task. If you fight back, one of the rookies will take your place.â
Caretaker didnât argue. Even though it took more restraint than theyâd thought, they didnât fight the medics as they moved and examined Whumpee in their arms. They stayed perfectly still when Whumpee began to shift and whine at the likely painful examination. A small needle in Whumpeeâs arm had them relaxing against Caretaker so much that they barely noticed when the attention switched.
A light shone in Caretakerâs eyes, and the medics were forced to take Caretakerâs pulse from their neck when they refused to release their hand from Whumpee. An injection that Friend assured them was to help them recover enough of their strength to assist in Whumpeeâs recovery was the last thing they needed.Â
âLet us help you both on the gurney. We need you to focus on keeping Whumpee steady.â Friend sighed when Caretaker made to stand.
The trip back started with Caretaker sitting upright, but the medics stopped once the search teams were out of sight.Â
âHelp us lay them down.â One of the medics swayed slowly back and forth in Caretakerâs vision as they messed with the device now attached to Whumpee. âOfficer Caretaker, if you could lie down as well. This position is likely very painful for Whumpee, and we need you to continue monitoring their condition.â
Caretaker did as they were ordered with minimal help from Friend, blinking heavily as Whumpee was spread out against their chest.
When Caretaker opened their eyes, something cool was wiping across their forehead.Â
âWhumpee is alive, unconscious, but should make a full recovery. Itâs 0800. You were in and out for two days. Theyâre on your right. You can punch me when your fever goes down.â
âWhat the hell did youââ
âWhumper is still in custody and has already been transported.â Friend continued. âThere are a few still fighting, but most of their men have run away or surrendered. Turns out Whumperâs second in command is pretty much useless.â
Caretaker rolled onto their side, grimacing at the IV in their arm. âUgh. I feelâŠâ
Friend chuckled and shoved Caretaker over onto their back again. âThat would be the pneumonia. Youâre in a hospital. I have a feeling the doctors are going to give you another lecture about hiding and ignoring your symptoms when youâre sick. This one could have killed you.â
âBetter me than them.â Caretaker swung their legs over the opposite side of the bed and sat up before Friend could stop them. They studied the section of Whumpeeâs face that wasnât wrapped in bandages. âWhy are they in here? If Iâm sick, theyâre in danger.â
Friend clapped a tense hand on Caretakerâs shoulder. The double meaning was clear. They wouldnât be allowed any closer, but Friend wasnât going to force them to lie back. âFungal. Not contagious. Wouldnât have gotten this bad if you had rested when you started feeling bad. Anyway, I asked them to let you share a room. Figured if it werenât the case, you would have left to find them the moment I turned my back.â
âYouâre probably right.â
âI know Iâm right. Stubborn fool.â
âYour superior officer.â
âPowerful, stubborn fool.â
Caretaker almost laughed, then sighed, letting Friend guide them back down onto the bed. âTheyâre going to be okay?â
âYou both are. Get some rest. Once your fever breaks, Iâll ask the doctors to bring in a chair so you can sit by their bedside and stare at them like a creep.â