Hey there! This is a sideblog for @septic-dr-schneep, dedicated to nothing but Jacksepticeye/Markiplier Ego whump! Whump is when a character is vulnerable, ill, injured or otherwise in pain; I'm a big fan :D I may reblog whump prompts and tropes here and there if I like them.
Iâm in the mood to write whumpy things, so Iâm just outing some of my favorite tropes and making them into a prompt meme! Maybe other whumpers will like it, I donât know :âD
1. Fever
2. Collapse
3. Head injury
4. Hypothermia/Heat Exhaustion
5. Coughing/Suffocation
6. Drugged
7. Drowning
8. Stabbing
9. Shot
10. Bruises
11. Broken bones
12. Vomiting
13. Dizziness
14. Nightmare
15. KidnappedÂ
16. Manhandled
17. Restrained
18. Mind control
19. Infection
20. Painful treatment (cauterization, stitching, field medicine, etc.)
Well haha I need a prompt...^^" I don't even know where to begin. I'm not a good writer but I'm trying to get better I just need a starting point.
Oh boy, you have come to the right place, then! Iâm full of whumpy ideas!
If youâre going for Dark or Schneep as the whumpee, thereâs always sleep deprivation. Those two work themselves to the bone â to the marrow. Itâs only a matter of time before they get so, so tired that they may screw up while theyâre working and get hurt because theyâre not paying enough attention:
- Schneep cuts himself (or one of his friends) with a surgical knife and canât get the bleeding to stop
- Schneep happens to doze off while a dangerous chemical is over the burner, a chemical he is NOT meant to be breathing in (or it could be flammable)
 - Dark starts losing control of his aura while heâs in a meeting, which not only hurts him and his two halves but could also harm anyone his aura touches
- Dark starts experiencing awful, near-debilitating muscle tension/cramps from keeping his body rigidly straight to stay awake
If youâre going for Jameson, however, you have a whole host of possibilities!
- Heâs afraid of snakes. What happens when he gets bitten by one in the backyard and none of the others are home? Howâs he going to contact them when heâs succumbing to the venom?
- He always gets through the day eating less food than the rest of the Egos, but what if he just forgets to eat one day and ends up collapsing from hunger?
- Anti attacking is always a good fallback too ;)
I hope these help! Theyâre all things I would love to read!
Welcoming into the world Smitten Anon~ I love your writing and I need the egos taking care of a feverish JJ! ~Smitten Anon
Oh, what a nice prompt you have here! Prepare for loooots of hurt/comfort!
JSE Fanfiction - Burdened
Summary: Jameson has hidden the fact that heâs sick from the others for too long; now that heâs at the end of his rope, they do their best to show him that he can always trust them to pick him up when he falls.
that fic with jackie and henrik gave me so many feeeeeels ;~; I somehow feel like jackie wouldn't care too much for his own safety after he hurt henrik so badly, and when he does get injured, he wouldn't want to face henrik unless he completed his mission. and I can't stop thinking about someone bringing him into henrik's hospital, unconscious and bleeding, and henrik feeling angry and guilty. (can you tell I'm a whump fan lmao)
Ooooh, boooy, you asked for this by sending me such a great whumpy scenarioâŠ
JSE Fanfiction - In Time Of Need (Part 2)
Summary: Jackieboy returns, but heâs not in any condition to make amends with the doctor he hurt so badly. Schneep has to save his life first.Â
Summary: Dark is forced to cross uncomfortable boundaries on behalf of an injured friend. Doing so makes it all too easy for him to be compromised.
Anger is an expensive luxury in which only men of a certain income can indulge.
âWhat in the name of sanity were you doing?!â
Sputtering and coughing desperately to refill his burning lungs, the Host thrashed like a dying fish to turn onto his side. Darkâs furious demand could barely be heard behind the intense ringing in his ears and the brutal throbbing in his head and even if he had heard it clearly, he couldnât find the strength to answer. His teeth chattered fiercely, catching on his quivering lower lip and leaving behind the taste of iron and sea salt.
âYou should never have ventured out there,â Dark continued to rebuke him as he gripped his friendâs shoulder and returned him to his back, fumbling with his sodden clothing. The buttons of his coat were slippery, refusing to cooperate with his shaking fingers. Despite himself, he had a persistent twinge of worry thumping in the back of his chest. He had only dunked his arms in the water long enough to keep the Host from drowning, and he was losing feeling in his fingertips. How long had the Host been submerged?
Finally he managed to wrangle the Hostâs coat open, peeling the heavy fabric away from his heaving chest. The Host had gone limp by now, letting him work as he pleased, but that wasnât what Dark needed.
âTake your arms out of these sleeves, Host. Do you hear me? You need to keep moving; let me get this off of you.â
For a few seconds it seemed as if the Host hadnât registered the orderâuntil his dripping, blue-tinged fingers twitched and he bit back a groan as he started sliding his arms in toward his sides. Dark nodded curtly in encouragement, pulling the sleeves the opposite direction until the coat lay limp in its growing puddle.
âNow sit up. Sit up.â Even as he spoke, Dark slid one hand under the Hostâs head and gripped his shoulder with the other, simultaneously pushing and pulling until the younger Ego was somewhat upright. Shuddering faintly, the Host slumped further forward than Dark was expecting, laying his forehead against his knees. Now that the back of his head was exposed, Dark busied himself with untangling the tails of his bandages, wringing the cold water out of them.
When he glanced at the Hostâs pasty face, he noticed his lips moving, though no sound left them. Even now he was narrating, helpless to stop, and Dark pursed his own lips, tilting his head to read whatever words his friend was trying to form.
ââŠhis hands are wet with more than just waterâŠâ
At that Dark flinched back, several alarms sounding in his mind simultaneously. âWhat?â Â he demanded sharply, already turning his hands over for his inspection. Water trailed thinly down his fingersâas did blood. Cursing in disbelief, he leaned forward on his knees, pulling away the bandage tails and brushing his icy fingers searchingly through the Hostâs hair. It was warm and sticky just behind his right ear and as soon as he parted the plastered strands of dark hair to get a better look, rivulets of blood began racing freely down the curve of his neck.
âOh, Host, you foolâŠâ he seethed, bending over to rifle through the pockets of the fallen overcoat. He withdrew the Hostâs roll of emergency bandages within seconds, his heart dropping into his stomach as their sogginess made them difficult to unwind. His impatience overtook him and he tossed them aside, instead opting to press one of his hands against the wound. The Host flinched at the sudden contact, a sudden jerk much larger than his consistent shivering, and Dark found himself swallowing what could have been an apology, of all things.
The Host should be grateful, he decided as he fished his free hand through his jacket for his phone. After the dip in the water, he doubted the Hostâs would still be functional.
âTell me, Host,â he began, his voice tight with accusation, âwhat exactly was it that you were thinking when you stepped onto that ice? Hm? Did you think that you could be trusted to hold your balance? Were you actively trying to tempt danger? Were you feeling adventurous?â
âT-The Host has been t-taking walks in this area f-for s-several days,â was the faint, stuttered response. âGoogleplier h-has been encouraging him to improve his b-balance on uneven surfaces.â
The sheer, sharp red in Darkâs aura flared at that and he set aside a mental note to have a discussion with Google about what could come of making plans to improve anything about the Host without his knowledge or consent. This thought was briefly interrupted as the Host stirred, lifting his heavy head from his knees with a strangled groan and listing sideways to slump against his friend. Dark drew in a startled breath, resisting the urge to recoil as fresh blood immediately formed a disconcertingly large stain in his jacket.
âWhat is it?â he asked instead, wary of this change in position. The Hostâs response was too slurred for him to catch very much of it, but he heard something about his aura being in flux. That didnât explain why the Host would want to draw closer to him; his aura was naturally cool and the Host was already chilled to the boneâ
Oh.
Celineâs influenceâŠHis anger. It created temperature changes, flushed him with excess heat. Though his jaw was working as he chastised himself for his lack of control, he could at least excuse it by reminding himself that it served a purpose here. It was an expensive luxury, given the circumstances; he would rather the Host have avoided needing his anger for warmth altogether.
It was too late for that now. His friend was slipping in and out of consciousness, his breath too shallow, his shivering too violent. There were too many variablesâcold shock, hypovolemic shock, hypothermia, hemophiliaâŠHe couldnât afford to be conservative or selfish. Exhaling harshly through his nose, Dark lifted a hand to the Hostâs head, guiding it down and back so the wound was compressed firmly against his chest. He kept his hand thoroughly tangled in his cold, dripping hair, unwilling to release any pressure. As he did, he pried open his hold on his anger, letting it ripple through him like the first churning froth of a rising wave.
Within seconds, the blue in his aura was almost completely drowned, though there was a trace of it on the very edges of the harsh, scorching red smoke surrounding them. That blue made up his grim concern, his recognition of an allyâs need, his own need for his allyâŠHe would never be channeling his anger like this if it werenât for that tinge of blue. As he felt the Hostâs wracking chills ease little by little, the blue wisps regained some strength, entwining lightly with the red.
Balance. Even now, there was something of a balance.
Dark remembered, suddenly, that he had been searching for his phone. It was buried at the bottom of his pocket, but once he found it he was able to speed-dial the doctor, tucking the device between his shoulder and his ear so he could put his hand between the Hostâs shoulder blades, concentrating the heat in his aura to that point, blanketing it over him.
âYou should know, Host, that I would do this for no one else,â he murmured lowly, brows furrowing as he gave it a second thought. ââŠWilford, perhaps, but no one else.â The Host didnât make any attempt to reply and Dark was forced to remind himself to keep his breathing even, closing his eyes in concentration as he waited on the dial tone.
A whumped character having to wear clothes too big for them, that theyâre practically swimming in, looking even smaller and more vulnerable by comparison? Curse you, Patient, youâve found my secret weakness! -conflict
Hahahaha, Iâm always looking for ways to sneak the best whumpage in there >:D That and Iâm a smol so I have experience with swimming in oversized clothes and it is actually comforting, in an odd way! It helps Schneep stave off the chills whenever he starts thinking about what happened.
Summary:Â Roxanne knew that her boyfriendâs job was nothing to take lightly. When he comes home injured, she just wishes that he would stop brushing it off and acknowledge that too.
Roxanne knew that her boyfriendâs job was nothing to take lightly. CalebâSilver Shepherdâmight make halfhearted jokes about it and spare her the details of the fight by simply saying that heâd âgiven them what forâ, but it was her job to see beyond that.
She could feel how he flinched when her hands grazed a tender rib, she could see the outline of the lumpy bandaging under his clothes, and she knew that the oversized gloves he wore were hiding the scrapes and bruises across his hands. He did well at keeping them in his pockets when they were healing.
Today, however, she didnât have to look nearly as far. As soon as she came home from work, the deep red stains caught her eyeâa grisly splash of color in the black and white scene of his suit. Her keys and purse promptly clattered to the floor, abandoned, as she sped across the living room toward the stool he was perched on.
âCaleb!â
âItâsâŠI-Itâs not really that bad,â Silver Shepherd murmured as he drew his left arm in close against his side, smiling weakly up at his girlfriend as she reached him and bent down to inspect him. The amount of blood splashed across his arm was alarming and she gingerly reached out, peeling back the wet, torn fabric to see the gouge he was trying to put pressure on.
âNot that bad?â she echoed in disbelief. âAre you kidding?! You need to go to the hospital!â
âN-No, no, baby, itâs okay. Iâm fineââ
âHow do I get this off?â she muttered, running her hands up and down his neck until she found the seam that opened and let her peel his mask up and over his head, away from his face. His expression of gentle reassurance and rueful gratitude struck a hard contrast against the angry bruise swelling under his right eye and the dried, stale smudges of blood around his nose and upper lip. Despite herself, despite the fact that sheâd expected it, Roxanne was forced to bite back a sob. Backing away and very nearly tripping over her heels, she kicked them off as she spun, dashing toward the kitchen counter and tearing off a copious wad of paper towels to wet under the sink.
âYou idiot, you self-sacrificial idiot,â she hissed under her breath, her heart roiling back and forth in a furious tug-of-war between anger and panic. As she slapped the tap off and returned to him, she could tell by the change in his eyes that heâd overheard her and she accepted that guiltlessly, snapping, âYou shouldnât have to come home looking like this!â
âI know, I know, but itâs the nature of theâow,â he broke off with a wince as she gripped his chin and tilted his head up so she could press the damp towels against his split lip. âSâthe nature âf thâ job, Roxy,â he mumbled around the compress, to which she simply shook her head, strands of her auburn hair grazing his cheeks as she leaned in to watch the blood absorb. When they were this close, she could clearly see the streaks of grime clinging to his cheeks. She could smell the sweat and the metallic tang of the blood and it made her feel sick to her stomach.
Once she couldnât stand to hold it there anymore, she dabbed at his mouth a few times and then stepped back, swallowing hard and turning her attention to his arm. He hadnât reduced pressure on it, but blood was still oozing through the gaps in his fingers.
âOkayâŠokay, how do IâŠ?â she began nervously, unconsciously wringing the paper towels in her hands as she peered squeamishly at the gash marring his forearm.
âI already washed it. I just need some medical tape, if you have anyâor duct tape works too,â he suggested helpfully, to which she nodded and flung the towels haphazardly at the trash can, not bothering to see if they stuck the landing. Her bathroom cabinets quickly devolved into a disaster as she tore through them for the medical tape, but the mess couldnât have been further from her mind.
What on earth had done this to him? How could he be so calm about it? Ever since heâd described his superhuman abilities to her, she had always assumedâalways hopedâthat they would be enough to let him handle any threat that came his way. Come to think of it, she hadnât asked whether or not heâd won the fight today. She had a feeling that if he hadnât, he would have been a lot less collected.
In her eyes, only given the opportunity to see the aftermath for him and his poor body, the win wasnât worth it.
Silver Shepherd hadnât moved since sheâd been gone; he was still sitting on the same stool with his hand protecting the wound, but his demeanor had changed. His shoulders were slumped a little lower and his head was ducked. His eyes were closed, his breath was deeperâhad he actually fallen asleep sitting up? No, he sat up straight as soon as he heard her enter the room, automatically forcing a smile. The sight burned her, giving the anger an edge in her internal tug-of-war. Â
âYou should have gone to the hospital before coming here,â she accused bitterly as she handed him the bandages. Once he started struggling to unroll them one-handed, she snatched them back just as quickly, tearing off long strips and dropping to a crouch. âOr you could have called, at least, to tell me you needed help.â
âWell, you were at work,â he explained ruefully, as if that excused everything. âI didnât wanna keep you fromââ
âCaleb, have you even looked at yourself?â she cut him off, gesturing wildly at everything in front of her. âHow long were you sitting here, waiting for me to get home from work, trying to keep yourself from bleeding out?!â
His brows furrowed at that as he glanced between her and his arm, protesting, âItâs just a scratch, Roxy! Iâve had worââ
âDonât start, Caleb. Donât you dare say that youâve had worse,â she hissed, trying desperately not to let her voice catch as she applied a strip of tape to one edge of the gash and pushed, drawing a brief, tense breath from him as the pressure from her hand closed the skin and let her smear the tape down firmly on the other side.
She repeated the cycle over and over, back and forth, until the bandage was strapped firmly from his elbow to the bone in his wrist. âIâm not seeing whatever you think is âworseâ,â she continued tersely as if there hadnât been any pause at all, rising back to full height. âAll I see is this and itâs bad and I donât ever want to see anything like it again.â
âItâs nothing you and I canât handle, sweetie,â he assured her, all kindness and earnestness and innocence beneath the dirt staining his face. Roxanne shook slightly where she stood, gritting her teeth as she tried to think of any viable response to that.
âI neverâŠwanted to,â she managed at last, strained and pained. The change in him, the startled confusion that made him tilt his head like a puppy, only made it worse. Breath hitching against the new lump in her throat, she tore her gaze away to blink hard at the floorboards. âI thought I was done with the blood and bruises, Caleb. I thought treating injuries s-stopped when I left Nathan.â
Finally, for the first time since sheâd come home, he sobered. He didnât seem sure how to respond to that, so she heaved a shaky breath, moving toward the bloody paper towels which, as sheâd expected, had missed the waste bin.
ââŠIâm sorry,â Caleb ventured hesitantly after another minute or two, tracking her every move as she went to pick up her fallen purse and her keys. âI know youâŠyou didnât sign up for this. IâIâll go to the hospital next time.â When she didnât respond within the third minute, he fidgeted awkwardly on the stool and impulsively began picking at the bandaging. âAre you mad, Roxy?â
âOnly because I wish I didnât have to see you like this.â Exhaling slowly and tucking her stray hair behind her ears, she tore some fresh paper towels off the roll and ran them under the water. At last she had the thought to pull up another stool in front of him so she could sit as she encouraged him to bend his head. Wiping the dust and sweat from his face was therapeutic in a way and neither of them wanted to spoil its affect, so they kept quiet.
Once sheâd paused to lean back and get a better look at any spots sheâd missed, he blinked his eyes open and repeated solemnly, âIâm sorry. I didnât mean to drag up any old demons by coming home, looking like this.â
By now the raw emotion had cooled into a resigned, almost accepting twinge in her chest; the war had reached a stalemate. Pressing her lips together, she leaned forward enough to rest her forehead against his. All she cared about right now was that he was warm and close and alive.
âYou know what they say,â she murmured. âIf I didnât have my demons, I never would have gotten my angels.â
when a character gets knocked back by something really forceful and is lying on the ground, dizzily taking in their surroundings before their eyes close and they fall unconsciousâŠthatâs nice
Summary: Jackieboy accidentally takes someone elseâs spiked drink. As soon as the effects set in, however, heâs intercepted by a rather unlikely ally.
Hurt/comforty concept: Anti forcing him to strangle himself has left Schneep with a damaged vocal tract. He can talk a little, but it will be hoarse and awkward and painful for a long time and the more he tries to talk through it the longer it will take to heal. Someone who's better at fluff than me can handle the comfort but it definitely involves JJ offering the benefit of his experience! -conflict anon
Oh, boy, thatâll definitely be a challenge! Schneep is a talker; itâs what he does! He has to share his expertise and his opinion and his feelings! With his throat damaged, heâll just self-internalize and self-internalize until heâs in way too much pain to even try talking.
Ohhh, and imagine how awful itâs going to be if theyâre trying to treat his injuries and Schneep needs to talk them through it, but every word forced out causes him pain⊠Then JJ steps in, crouching next to him, using his speech slides.
âGo on, dear fellow,â he urges kindly, hurriedly. âYou donât have to use your voice; j-just move your lips. Iâll read them! Iâll sign for you!â
Thatâs probably the only way theyâre going to get through this.
