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Ghosted (2023): #kidnapped
Whumptober day 19: Head lolling
head lolling, nodding off, same difference. anyway. he feels,, Not Great. about not realizing his brother disappeared, because he was distracted by something else. this translates into him trying to stay awake as much as possible -- combination of "what if something happens" while he's asleep, as well as genuinely just not knowing how much sleep his weird new half-pokemon body needs, since in his full dragon deity form he. doesn't. need sleep, at least not in the way humans experience it.
Enough
Warnings: captivity, knives, stabbing, blood, wounds, unconsciousness, rescue, caretaker and whumpee
Whumpee’s buckled as Whumper plucked the blade from their gut. “Ah, such a shame. I thought you would stay standing for that one,” Whumper purred as they licked the blade.
Whumpee could barely keep their eyes open. Their head lolled forward. “Mmmph,” they hummed. It was all they could do to respond.
Whumper fisted Whumpee’s hair and lifted their head. “Don’t go passing out on me just yet. I’m not done with you yet.”
Whumpee felt the blood running down their legs and onto the ground below them. They could barely keep their eyes open. They blinked. Once. Twice.
“Oh thank God!” Caretaker said as they cupped Whumpee’s cheek. “Hang on, Whumpee. We’re getting you out of here. We’re getting help.”
Whumpee was confused. Whumper was holding their face. Not Caretaker. “C-C-C--”
“It’s ok, Whumpee. I’ve got you. Just hold on.”
Whumpee blinked again. When they opened their eyes, they were on their back. Caretaker squeezed their hand. “Just stay with me, please, Whumpee. Stay with me.”
Where did they go? Why were they on the ground? “C-C-C--” but the urge to blink was too strong.
“Keep your eyes open, Whumpee. Please.” Caretaker’s voice sounded so far away.
And Whumpee was so tired. They blinked once more. The sound of sirens grew louder as Whumpee fought to keep their eyes open. They had to. Caretaker said to stay. But they were so tired. Whumpee closed their eyes one final time as the sound of paramedics rushing in filled the room.
Whumptober Day 19: Repeatedly Passing Out, Head Lolling (Time)
AO3 link. Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, injury, head injuries specifically, vomiting, and it's not the most concluded thing ever
Day 19
Repeatedly passing out, head lolling
Fandom: Original work
Characters: Whisper (OC), Listener (OC)
Tw: blood, drugging, gunfight
Summary: After getting caught and tortured while attempting to disarm a bomb, Listener is relieved to be rescued by Whisper. The only problem? Listener is dead tired after having been interrogated and tortured for nearly five hours, and the helicopter won’t make it to pick Whisper and Listener up. This is part of a larger whump series I made a while back, rewritten and polished up to fit my current writing style/standards. I might post more about these guys, but for now have this out of context snippet.
They reached the outside relatively easily, only having spent a few bullets (plus the kitchen knife Whisper had stabbed a guard with and subsequently left buried in the poor guy’s chest).
They burst through the side doors, Whisper taking the lead. He glanced back at Listener, one hand clutching his gun, the other pressed to his earpiece. Listener gave a shaky thumbs up, and Whisper continued the hushed conversation, the injured agent only catching snippets of talking.
Finally the conversation seemed to wrap up, and Whisper turned back to Listener. “This is bigger than just one bomb, the base in in chaos right now, and they don’t have the resources to pick us up. Next guaranteed pick up window is Thursday. We’re on our own until then.” He spoke quickly and sharply, tone calm yet urgent.
Listener nodded to show his understanding, not yet trusting his voice.
Whisper scanned the tree-surrounded parking lot, eyes catching on a mildly-well-upkept SUV. It was a light slate gray, with a small dent on its left side, but nothing to make it too recognizable.
“Cover the door, we’re borrowing that.”
Listener walked with Whisper over to the car, before he turned back to the facility door. He held the rifle against his chest as he kept an eye on the closed doors.
The sounds of Whisper picking the lock and kicking in the underneath of the dashboard was drowned out by the ringing in Listener’s ears. The injured agent stumbled a bit, leaning back against the side of the car, before sliding down to sit.
A hand landed on his shoulder as Whisper’s face came into focus. “Hey! Don’t pass out on me now. We’re so close to getting out of here.” The redhead’s eyes flicked up to the door across the parking lot, lips pressed into a tight line. “Focus. I’m almost done.”
Listener hummed in understanding, and Whisper pulled away, going back to his attempt to hot-wire the car. The engine stuttered, before starting with a purr, and Whisper turned to Listener, kneeling next to the injured agent.
“C’mon, let’s get you up.” Without waiting for a response, he hooked his arms around Listener’s middle, grunting as he pulled the man to standing. He half-led-half-dragged Listener to the backseat door of the car.
“Hm?“ Listener shook himself back to awareness. “Can’t I sit in the passengers’?”
“You’re going in the back so if you pass out you’ve got somewhere more comfortable to lay. We’ve got to put some distance between us and this place, and it’s gonna take a while.” Whisper answered.
Listener didn’t argue, and Whisper was almost more worried about that fact than the rapidly darkening black-eye and the river of crusted blood that covered Listener’s face.
Just as Listener settled in the back, the doors to the facility flew open, and five guards poured into the lot, guns blazing.
“Down!” Whisper growled, pushing Listener’s head between his knees, before slamming the car door closed and rolling to the side. He brought his handgun up, firing three quick shots that brought down two of the guards. The other one ricocheted off of the side of the building, hitting the pavement with a brief spark.
Whisper dove for the driver’s side door, a bullet whizzing past his ear close enough for him to feel the sharp breath of heat.
He slammed on the gas pedal almost before he managed to slide into the seat. He spun the wheel, turning the car in reverse and backing out of the lot as quickly as physically possible.
The sound of gunshots was deafening to Listener’s already frazzled senses. He forced himself to straighten up tentatively, risking a peek out the back windshield at the three remaining guard, all with their guns raised.
One in particular held a sniper rifle up to his shoulder, looking through the scope with a look of utter determination on his face. The others may miss, but the man with the sniper rifle wouldn’t.
Almost without thinking, Listener rolled down the window, shouldered his rifle, leaned out of the car, and squeezed the trigger. A pained grunt and a spurt of blood and sniper-rifle man was on the ground, clutching at his newly-punctured chest.
They tore out of the parking lot before the other guards had time to process what had happened.
Listener rolled the window back up, dropped the gun, and slumped back onto the seats.
Whisper’s frantic panting broke off into near-hysterical laughter as the raced down the road. “Oh! G-god! You’re fucking insane, you know that, agent? You-you just-! Ha! That was a clean fucking shot there!”
Listener gave a tired smile. “Do I win?”
“The bet? Ha-! How could you not? I should’ve known you’d make a cleaner kill half-conscious from the back of a moving car than I could with a kitchen knife. God-!”
He spared a glance back to Listener, wild eyes still shining with adrenaline. “You still seeing double?”
“Yeah.” Listener admitted shakily, bringing a hand up to touch his blood-crusted forehead.
Whisper let out another breathless laugh, before falling silent, processing the events that had just transpired.
A few minutes passed, and as the last dregs of adrenaline bled (both literally and figuratively) from Listener’s bloodstream, he sagged in his seat. His gun strap was pulled off of his shoulder with clumsy, blood-loss-numb fingers, and he set it down on the floor of the car.
The agent managed to sit himself back, head lolling on his shoulders as his thoughts grew more and more fuzzy. He slowly realized Whisper was talking to him, before jolting as the redhead snapped his fingers.
“Hey, agent, you hear anything I just said?”
Listener hummed something in leu of answering, no coherent meaning really behind the noise.
Whisper sighed, hissing through his teeth. “Yeah, you’re fading alright.” He turned to look at Listener, before flicking his blinker on and turning on to a main road, letting the car blend with the other traffic. “Think you can stay conscious long enough for me to make it to a gas station? I can pick you up some water or juice or something. You’re pale as a sheet.”
Listener meant to answer, he really did, but between the drugs coursing through his bloodstream, the concussion that seemed to be beating against his skull, and the blood loss from the many cuts and gashes he was trying to pointedly ignore, he couldn’t stay conscious any longer.
The agent slumped to the side, having just enough lucidity left to keep himself from rolling onto the car floor as he passed out laying across the seats.
###
He woke up an undetermined amount of time later, eyes flickering open as it took him longer than usual to realize where he was, who he was with, and whether he was in immediate danger.
“Hey, hey, you with me?” A voice, sharp but concerned. Whisper.
Listener gave a groan in response. “Y-yeah. ‘M awake.”
“Good. I got you some orange juice and a package of cookies. Think you can keep ‘em down?”
A hand wandered to Listener’s cheek, patting him as if trying to keep him awake.
“Hey, you hear me?”
He blinked dazedly as he realized he hadn’t answered. “Oh, yeah. Yeah. Jus’ let me up.”
A flicker of relief crossed Whisper’s face, and he helped pull Listener to a sitting position, before opening the plastic bottle of juice and the bag of cookies (both classic foods for blood loss, with their sugar, electrolytes, sweet taste, and rehydration factor).
“Here. If you start passing out again put the lid back on. I don’t fancy the car smelling like orange juice for the rest of the trip.” Whisper handed Listener the bottle and bag as soon as he was satisfied the injured agent wasn’t going to tip over. Listener grunted his thanks, before taking a small sip of the juice.
Whisper slipped back into the driver’s seat, sipping his own bottle of water, before pulling out of the gas station parking lot and merging onto the interstate. They lapsed into a comfortable silence for several minutes, both nursing their drinks, before a quiet voice broke the silence.
“Whisper?”
“Yeah?” The response was muffled by his water bottle, but it sounded less strained now, less panicky.
“Thanks.”
“No problem, partner.” Whisper grinned, “I’ll always be here to help out when you need me.” His grin morphed into a quieter, more sincere smile. "After all, that's what friends do."
They sat quietly for a bit. The sound of rushing cars filled the air around them. Maybe five minutes later, it started to rain, the sky darkening as a thunderstorm rolled in. The sound of the tires on the wet pavement was comforting.
The drum of the rain on the windshield did nothing to keep Listener awake, and soon the agent felt himself begin to sway. He screwed the orange juice lid closed with fumbling hands, as if in a daze.
His head hit the seat and fell forward on his chest, his breaths coming slow and heavy.
As Listener sank deeper into unconsciousness, he heard the soft voice of Whisper saying something else, which faded away with the pounding drums of the storm.
###
Listener jolted awake to a loud, panic inducing bang. The first thing that went through Listener's mind was that the noise could be a gunshot. The second thing was that he had absolutely no idea where he was or what was happening.
He shot upright, tumbling off of the car seat with a pained cry. The gash on his forehead reopened, blood dripping down his face as his eyes darted around, unseeing.
The car jerked to a stop, and Listener's door was yanked open.
His vision cleared to the feeling of pain in his knuckles and the sight of Whisper spitting out blood. The redhead hold up his hands placatingly, speaking in a low but firm tone. "Woah, woah. Easy. Look at me, agent. It's just me. Look.”
It took a moment, but Listener found his way to the point of lucidity where he recognized his teammate. Once the fog in his mind cleared up, Listener could feel his whole body relaxing, until a wave of guilt washed over him.
"Whisper..."
Whisper smiled softly. "Yeah, yeah. It's me. You checked out on me there for a minute. Had to pull over after you threw yourself onto the floor."
A car whizzed by on the interstate.
"...I punched you. Sorry..."
"It's fine. I'm more worried about your head. Let's get you up and we can take a look at that gash you just reopened."
Whisper grabbed the other man, helping him back up onto the car seat.
Another booming sound rolled over them, and Listener realized it had been thunder that had woken him in such a panic. He then realized that Whisper was absolutely drenched from the rain.
"I'm fine. Let's just get going again. The bleeding is already slowing down again."
"If you're sure..." Whisper scanned Listener's face, scrutinizing him.
Listener nodded, and Whisper seemed convinced. "Alright."
Whisper shut Listener's door, climbing back into the driver's seat. The car started up with a purr, and they continued on. Almost before Listener knew what was happening, the world spun, his vision blurred, and he passed out again.
So I think we can pretty much all agree that head lolling is good, right?
But how about fully body lolling? When their head lolls and then whumpee’s shoulders just follow and they slowly slide to the side and eventually have to catch themself with their arm.
And then their arm gives out and they end up fully on the ground on their side, then they roll onto their back. Then more head lolling…
The circle of life🙌
Whumptober day 19: Enough is Enough
Fandom: TMNT
Prompts;
Knees Buckling
Repeatedly passing out
Head lolling
And coming back around my fixations list. We have some more turtle* (*not so) angst. }:) Mikey is both Bamf and a little dark at one point? But youngest siblings can be pretty unhinged at times so…
Whumptember 25: "I won't leave you here"
The best revenge is taking your captor with you when you escape. At least that's what this nameless character thinks.
There are no flames in the building, just the temperature rising steadily, high enough for all the fire alarms to go wild. Fire suppressing foam cascades uselessly from the ceiling ducts.
The prisoner stretches and flexes his unbound hands. Rubs at the old sores on the insides of his wrists. Walks toward the shelves that hold the lab’s many chemicals. After all his time here, he knows exactly where to reach for the regeneration agent.
