Welcome to the 2026 Whumperless Whump Event, where we celebrate all kinds of situational, accidental and environmental whump! If this is your first time, welcome in--if you've been here before, thanks for coming back!
FAQ and text version under the cut!
Frequently Asked Questions:
Q: Where can I find the prompts list?
A: @whumperless-whump-event on Tumblr.
Q: How are the prompts divided?
A: Each day has a "title" or a vague theme, followed by two tropes and one dialogue prompt.
Q: Can I use the title as a prompt?
A: Absolutely.
Q: Do I have to use all of the prompts?
A: Not at all.
Q: Can I use all the prompts?
A: Absolutely.
Q: If I'm writing a chronological story, can I swap days to fit the timeline?
A: Yes, just make sure you tag your days and prompts appropriately. If you're writing for day 6, but you post it on day 12, tag day 6, not day 12.
Q: Can I have early or late entries?
A: Yes. This is a very laid back event, and meant mainly to inspire lots of whumperless whump. It's not a strict writing challenge.
Q: Is there an Ao3 collection?
A: Yes! This year's collection is linked here. The parent collection also includes 2024 and 2025--make sure you select 2026.
Q: Can I write [insert anything here]?
A: Yes. However, this blog will not reblog certain topics (ex. nsfw or suicide), so please tag your works appropriately, so anyone can filter out anything they don't want to see.
Q: Can I use AI?
A: No.
Q: Can a whumper be included in the prompt fill?
A: The short answer is no. The long answer is that you cannot have the role of whumper in your prompt fill (aka: no whumper-on-whumpee); however, if the character you want to be a whumpee or a caretaker happens to be a whumper, then as long as they are not fulfilling the role of whumper, it's fine. Also, if there is a whumper, it must be totally impersonal and faceless. Here are some examples for clarification:
A character's drink is spiked at a party.
OKAY: The whumper who spiked the drink is never mentioned and is completely faceless, and the story is directly about whumpee recovering.
NOT WHUMPERLESS: The whumper who spiked the drink kidnaps the whumpee.
A character is left alone in a storm.
OKAY: The character is stranded or lost.
NOT WHUMPERLESS: Whumper tied them to a post and left them in the storm.
A character is mugged on the street.
OKAY: The whumper is a stranger, faceless, and the focus is on Whumpee.
NOT WHUMPERLESS: The whumper is a stalker and there to kidnap Whumpee.
All in all, if your goal is to fulfill the event, then try to avoid a whumper. If you're using the prompts elsewhere, then ignore this, but in the spirit of the event, no whumper roles please.
Q: How do I tag my posts?
A: Tag with #whumperless whump event, #wwevent 2026 and #wwevent day [x](Don't just tag wwe, that's wresting.) Make sure to tag the fill type (art, fic, music, etc) with #fic, #art, #et cetera. Then, tag triggers and content warnings. Please put these first in the tag order! It just makes it easier to reblog.
Q: How do I get reblogged?
A: Mention this blog in your post! It's the easiest way for me to find you. Otherwise, I won't reblog it. (This also means if you do not want your post reblogged to the event, just don't mention the blog, and it'll stay private.)
Q: I disagree with something/have an issue with a prompt/want to address a problem. How should I do it?
A: Send me an ask and we can fix it. I am more than willing to work through any problems--I am human, and not without fault.
I think that's about it. That's a lot, so if you've got any other questions that aren't on the list, feel free to shoot me an ask. I'm happy to help!
Plain Text:
Like a Baby Seal to Water: Fishtailing / Near drowning / "I thought I was going to die."
Somebody's Gotta Do It: Unexpected caretaker / Touch starvation / "You don't have to hide from me."
A Lull in the Chaos: Bedside vigil / Checking vitals / "Can you⊠sing? Until I fall asleep?"
How Are You So Oblivious: Unknowingly feverish / Falling asleep at work / "Can you drink some water for me?"
Wilderness Experts: Poisoned / Caught in a trap / "I don't know where we are."
Down The Wrong Pipe: Choking / Seizures / "Call an ambulance, tell 'em they're not breathing."
Wrong Place, Wrong Time: Panic attack / Overstimulated / "Get me out of here."
Are You Sure This Is Normal: Natural disasters / Scared of thunder / "We're safe in here, okay? I think."
Dropping Like Flies: Multiple whumpees / Caretaking while sick or injured / "I'll get some rest soon, I promise."
A Warm Welcome: Coming home from the hospital / Cuddle piles / "You scared me so badlyâŠ"
Bodily Betrayal: Stomach sick / Carried to bed / "âŠYeah. I can call in sick for you."
You Make Me Lose My Breath: Wheezing / Altitude sickness / "You're not making sense."
Waking In A Cold Sweat: Midnight hospital visit / Allergic reaction / "I thought you were getting better."
The Final Straw: Grief / Mental breakdown / "You don't need to be okay right now."
WW Event Day 20: I'll be right here the whole time
(@whumperless-whump-event)
Garth watched as the landslide narrowly missed two of the clients as it swept over the their resting spot. Though it missed every person it took out several packs driving them over the edge and to a rocky landing about thirty feet below.Â
Needle went around checking them all then came over to Garth, âWell young man, youâre going over.âÂ
âIâŠIâm what!âÂ
âWe need those packs, donât worry, just get to it.âÂ
âIâŠâ Garth looked over the edge and his stomach twisted. He wasnât sure if he would be able to make it down. Or back up. He looked around, it was just him and Needle and the wiry old man probably couldnât get up and down even with a rope. And the clients couldnât be expected to do it either.Â
Needle came up to him with ropes and started tying them around, âYouâll just have to tied the bags onto a second rope, weâll get em up that way.âÂ
âRight, right,â Garth said.Â
âHey look at me, Iâll be right here the whole time. Iâve never lost someone on ropes, I know you can do this.âÂ
Garth could only nod. He sat on the edge and tried to get his heart to slow down a little bit before he went over. Garth clung to the rope as he went over the side. He loosened his grip just a little and started to go down the rope.Â
Donât look, donât look, donât look.Â
Finally his feet touched the ground and he went about tying up the bags.
****
âSo was that worse than the potato?â someone asked.Â
âLittle bit,â Garth said.Â
âI do hope Needle is alright,â Old Cotton said, âHeâs usually not this late. Wasnât very nice to him last I saw himâŠâ
@Maria asked: @augustofwhump 2025, Day 24 â Recovery, Gordon and @whumperless-whump-event Day Twenty: Here Comes Bad News: Scary diagnosis/ "I'll be right here the whole time."
~
Scottâs recovery wasnât linear by any means. But being home, being around his family, gave Scott the one thing heâd been missing in the German hospital.
He was surrounded by people who loved him.
That love buoyed him up far more than the respect and treatment from the medical personnel.
Everyone rallied around him, both in person and long distance.
Virgil and John had needed to get back to their own lives. College was over for the semester and exams completed and John had to leave to go into quarantine for his next stint on the WSS. Scott had insisted they both go, that he would be fine and that they could talk frequently.
They still left reluctantly, Virgil flying them out and using the time to discuss strategy in regard to their big brother. All plans were pie in the sky, though, as they had no real way of knowing how it was going. Their Dad had promised to keep them informed but he wasnât the most reliable when under stress.
And this was stressful. This was very stressful.
This was where Gordon and Alan had an opportunity to return all the love and care that their brother had shown them. They took their job seriously.
Very seriously.
Scott found that he didnât get a moment alone.
He found it hard at first. There were nightmares where he woke up screaming to find his Dad was always there. And during the day one or other of his youngest brothers were with him, with Dad or Grandma hovering in the background.
BeforeâŠbefore Scott would have found it all too smothering but now, once he got used to the idea, he found it strengthening.
On bad days they were around but not near him. Sometimes hearing them messing around in the kitchen or watching an old Disney movie was enough to snap him out of whatever spiral he was going through.
The day he made it outside the farmhouse to watch Gordon swim in the pool out the back was a milestone that felt like an age in coming, but breathing the warm summer air and did something to him.
It lifted his heart and for the first time Scott felt like he actually had a chance of soaring again.
It was a turning point.
From that time on it was difficult to keep Scott inside. He spent mornings outside wandering the farmland and afternoons heâd spend time with Gordon and Alan. Theyâd walk to the wood and along the stream. The two boys would make sure that they were slow enough that Scott, still needing extensive physio for his injuries and using a cane to walk with, could keep up easily.
The fresh air and the daily exercise had Scottâs doctors making hopeful noises.
Eventually his daily walks expanded to outside their home. It was difficult at first â sudden noises still made him jump, he was nervous of people, even of people heâd known since theyâd moved here.
But the townsfolk were kind people with long memories of how much Grant and Lucille Tracy had meant to them and with their help when he was out and about Scott began to progress even better.
Eight months to the day Scott had been brought home Gordon won gold in the Olympics and Scott was there in person to see it thanks to ear plugs and some light sedation that didnât stop him celebrating along with his brothers.
The celebrations lasted more than one nightâŠ
But from the moment they arrived home Gordon switched from being Olympic obsessed to becoming a WASP. Heâd have another seven months before his sixteenth birthday, the day heâd officially be old enough to join with his Fatherâs permission.
Jeff had listened to Gordonâs impassioned discussion on why WASP was a better fit than staying on at school and going to college. The service would ensure he finished his high school diploma and then went on to work on a degree of his choice.
So Gordon split his remaining time between helping Scott any way he could and prepping for his upcoming bootcamp prep day. Scott was a great help, and in going over his own experiences in the USAF it helped him to come to terms with his own trauma.
Scott had never been prouder when he saw Gordon descend the stairs in full WASP uniform, ready to leave for boot camp. Heâd not donned the uniform since being rescued but that time was fast approaching â Scott needed to return to base and report in. There was talk of trials at the Hague, which he was frankly sick to his stomach about. His Dad had said not to worry about it butâŠhow could he not?
All that was pushed out of his mind as his brother gave him the crispest salute, which he solemnly returned before pulling him into a tight, lingering hug. He whispered around the lump into Gordonâs ear.
âI am so, so proud of you.â
âThank you. For everything, Scott.â
âYouâre welcome.â
âI mean it, Scott. For always being there for me, for fighting my corner. For never leaving me.â
Scott pulled him closer and rested his cheek on Gordonâs cap for a moment, careful not to distort the headwear.
And then it was time for Gordon to leave.
Time passed.
Gordon graduated from NUB (non-useful body) to Dolphin quickly, acing the Officer school and coming top of his class, just as Scott had.
His progress within the service was meteoric.
As Gordon rose in the ranks Scottâs own progress was unfortunately nowhere near his brothers. Not that Scott was worried about that..
They both had news for their family.
Scott had been back to McConnell Air Force for almost a month. He was under assessment pending a review of his combat status. So far he wasâŠmanaging. His flying was good but there were concerns regarding his behaviour while on the ground. Noises still startled him and he was withdrawn from the rest of his squad, preferring his own association.
When nothing improved by the end of the assessment period, when Scott was still refusing to see the mental health team, the brass reluctantly came to the same conclusion.
Meanwhile, Gordonâs went from strength to strength. So much so that they offered him a highly coveted role in the testing of new equipment while the kinks were being worked out of the latest sub for the fleet, Stingray.
The family had already began moving to the island, but this reunion was going to be the last one in Kansas. So Jeff had fired up the grill, Virgil had prepped the meat and Kayo and Sally had prepped salad sides. John, unfortunately was up in space, but heâd sent a message to both his brothers and a promise to be home in a couple of months if either of them were going to be around.
Scott flew into Eisenhower National Airport in Wichita first but Gordon wasnât too far behind and the two took their familyâs âhopperâ plane home, the little runaround that had been their Momâs until her death and that Dad had kept for when his boys needed to get home.
They were met on the farm runway by Alan, who hopped around them with the energy only a 11-year-old could have and talking so fast they couldnât have got a word in even if they wanted to.
The meal was a great success and as evening turned to night and Scott carried Alan to bed, talk turned to how their respective careers were going.
Gordon was full of excitement but he knew that he couldnât say what was going on, so he kept his news full of training exploits and downtime pranks. His enthusiasm and happiness was infectious though, and if anyone noticed Scott staying silent well, no one said anything. This was Gordonâs moment and his eldest brother was content to let him shine bright.
It didnât fool Virgil or Jeff of course, and with a pointed look to their father Virgil eventually hauled the Squid off to bed.
They stayed on the porch, Jeff only disappearing to grab a bottle of whisky and two glasses. He poured them both a generous dose and they settled to watch the sky and Jeff waited for his son to open up.
It took another hour and two more glasses of scotch before Scott sighed and sat forwards, rolling the glass between his hands.
âTheyâll discharging me, Dad. Honourable discharge on medical grounds. They were veryâŠnice about it.â
âScottyâŠâ
âWhat am I going to do, Dad? No one wants a washed-up pilot.â
âI do.â
âDadâŠâ
âIâm serious, Son. You know weâve been talking about International Rescue?â
âYeah. I remember.â
âVirgil and I along with Brains â you remember Brains?â
âI do.â
âWell, we are well on the way to making this a reality.â
âI thought that wouldnât be happening for years yet.â
âI know! But Brains is really a genius and coupled with Virgilâs know-how and Johnâs computer skills, weâre looking at being up and running in only a couple more years.â
Jeff rested a hand on Scottâs arm and smiled at him.
âWeâre going to need a test pilot quite quickly. And I want that to be you, Scott. There isnât anyone else Iâd rather have, even if we werenât going to be secret.â
Scott blushed but smiled.
The rest of the night was spent discussing the rescue ships until Jeff yawned and Scott insisted they both go to bed.
Alan was ecstatic when Scott told them he was home for good so when Gordon left the blow was softened somewhat. The youngest was due to leave soon himself. Heâd agreed to be boarded at Whartons Academy, a school in Massachusetts, one that would challenge him rather than the boring school he was currently attending. Alan had been gutted at not being allowed to stay home on the island but there was a little part of him that was excited to be out from his brothersâ shadows.
The next two months involved Scott helping move the rest of what they were taking to the island and talking to the rest of his brothers.
And then Gordon called home. While he couldnât tell them what exactly he would be doing he could at least let them know roughly how long heâd be out of contact, and he managed to talk to everyone except John, whose return home had been delayed a couple of weeks.
They fully moved to the island a week later.
Jeff sat back and surveyed the ocean beyond the window. A sense of peace enveloped him and he sighed contentedly. Which meant he was a little annoyed when the phone rang. He was half-tempted to ignore it but suddenly a cold sensation washed over him and he couldnât answer it quickly enough.
He hit the untested klaxon and his boys came running.
Ten minutes later they were flying as fast as Tracy One could go for Marineville.
They practically stormed the hospital. Thankfully Atlanta was there to meet them and take them through the layers of bureaucracy and to the room Gordon would be released to once his surgery would be over. Heâd already been in for hours but they were still at itâŠ
Atlanta kept them plied with decent coffee and easy-to-eat food and stayed with them throughout the rest of that day and the following night.
Eventually a very tired doctor appeared in the room. Everyone sat up, Alan firmly between Scott and Jeff and holding their hands tightly. Jeff gave his hand a squeeze before getting up to greet the doctor and Virgil immediately took his place and Alanâs hand.
âDoctor. What news?â
âGordon is one tough cookie, Mr Tracy. Heâs pulled through more than 14 hours of surgery but I have to warn you heâs nowhere near out of the woods yet. The next 24 hours will be touch and goâŠif he survives that it will still be an uphill battle.â
âUnderstood.â
âMr Tracy, if youâll come with me thereâs paperwork for you to go through.â
Jeff looked at his boys and his Ma, who had been brought over during the night. Sally nodded and stood and the two left with the doctor.
The three eldest knew what the doctor had left unsaid. They were going to discuss Gordonâs injuries in more detail, something that they were very careful that Alan didnât have to hear the details.
Speaking of Alan, he may have been eleven but right now he felt more like five, when their Mom had died and everyone was acting just like they were now. That same fear was welling up in him now and he resorted to the only thing he knew would help.
Alan practically crawled into Scottâs lap, buried his head into his big brotherâs chest and burst into tears.
Scottâs arms immediately tightened around him and both John and Virgil added theirs so that Alan was enclosed in a brother sandwich. They stayed that way until their father came back.
Jeff couldnât help but feel a swell of pride at how his boys rallied around each other, and he smiled at them when they noticed him.
âBoys, your Grandma has gone to book a hotel. Youâre all going to go there, get something to eat and grab some sleep. Wait!â
He paused as his older boys al began talking at once and waited for them to quieten down. Jeff chose to address Scott, knowing that the others would follow his lead.
âScott, weâre here for the long run and to be there for Gordon when he wakes up we need to be at our best. This is going to be a long, long road.â
âDadâŠthat means you too.â
âI know, Son. The hospital will only allow one person at a time to stay with Gordon until heâs fully conscious so weâll create a rota. Alan? You can visit with any one of us but not on your own as you need to be over 16, ok?â
âYes.â
Jeffâs phone rang and he turned and spoke quietly into it. It was a short call and he sighed before turning back to his boys.
âGrandma has found a hotel. You all go ahead and Scott, six hoursâ time you can relieve me. Now I know, I know how hard this on us all. Sleep is not going to be easy but you need to try, ok? You need to try.â
There was a chorus of âokayâ and, after hugging him tightly, Jeff watched them leave. Scott hung back for a moment and Jeff pulled him in for a hug before briefly giving him a rundown of Gordonâs injuries. He hugged his boy tightly as tears threatened until Scott had pulled himself together to leave.
It set the pattern for the next six months.
The doctors kept Gordon in a medically induced coma for close to three weeks until the swelling on his brain reduced and they took the opportunity to do some of the numerous operations he needed.
Alan had gone with his Dad that first time but hadnât stayed, bursting into tears at the sight of all the tubes and wires. They had prepared for that, and Scott, waiting outside, scooped him up and took him outside.
It was John who was sitting with Gordon when he first began to show signs of waking up but full awakening didnât happen for another three days.
Scott was there when a frightened noise grabbed his attention and he leaned over for Gordon to see him while hitting the alarm. The doctors worked around him until it came time to remove the tube but in an unusual move they let Scott stay once Gordon had become visibly more upset when heâd been asked to leave.
It still took a little while for Gordon to be able to talk, but after a cup of ice chips he could at least whisper.
âWhaâŠhaâpân?â
âYou were in an accident.â
âTh-the âfoil?â
âYes.â
âTell me.â
He really didnât want to, but Gordon was more like himself than Scott would have liked, so, leaning over so Gordon didnât have to worry about moving his head, gently told his brother everything.
Gordon cried the entire time and Scott paused often, wiping his tears and holding his lesser damaged hand.
Eventually Gordon calmed down. He looked at his brother with eyes scared but trusting.
âIâm scared, Scotty. I â I canât move. My team are dead. MyâŠmy life is over.â
âHey! Hey, donât talk like that. Thereâs still much healing you need to do. Nothing about your future is certain. You hear me?â
âYe-yeah. Scott?â
âYes, Fishie?â
âStay? Please? Donât leave me?â
âIâll be right here the whole time. Iâll never leave you, Gordon. Never. Not now, not later, not ever.â
Recovery was going to be a bitch but Gordon knew if Scott could do it then he would be able to too.
Day 19 â Out of This World: Magical exhaustion / Cursed / "We'll fix this, I promise."
Note: this is a direct continuation of the story from day 18
The mission gone wrong
Leader stayed outside for a short moment after Second and Medic brought Youngest inside. For a short time his feelings had gone on a roller-coaster ride. From being highly disappointed that Youngest got drunk - on a spy mission no less. To the worry that set in as he did see how out of it the boy was. To the downright scare he got, as Medic implied that it was something else than alcohol. That could mean that the boy got his drink spiked or worseâŠ
Leader ran his fingers through his hair nearly wishing that Medic would find nothing but alcohol in his tests. But even then, what if something happened to Youngest in the time it took Medic and Second to find him? Or someone mixed him any poison in his drink? Or⊠there was so much that could have happenedâŠ
This little spiral of thoughts was exactly the reason Leader stayed outside to gather his thoughts. He really had to get his feelings under control before getting back to his team. He trusted Medic, but it was just⊠he never wanted it⊠but Youngest just stole a special place in his heart. Something that he didnât really want, something that just happened.
He took more than ten deep breaths, before he felt ready to go down after the others, before he felt ready to be the leader again. He made his was down to the infirmary were he found his team. Youngest laid on the med bay and seemed to be sleeping⊠or was he unconscious?
Leader stepped up to Medic, waited a moment, because he didnât want to interrupt anything and asked: âHow is he? Do you know what happened?â
Medic looked at him a second too long. Meanwhile Second answered him: âWe found him outside of his appointed location. Because of the state he was in, we quickly made our way back, to get him checked. Should I take over the mission?â
Leader broke eye contact with Medic and had to look at Youngest while thinking about that question, before answering: âAs long as we donât know what happened, please just observe from the outside. Be careful and please send a signal every ten minutes.â He would be damned if he lost two members in the same mission. Second looked at Youngest, searched for eye contact with Leader und nodded solemnly before making his way outside.
With Medic still watching him, Leader had the feeling that Medic knew exactly how much he worried, because Medic sighed before answering him too: âThe preliminary tests are already there. He has not the slightest hint of alcohol in his blood, so you have no reason to be disappointed in himâŠâ
Leader took the snide remark with grace. Because Medic was right, he did assume what happened, without knowing and without trusting Youngest. As he thought about that, Medic continued making him feel bad: âYou know, even in that state, he seemed really worried about that.â
To calm his hurting heart Leader had to close his eyes and said quietly: âHe always is⊠but what is it? Is he unconscious now?â Medic looked right through him, as always, and spoke: âI am running detailed tests right now. The preliminary test showed a high amount of these new date-rape drugs, I gave him something to counter them and gave him something to make him sleep, so he doesnât have to suffer the side effects anymore.â
The implied message was not lost to Leader and he had to fight against feelings once again. He didnât really wanted to think about it, but he had to ask: âDo you think anyone had the time toâŠâ He couldnât say it. But Medic didnât make him, he interrupted him: âI will check it to make sure, but I donât think so. He was still fully dressed. To me it seems that Youngest realised something was off, gave the distress signal and made his way outside in the last minute, before the drugs overcame him. We were there in less than ten minutes, so it could be, but I doubt it.â
Leader realised that Medic talked to reassure both of them, because they both didnât want to think about the alternative. Medic rambled on: âBecause of the drugs, he wonât remember any of it, so please donât even try to question him.â
The relief he felt got him to close his eyes, before answering: âSure. Will there be lasting effects or anything else?â Medic searched for eye contact, before answering: âFrom this, no. But the preliminary test revealed one poison marker, as soon as the detailed test is through I will work on an antidote, I already called B to assist me. As far as I can see from this, it is nothing to really worry about, okay? We'll fix this, I promise!â
Leader looked into Medics eyes, the self-reproach already wrecking hammock in his heart. He trusted Medic if he said, everything will be fine. But he was at fault for everything. He should not have send Youngest alone. Maybe he didnât even was attacked because of the mission, but because of his youth. He hoped Youngest had it in him, to forgive him, and he got the chance to do so. Because he didnât know if he could forgive himself.
891 words
~~~ Author comment: I have the feeling this prompts are getting harder and harder. I am writing for myself, because I have to practice my english, but I sometimes I would really love to get a reaction. Thanks for the people liking <3
Out of This World: Magical exhaustion / Cursed / "We'll fix this, I promise."
@whumperless-whump-event
ReiBert my beloved.
It's not a literal curse, but I do feel like being infected with a parasite is in some way a curse. :']
Lil Notes
Not canon compliant/Parasites AU
Bertholdt could only moan weakly as he felt Reiner's arms retrieving him from his fallen titan. He couldn't recall how long he'd been marching across the island, but he'd moved as fast as he could, for as long as his titan would go. Him being in and out of consciousness now was the consequence of him pushing the colossus too hard.
"Is Bertholdt okay?!" Pieck's voice brought him back to reality, she was looking at him while Reiner and Marcel handled restraining the Founder.
With a wobbling hand, he brushed Pieck's nose. "I'm okay." He wheezed.
She sighed. "You should know better than to push your titan like that, Bert." Pieck scolded, gently. "One of these days, you're not going to be able to get away with that anymore."
x~x
Bertholdt awoke again to the gentle rocking of the sea. Reiner was in the chair beside his bed, sleeping on the edge of it. He reached over, brushing Reiner's hair and accidentally awakening him.
"Oh, you're awake." Reiner climbed onto the bed and nuzzled Bertholdt. But Bertholdt stared out the window, his thoughts elsewhere. "What's wrong?"
"I can't stop thinking about Armin." He sighed. "It was all so sudden, I meant to take him with me, but when Ymir attacked, I panicked. I didn't want to infect him and then disappear. And who knows what will happen to Erwin, so there's no one to help him now."
Reiner nuzzled Bertholdt, taking his hand. "We'll fix this, I promise." He pulled his mate against his chest. "Now just try to get some rest, you'll need it."
Bertholdt nodded, resting against his mate. They'd bring the founder back, and then return with reinforcements for Armin. Everything will be okay.
@whumperless-whump-event day 19: cursed + alt 5: "don't look. trust me."
cws: body horror, field surgery
Guarding the necromancer has beenâŠnot as bad as RilanĂš feared when her name came up for the medic-watch rotation.
Medics are harsh, everyone knows that. They have to be. Necromancers are usually even more so, with how much depends on them. But Gaoithe is different. Kind, calm, subdued. Absent-minded in a way that is somewhat concerning, given her station. She's warm, from her laugh to her brown skin to her amber eyes to the (hideous) orange cloak she's currently wrapped up in.
RilanĂš still doesn't like herâshe's dreading this trip, really. A routine research trip, Gaoithe had said, carefully packing her lab equipment like it was her firstborn while RilanĂš silently bemoaned the loss of her free evenings. Just the two of them, for three days, walking to a cave of ""magical significance"" so the necromancer can take soil samples or speak to dead plants or whatever it is she's planning to do that requires more glass tubes than she can carry. And, of course, it's left to RilanĂš to carry the rest. Along with the food. And the tent. And the only weapons they have, because "medics don't use weapons, don't be silly."
"We're here," Gaoithe says suddenly, breaking into RilanĂš's mental grumbling.
RilanĂš stops just short of crashing into her charge (and breaking every piece of equipment she's carrying) and casts her eyes around.
They're still on the plains. Golden autumn grass rolls out, uninterrupted for flightspans under the grey sky. There is very obviously not a cave here.
"There's not a cave here," RilanĂš says, flicking a strand of hair out of her face with a silent sigh. Sometimes scientists miss the obvious.
"Not anymoreânot that we can see anymore, I should say." Gaoithe slips into that 'gearing up for a lecture' voice that RilanĂš has become very familiar with. "The whole of Saol is a living thing. And like any living thing, it changes. Parts wilt, dieâŠ"
Gaoithe holds her hands out in front of her and closes her eyesâa familiar gesture, a medic's diagnostic scan. Is sheâŠscanning the ground?
"And are buried," Gaoithe finishes, turning her hands palm-up and clenching them into fists. The ground rumbles, and long-petrified tree roots shoot up out of it, as supple as new growth under Gaoithe's power. The roots retract and expand repeatedly, shaping the earth until a tunnel forms, sloping down at a comfortable angle.
"Let's go," Gaoithe says, ambling casually into the cave while RilanĂš is still gaping at the smooth wooden walls of this structure, built in an instant. RilanĂš closes her mouth and follows her charge. She is a professional on a work expedition, and she will act like it.
RilanĂš keeps her hand on her sword as the colours of daylight fade into grey night-sight. Her eyes adjust quickly, so when Gaoithe starts swearing softly at the light in her hand, RilanĂš guides her hand around to the charging groove.
"I'd do it myself," she says. "But my blood's about as magical as dust."
"I don't mind at all. Such a practical application of my specialty gives me great pleasure toâ" Gaoithe hisses as the needle jabs into her thumb and draws blood into the battery. "Use," she finishes dryly, shaking her hand idly as the wound heals itself. Terrifying, the level of control this woman has.
RilanĂš relaxes, eventually, as the wood turns to stone turns to a slightly darker stone that has Gaoithe cooing like it's a newborn pup.
They spend a couple hours in the cave. The light glows a sedate greenish-white, bobbing as it follows Gaoithe in herâŠwhatever she's doing. It involves scalpels and slides and dirt. RilanĂš is sure it's all very important.
She's just nodding off against the closest wall (look, days of travel with no relief in the watch has worn RilanĂš out. Sure, Gaoithe set up alarms in the forms of formerly-dead plants and insects, so RilanĂš could've slept, but a living guard is better. Or an elf guard. A living elf guard who isn't an oddly shiny desiccated roach)âLook, the point is she's caught-off guard when an impossible rush of wind knocks the light orb into a wall and it shatters.
"RilanĂš?" Gaoithe says, utterly calm except for the sharp note in her voice.
"Here. What was that?" Even RilanĂš's night-eyes can't penetrate this level of darkness. She finds Gaoithe and helps her carefully to her feet mostly by sound and touch.
"I don'tâsomething is coming." Gaoithe's hands clutch RilanĂš's, and they're cold.
"What?" RilanĂš asks, drawing her sword, wishing for her favourite spear, still tucked in its alcove next to her bed.
"Something dangerous."
"Dangerous," a toneless voice hisses out of the darkness, drawing out the s until it becomes another rush of chilled, dust-scented air.
RilanĂš's hair stands on end, she can feel her scalp prickle.
"I think we should leave," she says as calmly as she can.
"Agreed," Gaoithe says. "Let me collect my samples, andâ"
"Your samples?" RilanĂš is close to speechless. Gaoithe is usually shockingly reasonableâbut she is still a necromancer. "No, we need to go now."
But RilanĂš crouches to help blindly feel for the equipment, ignoring Gaoithe's protesting hum when she dumps it all in the closest pack and slings it over her shoulder.
"Now can we go?"
"âŠYes," Gaoithe says with obvious hesitancy.
RilanĂš herds her charge to the wall, and they both place one hand on it and move as fast as they dare in the pitch dark. The stone goes smooth under RilanĂš's fingers, then grainedâthey've made it back to the petrified wood tunnel. RilanĂš's shoulders relax a fraction.
There! A glimmer of grey light, only a few minutes of walking moreâ
The wind gusts, loud as thunder, almost covering the sound it carries: wings, beating. Some instinct deeper than thought has RilanĂš whipping around, sword-first, in time to catch the raven-shade as it tears into her.
The impact sends her flying, but the bleached-white raven screams its end on RilanĂš's blade. The shade explodes into tattered feathers, and then even those fade into the ground like dew.
"RilanĂš!" Gaoithe crouches next to her and hauls RilanĂš to her feetâan impressive feat given RilanĂš is a full head taller than her. Medic strength, RilanĂš supposes.
"I'm fine." RilanĂš sheathes her sword.
Light fills the tunnel, cupped in Gaoithe's hands. She's cut her palm and made her blood glow somehow.
"You're injured," she says with all the stern command of a seasoned doctor. "Your shirtâŠ"
RilanĂš slides a hand down her side and frowns when her fingers catch in a new tear in her shirt.
"I'm not hurt," RilanĂš says. "No blood, see? It must've just caught theâŠ"
RilanĂš trails off as she lifts the fabric. There, on her unbroken skin, sits a new scar. Long and thin, like a glancing knife wound. A long healed knife wound that wasn't there this morning.
"That'sâŠodd," she admits, letting the fabric fall to hide it again. "But it can wait until we're out of thisâah!"
Pain, sharp and hot and clawing, steals the words. RilanĂš cries out again as something in her shifts. Her vision goes grey again and she collapses to her knees, hard, the cold bite of the petrified wood below her a relief in its contrast to the burn in her abdomen.
"Let me see," Gaoithe says firmly, sliding to the floor next to RilanĂš. The glowing blood coalesces into a wavering orb in Gaoithe's hand.
RilanĂš rucks up her shirt with a trembling hand, biting her cheek until she tastes iron. The wound looks the same, a healed and innocuous scar. Then Gaoithe holds out her free hand, half of a standard scan, and RilanĂš screams out through clenched teeth as the pain redoubles.
She watches from somewhere above herself as something moves under her skin, three tiny claws pushing against her skin from the inside, like a taloned hand shoving its way out from inside her.
"That is not ideal," Gaoithe murmurs.
RilanĂš laughs, but it comes out like a sob.
Gaoithe pushes on her shoulder until RilanĂš lies flat on her back on the cool floor. Gaoithe moves to the packs, doingâŠsomething. RilanĂš's hard won instincts won't let her look away from the threatâher own body. She's gasping, RilanĂš realizes, breaths obscenely loud despite the muffling rush of blood in her ears. She keeps her eyes on the scar, the skin uneven with whatever grows beneath it but mercifully not moving anymore.
"RilanĂš," Gaoithe says. She kneels by RilanĂš, the scalpel in her free hand glinting in the blood-light. "I need you to hold this for me. Can you do that?"
RilanĂš reaches for the scalpel.
"Noâ" Gaoithe sets the scalpel off to the side and turns RilanĂš's outstretched hand palm-up. "Keep your fingers together."
Gaoithe tips her blood into RilanĂš's palm. The texture is off and it holds together in a way blood shouldn't. The light wavers, then almost steadies. Almost, because RilanĂš's hand isn't very steady at the moment. It's pretty.
The scent of antiseptic hits RilanĂš's nose, then the cave flashes with silvery light. The pain abates, a little, but so does the floatiness, so it hurts more now. RilanĂš hisses.
That thing, the curse or monster or whatever it is, thrashes under her skin again, as if sensing its coming end. The silvery lights dims the sensation, numbs the pain. All RilanĂš can feel is pressure, but from the wrong direction. She breathes out another ragged breath, free hand clenched so tight she feels her fingernails break the skin of her palm.
Gaoithe uses the back of one hand to nudge RilanĂš's chin, tipping her face up and away from the curse-mark.
"Don't look." She sounds utterly serious for the first time in RilanĂš's memory. "Trust me, you don't want to see this."
So RilanĂš watches her instead. Whatever that silver light was, it's more effective on simple woundsâRilanĂš doesn't even know the scalpel has made a cut until she feels her blood run down her side, hot where it pools against her.
Gaoithe's face furrows in worry, then gradually relaxes into concentration. RilanĂš fixedly ignores the squelching, snapping noises coming from where the medic's hands move, just out of RilanĂš's peripheral vision. She focuses instead on the congealing blood ball in her hand, the warmth trickling down her skin, the way the light turns Gaoithe's eyes yellow.
The scalpel drops with a clatter. RilanĂš looks down on instinct, preemptively wincing. But instead of a ruined, gory mess, her torso boasts two neat surgical cuts. Gaoithe's hand passes over them, and they itch their way into faint scars, then nothing.
"âŠDone." Gaoithe sounds ill, and RilanĂš is startled to see sweat glimmering on her face, her pupils blown wide. Magic-sicknessâshe used everything she had healing RilanĂš.
RilanĂš shoves upright in time to catch Gaoithe by the shoulder as she sways sideways. She lets the glowing blood fall in her haste, splattering it messily across the ground. The cave's darkness returns, and RilanĂš swears.
"We need to get out of this fucking cave," she says, putting on her pack and then hauling her exhausted charge to her feet. RilanĂš has to stoop slightly to get Gaoithe to grab her shoulders, but then they're standing and stable, sort of, a few good limbs between them and a barely there grey in the black to guide them forwards.
Their staggering walk back to the surface takes far, far too long, and the sun has almost set by the time they make it out. The warm orange light is a relief, even if the promise of a night so close to the Fucking Cave isn't.
"So much for that routine research trip, huh?" RilanĂš says.
Gaoithe's answering laugh is a little shaky, but her hands are steady again as she brings them together and her living dead plants press the cave into the depths of the earth again.
@whumperless-whump-event Day 19: Out of This World: Magical exhaustion / Cursed / "We'll fix this, I promise."
BBC Merlin, Merlin, Arthur Pendragon, Gaius. 100 words
~
Merlin was exhausted.
The spell heâd cast to protect them was complex, needing constant minute changes. And stillâŠ
At the last moment one of the enemy had thrown in an unexpected spell that has broken his own. Merlin had tried to seal the hole but the damage was done.
He didnât have the strength left to heal Arthurâs wound. Merlin cursed the circumstances that had led them hereâŠ
He had no memory of getting through Camelot.
Of banging on Gaiusâ door.
Of laying Arthur down..
Merlin barely heard Gaius mutter âweâll fix this, I promise,â before he blacked out completely.
Day 18 â Losing Your Sea legs: Too dizzy to stand / Motion sickness / "Can⊠can we pull over?"
Disappointment
Youngest felt sick. Dizzy. Nauseous. His feet didnât do anything he wanted, same his tongue, and without Medic and Second he would still lie in that corner, and he didnât even know how he got there. He couldnât even remember what happened.
Medic and Second had each one arm of him over their shoulders and basically carried him forward. As they took the last corner, Youngest did see Leader through half lidded eyes standing in front of the entrance arms crossed. If he didnât already felt like throwing up, the look that Leader sent him would have done the trick.
Leader looked completely disappointed. There is nothing that Youngest hated more, than to disappoint Leader. His brain didnât want to work. Why was Leader disappointed in him?
As he was carried through the entrance Leader inquired with Medic: âWhat happened to him? Is he⊠drunk?â
Drunk? Youngest couldnât think straight. He never⊠Leader hated alcohol. He would not⊠But⊠but Youngest couldnât remember. What ifâŠ? His confused thoughts were interrupted by Medics answer: âI donât know yet, but I donât think so. I need to run some testsâŠâ
Youngest wanted to shout that he did not have any alcohol, but his tongue didnât work at all. All noises that he could make didnât help his case any.
In his fight with himself, he didnât see how Leaders look went from disappointed to worried at Medics answer. And then he was carried downstairs to the infirmary.
As they laid him down on a med bed, he heard Second speak to Medic: âDo you really think, that he is not just plain drunk? At his age, I would have done stupid things like thatâŠâ
Youngest tried to shake his head, but the nausea kept him from moving. But as always Medic had his back and said: âI donât think so. He didnât have the time, to get to this⊠aaand I donât think he would willingly do anything that would disappoint LeaderâŠâ
Medic then poked him with a needle to get a blood sample and ran some tests. After a short time he gently brushed some of Youngest sweaty hair out of his face and spoke gently to him: âYoungest? Can you hear me?â But Youngest couldnât get his tongue to work, his head just rolled to the side, so Medic continued: âYou did nothing wrong, someone must have given you something to make you feel this way.â
Youngest closed his eyes, relieved that he didnât disappoint anyone, without thinking about all the bad things that could have happened to him. Meanwhile Medic continued speaking: âI now know what it was, and I can give you something against it, and something to sleep. Tomorrow it will be better, okay?â
Youngest than felt the needle in his arm again, and afterwards knew no more. He didnât see Medic working on an antidote or Leaders worry as he got the news from Medic what happened.
492 words
~~~ Author comment: I have the feeling this prompts are getting harder and harder. I am writing for myself, because I have to practice my english, but I sometimes I would really love to get a reaction. Thanks for the people liking <3
Losing Your Sealegs: Too dizzy to stand / Motion sickness / "Can⊠can we pull over?"
@whumperless-whump-event
Content Warning
Blood, Head Injury
Lil Notes
Not canon compliant/Parasites AU
"Eren!!" Armin screamed as Eren knocked him out of the air, taking his place as the titan bit down. He could only watch as half of Eren's limp body fell from its mouth. "NoâŠ" Was all he could whimper before a crushing pain painted half of his skull and turned the world black.
x~x
Armin found himself standing waist deep in a sea of blood. He blinked, the sky was clear, and Eren was standing some distance away from him. His hair reaching his shoulders. Struggling to wade through the blood, he reached for Eren.
"Eren!"
Eren turned, his face completely skeletal. He shrieked, and the blood turned into faces.
x~x
Armin moaned weakly as he came to. Connie was kneeling next to him, his face was twisted into one of concern.
"Armin, are you okay?"
He sat up, the world spinning violently as he did so. "ErenâŠ" Armin sobbed. "He's goneâŠ"
"Shit manâŠ" Connie breathed, dragging a hand down his face.
"Wait-" Armin looked around, the fighting hard against his rising nausea. "Where'd that titan go?!"
"It probably assumed you were dead, and moved on." Annie said flatly. She looked away, mumbling under her breath. "At least I thought you wereâŠ"
"Can you stand?" Connie helped Armin up and he pushed his hands away before crumbling back onto the roof tiles with a weak groan.
Annie hoisted him up onto her shoulders, startling him. "You have a severe head injury. You need to see a medic." She said, no room for argument.
Cotton wasnât sure about the group they were leading. They were a poor group, or so they said, and promised to pay Cotton and Errol the rest of the fees once they were across the mountains where their family would be waiting.Â
Cotton wanted nothing to do with them but Errol wanted to get over the mountain to see one of his lovers so they went.Â
It was obvious from the start that the only poor thing about the group was their manners.Â
Cotton kept a close eye on the group the entire trip. Of course he had to sleep sometime.Â
âCotton!âÂ
Cotton grumbled, it was far too early.Â
âCotton get up you old bastard,â Errol yelled. Cotton rolled out of his tent to see Errol flailing on the ground near a half dead fire and no one else was in camp.Â
âThe hell is going onâŠâÂ
âThey left, fuck, they can see the way down and they left!âÂ
âAnd youâre flopping around like a fish because?â
âYou canât blame me, it was good wine!âÂ
âFuck.â Cotton knelt down and grabbed Errol and attempted to pull him up.Â
âCanâtâŠcanâtâŠdizzy.âÂ
Cotton helped Errol sit back down and sighed. He could go after the group, but he didnât want to leave Errol alone when he didnât know how long it would be until the man would be able to walk. And Cotton knew something like that was going to happen and he went anyway and it was his own damn fault.Â
Cotton sighed, âOther than being dizzy, you feeling alright?âÂ
âNot bad. Just dizzy, dizzy, dizzyâŠâÂ
âI hope your lover is worth it,â Cotton grumbled.
Errol smiled, âHe is.âÂ
*****
âErrol was certainly a character,â Old Cotton said.Â
âHe once told me I was cursed, I think he was rightâŠâ
Day 17 â We All Make Mistakes: Injury while cooking / Soft wound tending / "Let me take care of you this time."
Care
Medic was busy in the infirmary and had noticed a shadow at the door for quite some time. He knew who sneaked in the hallway, but wanted to wait, till that person said something without being prompted to do so.
It took another 20 minutes till the shadow dared to show himself in the doorframe and tried to clear his throat as quietly as possible. Medic had his back turned, but had to smile for himself, because he was glad, that Youngest finally had the courage to speak up.
Youngest was nearly a month here, but he was still very reserved to sometimes even fearful of all of them. If he needed something he would usually search out Leader. Medic interpreted it as a good sign that he came here.
âMedic?â Youngest spoke in that moment, very quietly and reserved. The addressed turned around, gave him a well-meant smile and answered: âYeah, I am here. Nice of you to come visit me. Can I help you with anything?â
Youngest shuffled with his feed on the ground and didnât even look at him as he faintly whispered: âI.. I am sorry to bother you, Mr. Medic. But Leader said to come to you if I am hurtâŠâ
Now that got Medics attention and he went full business mode. He instantly wanted to go over to Youngest, but the boy instantly made a few steps backwards. Medic stopped his advance and held his hands up. âI am sorry, I didnât want to scare you. Where are you hurt?â
Youngest still looked at the ground while answering: âI.. I was stupid⊠I burned my hand in the kitchenâŠâ
Medic really wanted to ask him, why he didnât say so earlier, but he didnât want to drive the boy away. So instead he said to him: âNo worries, that happens to all of us. Can I take a look?â
Without saying anything, Youngest stretched his arm in Medics direction, without wanting to move any nearer. Medic approached cautiously, taking utmost care to not move too suddenly as if he had to treat a hurt animal.
Carefully he took Youngestâs hand in his own and looked at the burn. It did look bad but nothing he couldnât cure with time and salve. âThanks for letting me have a look. I will put some salve on it and put a bandage on, if thatâs fine with you.â
He explained everything in detail as he worked, keeping up a constant chatter, so Youngest had something other than the pain to concentrate on. At the same time he took utmost care to keep his touches as light and soft as possible.
And as Medic looked in Youngestâs eyes, he thought he saw some tears sparkling. Not from the pain, but because the boy wasnât used to being cared for. Something that Medic was determined to change with time.
Â
481 words
~~~ Author comment: I have the feeling this prompts are getting harder and harder. I am writing for myself, because I have to practice my english, but I sometimes I would really love to get a reaction. Thanks for the people liking <3
We All Make Mistakes: Injury while cooking / Soft wound tending / "Let me take care of you this time."
@whumperless-whump-event
This one was slightly inspired by the beginning of a fic on AO3, where Eren discovers he has regenerative powers. I forgot the name though. đ
Content Warning
Finger Injury, Blood
Lil Notes
Not canon compliant/Parasites AU
"Shut up, Horseface!" Eren shouted as he chopped the potatoes.
"What's that, Elf-boy?" Jean taunted, dusting the table. His smirk looked so punchable, Eren loved it.
He ignored the knife as it glided through the soft bodies of the boiled potatoes. "Look, Jean-B-" Eren stopped himself from calling him Jean-Boy. Remembering how that genuinely offended him. "Don't you have a cart to pull, Horseface?" He was cutting through a strangely hard spot in the potatoes. He'd have to double check the chunks for rocks when he was done.
"Why don't you-" Jean suddenly stopped mid-insult.
Eren looked over at him, confused. He was staring at him, eyes wide with horror, so Eren followed his eyes-
He'd cut up his own fingers. Chopping both his index and middle finger into bits. Morbidly, he noted that the potato chunks were about the length of each joint in his hand. Steam curled around the bloody nubs of his knuckles. Bone stuck through where it was growing back from where it had been cut off.
He was regenerating.
Eren had cut his own fingers into pieces without ever realizing.
And now his fingers were growing back.
Like a titan's would.
Eren blinked, and suddenly his head hit the ground.
