Soft Whump

Without being spoken to? While being forced? With no information? In a strange place? Surrounded by enemies or hostile people?

That shit would be frightening as fuck. The lack of control. The lack of answers. Feeling less important, less human, than everyone else in the room.

CW: restraints, medical whump stuff, etc.

The whumper documents everything they do, every experiment they carry out. A lot of notetaking, filling out forms, typing on a computer.

When the whumpee arrives at the lab, the whumper makes a long list of qualitative observations. Curious, the whumpee tries to peer over and see what they are writing.

Bright lights and long, careful examinations of the whumpee’s injuries. Maybe some of the injuries appear infected or untreated, making the whumper wonder where the whumpee came from and why they never received better medical treatment.

The whumper is completely silent. Everything is professional and done with a straight face.

Alternatively, the whumper is talkative, constantly explaining everything they’re doing, making lighthearted, one-sided conversations.

The whumper has a lab assistant and quietly gives them orders to perform the easier routine procedures. The whumpee leans forward, straining to hear what they’re saying.

The whumpee is strapped to a metal table. A bright light is shined in their eyes.

The whumper is rummaging through cabinets, arranging tools on a metal tray or something, while the whumpee is fighting against their restraints to see what’s going on.

The whumpee responds to tests/experiments in an unexpected way. Maybe their pain tolerance is weirdly high or weirdly low or something.

Cold lab. Shivering whumpee.

Tool didn’t always start out as an OC! Credit for their name and the Mechanic’s name goes to an Anon, and their character design is by the wonderful @ghostcomit 

Moodboards by the amazing @newbornwhumperfly​

CW: Loss of Bodily control, medical whump, highly controlling whumper, conditioning/slavery, human trafficking 

This series is just more intense. I’m always searching for the best #’s to use for this series, so if you find one or need one, please let me know.  Like really; I want to know. 

Drabbles 

The Interview

The Machine (the prompt that started it all)

Tool Released 

They Remembered 

Tool Destroys the Machine

Inhale, Exhale; Pause

Fed

Upgraded

The Auction

Impalement 

Comfort (future) 

Various 

Sick

Learning to Walk Again

Trying to Eat

 Art

By @whumpeesblog​ [here!]

Collage by @abitefullofeverything​ [Here!]

[General Tool tag]

Want to write whump? Not sure how to get started? Here are a few whump writing cheats that make things easier! Feel free to add your cheats in reblogs!

Whumpee waking up. Has the character been drugged, beaned over the head, collapsed from exhaustion, does it matter? No one needs to know how, just what happens next! Have that whumpee regain consciousness dazed and confused, already tied up, and dive right in homies. 

Blindfolds. Not only are blindfolds lovely, but they remove the main sensory input for you to describe. Not sure who your whumper is? Blindfold. Not even sure where they are? Blindfold. This lets you focus on only dialog and touch descriptions and avoid the temptation to over describe visuals. 

Gags. Not sure what your whumpee would say? Can’t think of any witty comebacks? Gag ‘em. 

Start with Dialogue: “You look so peaceful when you’re sleeping…” “Hello, my dear.” “Have you missed me?” - Starting with dialogue lets you hook readers asap and helps get you over that ‘opening line’ road block. 

A whumpee whose been in captivity for years and when they get rescued they’re in really rough shape, like deaths door, barely aware, and when they get rescued they just want the SO.

But the SO has moved on and has a family/new SO etc.

When whumpee gets to the hospital they’re barely aware, and rescuers find SO and tell them that they found whumpee but the SO hesitates to go, not wanting to lose their current family.

After a day or two they give in to the itch and go to the hospital, just to see the whumpee, explain that they aren’t together anymore because it’s been too long, too much has happened.

But whumpee is so broken when they get there. They aren’t conscious at first, huddled and small on the bed, barely recognizable under the bruises. So badly emaciated that their hair is thin and brittle, an ng tube taped to their face.

So they sit down next to the whumpees hospital bed, old suppressed feelings coming to the surface. They break down and cry, trying to be quiet so the whumpee can rest. But the whumpee wakes up, and they see the SO, shaking hands reaching for the person that they’d been longing to see, the person they thought of during their tortures.

SO doesn’t have the resolve to rebuff their touch, soothing them as much as they can, telling them to just rest and it’ll all be okay. Meanwhile whumpee barely understands what SO is saying, blubbering as they clutch to the SO hand. Finally they calm down enough their injuries start to catch up, exhaustion dragging them down. Before they’re out completely whumpee whispers “I knew you’d come.”

cw: hospital whump, emotional whump, crying, left for dead

Gene was leaning against the door frame when they arrived. Jess recognized his shape from down the hall. Each step, slow and agonizing, brought them closer. Not just to Gene, but to him. And to the team. And to the consequences of their decisions. After a walk that took too long and yet was far too short they stood beside Gene, bearing the brunt of his judgmental look.

“You’re late.” Gene said.

“It’s been two days.” Jess quieted their voice before they could raise it. They didn’t want to start another argument. Not with Gene, not with the team. Not here. This was about Silvy. Their friend, their … lover. The one they’d left for dead.

“You’re too late by several years.” Gene shifted his gaze into the room as Jess winced. They couldn’t bring themself to look, not yet. Three years. That’s how long it had been since they’d lost Silvy, since Jess had refused to even attempt a rescue, and moved on.

“He asked for you.” Gene said. “He was conscious when we found him. He begged to see you. I didn’t know what to tell him. I told him you were on your way but …” he glanced at them. “I didn’t think you would come.”

“I’m just here to say goodbye.” Jess whispered. “I own that to him. I need to tell him about … my wife. My children. He needs to know …”

“He does.” Gene agreed. He pushed away from the door, turning into the hallway. “Go, see him. Ring the nurse if anything changes.”

And then Jess was alone in the door. There was no where else to look, no more arguments to be drawn into. The only thing they could do was go in the room.

me

oxygen

masks

and

He faltered as his eyes fluttered, rolling back in his skull as the room abruptly swung dizzyingly around him. His lips kept moving as he tried to form out words, his limbs turning heavy and sluggish. He felt faded, unreal; there was a warm fuzziness in his chest that spread and enfolded his mind like a blanket, muffling his thoughts.

“That’s it, you just relax now.” The doctor murmured soothingly. He tried to look in her direction, turning his head clumsily, but his eyes refused to focus on her, sliding away and distorting her form. He tried again to speak, to protest.

“Mmnnoooh…nnh-hhh…”

Useless. The words were lost before they even reached his mouth, and even he was unsure what he was trying to say. He was spiralling away, fragments of his thoughts breaking off as his head lolled to the side, slipping into the darkness that was threatening to consume his vision.

“Just relax,” her voice whispered gently, uncomfortably close to his ear, “This will all be over soon. You’ll have a lovely, deep sleep, and when you wake up, we’ll be all done.”

“Mmn – nn – ”

I usually enjoy a good caretaker more than a bad, but I have a few!

- Caretaker is oblivious to how bad Whumpee is feeling until Whumpee hits a tipping point (throwing up, fainting or whatnot) and now Caretaker feels guilty while they help them

- Caretaker betrays Whumpee in the name of keeping them safe (i.e. drugging them so they can’t go on a dangerous excursion)

- Caretaker isn’t familiar with Whumpee’s ailment so they’re freaking out, scrambling around and generally not actually being helpful at all

- Caretaker snaps at Whumpee for pestering them while they’re busy, and doesn’t think to apologize until it’s too late

- Caretaker has their phone silenced and misses Whumpee’s urgent calls

Masterpost

Previous: Trouble

TW: Sick character, face mask, delirium, implied reference to past non-con; non-consensual touch (not sexual); forced stripping (not sexual).

This is a special addition as I wrote this as a Secret Santa gift to the one and only @walkingchemicalfire​ who is an amazing person and has been such a tremendous encouragement almost the entire time I’ve been writing the Markus/Lucien series. Chem is awesome; and, that’s a fact. All hail the president of the Markus Protection Squad! 

Tagging list: @misspelledwitch​ @insanitywishes​ @imagination1reality0​ @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​ @voidwhump​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @captivity-whump​ @liliability​ @muumimafia​ @fanastywhump​ @elisabethrosewrites​ @unsure-but-alive-752​ @jeverest00 @texdoeshalo​ @fanmanga1357-blog​ @0idril0​ @rosesareviolentlyread​ @quirkykayleetam​

V***V

Markus woke up uncomfortable, bones aching, his joints tight and stiff. His head throbbed with every dull thump of his heart as it hung heavy in his chest, his mouth dry, tongue thick and cottoned with his shallow breaths through his chapped lips. The tension through his jaw traveled through the pained creases in his face, down his neck and to his back, his spine curled loosely, his arms crossed over his chest and tight in the blankets. 

Turning deeper into his pillow, he searched for any kind of comfort in the soft surface, but it didn’t give it. The fabric rubbed against the delicate skin of his face, and the simple movement felt agonizing, the pain of it traveling through his body, the sensitivity present in every millimeter of skin under the blankets. God, and he was so cold, but his limbs were coated in sweat, and when he shifted, the blanket moved, and he shivered as the chilled air of the room kissed the back of his neck. 

His body felt like it wanted to shiver, and just keep shivering, but his muscles didn’t have anything to give, the hollow, trembling ache of them almost scary in the weakness that encompassed him. Swallowing past the cottoned dry feeling of his mouth, he tried to take a deeper breath, feeling the drive for more oxygen, but his lungs objected, a rough, barking cough ripping against the back of his throat. Ribs cracking with pain, he gasped raggedly, and moaned, the sound cracking wet and bubbling through his vocal cords. 

“Easy, sweetheart, shhhhhh,” a deep, rumbling voice murmured, gentle fingers brushing over his temple and through his hair. The other person’s skin on his was cool, but soothing, and he whined at the touch, the sound cracking in his raw throat as he turned into it. “I know, sweet guy, I know, buddy, shhhhh.” 

His next breath felt like sediment in his chest, and he coughed again, the air catching in his throat, expanding in his esophagus as dense clots that he had to struggle to breathe around. When the fit was over, it was like all of the ribbing holding his body inflated just disappeared, and he sank into the softness underneath him, wishing that would feel better against his bruised muscles. 

“Is he awake?” someone asked, their voice soft but pitched to carry, the sound of bare feet on tile announcing their location. 

“Not really,” the deep voice answered with another careful stroke through Markus’s hair, “what did the doctor say?” 

“Do a breathing treatment, keep an eye on his O2, and see if we can get the fever down. Bring him in if he gets any worse.” 

“His fever is already over 103, how much worse do they want him to get?” Was the indignant response, and he heard a sigh, the sound of scruff being rubbed in exasperation. 

Volucris Masterlist

Avery | Lindsay | BTHB Masterlist

@badthingshappenbingo — 720 Words

Content: Human Experimentation, Needle/IV Mention, Additional Limbs, Lab/Hospital Setting

Avery sat on the edge of the hospital bed, bare legs dangling over the side as Lindsay worked. She removed the IV line as he watched her, not even flinching at the drop of blood that raised over his skin.

A human pincushion — that was how he felt, anyway. Lindsay saw him as much more — as art. As her pet project. Her experimental game.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, “Anything new?”

“Just tired.”

“That’s the anaesthesia. You’ll be more alert soon,” she spoke in her usual matter-of-fact tone as she took his pulse. “Would you like to see them? I have a good feeling this time, Aves.”

He could feel them pulling on his back, with feathers brushing against scars. Every pair so far, his body had rejected. This time would be no different, regardless of what Lindsay said.

Bonjour, et merci! I sure can! (I think I may have cheated a bit on the third segment, but I feel like it still works?)  I had so much (maybe too much) fun with these!

(cw: Here there be needles, forced sedation.)

i.

The team finds a place they can stop to patch up whumpee and rest. It’s not ideal, but it’s good enough for now.

“Bring them over here,” Caretaker directs as they prepare their equipment.

Whumpee rests their head in the lap of one of their teammates, and another sits next to them, keeping steadying hands on their arm and shoulder, and quietly encouraging them. Whumpee’s face is creased with pain, but they are managing to keep their breathing calm. That changes the second Caretaker uncaps a syringe. What little color is left in Whumpee’s face drains away. Their eyes focus on the tip of the needle and their breathing becomes shallow. They shake their head slowly from side to side as Caretaker gets closer.

“Jesus, don’t you have some pills or something?” Whumpee’s voice cracks as they ask. and Caretaker thinks that Whumpee may start crying; they’ve never seen Whumpee look so scared of anything.

Caretaker relents for a moment, hoping to talk sense into Whumpee. They tell them it has to be now, and they’ve got to be quiet. They can’t risk their enemies finding them.

“No,” Whumpee pants as they begin to struggle against their teammates and insist they can be quiet, just please not that!

As the three of them try to calm Whumpee, Whumpee struggles despite the pain. The more adamantly they hold them, the fiercer Whumpee becomes.

Caretaker sighs.

“Hold them steady,” they say. There’s regret in their voice, but they do what they have to and stick the needle into Whumpee’s flesh. Whumpee’s terrified cries are muffled by the hand covering their mouth. It’s as though their fear has turned them into someone else, but as the sedative takes hold and Whumpee’s body goes lax in their teammates’ grips, they just look small and hurt.

ii.

“You’re having an episode,” Caretaker explains when the lights begin to flicker. Caretaker has seen Whumpee in this state once before. Hopefully, they can calm Whumpee before their powers flare beyond control, and real damage is done.

“You think I don’t know that?” Whumpee says. Their muscles are tense, but their voice is haggard and scared. Their flingers flex open, closed, then open again.

Caretaker grimaces at their own word choice.

“No, I don’t think that,” they say. “I just want to help. Can you take a deep breath for me, Whumpee?”

Caretaker watches the shaky rise and fall of Whumpee’s chest as they oblige.

“That’s real good,” Caretaker says, hoping they don’t sound like a patronizing ass. “Try a couple more?”

Whumpee does.

“Good, good job.”

That seems to help Whumpee, but they still look like they’re going to crawl out of their skin.

“Caretaker?” They ask as they shift their weight from one foot to the other. “Can...Can I…”

“It’s okay,” Caretaker encouraged softly. Whumpee swallows hard, as though they’re choking on their words.

“I need something to help me,” Whumpee admits as they drop their eyes.

“Oh,” Caretaker says, realizing the waters they will have to navigate are just as choppy. Whumpee is scared to death of needles, and they can’t blame them. “Okay. We can do that. Go ahead into the den.”

Caretaker instructs Whumpee to sit on the couch and to keep breathing.

They load a syringe with the substance that will calm whumpee and render their power dormant for a short while. They make certain their body is blocking Whumpee’s view of the needle for as long as they can. Whumpee tightly closes their eyes and bows their head when Caretaker approaches.

“I’m sorry,” Whumpee says as they suck in a breath and let it rattle out of them. “I’m sorry. I know it’s ridiculous”

“You’re doing fine,” Caretaker says. Whumpee flinches when Caretaker rubs a prep pad on their bicep. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, and I’m glad you told me what you need, Whumpee.”

Whumpee nods but doesn’t open their eyes. Caretaker pretends they don’t see the teardrops fall to the floor.

“You’re just going to feel a pinch and it’ll be over, okay? I’m going to count down from three”

Whumpee nods again, but their breath is hitching and the lights are flickering again. They are trembling when the needle pierces their arm. They whimper. Caretaker hushes them as they put a bandaid over the injection site and tells Whumpee that they’re proud of them. There are quiet sobs, but they trail off. When Whumpee is ready, Caretaker guides them down so that they’re laying on the couch.

iii.

Everything seems soft and slow to Whumpee, but a spike of adrenaline pushes Whumpee toward wakefulness. Where? Who? Why? They struggle up onto their elbows, though their body feels heavy and threatens to crumble back down.

“Easy does it,” someone says.

Whumpee’s eyes roam the room and their mind places the voice. They’re at Caretaker’s. Safe. Warm. Cared for. But they can’t be there. They have to keep going.

“How long?” Whumpee croaks.

“Since last night,” Caretaker said, their voice quiet and calm.

No, no, no! That’s too long! Whumpee thinks as their mind and heart begin to race.

“I have to be out there,” they say as they try to raise themself up more.

“Huh-uh, Whumpee,” Caretaker says as they close the distance between them. They put their hands on Whumpee’s shoulders. Caretaker presses Wumpee back down; the force they use is as firm as it is gentle, just like Caretaker’s voice. “You’ve got to rest.”

“I can’t,” Whumpee says, even as their head spins and stay shift miserably under Caretaker’s hands. “I can’t.”

“You have to,” Caretaker says. When Whumpee ceases their week movement, Caretaker pats one of their shoulders and stands. “I’m going to give you something to help.”

“I’m fine,” Whumpee says as they try and fail to sit up. The words sound ridiculous in their own ears and they realize how their breathing has escalated. They hold their breath, though, when Caretaker returns to their side with a syringe. “I don’t need that.”

“No needles,” Caretaker says as they offer Whumpee a sympathetic smile. “Just going to put this in your IV line.”

Caretaker follows their words with the action.

“IV?” Whumpee mumbles dumbly. They notice it for the first time. How had they missed it?! Their gaze follows the line from the IV bag, down to where the catheter was taped in place to the back of their hand.

There isn’t a needle there, but there had been, and that thought sets Whumpee’s teeth on edge. Now they feel the tug of the tape and the feel of something under their skin. The thought of that intrusion is too much for them. They’re beyond considering their actions.

“No!” Whumpee blurts as they make an uncoordinated grab for the IV, though they know it is too late. “No, no.”

CW: Medical torture, intubation against will, restraints, forced sedation, forced feeding, restraints, intimate whumper, noncon touch (non sexual), explicitly discussed loss of bodily control 

This feels stronger than what I usually write, but I was inspired by this by @shameless-whumper 

I can’t in good faith recommend this if intubation is a sensitive topic for you. 

Whumper had threatened the Machine many times, but hadn’t gone through with it. Whumpee had rolled their eyes every time, doubting the existence of such a thing. No one would make it, no one – not even Whumper – would be so sadistic as to use it.

Right?