A Jar Of Angst

Willing whumpee getting roughed and manhandled while transported to the whump location. They tie/cuff his hands, jab him on the back, etc.

"No need for this, I said I'm not going to run." he says.

They're in pain, scared, and disoriented, but the hospital/medical staff don't have time to explain things in detail before wheeling them quickly to the operating room.

Maybe they're extra confused and weak from pain meds. Maybe they're fighting too much and lightly sedated beforehand. Maybe they're just panicking a bit as the staff rapidly exchange details over their bed as they're pulled through the halls.

Regardless, whumpee is too out of it to fully grasp the situation. Before they know it, there's an IV in their arm, hands holding them down, and a mask being pressed to their face as everything fades out.

(Are they there alone? Or is caretaker already there with them, giving quiet assurances as they put whumpee under?)

When whumpee wakes up, the pain is gone (or at least different) and they're groggy and out of it, both from pain meds and the lingering anaesthetic. They struggle to remember what happened, where they are/why, etc. Maybe they panic, or maybe the drugs keep them calm.

Then the nurse/doctor comes in.

If whumpee has a trusted caretaker, the staff talk directly to them--and only them--about whumpee's discharge and care instructions. Whumpee is rarely acknowledged, and when they are it's just to check their vitals or give empty words of "comfort." Caretaker is too occupied getting all the instructions, supplies, medications, etc for whumpee's discharge to be able to explain things yet, so whumpee is left feeling vulnerable and confused even as they're wheeled out to a car and taken to a safe location to recover.

If whumpee doesn't have anyone, they may be kept in the hospital longer without explanation (if it's a higher quality hospital) OR they may be given their discharge papers, a prescription for meds, and a brief explanation that whumpee is still too out of it to understand. Whumpee is left to find their way home and figure out the post OP care on their own. Maybe they handle it well. Maybe someone finds them/steps in as caretaker at this point. Or maybe whumpee gets worse or develops complications due to being unable to care for themself and is forced to seek help.

(The storms are killing me)

The way sore muscles start to twitch alongside the pain, the contours of whumpee's hands contorting at the slightest disturbance, or thick back muscles rippling while plagued with cramps

Facial jaw/muscle pain from pressure making whumpee wish they could just rip their face open like a snake

Whumpee unable to fight back against whumper due to a flare up

Caretaker tracing their hand over whumpee's skin, only for their handprint to remain in clear red shape.

Whumpee halting mid-run, recoiling suddenly from an invisible wound

Overworked leader whumpee standing up fast, only to faint from blood pressure issues

Villain whumpee having a flare up in front of Hero

Whumpees who were terrified the first time they were kidnapped vs it happening so many times that they can predict everything like a soap opera.

They go from: "Please don't punch me D:"

To: "Oh really? You're gonna break my nose? Come on, I haven't been able to smell for years, what are you gonna do? Make me self conscious enough to give you the information? Think bigger mY GOD" as they're slowly wriggling free from the bindings.

We all know about living weapon whumpees but what about early warning alert whumpees?:

Magic-sensitive whumpees whoa are used to sense magical forces in the atmosphere (bonus points if it hurts them)

Whumpees with heightened senses used to hear / feel / smell / see danger in advance.

Whumpees sent out to environments to see if they're survivable for others

Whumpees attuned to other's health conditions like seizure alert dogs

Food-tester whumpees

Whumpees sent to make first contact and see if a creature/species is friendly....or not

Whumpee who:

A. has been possessed and is now waking up, genuinely confused and in absolute horror, to their teammates who are hurt, fighting for their lives in medbay, and/or cleaning up the wreckage.

They don't use a lot of it, but this sharing allows for that extra boost, should they need it. A notices when B uses it, but it's never a lot.

Until one day, when B is not around. And suddenly A feels their powers being used. Not like the other times though, it's a lot.

B is in trouble.

So now there is a missing B, A who is getting weaker because B is using their powers, and nobody has any idea what is happening.

When I found Hero, his mangled body a mess of blood and gore—caked in mud... an overwhelming sense of dread and grief rose within me. The brutality shocked even the media. Yet, news reporters and journalists pounced on his defeat against the masked villain, Havoc. They dived into speculations and gossip with the ferocity of starving wolves. Feeding off my family's misery and suffering, throwing question after question, with a hunger that only beasts should be capable of. My hand tightened on the newspaper I held. The headline read: NUMBER 4 HERO, VAWK, SERIOUSLY INJURIED, and then a picture of his mangled corpse underneath. The media's audience, the villains, the heroes, the civilians, they couldn't believe it. VAWK always prioritized patrols during the daytime, seldomly did he ever patrol at night—when Havoc struck most—but when he did? He proceeded with caution. Yet... His body laid motionless in the ICU. Crazed fans complimented Havoc's victory, thinking his display of Hero's body was a work of art, a masterpiece. Normal, feeling civilians spoke of the evilness of such a heinous act.

The newspaper crumpled in my hand. The image of limbs twisted in odd angles and dirt streaks down his face as he was rushed into emergency surgery flashed through my mind. Power stirred through my veins. "Whumpee?" A warm voice asked behind me. I blinked. Then turned around to see... Assistant. He was a new employee. Joined Hero Headquarters as the Vice-President's Assistant a few weeks before. I disapproved of how quickly he had risen into the position. He had outstanding qualifications, sure, but so did the other candidates. I wondered why exactly he'd been favored over the rest.

The smile on his torn lips was cautious. As if he wasn't trying to startle me. His eyes flicked down. I followed his gaze and realized the newspaper in my hand now littered the floor in uneven pieces. My anger had stirred my power without me knowing. "I didn't mean to do that," I sighed, heavily, bending down to pick up the scattered papers. He chucked, softly and crouched down to help me. He tilted his head up to look at me through uncombed strands of brown hair, "agitated?" "Very." There was no humor in my tone, but he grinned anyway. His smile softened and he dragged a trash can over. "I can imagine it's been a rough week," he said, conversationally, "with your brother's hospitalization." "Yup." I answered, dryly. And Assistant being here wasn't making me feel any better. He studied me. "Is he recovering well?" I shrugged with one shoulder. "Not really. But he's alive." Barely. "Is that so?" He asked, voice deceptively light. I looked up, meeting his sparkling eyes. Did Hero's pain amuse him? I shook my head and looked back down. No. I'm being paranoid. He's an assistant here. A week of the media pestering me with questions ran my patience dry. That's all. He hummed and irritation flared, "you know it's rumored that whenever Havoc targets a hero, he goes for his family next. Do you think-" "No," he reached down to pick up another piece of torn paper, "can you just leave-" I froze. My hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist. "What are you-" He started to say, but I cut him off. "Shut up." His nails... "Dirt under your nails..." My mind flashed to the dirt streaks on Hero's face, as if Havoc had dragged his nails across skin—feeling the angles of Hero's jaw, the soft touch of cooling skin from blood loss. The way Hero's costume had blood and mud stains all over. "You have dirt under your nails." His brows furrowed. "Um, yes?" My grip tightened on his wrist and my power stirred again. His eyes sharpened. Agony exploded in my head. A million shards burst into my skull at once, violently forcing its way inward. I couldn't feel anything but the hot, white shards stabbing me, running down my scalp to the soles of my feet-

At first the guards think they're faking it, maybe in hopes of luring a guard into their cell so they can overpower them. But days go by and the untouched meals begin to pile up. The previously silent or sassy prisoner is heard begging or pleading, talking to people who aren't there.

Maybe they're not the only prisoner in the cell, and their cell-mate begs the guards to bring a doctor. At first the guards ignore them, but eventually a guard goes in to check and realizes "Oh shit, they weren't kidding."

If they're alone, maybe eventually the guards are annoyed about the delirious cries and go in to knock some sense into them and find the prisoner semi-conscious at best, unable to be roused.

This prisoner wasn't meant to die, so the guards reluctantly drag them to the infirmary, or summon a doctor to the cell. If the character was in solitary confinement, the guards are lectured for letting such a valuable asset get to such a point.

Or maybe their time in the cell comes to an end (their bail is paid, or their sentence is up), and the guards open the door to let them out, but they don't move, prompting a guard to come in and drag them, only to be shocked at the heat rolling off the prisoner's skin.

The guards haul the prisoner out to their waiting friends, dumping their semi-conscious body into the team's waiting arms. Now instead of a celebration, it's a rush to find a doctor.