It Started With A Lack Of Tiredness. The Whole Party Takes Turns Keeping Watch During The Night, And

It started with a lack of tiredness. The whole party takes turns keeping watch during the night, and Whumpee usually dreaded their turn, sometimes accidentally falling asleep during it. But tonight they felt oddly energized, and volunteered for first shift. Then stayed up to chat with second shift, and third…

Then they were oddly hungry that morning. Whumpee was fairly small, and usually didn’t eat much. But this morning they ended up asking for more, and then finishing the Archer’s leftovers as well, and complained they were STILL hungry after that.

It was only after breakfast did Caretaker start to get concerned. Whumpee was a careful person, they didn’t trip, or bump into things, or veer sideways. But as they walked to their next destination they did all of those things and more. Once Caretaker looked back and found Whumpee had stopped walking a while ago, one hand to their forehead and taking shallow breaths.

Caretaker held their hand for the next few hours as they walked.

Even with that, Whumpee kept lagging behind, slowing the whole team down. At one point, the Barbarian started to complain about it. Usually Whumpee would be quick to defend themself, have a snapback harsh enough to shut them up, but they didn’t say anything this time. Just nodded, wiping sweat from their forehead.

A few miles later they vomited.

Caretaker had never seen Whumpee so pale and grey, their hair soaked to their forehead with sweat. Their pupils were blown wide as they gagged and coughed between bouts of vomit. Archer cursed themself for letting Whumpee have so much food, then cursed Barbarian for being mean.

It was Leader who suggested they all take a rest and check Whumpee’s temperature. It was Caretaker who reminded them that Whumpee was the one who checked everyone’s temps, with magic.

“Caretaker?”

“Yes? Whats wrong, does anything hurt? Do you feel better?”

“Why are there three of you?”

Caretaker didn’t have a chance to interpret what they meant before their knees buckled and they fainted, leaving the whole party panicked and confused.

Magic whumpee magic whumpee magic whumpee

Fantasy whump where whumpee is the only magic user of their party, and they focus on healing magic. All their teammates come to them when they’re hurt or sick.

But they’re doing some serious adventures, and whumpee ends up using so much magic they get sick- like really sick.

Like ‘I have no idea who is feeding me soup right now but the soup is too hot too hot and I’m so cold and everything hurts I can’t see I can’t think I can barely breathe it’s too cold out here the soup is too cold get these blankets off me I’m so hot’ kind of sick.

And their teammates can do NOTHING for them because they don’t know anything about magic burnout or basic health skills.

Me writing Nai and Wolfwood right now

characters have to be a little bit awful in ways that you cant defend. its good for the ecosystem. your honor he did do that. He did in fact do that

YIPEE

A Healer's Hands

poll results came in: team whump, medic is broken down to be made an example of

cw: gore, medic whump, creepy whumper, team dynamics, captivity, torture

The Medic's crew stumbled through the cell door, one after the other.

Captain, with a black eye and a limp, lifted two fingers to their temple in a mock solute. Their clothes were torn and there was blood on their uniform's collar.

Youngest trembled as one of the henchmen shoved them inside the gated door. They looked around, eyes brighter than a deer's in headlights. "H-hey Medic." They wrapped their arms around themself.

"Hey," Medic swallowed down the twisting feeling that rose up. He forced his voice to soften, to not carry any of the sharp panic he felt. "Where are you hurt?"

"We're fine," Captain cut in, gesturing behind Medic's shoulder. "It's--"

Medic had already whirled around.

Lieutenant.

The Lieutenant held onto the cell wall with a shaking grip. Where he touched it, blood trickled down the stones in a steady faucet run.

Drip.

Drip.

"Lieutenant?"

He glanced up. His nose was gushing red. It stained his uniform, bright and electric in the dull light.

"Turns out those fuckers can throw a punch after all," said Lieutenant with a hoarse laugh. Still unceremoniously reckless.

But he let Medic hold a makeshift bandage--ripped from Medic's shirt-- to his nose.

As Lieutenant sat down, Medic crouched beside him, correcting how he was holding the bandage. "Don't tilt your head up."

Lieutenant winced when Medic readjusted the bandage.

Medic drew away and reevaluated the situation. "It's broken," he said.

"It’s just a new look I’m trying out – call it avant-garde." Lieutenant tried to laugh but ended up grimacing. He waved Medic away. "I'll survive."

Medic shook his head. "Wiseass." But he smiled. Then. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Lieutenant tilted his head against the wall, pieces of choppy hair falling away to reveal a swollen eye and pulsing bruises. He closed his eyes. Through a clenched jaw, he managed, "I think they broke my ribs."

Medic swallowed down a wave of helplessness. "Just stay still."

Lieutenant kept his eyes closed, breathing shallowly. "My pleasure."

Medic turned to Captain and Youngest. "So, you and you, where are you injured?" He only asked to make conversation. He had already identified that Youngest's arm was dislocated, hanging loosely at their side. And on Captain's right thigh was a raw-edged wound, seeping and damaged.

Medic took off his jacket, ready to tear it into makeshift bandages and a sling.

But neither looked at him.

Youngest was staring at something over Medic's shoulder. They pressed back into the wall, shaking.

"No," they whispered. "No. Not again."

Captain put a comforting hand on their shoulder, mouth set in a thin line.

Electric fear whispered a spider-like path down Medic's spine. They turned just as the cell door opened.

Whumper entered with two henchmen strolling behind them. Whumper grinned, teeth canine-sharp. His blood-red hair was tied back, accentuating fox-like features. He didn't look quite human-- too tall, too much of a bounce in his walk.

And he wouldn't stop smiling.

He swung a crowbar.

Even Lieutenant flinched.

Oh.

Oh.

Whumper arched an eyebrow when Medic stood his ground. "You're Medic?"

Medic glanced at Lieutenant-- saw panic and web-woven fear-- then back at Whumper. "Yes."

Whumper flicked the crowbar side to side. He kept talking, a paper mache smile at the corner of his mouth. "I don't appreciate you wrecking what I'm trying to build here."

Medic failed to understand. "I'm a medic. I have to provide care," he said automatically.

His head buzzed. He couldn't-- couldn't think clearly.

Whumper appeared to consider this. He tilted his head to the side. "I see. Well, I have to do things too, I get it."

"Yeah. Wait. No, what?"

The henchmen grabbed Medic. One kicked him in the back of the knees, forcing him to kneel.

Medic struggled, lashing out like a trapped animal.

A henchman brought the edge of their gun over Medic's head and Medic slumped forward.

His vision suddenly doubled.

The short-wired tension burst into flame.

Captain lunged forward. "Leave him alone!"

It took two henchmen to restrain Captain, pinning their arms behind them, and another to kick Lieutenant in the ribs, so he doubled over coughing. Incapacitated.

Whumper leaned over Medic, tilting his chin up to look him in the eye. "You should have left well enough alone," he whispered.

Medic snarled something unintelligible. A curse. A plea. He didn't know.

Whumpr straightened. To the others, he said, "You all break as easily as his hands will. And if you don't believe me? Watch."

There was a sharp intake of breath. Realization hit with a dull, sick thud. "No!" Lieutenant cried out, "No! No-- don't!"

But the henchmen had dragged Medic's hand out and splayed it on the tiles, kicking him when he tried to pull it away.

Whumper lifted the crowbar.

Medic's eyes widened in horror.

"No-- no, nonono! Please--" His voice arched into a desperate cry, more animal than human.

Crack.

A splintering sound.

All Medic could see was white. Electric pain filled every nerve, spilled into every bone, coating his teeth and burning-- burning, burning, burning.

A terrible sound ripped itself out of his throat.

And then again--

Crack.

His left hand.

Medic screamed.

Maybe he had screamed before.

Had always screamed.

Maybe he would scream forever.

Darkness filled the corners of his vision, blurring the sharp flashes of red of white--

Electric, pulsing red.

Burning, vicious white.

Blood trickled down his arms, bright and throbbing with a cinching pain.

Whumper wiped the gory crowbar on Medic's shirt.

His henchmen let the unconscious medic slump to the floor, little more than a bundle of clothes. They released Captain, who sank to the cell floor, unable to look away from Medic.

Whumper bent down by Lieutenant, whose breaths were coming in sharp drags. He wiped a tear off of Liutenant's face. "Crying?"

"No." His voice shook.

Whumper smiled generously. "Oh, no." He stood. "Tomorrow, one of you will offer up the information on your base. I do not make idle threats."

The door locked on the blood-soaked cell.

Lieutenant muffled a sob.

"We...we can't," said Captain. Sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry.

They didn't know if they were apologizing to the unconscious Medic or to what remained of his hands.

tagging the people who interacted with the poll: @acer-gaysimpstuff, @yet-another-heathen, @another-whump-sideblog

I don’t think this is physically possible but…

Whumpee who’s trained not to move. They’re not paralyzed, if Whumper commands they go somewhere, they can. But when whumper tortures them, they’re not allowed to move or make a sound. I mean to the point that their reflexes are completely shut off, if someone pokes their eye they won’t even blink.

They can’t whimper, their breathing can’t change, can’t jerk away or flinch or twitch.

But the long hours of training and punishment don’t just go away once they’ve been rescued. So at first, doctors and even caretaker believe whumpee is fine or can’t feel pain. They perform their operations and procedures without anasthesia because they think whumpee can’t feel any of it.

But then later Whumpee tells Caretaker about one of the procedures and how much it hurt. And Caretaker is horrified!

“Why didn’t you say so? We never wanted to hurt you!”

“I can’t… do anything when it hurts.”

So that becomes Whumpee’s tell. When they’re feeling okay, they talk, they move, but the second something starts hurting they stop everything. Completely shut down.

“Does this hurt?”

“No.”

“Does this?”

“That tickles a little.”

“This?”

“…”

“Your shoulder?”

“…”

“Okay, what about here, on your arm?”

“No, there’s fine.”

Me: is going to bed

My brain: IT’S WHUMPING TIME

Volunteer whumpee

Why did they volunteer to be whumped?

Could they not handle the idea of someone else getting hurt?

Were they certain they could handle it?

Did they think it would be fun? Exciting? An epic story to tell?

Did they do it to get information on whumper? To get on the inside to rescue another whumpee?

Were they the only one that could survive something specific like a virus or spell?

Is there some kind of personal relationship between them and whumper? Or better, do they hate caretaker so much they’d go to whumper to get away?

Do they crave the pain? Feel like they deserve it, need it?

Or did they do it just because someone else asked them to, and they couldn’t refuse?

If they were asked, who asked them? Whumper? Another whumpee? Or caretaker?