corporate retreat 3/4

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tw: brainwashing, drugging, dehumanization, hypnosis, amnesia

"Quinn? Can you open your eyes for me, please?"

Somehow, they managed to get their eyes cracked slightly open. The lights in the room had mercifully been dimmed, and everything seemed fuzzy and indistinct.

"Good. Follow the penlight with your eyes, please."

Quinn did their best, but it all seemed like a big confusing blur.

"Reactions very slow but perceptible. Subject just barely able to respond to stimuli. Twilight sleep state achieved. Based on the results of the tests and their psychological makeup… recommend… and fifty milliliters… around two hours…"

Quinn felt the mask being taken off their face, and the cool rush of fresh air untainted by sedatives was a relief. They cracked their eyes open again as their arm was grasped by one of the assistants. She wiped the inside of their elbow with a cotton swab soaked in cool liquid, and then began to insert an IV line. They were still far too out of it, their limbs much too heavy, to resist.

The IV line was attached to a big bag of light blue fluid. Quinn watched as the drug went drip-drip-drip down the tube and into their arm. The assistant used the IV port to inject a dose of what looked like the same drug.

"We'll give you a little time to adjust to the new medication," said Dr. Moon. "You can just relax."

i like my whumpees STRONG. some notable ones as follows:

leader whumpees. constantly thinking, constantly moving. they've a team to organize. they're relied on constantly, and with a head and shoulders strong enough to handle the pressure. but the shame when they're hurt. the agony knowing their image as undaunted is tarnished. and love returned tenfold as their team holds them up as long as they need to--"You're not alone, Boss. we got you. let us help."

protector whumpees. reckless thoughts to throw themselves in front of danger because they can take the hit, but no one else can. scars and muscles and training and taking it upon themselves to wear each broken piece with pride because it's another person they saved. until one day, they nearly do die. and it takes the whole team to remember they're not a meatshield. they're a person.

medic whumpees. they know how to hold a suture needle better than anyone; they know the dose of morphine to take after a bone is set; they know what angle to press a hand in while checking for broken ribs. no one else does, though. so when they're finally beat into submission, it doesn't matter how much pain they're in, because they have to stay awake, stay calm, and keep their inexperienced caretaker steady, while they talk through each movement done on their own body.

im obsessed with medics.

just... medics

always always a fan of the character whos been wounded in the abdomen and being helped to walk by their friend, arm slung over their shoulder or around their waist, up until the moment the pain or weakness catchess up to them and their steps falter and they sink to their knees, desperately trying to muster the strength to stand again

and their companion staggering as they try their best to keep them from collapsing completely.

Categories of whump content that I personally enjoy (and why)

Your whump word(s) of the day

"Do you need a hug or a punching bag?"

💔 Dialogue Right Before They Break Down 💔

A whumpee trained as a soldier is injured in battle, and they lay covered in dirt and blood, the hectic warfare surrounding them. Another person was nearby, holding them close, shouting for someone....possibly a medic or the enemy about to take them hostage. They're going in and out of consciousness, unable to breathe as the smoke burnt at their throat and lungs. They passed out, mumbling something as they're dragged away by someone.....

The whumpee expected to be dead, or at least captured by the enemy and left in a cold cell with their wounds poorly treated, but that's not the case....

as the next thing the whumpee knew, they were waking up more cozy than what would've been possible. They opened their less bruised eye to a ceiling, pale grey winter light shining through the window. They feel warmer than what they had imagined, soft pillows nestled against their head, they wearily blinked, groaning as the pain caused by their injuries sparked like a damaged wire plugged in to a socket. They slowly sat up, wincing at the soreness. They looked down, seeing bandages wrapped around their ribs and chest, as well as their arms and thigh. They soon felt someone put their hand on them and lay them back on the bed.

"Not now, son, you're still injured." The caretaker said.

The whumpee obliged; laying down, still exhausted from the whole ordeal, the whumpee rested once more, knowing that they were safe......

A whumpee trained as a soldier is injured in battle, and they lay covered in dirt and blood, the hectic warfare surrounding them. Another person was nearby, holding them close, shouting for someone....possibly a medic or the enemy about to take them hostage. They're going in and out of consciousness, unable to breathe as the smoke burnt at their throat and lungs. They passed out, mumbling something as they're dragged away by someone.....

The whumpee expected to be dead, or at least captured by the enemy and left in a cold cell with their wounds poorly treated, but that's not the case....

as the next thing the whumpee knew, they were waking up more cozy than what would've been possible. They opened their less bruised eye to a ceiling, pale grey winter light shining through the window. They feel warmer than what they had imagined, soft pillows nestled against their head, they wearily blinked, groaning as the pain caused by their injuries sparked like a damaged wire plugged in to a socket. They slowly sat up, wincing at the soreness. They looked down, seeing bandages wrapped around their ribs and chest, as well as their arms and thigh. They soon felt someone put their hand on them and lay them back on the bed.

"Not now, son, you're still injured." The caretaker said.

The whumpee obliged; laying down, still exhausted from the whole ordeal, the whumpee rested once more, knowing that they were safe......

okay i'm curious. fellow whump and hurt/comfort enjoyers!

Make your Whumpee tired.

Whumpees that have been deprived of sleep by Whumper, so much so that they don't remember how to walk in a straight line and can't figure out whether the recent appearance of little black bugs in their cell are real or a hallucination.

Whumpees that can't get a full night's rest. They doze off, only to be jolted awake by their own anxiety of not knowing when Whumper would come back. Perhaps they are awakened by phlegm-coated coughs induced by their illness. They are awakened by nightmares, or by Caregiver who is worried they may succumb to hypothermia, or by a thunderstorm, or the rough blanket scratching their open wounds, or so on.

Whumpees who pull all nighters to protect their friends or lovers.

Whumpees whose eyes burn when they finally can close their eyes. Whumpees whose muscles twitch, who can't stop yawning no matter how hard they try to stifle it. Whumpees with dark, glassy eyes. Whumpees who are slow to react or have a hard time keeping up with the conversation. Whumpees with throbbing headaches. Whumpees with brain fog and memory loss.

Whumpees who have been on the run and have over exhausted their bodies. Their muscles and joints continue to scream long after its over. Whumpees with extensive blood loss. Whumpees who are malnourished.

Whumpees whose survivor's guilt keeps them awake, wondering what they might have done differently, whether it was all their fault, or why they were the ones to live.

Whumpees whose bodies are in chronic pain or illness and who have to hide it, causing muscle and mental fatigue. They keep going with a smile until they collapse or pass out.

Whumpees who break down in tears, begging to be left alone so they can rest. Whumpees who sob when they are told that the bed in front of them is theirs to use whenever they want.

A character who can only lie in a specific position- having been flogged and needing to lie on their stomach with their back a flayed-open mess; propped semi-reclining up on pillows the better to breathe through wheezing congestion or take pressure off injured ribs; only able to sleep on a certain side in order to keep a wounded arm uppermost; confined to their back due to cumbersome bulky splints or bandages or to the need to keep a leg elevated; and so on...

And when that means that for the time being they need a companion's help with so many little things, things that they would probably have the strength to do themself if they could only move that way or lie/sit in a more conducive position.

Giving food/water/medicine one bite/sip at a time (a favorite for any reason). Adjusting blankets. Handing them things from just outside their limited unencumbered/not-too-painful range of motion. Reading aloud to them if holding a book isn't an option.

Some small details for a character learning sword fighting for the first time:

- sore wrists

- blisters on hands

- every movement opens you up to be hit

- they will hit the tops of their arm and own sides with the sword while learning

- there is a primal sixth sense when you know you’re being toyed with

And, for your typically nonviolent characters.

You don’t aim for the swords. You aim for the person holding the sword.

It sounds so obvious but needs to be accepted. Actively. When holding a sword you have to understand you’re attacking another person. Even to block you have to aim your blocks at the other person or they won’t be strong enough to actually protect yourself.

Leader forced the grimace off his face, expression neutral as he pressed his hand to his side, head kept down as he opened the door.

Of course, Teammate was still there, arms crossed and eyes glued to him.

"What do you want? I'm tired." He sighed, brushing past the other.

"I want to know that you're okay."

Leader momentarily paused, pursing his lips as he kept a steady pressure on his side. "I don't need this right now. I'm fine."

"Come on boss," Teammate pleaded, taking the silence as their queue to push. "The whole team's worried about you. You won't even look at us! And you've- you've barely said a word since-"

"Since I got Youngest killed?" Leader finished for them, slow to swallow the lump in his throat. "There's nothing to say."

"...What?" Teammate's voice was little more than a whisper. "How can you even say that? It wasn't your fault!"

Leader shook his head, gritting his teeth as he fought the urge to say something.

"You did everything you could. Everything."

"Yeah, well it wasn't enough!" he finally snapped, a wince swift to escape him as he turned too quickly.

Teammate stilled, immediate words dying in their throat as their eyes fell on Leader's hand still cradling his side. "Are you.. are you hurt?" they started, voice torn between outrage and concern.

"It's nothing." Leader took a half-step back, the stumble doing nothing to further his point. "Just leave it." The blurring figure closing the distance paid no heed to his instruction, a cold hand lifting his damp shirt before he could swat it away.

"Leader-! What th....-ell?"

Leader's brows furrowed, Teammate's voice muffled as they pulled back red-coated fingers. He lifted his gaze to the other, their mouth moving, but no noise reaching his ears.

"Jus.. drop it," he insisted, vaguely aware of the hands shooting towards him as the ground rushed to greet him.

2/3 (Part One)