allthewhumpygoodness

[allthewhumpygoodness]

There’s something about a whumpee just sitting down. Not fainting, necessarily. Maybe they’re just about to faint, and they quietly just kneel on the ground at a time and place that doesn’t make sense. They don’t even have the capacity or willingness to articulate why they need to abruptly stop and sit. Maybe they’re catatonic while the others look at them.

Maybe a caretaker can see the dull, vacant look in their eyes and immediately senses that something is seriously wrong. Maybe the fainting comes just a few moments later.

#whump #whump prompt #ghhhhhshj

[allthewhumpygoodness]

I just had a whump scenario pop in my head.

A Whumpee so badly impaired by a high burning temperature that drinking water from a cup is too hard for them. They can’t sit up, they can’t move, it hurts too much. Caretaker is at a loss of what to do. They were sweating too much from the fever. They needed some hydration somehow. And they had no straws on hand.

As they take a damp washcloth and brush whumpee’s sweaty forehead, it hits them. There’s water on this towel. They get a new fresh washcloth and dampen it with fresh cold water from a water bottle and place it to whumpee’s lips. Whumpee is confused and dazed, to which caretaker says

“Try to bite the towel and drink the water from it.”

Whumpee opens their mouth and bites down, and starts suckling the cold wet towel. They almost looked like a baby animal suckling milk from their mother or from a bottle. Caretaker was relieved that whumpee was finally hydrating properly in a way that they could with what little strength they had.

#whump #fever whump #the things this DID to me

[allthewhumpygoodness]

childhood cold whump moment I’ve never forgotten:

so I read this nonfiction picture book about a young girl who saved a train from derailing—it was a whole ordeal where she ran through a rainy storm to warn the train a bridge had collapsed, and she ended up saving the lives of a couple people.

BUT after the fact, she got such a bad chill from being in the rain all night that she was confined to bed for weeks, and her teeth chattered so badly that her doctor had to carve a wooden peg to put between her teeth so she didn’t break them.

she ended up making a full recovery but MAN 12-year old me was like 👀👀👀

(for you nosy folk I believe it was called Kate Shelley: Bound for Legend!)

#whump #WHATTTT

[allthewhumpygoodness]

God, I love sickfics that cut between a Whumpee’s current illness, and illnesses they’ve had in the past. Before, being sick was traumatic and lonely. Maybe they were neglected or even ostracized for their illness. In the present day, they don’t know how to handle being loved.

#whump #sickfic #WHAT this is . A Concept.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

When an unconscious character is rolled onto their side by caretaker(s) using their shoulder and hip for leverage and there's a just the slightest lag as their limp form is rolled and their head stays in its former position before lolling over with the rest of the movement.

#whump #AHH #HHHH!! #THIS THING #YOU PUT IT INTO WORDS!!

[allthewhumpygoodness]

as much as I love whumpees who are just absolutely knocked out by their illness, there's something equally great about whumpees who are just barely there. their eyes are still open a sliver, and when caretaker moves across the room they track their movements lazily. they don't have the energy to speak but they don't need to- the pained look in their eyes and the weak groans they're able to make tell the story well enough.

they're not conscious, but they're not unconscious either. they're just... in between. drifting. too sick to be alert but also too sick to fall asleep comfortably.

all caretaker can do is sit by their side with a washcloth to gently wipe the sheen of sweat from their forehead and soothe them with reassurances that, judging by that glazed look in their eyes, caretaker isn't quite sure they can even understand.

#whump #THIS!!! #THIS IS THE THINGG! #THE THINGGGGGGG

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Blehhghhhhhh I'm sick

#it happened again #not whump? #i'm soooo tired #mouth hurts #too warm #feel like a Grub #is it giving me inspiration though? absolutely

[allthewhumpygoodness]

hello my friend. i am coming into your house to ask you for your favourite hypothermia-related sickfic tropes so i can steal them and use them for my fics. if you do not have any i would like to steal your favourite fever-related trops instead. thank you for your content

-LZ

YEEEE YOU'VE ENTERED THE ZONE YOU'RE IN IT NOW

-Character being found Literally Almost Frozen and brought back from the brink of death by their rescuers I know it's not realistic and I don't care

-And being so so weak during the recovery process, taking a day or more just to wake up properly

-Whumpee being stuck somewhere unable to leave (injury, tied up etc.), all the while the temperature is falling rapidly...

-When they're found conscious but shaking and confused, clinging weakly and desperately to whoever finds them

-When they can't get warm even after they're out of the worst of it, shivering violently around whatever warm drink they've been given, warm blankets doing nothing to stem the chill

-Still waking up in fear even weeks later, forgetting they were rescued and thinking they're still out there somewhere in the cold, unable to shake the feeling of ice under their bones

-BONUS: getting sick almost immediately after recovering from the cold because their immune system is all out of whack

#whump #ask answered

[allthewhumpygoodness]

OKAY SMTH I THOUGHT ABT IN CUTE DOMESTIC SICKFICS

Characters realising they have a sofa bed so they can put sickie on the bed downstairs so they can be infront of the TV plus near the kitchen for food and stuff- they can make sickie all comfortable under a duvet with pillows

Ohhhhhh so cute!!!!

#whump #sickfic whump #ask answered

[allthewhumpygoodness]

this was originally written for the sicktember prompt “I should have stayed home” but I forgot about it. so enjoy it now!!!

A raises their eyebrows as they see B dressing to go into town. “B, are you sure you don’t want us to to stay home and rest for another week? I can handle it.”

B shakes their head, pulling on their coat and winding their scarf around their neck. “I’m fine. I’ll go mad if I have to stay inside another day, and I want to help.”

A sighs, trying not to notice the dark shadows under B’s eyes. B’s been under the weather for the last week and a half, battling a terrible cold that hit along with the sudden cold snap. After nearly a week of being too weak to leave their bed, B had been getting restless, their mind tired of being confined to the cabin even while their body struggled to recover. But A wants to trusts B’s judgement of their own body and how they're feeling, so they let the matter drop.

Besides, A thinks, with the smallest tinge of guilt, we really do need the money from this market—maybe they really are ready to help. The doctor’s visits and bottle of medicines had stretched them thin this month, and there were only a few markets left to sell as much as they could before winter would set in.

On the ride into town, B seems alright—a bit more talkative and a few more smiles and rough-voiced laughs at A’s banter. And for a moment, A wonders if B’s just feeling better than they look.

But when they arrive at the town’s weekend market and start to set up their wares, A notices the way B struggles to lift even the lightest of the crates, how frequently they stop tug their scarf closer against the damp, misty air, how hunched their shoulders are. A says nothing, but tries to move the other crates as quickly as possible to ensure B doesn’t have to work as hard.

“You sure you’re okay, B?” A asks as they unload the final crate. They look exhausted.

B nods, though A notices they’re a few shades paler than when they left home. “I’m alright. Just not used to this much activity.” They try a weak smile, but it only serves to underscore how worn out they already look.

“B, if you need a break, you rest, alright?” A’s voice is stern, but they let their hand gently squeeze B’s shoulder, and B nods again. “And if you're not feeling well, you tell me.” B nods, their gaze already slightly glazed, and A fights back the urge to head for home right that moment. Trust them. They’ll say something.

The market opens, and soon A’s swept up in orders, chatting with friends and neighbors, hurriedly moving about their stand to ensure everyone has what they need. Out of the corner of their eye, they see B seated on one of the barrels they brought.

Good, A thinks as they take the money from another customer. They're taking a break like they're supposed to.

The morning continues, cold and cloudy and breezy, with a steady stream of customers buying their goods. It isn’t until a lull in the customers later in the morning that A sees C, a fellow vendor and friend from a neighboring farmstead, come by with a grey wool blanket tucked under their arms.

A shakes hands with C and the two exchange pleasantries about the weather, the harvest, the town news, and everything in between as A gathers up C’s usual order.

Then, C holds out the blanket. “For B.”

A takes the blanket, a puzzled expression on their face. “What?”

C gestures behind them. “Poor thing’s looked miserable all morning, and we had an extra blanket in our wagon. D said they couldn’t bear to watch them freeze for another minute.”

A whirls around. Sure enough, B’s curled up on the barrel, visibly trembling and clutching their coat close to themselves, and most definitely not the picture of health.

A takes the outstretched blanket and hurriedly nods to C in gratitude, then rushes back to B, who looks awful. All the color is gone from their face, their lips are a faint purplish-blue, and their teeth are chattering. When A takes B's hands, they feel like ice. A should have known that B would be too easily chilled in weather like this, especially considering how under the weather they’d been.

“B, what happened?” A briskly rubs B’s hands before tucking the blanket around B, then rubs their shoulders for good measure.

B tugs the blanket closer, shrugging. “Got c-cold.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“D-didn’t want t-to bother you. We need the money.”

A curses under their breath, wrapping their arms around B and pulling them close, wincing as they feel how frail B is in their arms, the near-constant shivers that wrack their frame.

B’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “I s-should have s-s-stayed home.”

They weren’t better after all, A thinks grimly. Helplessly, they look around the stand—boxes of goods that need packing up, loaded back into the wagon—and then there’s B, who’s practically collapsing in A’s arm, who A desperately wants to get out of the wind—

Before they can even begin to feel the full weight of the crushing guilt, C’s in their line of vision, eyes full of concern. “Go home. We’ll take care of this.”

“C, I can’t—“

“A, don’t worry. We’ll pack it all up. You can stop by the farm whenever to get it.”

A can barely whisper a thank you through the lump in their throat, then turns to B. “Alright, B. Let’s get you home and warmed up.”

Gone is the easy chatter of their ride into town—now, B just curls into A’s side, face buried in the blanket, soft, keening whimpers as they press their body closer to A and their warmth. Around them, the smallest snowflakes begin to fall, little glittering shards that dust A’s coat and make them will their horse to go faster.

When they arrive home, A practically leaps out of the wagon, B in their arms. A hurries B inside, setting them in a chair and stoking the coals to get the fire high. B’s trembling from head to toe, and A hastily covers them in another blanket, vigorously rubbing their arms. “There you go. I’ll get something hot for you to drink, then get you in a warm bath. How does that sound?” A tries to keep their voice even. B’s teeth are chattering too hard to respond.

After putting the horse and wagon away, A gets to work heating some canned broth from their pantry, then helps spoon feed sips through B’s lips when they’re shaking too hard to hold the bowl.

When they’re finished, A realizes that B’s ghostly pallor had been replaced with glassy eyes and high spots of color on their cheeks.

“B…how are you feeling?” A’s tone is cautious, warning.

“Cold,” B rasps, and still they shivered and clung to the blankets as they hunched close to the fire. “Need…need the hot bath.”

A palms a cool hand on B’s forehead, and their worst fears are confirmed. Whether B’s fever had never been gone or had relapsed when B had gotten chilled, it was back with a vengeance. They’re sicker now than they had been all week.

“B, you’ve got a fever. I….I can’t.”

B’s eyes are wild, feverish, desperate. “Please. Even a minute or two.” Their voice cracks on the last word, and they cough feebly.

“B, I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

After a few minutes of desperate pacing, a compromise was reached: a small washbasin filled with heated water so B could soak their feet and hopefully take the edge off their chills.

After being dressed in the softest clothes A could find, B’s tucked into bed under two quilts pulled up to their chin.

B coughs feebly and tugs the blankets over their nose. Outside, the wind howls as a fall storm blows through, small icy pellets pelting the windowpanes, and B shudders weakly. “The wind. I can still feel it in my bones.”

A doesn’t feel a draft—only the stuffy air of an overheated cabin. Still, they smooth the quilts over B’s body before covering them with a third blanket, gently hushing them. B grasps the covers, squeezing their eyes shut as a single tear escapes.

“Please, A. I’m so cold. I want to go home.”

Great. Now they’re hallucinating.

“You’re alright. You’re inside where it’s warm.”

“Please, A. I want to go home.” B’s voice cracks on the last plea, and A can’t take it any more. They crawl under the covers with B, wrapping them up in their arms and hugging them close, feeling the fever burn through the layers.

“I’ll keep you warm, B. Just try to sleep.”

B rolls over to face A, and A can just catch the tear tracks in the flickering light of the fire. But it’s only a moment before B buries their face in A’s chest. So A hugs them closer, whispering soft, encouraging words as they try and lull B to sleep.

#whump #sickfic whump #SCREAMING??!?? #WHAT is this

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Caretaker sitting behind a very weak and semiconscious whumpee, holding their limp body upright against their chest. To get food or medicine or water into them, or to help fight off a chest infection, or to provide some comfort and stability while a wound is stitched...I will never not love this image

#whump #whump prompts

[allthewhumpygoodness]

An injured/exhausted/weakened/semiconscious, for whatever reason unable to offer physical cooperation, character being gently manhandled into an upright position by a companion who cradles their head and shoulders pressed to the companion's chest and spreads a hand over the back of their head, fingers tangled through their hair and arm curling protectively 'round. The character being held, already largely limp, leans even more heavily into the warm fabric of their companion's shirt, the familar scent, the rumble of their voice, and the small comfort of the hand in their hair.

#whump #WHUMP #this thing this thing this thing

[allthewhumpygoodness]

I can't stop thinking about that one time that I was studying abroad and I had the WORST cold of my life and I took my temperature and burst into tears because it was 102 and I didn't know how to translate that into Celsius (I was so delirious I didn't remember that automatic thermometers can like... just switch to Celsius for you) and also I couldn't remember how to say "I'm sick" in my host language and just... all the potential of this scenario guys I am rattling the bars of my enclosure

#whump #sickfic #NO NO THE IMAGE OF THIS HELP

[allthewhumpygoodness]

recovering A is sitting outside with caretaker B. it’s a pleasant day, with mild weather and sunshine, and B figures that even though A’s still fairly weak, the fresh air will do them good. and for a while, it does seem to lift their spirits and bring a bit of color back in their pale cheeks.

A enjoys being outdoors at first, but despite their sweater and the heat of the afternoon sun, they’re barely warm at all.

suddenly, the sun darts behind a cloud, and A shudders.

“feeling alright?” B asks, brow furrowing.

“I’m okay.” A wraps their arms around themselves, trying to ignore the goosebumps that prickle down their spine, and wishes they’d brought out a blanket to tuck around them. I thought the sweater was enough, it’s not even that cold.

the sun returns a few minutes later, but it’s too late—A feels their frail body start to tremble, overcompensating for the slight change in temperature.

“A, you’re shivering.”

“Just got a chill, that’s all.” A hates the way their voice wavers, the way they can barely force the words out through their chattering teeth, the way their bones are suddenly, impossibly freezing, like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over their head.

B jumps up from their chair and instantly comes to A’s side, cursing softly. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you out—“

“It’s fine, B. I wanted to come outside for a change.” Still, B helps them up and guides them inside to their chair, then covers their shivering frame with one blanket, then two, and begins to build up the fire in the small cabin.

“I’ll make you some tea, too, try and warm you up from the inside…” B’s voice trails off as they rustle around in the kitchen.

But A knows it’s no use from experience: they won’t truly stop feeling chilled until their hot bath tonight. And I can’t take my bath too early or else I’ll inevitably get cold some other stupid way, and I’m not making B run me two baths.

Recovering has been slow and frustrating, this part most of all. Why can’t their body maintain their temperature like it used to? Why are they so damn cold all the time?

They don’t realize they’re crying until they feel wipe away the twin tears on their cheeks, and they see B crouching to eye level. The concern on B’s face only makes A cry harder—they don’t want to be this weak, they didn’t used to be this way, they just want things to be better…

And they must say all that out loud, because now B’s arms are around them. “I know. I know it’s hard. We’ll get through this, A.”

There will be more blankets, and hot tea, and against A’s efforts, two baths. But in that moment, A’s never been more grateful for the warmth of B’s arms.

I will get through this.

#whump #I'M BITING YOU OP

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Obsessing over That line in work song. you know which one.

#whump #(kind of) #my friend got me into hozier this is her fault

[allthewhumpygoodness]

please consider a whumpee who can never get dry

maybe they work on a ship or in a job related to the water, or maybe they just live in a climate that’s always wet and rainy. whatever the case, make sure that it’s impossible for them to ever get fully dry, or warm, or comfortable. Make sure the damp chill clings to their bones, and no amount of blankets or time in bed can chase away the deep cold in their core.

oh, and if you’re feeling especially cruel, add a stiff breeze that blows straight through them.

#whump #HNNGHN PLEASE

[allthewhumpygoodness]

the INSANITY you have made me feel with this reply

Love it when characters have been through some torment or captivity or illness or Big Bad Event and come away from it just...gaunt. Thin and hollowed out, circles under their eyes that refuse to fade no matter how much they rest. So pale and skinny they look like a breeze could blow them over. Thin hair, shaky limbs. Eyes squinting outside, unused to bright light. You know, all that.

#whump #biting scratching clawing #i love this