herbs-and-poultices

[herbs-and-poultices]

The slight wince and hitch as certain movement pains or tugs a character's injuries- not enough to stop them or even entirely pause them but little telltale punctuations to their motion nonetheless- they move too quickly, too incautiously, and there's a faint blip of discomfort across their face and a stutter as they reach/twist/bend/stride before continuing in their activity.

[herbs-and-poultices]

An incapacitated character who is aware enough of their surroundings and the activity around them but too weak or out of it to actively participate- watching proceedings blearily from where they lie or slump, through half-lidded eyes and scarce able to lift their head, possibly unable to so much as speak; reduced to a mere spectator as others around them continue the action.

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The weakest of pained noises made by a character without even the strength to moan, let alone scream or yell, that are little more than exhalations of pain- the faintest of mewls, with no more force behind it than a newborn kitten, audible only to a companion mere feet or inches away from them.

[herbs-and-poultices]

The first minuscule shift and hint of a frown and faintest groan of a character regaining consciousness- all immediately noticed by their companion(s) keeping a watchful bedside vigil.

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An injured character begging and pleading (or trying bravely, though not entirely successfully, not to, and to mask their need) for pain relief but they've already been given as much as they can safely have for the time-being and they simply have to endure in the interim as their companions are limited to purely physical means of managing or soothing their pain- warm compresses, or ice packs; massaging around the area, or stroking their hair soothingly; distracting them with conversation or reading to them; adjusting their position, propping them up with pillows; giving them a hand to hold and squeeze- wishing all the while they could do more or magically take the pain away/on themselves.

[herbs-and-poultices]

Obsessed with Caretakers going “easy, easy.” To their Whumpees who they’re either unshackling during a rescue, or setting into place to be patched up.

Knowing Whumpee is in agony, but somehow Caretaker’s reassurances are just enough to calm them to get through what they need to.

[herbs-and-poultices]

A character too hurt or ill, or weak from having recently been so, to sit up on their own but needing to be upright to eat or drink or have their wounds tended or needs seen to, so another character slips in behind them and props them up leaning back against their chest, bracketed by the supporting character's arms and bent knees.

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When Whumpee is lying on their back, hand covering one of their (bleeding) wounds as they stare up.

Too much pain, too much happened. They can't move. Physically, they could. But right now all they can do is just lie there and breathe.

The danger is gone, the fight is over.

They're still horribly injured, and might die. But for the first time in so long, they don't have to move.

So they don't.

[herbs-and-poultices]

for the ask game - 13 please? <3

<33

Spun the scenario spinner wheel a couple days ago and got Western AU and, well. Pneumonia, anyone?

13. "Can't---breathe---"

The fire burns low in the dusky evening light, the interior of the small cabin made shadowed and unfamiliar from where Chris sits at the table, nursing a glass of whiskey from the bottle he'd found on Leon's top shelf. The room is warm despite the autumn chill that's been creeping into the air as of late, finally brought up from the aching cold that had greeted Chris upon entering. In the bed, Leon shifts his head atop the pillow, the sweat on his skin shimmering like a mirage above the fever charring his insides. He murmurs something, long strands of hair flopping across the damp sheets and clinging to his cheek, brow twisted as if in pain. His chest hitches where it's been heaving in a too-shallow rhythm, lungs crackling in a way that makes Chris cringe.

It sounds like pneumonia, most likely. Leon works himself far too hard---it was only a matter of time before he caught something like this. Chris sips his whiskey, eyeing the pale, thin wrist peeking out from beneath Leon's nightshirt where it rests atop the blankets. The sight is all too familiar, memories of watching his mother succumb slowly to consumption panging something deep inside of him that he'd rather not remember. Luckily, Leon's coughing has conjured nothing more concerning than mucus and a few tears in his eyes, and his illness had come on too quickly to be wasting disease. Still. It's miraculous chance that Chris had happened to check in on Leon when he did.

Leon's face looks sallow in the half-light, eyes sunken where dark bags underline his long lower lashes, signs he hasn't been sleeping well again. Chris is sure his own face looks just as haggard, but he at least has Jill and Claire to bully him into taking care of himself---Leon's all alone out here, only his horse and rifle for company. Stubborn man.

In the bed, glassy eyes flicker open. A harsh coughing fit wracks Leon's body as he shifts weakly in place, head tilting in Chris's direction as he stands from his seat and paces across the room to stand at Leon's bedside. Leon coughs until his breaths are raspy, then seems to collapse back to the bed despite never having sat up in the first place. His eyes are half-lidded, exhaustion weighing every inch of his expression.

"Water?" he croaks, fingers trembling when he goes to push away the blanket. Chris stills him with a firm hand on his shoulder, reaching for the glass on the bedside table. Leon is a limp weight in his arms---and feverish enough now that Chris can feel the blaze of it through his clothes, he realizes with alarm---as he helps the sick man lift his upper body just enough to sip the water. It prompts another round of coughing, and Chris holds Leon even as his shoulders shake. After what feels like an eternity, he finally calms, blinking up at Chris like he's just noticed his presence. "Chris? You're..."

"You should rest," Chris rumbles, trying to keep his voice gentle. It works a little too well, his tone softer than Leon's down pillow even to his own ears, and Chris ignores the way the feathers seem to spill into his chest and flutter there. He reaches for the damp square of linen he'd been keeping in a basin of cool water, sponging it across Leon's forehead to offer him some relief. He sighs, eyelids flickering closed.

Chris almost thinks he's fallen asleep again, about to ease him back to the mattress---until Leon jerks violently, a scattering of coughs tearing up his throat. Chris winces. It gets worse for a moment that stretches on for far too long, Leon's hacking reaching a crescendo that has Chris lifting him a little higher upright----

Leon shudders and wheezes, the sudden silence prickling Chris's skin. Panicked eyes fly open and glue to Chris's face, Leon's hand clawing the fabric of his linen shirt as his lips part with a laboured gasp. His voice is ragged when he speaks, quiet and terrified: "C-can't---breathe---"

Chris's blood runs cold.

Leon manages another aborted cough before he squirms in Chris's hold, as if trying to get away. His chest bucks.

"You're going to be alright," Chris says, a rush of fear making him sweat. He sits Leon up further and begins to rub his back urgently with the flat of his hand, the dangers of Leon's sickness happening so far away from town suddenly looming up in the shadows. His heart pounds, images of Leon suffocating in his arms tearing through every emotional wall. He swallows tightly, clutching Leon's upper arm as he continues to soothe the spasming muscles in the other man's back as best as he can. He must be sore by now, exhausted but tense, and Chris is fearful that his strength is flagging. "C'mon Leon, don't give up on me now."

Leon's breaths are little more than sips of air, whatever's blocking his lungs making it difficult for him to inhale enough to generate another cough. Chris doesn't realize he's begun to rock them both until he's already pressed his forehead up against Leon's temple, still supporting him in a solid grip. He keeps up the smooth, hypnotic motion of his hand back and forth across Leon's spine, time stretching out until seconds feel like small eternities. "Breathe, Leon, just---"

Leon coughs weakly, followed by a victorious, fragile intake of air---and finally, another round of coughing. He's shaking all over by the time he's done, barely conscious and drenched in a fresh layer of sweat. God, Chris is going to need to fetch the doctor. It's unnecessary stress to try and transport Leon into town in this condition, but the thought of leaving Leon here alone for the half-hour he'll need to travel there and back---and that's an estimation based on whether or not he pushes his horse hard---prickles the fear still crawling in his veins.

"Chris," Leon whispers desperately, strained and hoarse. "Chris?"

"I'm here." Chris rubs his back in a circular motion, then shifts closer so that he can tuck Leon's upper body against his own. They've known each other for so long that it feels like Leon's body fits perfectly with his own, but Chris refuses to acknowledge the ache of longing that spills through him. Definitely not the time.

He shushes Leon gently and helps him lean his head back on Chris's shoulder, trying to make him relax. "I've got you," he promises. "Just rest, okay?"

[herbs-and-poultices]

Other Stuff that can happen in "stagnant" whump fics

So I've been thinking about something and wanted to share it as an open conversation. A lot of the time my writing block when writing whump or sickfic comes from like...what can actually happen in the course of the story. Especially since my stuff tends towards the longer side (I'm a chronic overwriter), it's hard to keep things...interesting I guess? And I find my writing suffers when my Tales Of Woe don't have much structure to them.

(I say this as someone who writes primarily sickfic, or recovery-based stories that are caretaker/whumpee focused, with little or no whumper involvement, so that's what I'll be focused on here. Certainly if you're writing something like a character being held in captivity and tortured/attempting escape/encountering other prisoners/being searched for, you've already got plenty going on and probably don't have this issue at all.)

So I've made a list of Stuff That Can Happen during your whump/sick fic. If you would like. Of course, there will always be a market for stories that are mostly the same level of suffering and nothing else is really the focus, but if you do find you struggle with this like I do, this list might be for you.

Character arcs/Internal/social shifts:

1 caretaker, their relationship to the whumpee strengthens

1 caretaker, they find themselves growing apart from the whumpee

2 or more caretakers, there are complicated dynamics between all of them + the whumpee that shift around

Eg; there's a whumpee and 3 others, Caretaker A forms a closer relationship with Whumpee throughout the story, Caretaker B *was* close with them before but finds their place now "usurped" by A, Caretaker C tries to keep the peace between them while also helping out Whumpee

A caretaker realizes they're better at Caretaking than they'd thought

A caretaker realizes they're not as good at Caretaking as they'd thought

Whumpee realizes they have romantic feelings for Caretaker (or vice versa)

Whumpee discovers they only like Caretaker as a friend (or vice versa)

Whumpee learns to trust Caretaker (s)

Caretaker (s) learn to trust Whumpee

There was a previous misunderstanding (about their feelings for one another, their loyalties, an action taken from one of them etc.) between Whumpee and Caretaker (or between more than one caretaker) that gradually gets resolved

A misunderstanding occurs within the story that builds and is then resolved

One caretaker has to convince another to be honest with Whumpee about this misunderstanding (or has to convince Whumpee to be honest with Caretaker)

Someone unexpected arrives at the scene; whether that be a rival, a friend or family member of the whumpee, a potential other caretaker, or Whumper

Perhaps this is a relief for the caretaker, who needs a break

Or it's a stranger who causes tension in the situation

Maybe the caretaker knows this person is coming and is stressed out waiting for them

Physical/symptomatic shifts:

Whumpee is found injured and unconscious, and wakes up being cared for - their wounds later become infected, leading to a much longer recovery

Whumpee's condition quickly worsens

Whumpee steadily becomes delirious

Whumpee is feverish and goes from feeling freezing cold to boiling

Whumpee feverishly tries to stumble out of bed and into a different room (searching for Caretaker? trying to find a warmer spot?), and are found before, as, or after they collapse

Adding illness to injury: Whumpee is dealing with an injury, only to get sick, or sick only to also become hypothermic, they have heatstroke and then get hurt etc. Compounding whump.

Environmental shifts:

A caretaker could leave temporarily out of necessity, leaving whumpee and/or other caretaker(s) worried about them until they return

The weather changes (worsens? gets better? worsens and then gets better? gets better and then worsens?)

The characters have to shift locations for some reason

An important resource is run out of

Something necessary is destroyed or partially destroyed

A doctor/medic needs to be called

Somebody else becomes sick, injured, or lands in some other danger

Whumpee's newest symptom requires a different type of medicine than what they've been taking up until now, possibly one the caretaker doesn't have

The characters are in an intense situation (in hiding, in a warzone, on the run, trying to escape a natural disaster etc.) and the stakes suddenly become much higher due to something related to this

Maybe there's a flood and the waters have reached their safe spot

Maybe whumpee is some enemy they're sheltering in secret and members of their team/army/etc. come searching for them

There's lots more I could add and I'm not sure if this is explained in the best way, but there you have it.

[herbs-and-poultices]

Thanks @accidentalcookies for the tag!

Not much of a story here either. i just wanted something that would describe my favorite hurt/comfort vibe, since the community is so varied and my interests are kinda niche. Like a short what-does-this-person-like and what-to-expect-from-this-blog. I forget what other words/descriptors I considered, but "herbs and poultices" had a nice ring to it. Nothing deeper than that.

My AO3 username is perhaps slightly more interesting, it's after a dark old English ballad (or rather, the English cousin of a dark old Scottish ballad). I discovered AO3 before I had any clue about Tumblr, and at that point I just wanted to be able to comment on and bookmark my favorite fics, so I didn't put too much thought into it. It was early pandemic days, my coping mechanisms were fiction and trad music, I picked something I'd been listening to recently. I've left it as-is because I'm a little skittish about airing my Tumblr to all the 'normal' fandom folks on AO3.

Tagging @erdarielthewhumper @prodigywhump @exhausted-sloth @comfort-questing @silvercap if you feel like it :)

Tag game🎉

Tag your moots and ask them where they got the idea for their tumblr accounts name!

For my name it was a nickname I was giving back in middleschool! One of our teacher had a system where we worked with 'wifi' eachtime we talked in class we lost a bar of the "wifi" (was a weird joke and we never held count on that) All the kids usually joked if they needed 'wifi' , they would borrow mine if they wanted to talk more. (I was incredibly shy in middle school, I only talked to like 3 people at school;^;)

They called me Ms. Wifi because of that. I just thought it would be funny if I put 'miss' instead of 'ms' because of my terrible actual wifi connection I have at home lol.

That's my story! Now moots, only if you guys want to, tell us your story.

Tags-> @slipping-lately @firequeenofficial @noagskryf @twinklstarrrr @halfbakedspuds @polterwasteist @rokushi-san @mygedagtes +anyone that sees this and wants to do this as well

[herbs-and-poultices]

So you know when you're writing a scene where the hero is carrying an injured person and you realize you've never been in this situation and have no idea how accurate the method of transportation actually is?

Oh boy, do I have a valuable resource for you!

Here is a PDF of the best ways to carry people depending on the situation and how conscious the injured person needs to be for the carrying position.

Literally a life saver.

(No pun intended.)

[herbs-and-poultices]

drifting in and out of consciousness throughout a journey, blinking eyes open and shut to fragmented sights of familiar scenery, wincing at bumps in the road or starts and stops as they go. someone's steadying them, maybe, putting a guarding hand to hold them upright ahead of them on a horse or next to them in a wagon or car seat. sun glinting in their eyes, perhaps, or streetlamps flickering past, faint beyond their closed eyelids. almost home now.

[herbs-and-poultices]

Peeling a character's clothing out of their wounds- the fabric sodden with blood, sticking wetly to the open wound; maybe has begun to dry and needs to be soaked off or catches and tugs at the skin and scabbing it's adhered to; any shredded fibres or torn scraps have to be painstakingly teased out; and the full extent of the wound is revealed as the obscuring fabric is peeled away.

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A character struggling to hold an injured character down so that another can tend to their wounds, going from restraining them with just firmly-grasped hands, maybe only to the affected limb, to leaning more of their weight down upon them, to fully laying across the struggling, bucking, writhing character to pin them to the surface they're laying on with their full weight, pressing them into the mattress or dirt or boards, digging in a shoulder or knee for extra leverage, fighting to hold them still to prevent further injury and allow the other tending character to work.

[herbs-and-poultices]

[ID: Greyscale scene of Nathan Ford sitting in his Boston HQ bedroom, beside the bed, where Eliot Spencer is laying. Nate is pressing a damp cloth to Eliot’s forehead, and looking down at him with concern. Eliot is semi-conscious, his eyes closed and expression slightly pinched in pain and his lips parted. His left shoulder and left upper chest are covered with gauze, his left arm is in a dark sling and his face is badly bruised. End ID]

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Commission for @bridgem76 😊

A scene from her incredible fic - I recommend it so, so much for Eliot whump, and beautiful team dynamics and emotions!

[herbs-and-poultices]

Your whump word(s) of the day

"We've done everything we can. It's up to them now."