#The Rose Whump

[fairyniceyeah]

🌹🤍Day 18: "My body is one big ache"

@sicktember

Summary: Woosung is feverish, queasy and downright miserable. 

CW: emeto, talks of fainting

Sickie: Woosung/Sammy Caretaker: Hajoon/Dylan + Jaehyeong/Jeff + Dojoon/Leo

Woosung woke up shivering and icy cold.

When he opened his burning eyes he found the room bathed in darkness. It must still be pretty early, he supposed. A glance at his phone revealed that it was barely five am.

He still had about two and a half hours until his alarm rang but for some reason he doubted he would be able to go back to sleep. 

His body shivered again, a full jolt going through every nerve. There was no reason for him to be so cold, it was the middle of summer after all. But his body apparently didn’t get the memo. He was so cold.

It didn’t help that he only had the duvet cover on his bed, having abandoned the blanket itself a few nights ago because he had been sweating so much back then. Now he yearned for the exhausting heat that had coated his body in disgusting sweat. 

Not that he wasn’t sweaty now.

He groaned, realizing that if he wanted to fall back asleep he would need to get up and find the blanket. If he remembered correctly he had put it over his desk chair, right?

Glancing around by the light of his phone he saw that the blanket indeed was only on the other side of the room. He would just need to walk two meters at most and still it seemed an awfully long way. He hoped the warmth was worth it. 

Getting his heavy body in a sitting position was hard enough and he swayed dizzily even as he just sat at the side of the bed. For a moment he just rested his aching head in his hands, feeling how his forehead seemed to be the hottest thing in the room.

It made sense - he wasn’t supposed to be cold in August. If he was running a fever that was a good explanation. But he had no idea where the thermometer was. Did they even have one?

Getting the blanket would have to do. Slowly pushing to his feet so the dizziness wouldn’t overwhelm him was awful. Every part of his body seemed to ache. His head seemed to be full of wool and soupy thoughts. Every limb was heavy. 

He stumbled to the desk chair, nearly falling as he grabbed it to steady himself and it turned away. Crashing into the desk itself was the only thing stopping his fall. His hip bore the brunt of the impact and the throbbing pain brought tears to his eyes. 

Woosung took a deep breath and just held onto the blanket. His only goal was to get back into bed without face-planting on the floor. It didn’t matter to him that the blanket was trailing on the floor; it was less heavy that way. 

He collapsed onto the bed and just haphazardly pulled the blanket on top of himself. It was uncomfortable and tangled, some parts of his body covered and some kissing the cool air. Not that it was much warmer under the blanket.

🌹

Woosung wasn’t sure if he had actually fallen asleep at some point. It seemed like he had dangled in feverish limbo between painful wakefulness and restless sleep for hours. Even if he had been asleep it certainly hadn’t been restful. 

His hand shook as he turned off his alarm. The others would likely get up soon as well, their alarms were programmed for the same time frame. Woosung was pretty sure that Jaehyeong, never somebody who could get up at first try, would have pushed snooze for the third time now. Hajoon, diligent as he was, was probably already showering. Dojoon with all his energy would just jump up the moment his alarm sounded, later than anybody else's and still somehow always the first one ready. Woosung normally enjoyed hitting snooze once and then slowly getting ready. 

That day, however, all he wanted to do was get up and find another member who knew where the thermometer and the meds were. He suspected that out of everybody, Jaehyeong would have some. 

He knew the way down the stairs would suck, he knew that everything would be cold and that he’d feel terrible the whole way.

Maybe Dojoon, whose room was beside Woosung’s on the first floor, would be the easier choice. 

Woosung pushed himself up, nearly falling at the headrush that assaulted him as soon as he changed from horizontal to vertical, wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and only stopped for a moment to put on some fuzzy sucks his eomma had gifted him. He all but fell when he lifted his feet to pull his socks over his freezing toes but leaning against his wardrobes saved him.

He stumbled over to Dojoon’s room and knocked on the door, pushing it open before he could receive an answer. His heart sank when he realized that the room was empty. As if to mock him, he then heard the shower turn on in the bathroom he shared with Dojoon. He was too late.

Desperate for relief and not wanting to continue to suffer alone, Woosung decided to brave the stairs. He clutched at the railing with one hand, the other holding the blanket around his shoulders. It had been a stupid decision to put on the socks - he very nearly slipped on the wooden surface with them a few times. 

🌹

By the time he had made it down half the stairs he was sweating like crazy, panting and his vision was turning spotty. Scared he’d faint and fall down the rest of the steps, he carefully lowered himself into a sitting position, resting his head on between his knees, leaning sideways against the wall.

Woosung had no idea how long he had sat there, freezing and shaking, when he heard a voice asking: “Hyung?”

He lifted his head and tried to focus his blurry vision on whoever had spoken. Jaehyeong?

“Sammy?”, Jaehyeong repeated and then suddenly he yelled: “Hajoon-ah! Dojoon-hyung!”

Woosung winced at the volume but the maknae’s cold hand on his forehead was a welcome relief. When he opened his eyes - when had he closed them? - he found Jaehyeong looking at him with worry in his eyes.

“Hey, hyung”, he said, “how are you feeling?”

“Awful”, Woosung rasped honestly. 

“Hm, you seem to be burning up.”

Right, that was why he had decided to come downstairs in the first place.

“Do we have a thermometer?”, he asked quietly. Jaehyeong’s hand on his face felt heavenly. The maknae looked incredibly worried though.

“What happened?”, Hajoon asked, out of a sudden kneeling beside Jaehyeong. When had he arrived? He was only wearing shorts and no t-shirt, water from his shower dripping down his face and back. Woosung shivered just seeing him.

“I found him like this”, Jaehyong explained, a worried and rushed quality to his voice, “he’s burning up.”

“It’s the middle of summer”, Hajoon said with a frown and reached up to feel Woosung’s forehead as well. He winced as his hand made contact. Woosung pulled away and placed his dizzy head on his knees, Hajoon’s hand uncomfortably warm.

“Summer flues do happen”, Jaehyeong said with a shrug, “why don’t you get him to the couch and I’ll see where we put the thermometer and medication.”

Hajoon nodded and Jaehyeong vanished. 

“Can you get up, hyung?”, Hajoon asked, voice overflowing with concern.

“Help me?”, Woosung asked shakily, already not looking forward to the nearly promised headrush.

Out of a sudden a hot flush took over Woosung, who for the first time that day felt warm. It wasn’t as pleasant as he had hoped, in fact it was mostly the opposite. His throat felt tight and saliva gathered in his mouth. He swallowed, hoping feverishly that it would vanish.

Hajoon didn’t seem to notice his struggle, reaching his hand out to Woosung’s shoulder. Before he could make contact, Woosung felt himself retch. It came on so quickly that all he could do was lean over and spread his legs as a rush of vomit splattered between his feet and onto his legs.

“Well, some warning would have been nice”, Hajoon mumbled with a sigh, holding onto Woosung’s shoulder so he wouldn’t fall over. 

“Sorry, I didn’t…”

Woosung coughed a bit, cursing internally as it caused another wave of stomach contents to come up, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. For a moment all he could do was stare down at the dirty steps below him, his brain too tired to comprehend what had happened. He felt even worse now than he had before puking.

“Hyung, that’s disgusting”, Hajoon whined a bit, pulling his hand from his mouth. “Let’s get a towel. Jeff, go get some towels, stat!”

As if he had been summoned, Jaehyeong nearly immediately appeared holding the thermometer. His eyes widened in shock. “Shit, okay, yeah.”

“Can we go sit on the couch?”, Hajoon asked worriedly, turning his attention back to Woosung. The singer sighed, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He was so tired and the couch was so far away. But staying on the stairs, staring at his stomach contents also didn’t seem to be the greatest idea.

So he nodded, steadying his head with his hands as everything swam around him.

“Dizzy?”, Hajoon guessed. Woosung waved his hand in a vaguely agreeing gesture and held his head still until the vertigo had passed again. 

Hajoon helped him scoot to the other side of the step he was sitting on, so there was less risk of stepping into vomit. He held out his hands and Woosung grasped them, trying to pull himself up with Hajoon’s help. But all his strength seemed to have vanished and he barely got himself more upright before he had to stop.

“Are you going to faint if I lift you?”, Hajoon asked gently, crouching down to look Woosung into the eyes. Concern was written all over his face.

“Maybe”, Woosung admitted, wetting his cracked lips with his tongue. 

“Let’s move down until we’re at the bottom of the stairs, okay?”, Hajoon suggested, resting his hand on Woosung’s knee. “Less risk of us both falling down the stairs if you do.”

🌹

It was humiliating. Scooting down the stairs on his ass, one step at a time like a child. Woosung wanted to cry, and he would have if it wasn’t so exhausting. By the time they reached the bottom, he was ready to just curl up in a shivery ball of pathetic human and stay there.

Jaehyeong came back but Woosung didn’t dare lift his eyes up to him. There was a mumbled conversation between the two younger members but Woosung blended them out. His head was pounding in his skull and his stomach, now that it had started, felt very unsteady still.

“I’m gonna lift you up from the back, okay? My grandmother used to fall a lot, that’s what we used to do”, Jaehyeong said with a sigh, patting Woosung’s knee to get his attention. 

“I’m ill, not old”, Woosung protested half-heartedly, a bit offended. 

“Yeah, but we still would rather that none of us fall”, Jaehyeong replied, “try to let us know before you faint.”

“Hm.”

Jaehyeong hooked his arms below Woosung’s armpits, carefully pulling him to his feet. Hajoon stood by, ready to catch them should one of them lose their balance. They nearly made it into a standing position before Woosung started to see black spots dancing in his vision and he felt himself start to sway.

He didn’t even need to say anything as immediately Hajoon was there, lifting Woosung under his knees and below his back, hefting him up to his chest. His vision went black but Woosung was sure he hadn’t really passed out. He dropped his head on Hajoon’s shoulder and let himself be carried to the couch. 

The cool leather was soothing against his burning skin for just a few seconds before it became uncomfortable. He curled into himself, trying to minimize the space where his sensitive skin touched anything. 

“Hi, hyung. Can you look at me for a moment?”, Hajoon asked gently, brushing back Woosung’s hair back. The older opened his eyes - since when were they burning? - and blinked up at the two Hajoon’s he saw until the left morphed into the right one.

“You’re really out of him, huh? Let me take your temperature.”

Hajoon placed the thermometer under Woosung’s tongue and entangled their fingers while they waited. 

“39.1°C”, the drummer read, “sounds about right.”

🌹

“What’s going on here?”, Dojoon’s voice suddenly called from the steps. “Who’s sick?”

“Sammy”, Hajoon replied loudly, causing Woosung to wince at the sound. A shushed apology followed. 

“Oh, hey”, Dojoon greeted as he rushed to the couch, falling to his knees next to Hajoon and instantly starting to caress Woosung’s hair. “How are you feeling?”

“My body is one big ache”, Woosung mumbled and sighed. It was true. His head and stomach were both hurting in equal measures. His skin was still prickling and uncomfortable everywhere and his muscles were incredibly sore. He just wanted to cry, if he was honest.

“Sammy-ah”, Dojoon cooed, “you’re really not feeling well, huh?”

Woosung shook his head. 

He was so tired too, he noticed when his eyes slid shut. He wanted to sleep so badly, wanted to not feel miserable anymore. 

“Hey, stay awake for a second, okay?”, Hajoon asked tenderly, squeezing his hand. “Do you think you could take some meds?”

Woosung shook his head again. He didn’t think he could keep anything down with the way his stomach was aching. He was sure he would be sick again in the near future but he really hoped he could just sleep.

Dojoon sighed and then stood up. For a moment Woosung thought he was going to leave - and why did that make him want to cry? - but then Dojoon lifted Woosung’s upper body into his lap, letting him curl up there. It helped the aching skin tremendously and the small head massage Dojoon started at his temples felt amazing. He was about to drift off again when a voice spoke up again.

“I’m going to put the bucket here by your head, okay?”, Jaehyeong said. Woosung wasn’t sure when he had returned but he appreciated the gesture. “We’ll call the manager and cancel the schedules. You just rest.”

Woosung sleepily nodded and closed his eyes.

Notes: Big thanks to @sickiecloud who beta-read this and gave me the plot idea in the first place!

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Sicktember 2024

[the-whumpire]

thinkin about a whumpee who's so exhausted they can barely even react to pain

[whumpypepsigal]

#the unspoken “you’re not alone” gesture

[eggsaladstain]

what can i say, i see two characters who are fiercely protective of each other at first sight and i lose my mind a little

PETER SUTHERLAND & ROSE LARKIN | The Night Agent, Season 1 (Netflix, 2023)

[spirit-whump]

The whump fandom usually prioritizes male characters, so tell me in the tags your favourite female characters to whump! OCs or canon characters, whumpees or whumpers - name some women.

[koraesrambles]

Gotham War: Red Hood Issue #2? More like Everyone in Gotham is Horny for Jason Todd.

Get it girl.

Everyone is asking, "Where is Red Hood?" but does anyone ask "HOW is Red Hood?"

spoiler alert: He is Not Good.

Everyone: Well Gotham War is problematic because --

Me: Yeah yeah yeah, but have you considered that I'm having a great time watching everyone fight over Jason Todd?

Rose is the only person in the world who understands Jason like I do.

Some Scholar: Well I read comics because of their commentary on --

Me: Well, I read comics because I want to see a bunch of silly people dressed up in silly costumes fighting over my favorite character while he goes insane, okay? Good.

[unicornpopcorn14]

Hc that every time Chuuya is bandaged he's reminded of Dazai and hates it.

And back when they were working together Dazai is always overly excited about it not only because Chuuya detests it, but because finally, he isn't the only one who's gonna be sweating bullets due to the friction, he isn't the only one whose movements are considerably restricted, he isn't the only one seen as a 'poor kid' and taken pity on in the eyes of the public/their enemies, even if only for a handful of missions.

And Dazai will tease him about it, every damn time, poking fun at Chuuya's weak tolerance whenever he complains about them, about why Dazai even does this shit when 'he has no good reason'.

"But, slug!! We're matching!!"

"That's the worst part, I'm associated with a freak!"

But that makes way for an interesting scenario, where the roles are reversed. Where Chuuya, wrapped up in bandages courtesy of a recent mission, comes across a Dazai who's not (due to an attempt, perhaps, or they've been taken from him one way or another).

And Chuuya sees it for the first time, Dazai's wide-eyed vulnerability, him drawing into himself, the faded look in his eyes, like something vital has been removed from his body, much more than an organ or a nerve.

For the first time, they aren't matching when Chuuya is swathed in gauze.

So Chuuya begrudgingly offers his, slightly bloody and crumpled, because he hates being wrapped up in them anyway.

Though he can't help but wish to be encased in bandages more often from then on, just so he can understand, perhaps share, some of that pain...

[dual-cetacean]

"The Shatterverse is saved, the prism shards are back where they belong, and Green Hill Zone is restored. However, Nine cannot let go. Afraid the Roses and Shadow won’t be fast enough to save Sonic, they chase after them — accidentally flying into the gateway, too. Now locked out of their universe, and more importantly, the Grim, what is a lonely number 9 supposed to do?"

*Edit*

Chapter log

Season 1

Situation 1: So much (for) Prism dust (↑) Situation 2: I’m your best friend, I’m your family. Situation 3: Tea and Toast. Situation 4: Lonely Heart's Club. Situation 5: Stranger in a Strange Land. Situation 6: I hope, pray, wish—you bite your tongue Situation 7: Capital T, but Trouble looks for me Situation 8: Star-Crossed Siblings

Season 2

In production.

Heyo! I know that this series ended months ago, but this cartoon has me in a head grip. This has been cooking since February, and I'm finally ready to post it after two full months of working on it. I enjoyed season 3 and the rest of the series but was unsatisfied with the ending. So, for everyone like me who wants more out of the story, I hope you enjoy this, especially for the ones whose favourite character is Nine, like me. Plenty of other characters will also appear in it, but for now, it Nine centric.

I am incredibly proud of the cover art I made and put a lot of effort into it. Making all those renders for the characters was a serious undertaking, but it looks great, and I had a lot of fun figuring out how to paint foam and water.

I also made a playlist for this fic so if you're looking for fitting music, here it is! (Current and future chapter titles are also inspired by these songs)

The cover ver without the other characters in the water is under keep reading

[aceofwhump]

Tenth Doctor whump in Doctor Who "The Christmas Invasion"

[fairyniceyeah]

🧚🏻‍♀️ Fairy's June of Doom - Masterlist 2024🧚🏻‍♀️

Below, the fics are sorted by group and within the group by member, as always.

If you want to read the fics by day/prompt order you can just start with Day 1: “Help me” and click yourself through them.

⌛ ATEEZ ⌛

🐿️ Hongjoong Day 3: "Please don’t leave me" - Alternate Stalking/Broken Glass - Alternate Hongjoong watches the news of Seventeen getting mobbed at the airport and realizes that one day that might happen to them. [CW: sasaeng fans, mobbing, panic attacks, mention of blood]

⭐Seonghwa Day 5: "It's not as bad as it looks." Bite/Swelling/Disfiguration While filming at a park, Seonghwa gets attacked by a dog. [CW: wild animals, blood, fainting, hospitals, needles (implied)]

🐶Yunho Day 12: "I can't stand seeing you like this" Dehydration/Grief/Coma Yunho watches San destroy himself over the accident. [CW: below text to avoid spoilers]

👑 Yeosang Day 24: "Let's get you cleaned up." Blankets/Stitches/Bandages Yeosang arrives at Seonghwa’s dorm bleeding. [CW: minor injuries, minor blood]

⛰️San Day 9: "I made a mistake." Accident/Acceptance/Blame San made a mistake, a severe mistake. Not even his hyungs can fix it this time. [CW: below text to avoid spoilers, open ending] Day 12: "I can't stand seeing you like this" Dehydration/Grief/Coma Yunho watches San destroy himself over the accident. [CW: below text to avoid spoilers]

🐣 Mingi Day 20: "I can handle it." Scrape/Panic-Attack/Neglected It’s October 2020 and Mingi is not doing well. [CW: hospital]

🦊 Wooyoung Day 29: "I'm so cold." Delirium/Fever/Exposure Wooyoung wakes up. But where is San? [CW: hospitals, injuries, car accidents, mentions of death (but no actual death)]

🧸 Jongho Day 7: “What happened?" Nightmare/Isolation/Stumbling Jongho has a nightmare and wakes up his Wooyoung-hyung. [CW: mention of injury, fear of abandonment]

💎 Seventeen 💎

Whole group Day 14: "What were you thinking?"   Surrender/Human Shield/Outmatched As SEVENTEEN are mobbed at the airport Seokmin is helpless to watch his members get hurt. [CW: mentions of panic, mobs, blood, injuries, emeto]

🤘🏼 HipHop Team Day 30: "Breathe, damn you." Shock/Asphyxiation/Emergency Room Vernon’s allergic reaction scares the Hip Hop Team. [CW: mentions of emeto, CPR]

🍒 S.Coups/Seungcheol Day 8: "I’m not okay." - Alternate Drowning/Chair/Prison Trade Chan falls off the boat - Seungcheol tries to save him. [CW: mentions of drowing, mentions of emeto] Day 23: "You're doing great" Trembling/Gaslighting/Rules Chan is safe. Seungcheol is falling apart. [CW: emeto, panic, mention of hospitals]

😇Jeonghan Day 21: "Let's play a game" Stairs/Pressure Points/Trap Door Let’s play a game, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Jeonghan was not having fun. [CW: injuries, emeto, swearing (but like the amount I wouldn’t tag in a The Rose fic)]

🦌 Joshua Day 22: "What's the bad news?" Poison/Bed-Ridden/Cauterization It was only a stomach flu… [CW: emeto, seizure, hospital]

🐯 Hoshi/Soonyoung Day 25: "I should have listened to you" Guilt/Backseat/Failure Hoshi really should not have danced this exhausted. Woozi is worried. [CW: minor injury]

🐈‍⬛ Wonwoo Day 11: "We're out of time." Bleeding Out/Collapse/Flatline Wonwoo can’t keep a cool head as Woozi bleeds. [CW: blood, emeto, fainting]

🍚 Woozi/Jihoon Day 4: "Does that hurt?" Impalement/Fracture/Punishment While camping Woozi steps onto a tent peg. [CW: blood, injury, fainting, mentions of nausea]

🐸The 8/Minghao Day 27: "Who did this to you?" - Alternate Defiance/Display/Last Resort It was not Minghao’s finest moment. [CW: /]

🍊 Seungkwan Day 1: “Help me” Failed Escape/On the run/Fetal Position While filming Going Rangers Seungkwan actually injures his foot. [CW: injury, mentions of nausea, guilt]

🐢 Vernon Day 18: "I'm fine." Self-Defense/Allergie/Headache How they found out about Vernon’s allergy. [CW: emeto, anaphylactic shock]

🦖 Dino/Chan Day 8: "I’m not okay." - Alternate Drowning/Chair/Prison Trade Chan falls off the boat - Seungcheol tries to save him. [CW: mentions of drowing, mentions of emeto]

🧭 Stray Kids 🧭

🐺 Bang Chan Day 13: "Wait!"   Sacrifice/Adrenaline/Cornered Jeongin nearly falls off the stage. [CW: minor injuries, guilt]

🐰 Lee Know/Minho Day 28: "Say something!" Numb/Cold Shoulder/Gag Han explains to Minho why he was so hurt and finds out why Minho was so angry earlier. [CW: emeto, mention of arguments]

🥟 Hyunjin Day 2: "It didn't have to be this way." Scream/Double Cross/Made to Watch A choreographer forces Felix to do a dangerous stunt and Hyunjin is helpless, made to watch as the younger falls. [CW: blood, injury, mild violence, emeto, angst, open ending]

🐿️ Han/Jisung Day 26: "Don't lie to me!" Rage/Choke/Paranoia Lee Know is pissed that Han spilled coffee on his favorite hoodie. Thing is - it wasn’t Han. [CW: /] Day 28: "Say something!" Numb/Cold Shoulder/Gag Han explains to Minho why he was so hurt and finds out why Minho was so angry earlier. [CW: emeto, mention of arguments]

🐥 Felix Day 17: "You don't want to do that" Struggle/Black Mail/Desperate Measures Felix is asked to perform a dangerous stunt and the choreographer doesn’t take a no. [CW: idol mistreatment, self-confidence issues] Day 26: "Don't lie to me!" Rage/Choke/Paranoia Lee Know is pissed that Han spilled coffee on his favorite hoodie. Thing is - it wasn’t Han. [CW: /]

🐶 Seungmin Day 19: "This can't be happening." Sobbing/Straightjacket/Dissociation Seungmin knew something was wrong. [CW: dissociation, panic]

🦊 I.N./Jeongin Day 13: "Wait!"   Sacrifice/Adrenaline/Cornered Jeongin nearly falls off the stage. [CW: minor injuries, guilt]

🌹 The Rose 🌹

Whole group Day 15: "Get me out of here!" Rescue/Chainsaw/Presumed Dead After the phone call ends, Hajoon is not the only one spiraling.  [CW: fire, mentions of (but no actual) death, emeto, fainting]

🤍 Woosung/Sammy Day 6: "They don't care about you." Flinch/Broken Promise/Abandonment Woosung gets told he can’t go home after all. [CW: idol mistreatment]

❤️ Dojoon/Leo Day 16: "At least it can't get any worse" Secret/Stranded/Setback Dojoon hides his injured hand. [CW: injuries, emeto, self-worth issues]

🩵 Hajoon/Dylan Day 10: "Can you hear me?" Fear/Smoke/Phone Call Jaehyeong wakes to the fire alarm of his apartment building. [CW: fire, open ending]

🩷 Jaehyeong/Jeff Day 10: "Can you hear me?" Fear/Smoke/Phone Call Jaehyeong wakes to the fire alarm of his apartment building. [CW: fire, open ending]

[raccoonbug]

Static thrummed in the hedgehogs limbs, a heavy vibration under cobalt fur weighing him down like lead. Ice scorched through his veins. It was so cold, almost cold enough to burn, but he could not fall to the corruption. No. Not yet. They needed him.

He clutched to the remnants of his memories with shaking hands, yet pieces slipped through like sand. Sonic had to remember. He couldn’t forget who he was doing this for. Amy. Knuckles.

Tails.

The thought of his little brother drove a surge of determination through his core, fire temporarily beating back the ice sludge in his blood. Sonic was dying. He could feel it. Still, he’d rather let the cyber corruption rend his body limb from limb as it fought to with this world to drag him into cyber space. Rather allow the Guardians to crush him underfoot. Rather have his very soul torn from his body. Anything but letting his friends, his family, his brother down.

The End could kill him, he wouldn’t begrudge them that. But he’d tear apart the very reality they lay in, destroy the gods themselves, before he allowed anyone to harm his family.

Sonic kept walking.

[whumpypepsigal]

feeling particularly feral about caretakers watching over absolutely exhausted, sleeping whumpees

[letthewhumpbegin]

Game of Thrones, s3e10

[mynightingalecomplex]

My favorite wester trope! The Angel and the Badman - a collection

The original Angel and the Badman - 1947

The Naomi Watts Version: The Outsiders (2002)

The One With the 45yr old woman in a curly wig Angel and the Badman - (2009)

The Really religious one The Redemption of Henry Myers (2014)

Bonus: Badman adjacent ↓

Civil Love (2012) (one of my favorites)

War Flowers -(2012)

Disclaimer: I'm in no way suggesting any of these movies are good, well acted, or well produced. But ...

[mari-the-tortured-poet]

alright kids, new game

use this for all of your ocs. i do mean ALL of them. then share the just the ones that are accurate

since my sleep deprived ass came up with this spin, i’ll go first:

and an honorable mention for malachi, who tortured a 17-year-old monarch for six months:

tagging @yaboieif, @princeteeb, @jingledbell, @demyxdancer, @rainbowsandwhumperflies, @whumpsoda, and anyone who wants to join in!

[vincess-princess]

we, the psychos

ch. 5

Word count: 2724 Warnings: violence A/N: i really am spoiling you with all those updates. gene simmons fans, i'm sorry, i needed a bad guy

Vince was suffocating.

Water in his lungs, water in his eyes, water in his nose. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t even scream – no sound came out, only bubbling. The coldness burned his skin; he grasped the handles of the chair, but couldn’t feel its wooden texture. And it went on, and on, and on, and the world was just cold and water-

And then it ended. The water trickled down his body and pooled at his feet. Vince opened his eyes, but still couldn’t see anything and for a second panicked. Then he realised it was just his hair covering his eyes. He shook his head to get it out of sight.

His eyes were hurting as they do after you open them underwater, and his vision hadn’t returned to him completely, so he could only see a figure in white coming up to him. But the voice was unmistakable.

“Well, Wharton,” nurse Simmons said, “enjoyed the shower?”

“Screw you,” Vince coughed out.

“Well, you’re the only one screwed here,” nurse Simmons responded cheerily. “You might want to be more polite if you don’t want another shower. And you don’t, do you?”

Vince didn’t answer. Nurse Simmons came close to him and squatted down in front of him so that their faces were on the same level. He smiled. It was all fun and games to him.

“Well?”

“Yes,” Vince croaked. He wanted to spit in Simmons’s face so bad, but that would not help his situation.

“That’s a good boy. Now, I’ll untie you, and don’t you try to pull anything.” Simmons unfastened the belts first on Vince’s legs, then on his wrists.

Vince stood up, stretched his shoulders. And when nurse Simmons turned his back on him to fetch a towel, Vince launched at him.

He jumped on nurse Simmons’ back and clasped his arms around his neck. Simmons staggered back and clutched at Vince’s arms, but Vince clung to him like a tick. Simmons was like a head taller than him and twice as wide in the shoulders, so direct assault would have Vince on the ground the very next moment. This – this gave him a chance. Not to kill Simmons, no. That would be too much. To cause him at least a sliver of the pain and discomfort he just caused Vince.

“Let go,” Simmons croaked. He tried to poke at Vince’s eye with one hand, but missed. Vince bit his finger, and Simmons yelped in pain. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Vince’s arms began to hurt, so he enclasped Simmons’ body with his legs to give himself some propping. Simmons finally realised trying to reach the parasite on his back was useless and backed into the wall with all the speed he was capable of.

Vince hit the wall with his back so hard all the air went out of his lungs. His grip weakened, and Simmons managed to shove his hand in between his arms. Now that he could breathe again, Simmons began slamming his back into the wall until Vince released his grip and slid to the floor.

Simmons began kicking him in the ribs vehemently, shouting curses along with it. Vince covered his head and lay onto the floor in the pose of an embryo – that minimized the damage to vital organs. And now just to wait, just to endure until Simmons runs out of steam. Blows rained down his back and legs, some even came at the arms covering his face – the nurses usually tried not to hit in the face, but Simmons must have got too carried away.

In a distance, as though through fog, Vince heard another voice – a different nurse. Wonder if he stops Simmons or joins him?..

Then blows stopped.

Stradlin stood over Vince, looking at him with his typical indifference. Nothing ever touched him. Vince wished he could go through life like that – with a glass shield separating him and the world, so that he could see everything but not care about it. Stradlin never got angry, even when a patient was smearing shit all over his face, and barely ever smiled.

But at least he stopped Simmons.

“What’s that again?” he asked Simmons tiredly.

“The motherfucker tried to choke me!” Simmons said, rubbing his neck.

“Why’d you do that?” Stradling now said to Vince, not a change in his tone.

Vince moved his arms away from his face. The back of his palm was bleeding from Simmons’s sharp heel. He licked the blood off and smiled.

“He’s a dick.”

”And what do we do with him now?” Stradlin asked Simmons, losing interest to Vince.

“I’ll go ask Dr. Duren. I don’t even know what else can be done.” Simmons spit on the floor. “Would you mind watching him while I am away?”

“Alright.”

Simmons sent Vince the last hateful look and left. Stradlin picked up the towel that Simmons dropped when Vince attacked him and threw it at Vince.

“Wipe yourself up and dress.”

***

The man Duff delegated Tommy too surely was… peculiar. Long black hair that almost reached his waist that was unusually well-kept for a psycho streamed down his shoulders. Clear blue eyes looked at the world with wariness so old it was almost ingrained in them. His hospital robe was well-worn but clean, without a single wrinkle. This man hardly looked insane, and at first Tommy even doubted Duff told him the truth: how can be this man a patient? But then he looked at his fingers, and they were covered in wounds and scabs; the man kept picking at them absent-mindedly even as he and Duff spoke. Blood was under one of his nails. The man seemed not to notice.

“Bob, this is Tommy Lee. He just arrived to our asylum, so make sure his first impression is good!” Duff said with a smile. “Tommy, this is Bob Deal. He’s one of the oldies. Knows everything around here. He’ll show you around.”

“Hello,” Tommy said carefully to the man, hesitating whether he should offer him his hand. Then he decided to go for it – and the man looked at it like it was smeared with crap.

“Bob doesn’t shake hands,” Duff said apologetically. “He’s very… hygienic. Our laundresses’ favorite patient!”

“Ah, alright.” Well, what else could I expect.

“People used to show their hands to each other to prove they had no weapons. This is where hand-shaking comes from. You both can agree this is not needed in our situation,” the man spoke with a low, slightly hoarse voice. He must be a smoker. Were cigarettes allowed here?

“Well, you know, with some patients you wish they got in the habit of showing you their hands,” Duff laughed. “Not needed with you two, though, that’s true. Alright, I’ll be on my way. Please be back in twenty minutes, gents, or I’ll get into a big trouble. And keep out of nurse Simmons’ sight!”

“Don’t worry, boss,” Bob Deal said, made Tommy a lazy gesture to follow him and turned around. They went up the pathway circling the asylum.

“Hey, Bob. What’s so bad about nurse Simmons?” Tommy asked. Bob kept silent so long Tommy thought he was ignoring him. What did he do to earn such unfriendliness?

Then he stopped and turned to Tommy. “Two things,” he said. “First: don’t call me Bob. My name is Mick Mars. Nurses mustn’t know.”

“Mick Mars?” The name was more fit for a practicing performer than for a psych patient. Though… these were not too far apart. People of the arts were all a bit cooky. “Alright… And why nurses mustn’t know?”

“They will tell them.” Mick highlighted the last word with his voice. He looked at Tommy with grave seriousness. To laugh now would be to lose his favor for good.

“Oh. Them. Alright. And who are they?”

Mick didn’t answer, just put his finger to his mouth.

Well, if that was the asylum’s most reasonable fellow, Tommy feared to imagine what their worst case looked like. The blonde guy from the canteen? Or something worse?

They stood in silence until Tommy lost his patience.

“What’s the second thing?”

“Oh, yeah.” Mick’s tone switched to lazy casual so suddenly it gave Tommy a whiplash. “Nurse Simmons. Right. Well, he’s very good friends with Dr. Duren. And he tells him about everything he sees. And he usually sees things that we’d rather Dr. Duren didn’t know about.”

“A snitch,” Tommy concluded.

“You could say that.” Mick turned around and continued his path. He was surprisingly fast for a short man that he was - his head barely reached Tommy’s shoulder.

They went up the path and reached the asylum building.

“Alright. This,” Mick waved vaguely in the air, “is out beloved Feelgood Asylum. You feelin’ good here already?”

Tommy snorted. Mick clearly liked that.

“Our beloved asylum contains about seventy patients, give or take. About twenty nurses and then the director, Dr. Duren. He’s the one who’s gonna diagnose you and prescribe you stuff and all. Sometimes he requests help from other doctors when the case is tough, but usually he does it all himself.”

“And what kind of case is so tough Dr. Duren can’t crack it?” Tommy’s father spoke of him with much respect, even reverence. Dr. Duren also treated Tommy’s uncle, and, as far as he knew, successfully. Tommy never met him, but father said he was living peacefully in the Yorkshire countryside. If your treatment goes well, you can join him there, father used to say. That was before Tommy’s psychosis revealed itself, though.

“I think you’ve already met him,” Mick said, looking pointedly at Tommy’s cheek. Tommy couldn’t help but touch the bruise the blonde guy left him. It hurt a bit, and the cheekbone began to swell, but overall Tommy felt pretty good about the fight. He didn’t back off and stood up to himself.

“You saw the fight too?”

“No. But everyone had heard about that already. You did the right thing. Wharton had it coming.”

“He really is… something else.” Tommy recalled the inhuman shriek and shuddered. “Is he always like that?”

“Usually not. But he’s had a bad spell for a couple weeks. Spent almost all of them in a padded cell. Guess that makes a person a little bit… mad.”

Tommy snorted again. Well, at least this old man was fun.

“And what was the consensus on him?”

“I don’t know, but if I were those doctors, I’d say: pour more cold water on the bastard. He surely needs to cool down.” Mick started walking again, and Tommy followed him. “The problem is, he hurts other inmates. Some complain of sexual assault. Some… well, don’t react well to his antics. My advice is: keep away.”

“Alright,” Tommy said. What he saw and heard of Wharton convinced him this was rather sound advice. He only wished Wharton would also keep away from him. For some reason, Tommy doubted it. People like him tended to be pretty vindictive.

“Now, the asylum itself is Building A. Nurses live there – in Building B.” Mick waved at a smaller building a little bit farther away. It was connected with the asylum by a corridor. “We’re pretty far in the countryside, and they can’t commute here from London every day.”

“Looks much newer than the asylum.”

“Because it is. When asylum housed less people, nurses lived in the same building, just in a different wing. Good times those were. Peaceful.”

“You were there already?” Tommy stared at Mick. He didn’t look that old – in his forties, maybe. How long had he spent in the asylum?

“You heard Michael – I’m one of the oldies,” Mick huffed. He looked clearly displeased, and Tommy decided to drop the topic.

“And then the world went crazy, and people went crazy, and the asylum had to take in more and more patients. And now we’re all cramped in here, two, three in a ward… I heard you’ve got it rather fancy?”

“What, the ward?” Tommy clarified. “Fancy” was the last word he could come up with to describe it. But other patients probably didn’t have even that. “Well… the curtains are full of holes and the carpet needs washing, and I’m pretty sure someone bled on my mattress, but otherwise yeah, you could say it’s fancy.”

“Oh-oh, look at him, he’s got holes in his curtains!” Mick teased. “Spoiled little brat, you are. Why aren’t you wearing a robe like us peasants, anyway?”

“Du- Michael said there’s none in my size.”

“Well,” Mick looked him over critically, “your size is probably hard to match, that’s true. But don’t you worry – they’ll dress you up like the rest of us.”

“Oh no,” Tommy moaned. “These look just horrible.”

“You’re in an asylum,” Mick reminded sternly. ”It’s not a beauty pageant.”

“Maybe that’s why you all are crazy here,” Tommy grumbled. “Humans need beauty to live.”

“Humans need food, water and air to live. Everything else is secondary.” Mick waved his hand and headed up the path.

“Now, that’s the laundromat and that’s the kitchen. You might be assigned laundry or kitchen duty some time – if you’re normal around knives, of course.”

At home Tommy was forbidden from going to the kitchen after a maid discovered four knives under his pillow and two in the pockets of his coat. He decided not to tell Mick that, but the old man with his piercing gaze probably saw something anyway.

“So do the patients do all the work around here?”

“Well, not all. There are cooks and laundresses and cleaners. But there are too few of them to service all the patients, so yeah – we have to help ourselves.”

“And why don’t just hire more people?”

Mick stopped dead in his tracks, looked at Tommy, saw he was serious and erupted into laughter.

“Oh, sweet innocence! You do know that services cost money, right?”

“Of course,” Tommy pouted, crossing his arms on his chest in a defensive gesture. “It’s just… doesn’t the asylum have sponsors?”

“Sure it does. But sponsors are also not bottomless moneybags. And they, unlike patients, haven’t doubled in numbers in recent decades.”

“Oh.” Tommy’s father was one of the sponsors, and he never mentioned the asylum was underfunded. And Tommy’s father had no problem with money. Couldn’t he invest even a little in the place he sent his son to?

“Yeah. So that’s why we have to work. Dr. Duren says, of course, that labor humanizes and ennobles, but we all know that’s just an excuse.”

Tommy imagined himself mopping a bathroom floor and shuddered. Working like a servant, getting all sweaty and dirty, fumbling with psychos’ dirty underwear or washing the dishes – horrible, horrible! Maybe his privileged status would also absolve him of all this labor? He was already noble enough.

Duff would probably tell him to get off his high horse, and as much as Tommy liked him, that attitude irritated him. They all may be psychos here, but even among psychos there is variation. He needed to ask Dr. Duren about it. He was friends with Tommy’s father, surely he would cut Tommy some slack?

“And you sure need to learn what real labor is like. You look like you haven’t washed a dish in your life,” Mick added ruthlessly.

Well, he was not wrong. Tommy was used to considering that a reason for pride, but somehow the only thing he now felt was shame. And then – anger. How dares this lunatic shame him?

He just opened his mouth to express his resentment when Mick frowned, staring at the nurses’ dormitory, and then quietly cursed.

“Damn it. Nurse Simmons! He can’t see us!”

Tommy followed the path of his gaze and saw the nurse from the canteen. Even at this distance he instilled some primal fear in Tommy. Especially now, when he was walking in big strides, his hands were clenched into fists, and his coat half-soaked in water.

Mick dashed to the nearest tree and hid behind the trunk. From there he gestured to Tommy to hide behind another tree, which he did.

They watched the nurse enter the building, and even from their spots could hear the bang he slammed the door with.

“Hm. Someone got him real mad.” Mick scratched his stubbly chin. “We better go back to other patients.”