#asthmatic whumpee

[defire]

Asthmatic whumpee

Content: medical abuse, death threats, beating/whipping, accidental whump

(stoic whumpee vibes included)

Gagged whumpee moaning through their nose for help as their lips go numb, they slump and then faint

Going gray in the face as whumper pulls out a whip

Crying causes an asthma attack from too much mucus, so whumpee has to force themselves to stay stoic. (Bonus: whumper decides this means they need to break them.)

Whumper actually trying to keep from triggering an attack because it makes whumpee more numb and feel less

Intentionally triggering an attack and laughing as whumpee begins to fear for their life

Whumper thinking they can last-minute save whumpee's life with an inhaler. Cue an hour of spraying albuterol into their mouth hoping they don't actually die (at that point an inhaler doesn't do much)

"I'll give you your inhaler if you..." "Ha. Try inhaler plus my seven other meds AT HOME. I'm gonna die here."

"If you don't cooperate, I won't give you your meds, and your asthma might just kill you." "Fine. I made my peace with that when I got my diagnosis."

The confusion and headache when you're low on oxygen. Blurry vision.

"whumpee get the fuck up. I can tell when you're faking." *Whumpee trying to claw their way to standing as whumper grabs a cane to beat them into submission*

[whumpsical]

Febuwhump Day 10: Difficulty Breathing

@febuwhump

contents: noncon, asphyxiation, asthma attack, fear of death

ehehe Jian has been having a bad crossover time with @yet-another-heathen 's Garcia <33

(do i include the regular taglist?? idk but no one can stop me @much-ado-about-whumping @minerscanary )

🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️🏋‍♂️

"Oh, fu-- FUCK! Please, I ca--" Jian's voice gave out into silent, half-strangled gasps as Garcia shifted his weight and found an even more constricting spot on Jian's back to keep him pinned to the floor beneath Garcia's arm. The air grew sluggish in Jian's lungs, and he could feel his body getting steadily weaker while his thoughts ramped up into an electric mess of miserable, defeated panic.

It wasn't until a few long moments after Jian's eyes had fluttered and rolled back that Garcia released the pressure on Jian's chest.

Jian's brain buzzed to life with his first breath of free air. Every racing thought was torturously loud and completely nonsensical, and for a second Jian could only think of tripping hard on a sticky barstool, leaning back against the bar and watching teams of bachelorettes grind on their gay friends for the fun of it, comprehending nothing of their conversations beneath the overwhelming barrage of the speakers and the hazy filter of the drugs.

Always so loud.

Jian gasped and coughed against the cold floor. But he could take much more than that, they both knew it.

"Please?"

It came out as a squeak, congested and exhausted, and was completely ignored as Garcia leaned down between Jian's shoulder blades again. The desperate breath that Jian had managed to suck in was pressed right back out before it could even reach his lungs, and that claustrophobic terror swept through his mind again, like a fire eating up fabric drapes.

All of Jian's muscles went frantically rigid. He tried with everything he had to get himself up off the floor, but he couldn't even move his arms enough to lay his palms flat. From just above him, Jian heard a quiet hitch in Garcia's breathing as his pathetic little instinctual struggle gave Garcia something tight to push through, but he still couldn’t stop himself from giving in to the panic and pointlessly trying to wrestle his life out of Garcia's hands.

It was too late. Jian was already slipping away again, his thoughts going dark and his hands going numb. Garcia relished in it, slowing his pace and deepening the roll of his hips as Jian's body went lax again and his head radiated heat from somewhere deep inside his skull, burning wobbling mirages into the air.

"Good boy," Garcia purred from somewhere near the back of Jian's head. "Like that."

There wasn't anything else he could do. As he finally passed out, Jian felt Garcia's hips rutting flush up against him with no resistance at all, as deep inside him as he could possibly go, and Jian knew the fucking perfectly trained puppy that had wormed its way into his subconscious had taken the praise with enthusiasm. A dry whimper managed to escape Jian's throat as he felt himself getting hard too, but he saw black again before the shame could hit him in full force.

He was underwater at first, then in the deep shade of a small tree, the smell of its leaves hanging thick in the muggy air. One trembling breath drew the sweet smell in, but when it came out as a heaving cough, Jian couldn't remember where he was.

Before he could find real flowing air again, Garcia's fucking scent refilled Jian's lungs, and he had never been anywhere except beneath this man.

Again.

Jian tried to stay calm through it, but he knew he would always hit that point where his head started screeching and his body stopped taking orders.

Again.

When he had air, it traveled in short huffs that did more to express his desperation than to feed his aching lungs, but it still wasn't good enough. Garcia only listened for a moment and pressed down again, satisfied with the conviction that Jian could survive another round.

Jian spent every conscious moment trapped in a splitting headache spawned by fear and exertion and dehydration. For every round of Garcia's fucking game, he felt more and more drawn to the unconscious instead. But he couldn't quite reach that peak and hold on to it.

This time, Jian could hardly take in his one allotted gasp through a crop of tears. He couldn't even consider faking the strained wheeze and the choked rattling sounds from deep in his chest that they were waiting for. The consequences of Garcia seeing through even one false performance could mean the end of his life right fucking there. All he could do was endure the horror of teasing death, over and over again, until his own lungs gave him an out.

But he'd had a lot of practice.

Again.

A rush of gratitude and relief welled through him when his breath didn't immediately return upon Garcia releasing pressure this time. Jian scrambled for purchase, gagging on an empty gasp, when Garcia took a handful of hair and tugged his head back, but the leverage he achieved with both of his hands finally solidly on the floor wasn't enough to clear his swelling airways. It was almost over, he told himself, but whether the end would come with a few puffs of his inhaler or a trip across the River fucking Styx he couldn’t tell yet. It was almost over, but of course Garcia was going to fucking come first.

The river grew closer, and Jian grew colder in its proximity. A large hand startled him from behind, and Garcia cupped Jian's throat in his palm, tipping his chin upward, gentle but uncompromising.

Jian had barely blinked his eyes open before he felt Garcia quicken his pace, thrusting into him with single-minded drive.

Just as he felt his mind start to sink away into some kind of dark, inescapable dream, Jian managed a choke. Then a cough, and finally a gasp, but it was like he was breathing through perforated plastic wrap.

Both of his knees knocked against the hard floor, every bone and joint echoing with radiant pain from every jolt. But he was breathing.

His breath rattled in his chest and he was barely getting enough to keep going, but he was breathing. Soon he found himself able to gasp in more quick shots of oxygen, and to whimper out wordless, terrified pleas when he wasn't coughing his fucking lungs out.

He couldn't take any more, they both knew it. But Garcia still pushed him just a bit harder, releasing Jian's throat to plant both hands on Jian's hips and force them to ram backwards into him, making Jian's head rattle around on the hard floor while he whimpered in a distant voice.

It was too close this time.

Garcia buried his teeth into Jian's left ear, tugged his head back and settled deep inside of him. Intentional or not, the pain and shock of it acted like a flimsy rip cord to Jian's spasming lungs, forcing one deep gasp through his inflamed airways.

It was still too close. Jian's vision was shadowed by a dark, gray-blue film, rotting at the edges. He didn't feel being pushed flat to the ground, or the inhaler that bounced off his shoulder, but he saw where it landed in front of him. He was almost too far gone to comprehend what was going on, much less to do anything about it. A rattling cough brought tears to his eyes, and the blurry darkness rapidly crawling inward from the edges of his vision sent a lightning bolt of fear into his heart.

He had to try. He had to fucking try or he was going to die.

One arm stretched over a slow, shaky path across the floor, but Jian's strength was too quickly waning, and he collapsed again into a dark sinkhole.

He stayed underground until something hard and plastic was forced into his mouth, and the slightly bitter taste of his rescue inhaler hit him like cool water on his face.

Jian’s thoughts swirled together like a funnel of water down a drain. It was still just as hard to breathe, but to administer the medication Garcia had dragged Jian's body up into a position that was becoming familiar: Jian sitting upright between Garcia's legs, his back pressed to Garcia's chest. In that half embrace, Jian suddenly didn't feel as frantic as he probably still should.

He felt drowsy, which he supposed might've been just as bad. But he had Garcia, who he supposed still wanted him alive, encouraging Jian's shallow, labored gasps for now.

Another puff of the rescue inhaler brought him closer to focus, just a reminder that he wasn't finished fighting this battle. 

"Come on, Jian," Garcia was saying quietly. He raked a hand through Jian's hair, sweeping sweaty curtains from his forehead. It was all very gentle, but not quite tender. Garcia was just as invested in Jian's suffering as he was in his recovery. "Keep breathing, baby."

Sure, Garcia may have been following Jian's struggle to stay alive like he was watching one of his wrestling championships. He probably would've been taking bets if they weren't alone. But at least for the moment, Garcia was soft and still, and his palms spread their settling warmth across Jian's chest and forehead. Of course Jian was going to soak it up while he could.

Of course he was. He’d had more than enough experience to know that you never passed up those rare comforts offered by a sadistic captor.

He did miss the mountains.

He wasn't going to think about that.

It was hard not to. North Carolina had charred every corner of Jian's brain, and there was no escaping that fact, especially not while lost in the whirlpool of violently uprooted thoughts and all their chaotic branches swirling around him.

But he would beat those memories to the frozen fucking ground if he had to. Not now.

He felt his heartbeat pounding wildly beneath the hand Garcia had pressed reassuringly over his chest, one finger lightly passing back and forth between his collarbones. Jian let one of his trembling, numb hands drift to Garcia's thigh and hold on. It felt like surrender, and he hoped it would be received that way, but he never fucking knew with this guy.

Nestling deeper into Garcia's lap and taking another puff of the inhaler which Garcia was still holding for him, Jian finally felt his lungs start to fill up a touch more comfortably. He still had a long way to go, but his harsh gasps had quieted down to thin, choppy wheezes. Compared to the deep, satisfied breaths that played across Jian's left ear from Garcia's contented fucking sighs behind him, Jian sounded like he was on the brink of death, which he might as well have been.

Jian wouldn't survive another intentionally triggered asthma attack any time soon, no matter how quickly Garcia medicated him afterwards. They both knew that. Jian just hoped he could find other ways to keep Garcia happy in the meantime, and that the bastard wouldn't get too bored and decide to give it a whirl anyway.

[whumblr]

Hi yes, random whump thought

Lock your asthmatic whumpee in a room where whumper has worked with white spirits :))

[deviant-doughnut]

Whumpee in captivity who needs their medication. The kind of medication whose absence, of course, could really enhance the trauma they have to go through. Not only are they beaten/tortured/conditioned etc. They’re also asthmatic, epileptic, are known to pass out without their heart medication. Maybe Whumpee is desperate to keep their condition a secret from Whumper, or maybe they beg for their meds. Maybe they don’t get a choice either way and experience symptoms or an episode after some time at Whumper’s hands, right there for Whumper to witness. Your Carewhumpers might source some medication for them in exchange for information/whatever else they’re looking for. Regular Whumper’s might just sit there while Whumpee processes this latest bout of torture, and wait to see how their unmedicated body might react to the stress and exertion. The possibilities are endless!

[mj-iza-writer]

In honour of the rain not stopping for over 18hrs now (I lost count after that 18 hrs was a long time ago) RAIN WHUMPEE. Whumpee who has asthma and who is homeless and it rains like crazy and they catch an infection (smn more serious than cold) and combined with the asthma it's really bad but they have to keep walking in the cold rain to find some shelter. Unfortunately they collapse and can hardly move. Caretaker walking on the street maybe to get supplies sees whumpee... And the rest is up to you

My, I certainly hope the rain has stopped by now. I hope you enjoy the story.

Caretaker highly regretted walking to work that morning. It was a nice day, then this storm started and dragged on.

The hospital was only a block from their home, it wasn't a bad walk, but with freezing rain pelting down on you.

"My car would have been very beneficial today", Caretaker grumbled, "Doctor gets sick from being out in the elements because they are too stubborn to drive a block to the hospital."

Caretaker frowned when they looked up and saw someone struggling down the sidewalk. They were completely underdressed and soaked.

"Why are you out here?", Caretaker whispered in disbelief.

Caretaker planned on reprimanding the person when they got closer, but as they got close, Caretaker realized they were more than likely homeless.

"Poor dear", Caretaker felt their heart sink.

Caretaker began to pull a few dollars out when they looked up and watched the person grab their throat and start coughing.

The person collapsed to the ground as they gasped for breath.

Caretaker ran toward them, causing the person to cowar back fearfully.

"It's okay, I'm a doctor at the hospital nearby. Are you okay?", Caretaker knelt down.

"As...asthma.... no... inhaler", they gasped, "can... can't afford.... sick.... maybe.... I-I don't ***cough*** know."

Caretaker frowned. They knew they couldn't leave them.

"Alright, I'm going to pick you up. We need to get to the hospital", they started to cradle them.

"No... please... can't... can't afford", the person tried to scoot away but was struggling badly.

"It's okay... the hospital has programs for homeless people", Caretaker frowned.

Whumpee wasn't given any time to think. Caretaker had already scooped them up and was walking towards the hospital.

They grumbled to themself about having the rain. This person needed help.

The person nervously looked up at Caretaker. They were both drenched now. They knew this was their fault. They should have just stayed in the alley. Now they were bothering a stranger.

Caretaker hurried inside of the hospital and to the emergency department.

Nurses followed Caretaker quickly. The doctor was in and had someone in their arms. All hands on deck.

Caretaker set the patient down in a room.

"I need an inhaler he called out. Get a hospital gown ready, we need to get them dried off and into something warm. Check vitals stat. Patient is asthmatic and is possibly sick. Start a patient chart as well", Caretaker ordered, "I need oxygen running", Caretaker placed a mask on the patient's face.

"Do we have a name?", a nurse carried over the doctor's computer.

"Not yet, I found them on the street. Didn't have time to ask", Caretaker stepped away for a second.

They came back once the inhaler was handed to them.

The oxygen mask was lifted up, and the inhaler was stuck between their lips.

"Their lips are turning blue from lack of oxygen. I need oxygen levels. Run a base now, then later to make sure this is working", Caretaker frowned when the inhaler didn't seem to be helping.

"I really need you to try to get some of this into your lungs", Caretaker pressed the button again, "breath now."

After some struggling, Whumpee was finally able to get a full breath.

"There we go", Caretaker finally smiled.

Caretaker left the room for a few minutes to get out of the wet clothes. They made their way to their office and opened their locker. They always had a change of clothes on hand.

"Patient's name is Whumpee. They are homeless and have been on the street for almost two months. They are being given a breathing treatment now, following that inhaler. They've been having that asthma attack for a few hours. It was getting worse with the storm, so they were trying to find better shelter to see if it would calm down. They complain of chest pain, and think they have been sick for a few days", the nurse relayed the information to Caretaker when they got back.

"Okay can we do labs, all labs, blood, urine, nasal", Caretaker looked over the chart, "Whumpee huh?", Caretaker frowned.

"Everything had been ordered by the doctor already. You do remember you were supposed to be going home right?", the nurse giggled.

"Oh right", Caretaker smirked, "alright I'm going to go check on them. This time I'm calling a taxi."

Caretaker stepped into the room and saw Whumpee struggling with a meal tray.

They were so desperate to eat but seemed to be wearing most of it now.

Whumpee looked up sadly and noticed Caretaker.

"Oh, uh", Whumpee looked down over themself and made a sad face.

"Why do you seem sad?", Caretaker came in and sat down, "I'll help you with this."

"No, I-I already wasted a lot of your time already. I didn't deserve your help, but I really appreciate you saving me", Whumpee looked up at them again, "please don't waste your time on me."

"I didn't waste any time helping you, but if it makes you feel better... we can say I'm doing my civil duty as a doctor helping you", Caretaker grinned, "that way you can say I was just doing my job. You needed help though, I knew I'd be the fastest way to you getting care. Especially with me doing it myself."

Whumpee smiled weakly, "I don't know what happened. I've had asthma attacks before. Even without the inhaler, I managed to keep it somewhat controlled. Today's was different though."

Caretaker nodded as they reached for the fork and started to feed Whumpee, "you seem sick, possibly pneumonia, but we are waiting on the labs. Asthma can be worse with pneumonia."

Whumpee almost melted while chewing on the food.

"It's been a while since you've eaten. Also, how long have you been feeling sick?", Caretaker started to clean them off.

"I haven't eaten for a few days, I think I got sick about a week ago. The money I had saved went to medicine. I haven't been able to afford food because of it", Whumpee sighed.

Caretaker cleaned Whumpee up a little more after they were done eating.

"Alright you need to rest, and I need to head home. I will be back tomorrow to check in on you", Caretaker smiled, "the nurses and doctors will take good care of you."

Whumpee nodded, "thankyou so much."

"You're welcome", Caretaker smiled.

Before leaving they stopped at the desk to see if any labs were back... nothing yet.

Dinner had to be warmed by the time Caretaker made it home. Their spouse sat across the table while they ate and listened about Whumpee.

"That is so sad. You said they are younger. It must be hard to decide between medicine and food. Plus with most medicine you need to eat something with it. Their stomach is probably in so much pain right now", Caretaker's spouse frowned.

"I can imagine it is. They are quite young, I went in to check on them before I left. They could barely eat... they couldn't lift the fork", Caretaker frowned.

"Why don't you bring them here. I can nurse them back to health. Maybe they can stay. They already have my heart", Caretaker's spouse smiled.

"You know we can't take in everything you find on the street. We already have a cat and a turtle because of your habit of taking in strays", Caretaker leaned back and looked at them, "I feel for them to, but this is a whole person my dear."

"Come on, we have an empty bedroom that's dying for someone to stay in. All of our kids have moved out and have their own families. I want to take care of someone", their spouse pleaded.

"Okay... okay", Caretaker sighed, "how about tomorrow, I'll get off and have you meet up with me to see them, and we can offer the room to them. How does that sound?", Caretaker smirked mischievously, "I was quietly hoping you'd say this."

"Yes I'm so excited", their spouse bounced up and down happily

Caretaker couldn't help but laugh.

The next day Caretaker went in to a happy Whumpee resting in their room.

"My you look like you are feeling much better", Caretaker smiled as they read over the chart, "oh so it was pneumonia. Yes we got some good medicine in you now. Breathing treatments, food, getting hydration. I can imagine you feel much better."

"Yes I feel so much better. They said I might be able to be discharged if they get this fever to break",

"So where are you going once you get out?", Caretaker pried.

"I, uh, really don't know", Whumpee shrugged, "I've enjoyed being here, but administration explained to me how the homeless situation works with this hospital. So I don't want to be a bother."

"Oh, I wasn't aware they talked to you. They're not supposed to", Caretaker frowned, "it's up to the doctor's discretion, not theirs. I'll be going to talk with them about that actually."

"No no please don't. I understand this isn't a charity. I appreciate everything already. They even said I'd get a refill on my inhaler and some medicine to help me fully recover", Whumpee smiled, "that's more than I could ask for."

"Whumpee what will happen when you run out again?", Caretaker looked at them sadly, "it's cold out there. You were not exactly dressed for that. What happens after that?"

Whumpee shrugged again, they looked at Caretaker weakly, "I-I don't know. Trust me, I know all of that already. I didn't ask to be kicked out by my family. I didn't even get a chance to grab a few things. It was warm when I was kicked out. What I have now was donated to me. I didn't ask for this, and I tried hard", Whumpee's lip quivered.

Caretaker looked at them worriedly, "I'm sorry I pried a little too closely to a sensitive spot. I was going to wait until later. My spouse wants to come here and meet you. We both hoped that you would be interested in coming home to stay with us."

Whumpee paused, "what do you mean?"

"My spouse is very loving. The moment I told them about you, they fell in love with you. I fell in love with you yesterday as I was carrying you back to the hospital. You were so frail. I had secretly hoped my spouse would agree. We have an empty bedroom that you can use. We will help you get back on track with your health."

"You... why would you do that? You don't even know why I was kicked out. What if it's something you don't like", Whumpee let a tear fall.

"I pretty much already know what it is", Caretaker sighed, "as a doctor, you learn not to worry about who and what a person is. Everyone is deserving of love. Unfortunately, not everyone is capable of loving. I see on your chart you requested they and them pronouns. Are you LGBQTA+  Whumpee?"

Whumpee looked down and nodded. Their Shoulders shook as they tried not to cry.

"There is nothing wrong with that. My spouse and I don't mind", Caretaker sat on the edge of the bed and held Whumpee's hand, "I'm sorry people have made you feel like it was a problem."

Whumpee looked up at Caretaker. Tears ran down their face.

Caretaker reached for a tissue and started to wipe the tears away.

"It's okay Whumpee", Caretaker smiled, "you will be safe at my house, and I promise you will love my spouse's cooking."

A few days later, a nurse led Whumpee into Caretaker's office.

"Doctor has one more patient to take care of before they're off", their nurse smiled at Whumpee, "I hope you have a great time living with them. You will have so much fun. Doctor will be in here soon to get you."

"Thankyou so much for everything", Whumpee smiled back, "I appreciate you so much for helping me."

The nurse nodded, "I am happy I was able to take care of you."

Whumpee had been cuddled in a blanket earlier. They still hadn't been able to get a coat yet. Caretaker's spouse said they would go shopping once they were feeling better.

Whumpee sat down on the floor and cuddled the blanket around them. They looked around the office but soon grew heavy eyed.

Caretaker came in a bit later and found Whumpee asleep on the floor.

They got over and knelt beside them, "Whumpee", they whispered.

Whumpee jumped a little and looked up with confusion.

"Sorry I didn't mean to startle you. Are you ready to go home?", Caretaker smiled.

"Home?", Whumpee whispered, then their face turned from confusion to excitement, "yes Doctor, I'm ready."

Caretaker smiled, "alright my spouse is waiting for us. Let's go home."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @sunglasses-in-the-bentley

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

[monarchthefirst]

Whump: Needle Trauma/New Caretaker

Whumpee’s stoic gaze was unsettling, to say the least. 

Doc gave them a reassuring smile as they lay on the table, but it was not enough to break the cold silence. Whumpee watched Doc’s every move with hawklike focus, their thin lips pressed together in firm calculation. Doc had never felt this judged since med school. 

One of the nurses was pulling on blue latex gloves to begin the examination and Doc was sure he caught a shiver from Whumpee at the sight of them. He had had patients who were triggered by blue latex gloves. The mere smell had sent a few trauma victims into a wild spin. Was this going to be another one of those moments? Caretaker should have warned him.

To his relief, Whumpee just shut their eyes tightly as the hated gloves touched their skin. A glance at their vital signs told him their heart rate had quickened slightly. But the disturbed staring had stopped, thank goodness. Doc carefully kept his hands below Whumpee’s range of sight as he explored their rib cage, which was covered with violent bruises of all sizes. “Sorry, sorry!” He exclaimed as Whumpee caught their breath suddenly. “Think we have a fracture here. Might hurt just a little, Whumpee. I’ll try to be careful, okay?”  

More cold staring. Doc sighed and got back to work. 

Minutes into the examination, Doc knew they couldn’t go far without causing Whumpee even more suffering. Their whole body, painfully exposed in the bright light of the surgery, was torn and abused beyond belief. It was almost hard to connect the white, impassive face with the mutilated torso and limbs. Whumpee seemed too far gone to care about what had happened to them. 

The nurse had caught on to Doc’s thought process and had reached for a syringe, her eyes questioning. Doc looked Whumpee over and nodded slightly. Probably more merciful to just put Whumpee out for a few hours while they tried to patch them up. 

The nurse pulled the cover off of the syringe and filled it. She set the bottle down and approached the table with an alcohol swab, preparing to sedate Whumpee. 

Whumpee had been watching Doc’s every move, mistrust growing in their empty eyes. Now, they happened to glance in the nurse’s direction in time to catch sight of the syringe in her hand. 

Without warning, Whumpee’s left arm flashed out and slammed into the nurse, sending the syringe flying across the room. In a flash, they were up in a sitting position, gasping hoarsely in pain and terror, their limbs shaking. Doc rushed forward to push them back down but they were ready, warding him off while sliding one leg off the table. 

“Call Caretaker!” Doc ordered the nurse, grabbing hold of Whumpee and desperately trying to keep them on the table. Whumpee fought silently, with no other sound but their sobbing gasps for breath. 

*****************************

Caretaker wrung their hands in the waiting room, pacing back and forth under the TV. Was Whumpee alright? Why were they taking so long? Yeah, they had never gotten a proper please or thank-you from them. Pretty much zero conversation on about anything, Whumpee seeming to hold to a strong-silent-type mindset. More a don’t-make-me-talk-about-it mindset, Caretaker knew. There was a ton of recent violence that they did not speak of, and that was what had Caretaker so worried.

So when their phone buzzed in their pocket, Caretaker pulled it out and immediately started for the hall. “Yeah, I’m coming. Which room?” They said quickly. Oof, this was not going to be pretty. 

And it wasn’t. The surgery was chaos. Whumpee was somewhere in the heart of a crowd of personnel, being pinned to the operating table. Caretaker couldn’t see them, but they could hear the asthmatic wheezing of their breath and it sent pangs of compassion through their soul. Whumpee was fighting hard, despite their injuries, and Doc was trying to calm them, without much success.

“Here, let me sneak in,” Caretaker pushed against the wall of people. “Yeah, I’m Caretaker. Got a call you needed me.”

“Oh thank God you’re here!” Doc breathed a gasp of relief. “I can’t get through to them. Not sure what exactly tripped their switch.”

Caretaker pushed the nurses aside and grabbed Whumpee’s flailing arms in an iron embrace. “Calm down, Whumpee!” They said loudly, firmly. “It’s me, Caretaker. You’re safe! Stop fighting.”

Whumpee sobbed once and continued to squirm, but not so strongly as before. Apparently Caretaker’s voice had worn them down. Caretaker held them close, bending low over the table, sending meaningful glances to the nurses to back away. As Whumpee choked and gasped, trying to catch their breath, Caretaker smoothed their hair and whispered to them comfortingly. “It’s gonna be ok. I won’t leave you. These guys are trying to help you. It’s alright.”

Whumpee shook their head violently. “No! I saw him, Caretaker. Whumper…he had his favorite needle—” 

“Hush! Hush, Whumper’s not here, I swear.” Caretaker’s heart felt like it would tear in two. “If he was I would have taken him down with my bare hands. No one’s gonna hurt you, I promise.”

Whumpee was crying now, their pale face blotched and twisted with pitiful terror. But they held on tight to Caretaker when Doc approached carefully with the sedative once more. Instinctively, they turned their head to see what he was doing, but Caretaker stopped them and held them tighter. “No, don’t look at it, Whumpee. Just look at me. You're gonna be okay, you hear me?”

Whumpee sobbed with fear. “Please don’t let him touch me, Caretaker,” they begged, burying their head into Caretaker’s chest. Caretaker held them tight while Doc cleaned the injection site with an alcohol swab. Whumpee tensed and whimpered as the needle went in. Caretaker nuzzled their hair gently. “It’s gonna be alright. Great job. You’re doing so awesome,” they said.

As the sedative took effect, Caretaker continued to hold Whumpee close, listening as their breathing gradually calmed down and their trembling stopped. Whumpee’s hands were twisted desperately in their shirt to keep them from letting go. “What’re they going to do to me?” Whumpee murmured timidly, watching the nurses with furtive glances. Caretaker hushed them. 

“They’re just going to make sure you’re all ready to come back home, buddy,” they assured them. “Just fall asleep and when you wake up it’ll all be okay.”

“Home…?” Whumpee muttered drowsily. “You mean I….”

“Yeah, you’re gonna live with me, bud.” Caretaker gave them a comforting smile. “I’m going to be your Caretaker from now on.”  

[veersnz]

It's finally my turn to catch a cold 😭 or rather, a cold turned asthmatic bronchitis. Someone out there is using me as their personal whumpee and I don't like it. At least the sneezes are harsh and relieving 😔🤚

[whumpster-dumpster]

Asthmatic Whumpee suffering chain-smoker Whumper's secondhand smoke

[whumpdrivethru]

Hi, can I please order a nightmare/night terror where the whumpee devolves into a panic attack and/or a dissociative episode and the caretaker comforts them?

Thank youuuu 🥰

First of all, I am sooooo incredibly sorry at how late this is, but college has legit been destroying me. i hope you enjoy this meal tho < 3

-Nat

Rough Night

TW: Smoking, knife, asthma, sadistic whumper, creepy whumper, non-con (non-sexual) touch, implied torture, nightmare, dissociation, captivity, blood mention

Everywhere. The pungent, seemingly everlasting scent of tobacco smoke had filled the room, crawling into Whumpee's lungs with a disturbingly familiar and yet irritating burn. Being asthmatic, he was a whole lot more sensitive to it than the average person, and Whumper knew that, and it was all the more reason for him to take pleasure in his old, filthy habit.

Though the smoke wasn't the only reason Whumpee's breathing had constricted. A rough, calloused hand landed on his head, petting his hair in a humiliating display of mock-comfort. A harsh laugh escaped Whumper's lips, revelling in how Whumpee's entire body tensed, his breathing laboured, and his eyes wide and darting everywhere.

The man's grip tightened on his captive's hair, roughly fisting the strands with his fingers. "It's pretty adorable, you know, the fact that you thought you'd get away with this," he crooned in an oily voice that sent shivers up his spine.

Whumper took in another long drag from the cigarette clutched in his left hand, slowly exhaling in Whumpee's direction, making him cough, his eyes watering and nausea settling in a pit in his stomach. Any further and he was going to have an asthma attack, one of Whumper's favourite methods of tormenting him, though it only lasted for a short time until he gave him an inhaler. He couldn't have his favourite toy dying on him, now could he? Besides, it wasn't hard for him to come up with more sick punishments for Whumpee anyway.

He threw his dead cigarette on the ground, stamping on it with his boot. "No matter how amusing I find your optimism, it doesn't override how bloody annoying it is when you do exactly what I explicitly told you not to and make me have to chase you around," he snarled, his hold on Whumpee's locks even crueller now, warranting a soft whine to escape his lips.

"Since following simple rules has proven to be so difficult for you, how about we try a little something to make them stick?" The phrasing of it as a question was mercilessly ironic, as though anything in this was up to Whumpee.

He pulled a glinting switchblade out from his pocket, twirling it around with his fingers, a sadistic half-smirk gracing his lips. 

On instinct, Whumpee tried to pull away, which was quite possibly the most foolish thing anyone could ever think of doing, and still he found himself in the other man's furious death grip, the bitingly ice-cold blade of the knife pressed into the skin of his abdomen underneath the flimsy, shredded shirt making his skin crawl. 

He bit down a scream, one of many to come, but it didn't matter, none of it did because he would scream anyway, loud enough until his throat burned, up until he'd lost enough blood to pass out, but not quite enough to die. 

He wasn't sure which he despised more, his own screaming or Whumper's sick laughter, but the truth was, both of these poisons were being poured into his ears anyway. . .

Cold sweat ran in rivulets down his forehead, shivers racking his entire form as the covers slipped off his shoulders, his mind still racing with all the fear and panic of a wild animal. 

“J-just leave me a-alone, please, please, I won't try to run- to run away again,” he pleaded, voice hoarse and broken. 

He hadn't even registered that he'd woken up, biting down hard on his lips as he tried to quiet himself, practically fighting against the covers that felt like chains biting into his body. Whumper was still there, sneering at him. He was always there, in the dark corners of his mind, his rough, calloused hands wrapped around his neck, fisting through his hair, dealing harrowing punches to his form. 

Stop. Stop. Goddamn it, you bastard, what the hell did I ever do for this, just stop! 

But it didn't stop. Like how Hell never stops burning. 

“Sweetheart?” Caretaker's voice called out, cutting through his toxic chain of thought. 

He turned around abruptly, his eyes boring into hers, a silent cry for help, even though he wasn't sure who he was looking at. 

“Another nightmare?” she questioned again, pulling him closer into her embrace. 

It had taken Whumpee some time to figure out that he was safe, that the embrace was much too delicate to be Whumper trying to stop him from running away, to stop trying to fight and to catch his laboured breath.

“I'm fine,” he answered, much too late, nuzzling into the crook of her neck and smiling softly as though he was just responding normally to a gesture of affection, as though what he'd just seen  and done was another annoying thing he could just brush off. 

It was something he'd trained himself to do. Normally, his dissociations were a private matter, limited to his thoughts, but sometimes, they got terrible. Like right now.

“You were screaming,” she attested, pulling away from him, the look in her eyes turning more stern now. 

He let out a soft curse, a frustrated look that was somewhere between guilt and annoyance colouring his features as his brows furrowed, and the muscles in his shoulders went tense. 

This just had to happen every goddamn time didn't it? Another nightmare where he seemed to lose control he'd spent ages building, all the defiance, the fear, the hot shame burning at the back of his throat like pure acid. 

Whumpee wasn't even sure when the tears started flowing down his face, tasting like salt on his tongue, and it didn't matter that he'd stifled them, or suppressed his shivering, Caretaker noticed anyway.

She always did.

“Hey,” she started gently, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders, “you're alright. Whatever you've taught yourself to hide, you don't have to around me. You shouldn't have to suffer alone,” she added, rubbing circles into his shoulders.

“I just.  . .didn't want you to have to suffer with me,” he explained through a sniffle, his voice half-broken, half-steady.

“Sweetheart. I am in no way better off not knowing about anything that's hurting you. When you tell me, I worry less. Because I still notice even when you try to hide, Whumpee.” 

He nodded in response, his few false starts proving fruitless, trying to steady himself, allowing himself the luxury of letting a stray tear stream down his face every now and then as Caretaker kneaded out the tension in his muscles, her fingers blissfully cool against his shoulder blades.

He'd calmed down a little under the gentle touch, letting out a soft sigh in spite of himself. Maybe it didn't completely erase his pain, but touch was a primitive thing, relaxing his body and letting his mind reflexively follow suit. 

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but Whumpee found himself pulling Caretaker into his arms; wrapping them gently around her form. “Thank you. For everything, love,” he said softly, kissing her forehead.

“Nothing you need to thank me for, sweetie.”

Maybe a harsh past doesn't truly leave you unscathed, scars marking your form, prone to reopening. But it is fortunate that people and products are not one and the same, and you aren't a broken object in need of fixing and covering up. All it truly takes is someone to make the darker nights just a little less desolate and foreboding. 

You have been served by Natalia 💙

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Thoughts on asthmatic whumpees?

YES YES YES YES YES YES YES!!!!!

My fave TV whumpee is asthmatic ❤️❤️❤️

[rosemelon82]

鬼吹灯之龙岭迷窟 - Candle in the Tomb: The Lost Caverns - whump list - (cn)

Synopsis:

Hu Ba Yi, Shirley Yang and Wang Pang Zi explore a mysterious tomb in the Shaanxi region. Shirley Yang travels to the Longling Maze Grottos to investigate unusual patterns on fossil fragments. On the way, she crosses paths with Hu Ba Yi who along with Wang Pang Zi have just escaped from the ancient city. The trio become companions in another tomb-raiding adventure. (copied from MDL)

Genre: action, adventure, thriller, supernatural, tomb raider

Main Whumpees:

Hu Ba Yi played by Pan Yue Ming

Wang Kai Xuan (also known as Wang Pangzi or Fatso) played by Jiang Chao

Da Jin Ya played by Marc Ma

Shirley Yang played by Zhang Yu Qi

Other whumpees listed in orange

(I have included female character whump (Shirley Yang) for those who are interested in it, there isn't much though)

TW: DEATH, SPIDERS

MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW

01:

none

02:

Wang Kai Xuan:

18:57 - 20:00 - carsick, throwing up

03:

Wang Kai Xuan:

03:50 - in a storm, thrown off the boat, lowkey drowning

Hu Ba Yi:

03:57 - 08:09 - hits head against the side of the boat, groans in pain, worried for friend, jumps in to save his friend, harpooning a giant creature, stuck holding on to the harpoon which is stuck in the creature, in the air, almost eaten by the creature multiple times, hits the deck hard, groaning, in pain

04:

Da Jin Ya:

19:30 - 28:18 - in a fight, hit multiple times, on the run (comedic), in another fight, hit multiple times, running again, out of breath, asthmatic? idk he uses an inhaler a couple times

Wang Kai Xuan:

19:40 - 28:18 - "stuck" in a bus window, being pulled at, in a fight, pinned in a chokehold, saved by Hu Ba Yi, on the run (comedic), in another fight, choked again

Hu Ba Yi:

19:40 - 28:18 - in a fight, on the run (comedic), in another fight

05:

Da Jin Ya:

23:40 - end of episode - falls into a sinkhole(?), struggling, tumbles down the tunnels, lost

Wang Kai Xuan:

24:00 - end of episode - falls into a sinkhole(?), tumbles down the tunnels, groaning, in pain

Hu Ba Yi:

24:13 - end of episode - jumps into the sinkhole(?), tumbles down the tunnels, groaning, in pain, leaning on Pangzi

06:

Hu Ba Yi:

beginning of episode - coughing, sweating, looking for friend

23:30 - set off an explosion, covered in dirt and dust, coughing

Wang Kai Xuan:

beginning of episode - coughing, sweating, looking for friend

9:40 - 12:00 - bitten by a bat, yelling, running, stuck, panicking and running, almost falls into a hole, saved by friend, kicked into hiding place

23:30 - explosion, covered in dirt and dust, coughing

Da Jin Ya:

21:30 - end of episode - screaming, running, crashes into wall, pulled out by friends, panicked, out of it, slapped x2, crying (comedic), faints, fever, malaria, force fed medicine

07:

Wang Kai Xuan:

14:24 - 16:02 - finds out they have a disease, angry

08:

none

09:

Gu Zhe Shao:

26:11 - vomits golden blood

29:43 - end of episode - arm eaten by carnivorous insects, unknown fate

Gu Zhe Shao's Master (unknown name?):

29:20 - end of episode - half eaten by carnivorous insects, carried to safety by his pupil, unknown fate

10:

Gu Zhe Shao:

beginning of episode - loss of a loved one, grieving, shown with one arm

Gu Zhe Shao's Master (unknown name?):

beginning of episode - TW: DEATH, death

11:

Wang Kai Xuan:

6:12 - 6:44 - beat up, nose bleed, bruises on face, threatened

9:07 - 12:23 - bomb hung around neck, panicked, screaming, faints

18:32 - 25:47 - found trapped in a hanging cage, yelling, surrounded by piranhas, almost bit multiple times, panicked, screaming, dunked in water with piranhas, getting bit, helped out of the cage by friend, relieved, panting

Da Jin Ya:

6:12 - 6:44 - beat up, bruises on face, threatened

9:07 - 12:03 - bomb hung around neck, panicked, screaming

Shirley Yang:

22:07 - 25:47 - jumps onto cage, slips, barely hanging on

12:

TW: SPIDERS

Shirley Yang:

16:18 - end of episode - slips into a hole, tumbling down, groaning, in pain, helped up, fighting off spiders (she is badass), tries to save friend, dragged along the ground, attacked by spiders again, yanked into the air

Wang Kai Xuan:

16:19 - end of episode - slips and falls into a hole, screaming, tumbling down, groaning, in pain, helped up, fighting off spiders, grabbed by spiders, dragged along the ground, saved from being pulled into a spider hole,

Hu Ba Yi:

16:30 - end of episode - pulled into a hole, tumbling down, groaning, coughing, surrounded by spiders, narrowly avoiding spider's attacks, saved by friend, grabbed and yanked by a spider, dragged along the ground, struggling, fighting off spiders again,

Da Jin Ya:

16:25 - end of episode - pulled into a hole, tumbling down, groaning, in pain, steps on a spider egg, panicked, faints, found strung up in spiderwebs, saved

Some random guy:

27:19 - hits a venom sac on spider's leg, sprayed with poison, screaming in pain, half his face burned from poison

13:

Hu Ba Yi:

08:49 - falls, almost stabbed by giant spider multiple times

14:

Da Jin Ya:

5:14 - 17:50 - mercury poisoning, hallucinations, unsteady, breathing hard, sweating, not mentally present, being held up

Shirley Yang:

5:54 - 17:50 - mercury poisoning, sweating, breathing hard, hallucinations,

Hu Ba Yi:

6:34 - 17:50 - mercury poisoning, sweating, blinking hard to stay awake, hallucinations, hazy, unsteady

Wang Kai Xuan:

6:34 - 17:50 - mercury poisoning, blinking hard to stay awake, hazy, unsteady, being held up

15:

TW: MULTIPLE DEATHS OF MA DA DAN'S UNDERLINGS/BROTHERS

Wang Kai Xuan:

29:44 - end of episode - thrown in the air, lands on his arm, screaming, wounds all over, bloody

16:

Hu Ba Yi:

beginning of episode - fighting a spider, struggling, thrown off, dragged, explosion, held up, in pain, exhausted, coughing, speaking very breathily, unsteady, wounds all over

Wang Kai Xuan:

continued from previous episode - wounds all over body, bloody, exhausted, holding up friend

17:

Hu Ba Yi:

14:03 - 29:06 - falls into the pit, falls again, struggling to hang onto the wall, climbing with no clear hand holds, exhausted

18:

TW: DEATH

Li Chun Lai:

beginning of episode - death

Review of drama:

Good action scenes and good whump. No aftercare for those who were looking for it. Very realistic whump and clear exhaustion is seen in the behavior of the characters in the later episodes when they have been going through the tomb for hours. I like the character development for Ma Da Dan, who also got the ending he deserved, after all the trials of the tomb. Luckily, I was able to post this exactly one year after the previous one. I apologize to anyone who was waiting for it, though seeing the amount of interaction on the previous one, not many people were. I will start working on the third season soon, for those looking for it. If I missed anything, please feel free to let me know and any requests for whump lists are welcome. Thanks for sticking through the show and my whump list. Stay tuned for the next ones!

[lovely-little-whumpee]

An asthmatic Whumpee having to earn the right to use their inhaler. Whumper standing over them as they struggle to breathe, holding the inhaler inches away from Whumpee's hands, pulling it back every time Whumpee goes to grab it.

[whumblr]

Winded

Whumpee lay on the cold floor, looking up to the ceiling and tried to focus on their breathing.

Deep breath in. Hold. Breathe out. Slowly. Again.

They wondered what on earth had triggered this shortness of breath. Locked in some damp basement, far away from smoke, polution, pollen and other microscopic enemies that could cause an attack. Maybe it was the cold air? Couldn't be the goddamn stress, right?

It's not like they were wheezing or gasping for breath. They could breathe fine. It was just...not enough. Like the air they inhaled didn't contain enough oxygen. Or like their lungs just couldn't fill up all the way. Like the heavy weight that seemed to press down on their chest blocked something vital. 

They kept their mouth open, taking deep breaths, hoping to inhale more precious oxygen.

The lack of air all day exhausted them. Combined with the stress and pain doled out during the day, they were ready to drop. But sleep wouldn’t come to them. Their body was all tense. A headache just kept whining on and they were trembling slightly.

Their breathing caught for a second when they heard the basement door open.

Keep going. Deep in.

The clicking of shoes on the concrete drew closer and the light was switched on.

Talk about triggers...

"What's this? You’re so bored you been doing laps?"

"Yeah man, like in those prison movies where some dude just drops to the floor huffing and starts doing pushups."

"Hm. So you don't need this?"

They heard the smile in his voice.

"Figured it would be good to keep this." Whumper pulled their inhaler from his pocket. "You want this?"

Whumpee wondered if it was worth begging for. It's not like they were dying... but then again, they'd never really had a severe attack and they weren't keen to find out if staying like this would trigger one. While they were alone. With their inhaler confiscated.

Besides, they needed the energy to keep up with Whumper’s creative ideas. This would just keep sapping them.

So they nodded.

The raised eyebrows told them it wasn't enough.

"Yes, please," they added.

With an amused hum, Whumper relented and tossed it to them.

They gratefully took two puffs.

Of course they couldn't keep it. Whumper waited, his hand outstretched. Air was going to be a luxury here.

"I've been wondering," he said, slipping it back into his pocket and pulling something else from the other. "What would happen if we used this."

And he held up the collar.

[amethystpath-writes]

For Emergencies

Hero stood tall, fists wrapped as he and Villain parried with one another, preparing for the day when Supervillain would show up.

Besides wrapped fists, Hero also sported a fanny pack, which Villain liked to judge every time Hero wore it. ‘It’s for emergencies.’

‘Yeah?’ Villain would quirk a brow. ‘Let me guess; you have lip balm in there.’

‘Amongst other things, yes.’

No matter what else Hero carried, he kept the fanny pack with him during training days- which, at this rate, was every day. Neither he, nor Villain, knew when Supervillain would make her appearance.

But, it was obvious Villain was overexerting himself. The way his shoulders were slouching, his head was ducking, fists were loosening- it all revealed how close Villain was to a catastrophic collapse. Villain was going to destroy himself.

“Why don’t we pick this up another day?” Hero asked, dodging a lazy punch.

Villain’s head swam  and he had to steady himself before responding. “No,” he said with a wheeze. “No way. I- I’m fine.” Supervillain was on her way, and wasn’t it possible that she showed up tonight? Villain needed to be prepared.

“Will you at least”- Hero dodged again, taking note of how Villain had begun coughing- “take a puff of your inhaler?”

“Technically, I need- need two puffs of it, but it’s only for emer...emergencies.” Damn it, why’d I even say that? He broke out into a coughing fit, but cleared his throat and threw another punch at Hero, who clutched the fist with ease.

“You don’t think this is an emergency? You’re about to pass out.”

“No.” He was becoming more and more breathless with each moment of training. “I said- told you I was”- Villain’s head lolled to the side- “fine. I’m fine. Keep going.” His head returned to its regular position.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, Villain. It’s fine if you can’t-”

“I’m fine!” But as Villain said it, he doubled over, hands on his knees, his weight gathering at his front as he was leaned forward. He fell into Hero’s chest. “Just- just give me a moment. I’m fine. Just two seconds- two...” Villain blinked, one time after another, after another.

He’s going pale, Hero noticed, and also took in the red on Villain’s cheeks. He was overheating, as well, but he wasn’t going to say that, of course. Villain was just going to keep training, keep training until he couldn’t handle it any longer. He needed to stop pushing his body to such a great extreme.

“Okay. Okay, get your hands off me.” Villain pushed against Hero’s chest, elbows nearly buckling against his own weight. Still, he pushed with a strong wheeze. By some miracle, he was able to push himself onto barely capable feet. From Hero’s perspective, Villain looked like he was about to fold like a collapsible box.

“Pushing your body to this limit is dangerous, Villain. You’re going to-”

“I don’t have”- he swallowed then cleared his throat- “a limit. I’m a- I’m...look, I can do this. You’re treating me like a child. Just train- train with me, alright?”

“You do have a limit,” Hero reasoned, a bit aggravated now at Villain’s stubbornness. “Everyone has a limit, even me.”

Villain threw his arms up in a bout of aggravation of his own. “Then you know that no one meets their limit this quickly!” Deep breath. “I’m. Fine,” he stressed.

Before Hero could try reasoning with him any further, Villain kicked, foot never meeting Hero’s side- like he no doubt intended- but instead went flying into the air as his other foot left the ground. Villain’s back hit the ground with a hard thump, but this didn’t stop him for a minute before he tried sitting up.

Focusing so hard on trying to stand and maintain a consistent breathing pattern, Villain didn’t see Hero reach into the dorky fanny pack on his side. He didn’t see Hero pull out and uncap a syringe. And he didn’t see the way Hero slowly maneuvered himself around Villain’s backside, sticking him in the neck in order to lay Villain down.

“It was going to happen anyways,” Hero said, more to themselves than to the slowly fading villain. “Better it be by my hand than your own body shutting down because you’re too goddamn stubborn to stop pushing yourself for five minutes.”

If Villain had the proper amount of consciousness, he might have cursed. Might have called Hero by Supervillain’s name as a harsh insult. He might have kept arguing, telling himself- not Hero- that he was strong enough to keep pushing. That he had enough oxygen and didn’t need two puffs from a pesky tube full of medicalized air in order to breathe right.

He would tell himself that asthma was just a scheme created by doctors in order to take advantage of people’s minds, making them think they needed to spend more money than what was ever necessary.

But Villain couldn’t say this, or even think it, for the sedatives were already kicking in, and his world had already blinked out of existence.

[squigglywindy]

Whumptober Day Five

Title: Every Whumpee's Needs

Prompts Used: Running out of air

Warnings: Asthma Be Annoying, but that's about it. There's a lil 'ah no death has come for me' moment, but it's just Drama (and it do be like that sometimes). Oh, horribly medically inaccurate treatment of asthma (don't try this at home it's like exactly the opposite of anything that could ever help)

Whumpee(s): Sky

Whumpometer: Like a two? I mean he's not having a good time but he was never not going to be okay

General Notes: Some of you know of my love for asthmatic Sky (projection who? Where? I don’t see any projection here…). Somebody made a bad call and I was allowed to make the rules; and I said a flower can be a bronchodilator if I need it to be

Sky: I can take anything you throw at me

Also Sky: *sprints three yards* Hold on I need a minute

And I felt that in my soul. And my lungs. Anyway, this one’s pretty chill. I wrote it at like three am and didn't really proof-read, so uh...have fun

It wasn’t a hard fight. They’d been through so much worse so many times, but alas, an easy fight wasn't always a good time.

They had been walking for a long time. There had been a small incident with a fire and consequential smoke. After that, it didn't take much. One more spin attack to take out a pesky keese and Sky knew he had participated in exactly one activity too many.

The vice around his lungs was subtle, at first. Like a single hand curling around his chest, squeezing and making it just a little bit harder to pull in a breath. But that hand tightened quickly, and the next breath he jerked in drew the eyes of everyone around him.

“Sky?” Twilight asked, concern clearly lacing his tone.

Sky waved him off half-heartedly, bracing a hand against a tree and dipping his head slightly, jerking in a breath that felt like it barely brushed the tops of his lungs. Somebody’s hand found its way to his shoulder and he couldn’t be bothered to check who it was. It didn’t matter how many times he pushed himself to breathlessness, it would always come with this undercurrent of panic. He knew he needed to breathe; but he couldn’t breathe. That would always be just a little scary, even if he had consistently gotten through it before.

He eventually flicked his eyes to the mysterious figure to find Four, who gave him a tiny smile and tugged on his arm, leading him to a stump and pushing him down.

Sky tried to thank him, but the breath he drew to do so caught halfway down his trachea and turned into a cough, which did absolutely nothing for his lungs, which felt like empty plastic bags, bound together by a rubber band.  He planted his free hand on one knee and leaned forward, twisting in a way he remembered helping in the past; but a series of coughs disrupted his plans and he was left wheezing, hand still curled around Four because the last thing he wanted to do was let go.

He heard Four talking, didn’t register the actual words, but looked up when Four pressed Sky’s hand to his chest, taking a deep exaggerated breath in a very sweet and helpful display of how he had completely misread what was going on.

“C’mon Sky, you can do it,” Sky tuned back in as Four rumbled quietly, so utterly calm because of course. They were the heroes of courage. One of them spiraling after a battle for one reason or another wasn’t exactly unheard of. “Deep breath, do it with me.”

Sky tried to listen, he really did, but it was always going to be a lost cause. He wanted to explain that their methods wouldn’t work, that they just had to wait it out, but if he had the air to do that then he wouldn’t have to.

“Hold on,” Hyrule pushed his way to the front of the cluster of Links, elbowing his way between Time and Warriors. “I think I know what’s going on. You're calm, aren’t you, Sky?”

That was a stretch, but Sky nodded anyway because it would put them on the right track. He finally released Four in favor of bracing himself to lean forward, wishing he’d listened to that voice in the back of his mind telling him to give them a heads up just in case. He hadn’t wanted to, and so now he was stuck; surrounded by eight oblivious incarnations of himself with not a molecule of oxygen to his name.

Hyrule nodded and snapped his fingers in victory. “Wild, you grabbed a ton of those orange flowers when we were in my Hyrule, right?”

It was an utterly ridiculous question, and Wild proved it when he nodded eagerly and stepped forward, pointing his slate toward the ground and tapping away until a veritable heap of bright orange flowers tumbled to the ground.

“What’re you doing, arranging his grave bouquet?” Legend snarked, earning a swat on the back from Time.

Hyrule shook his head, either not noticing or not caring that the question was asked in jest. “The air in my Hyrule’s pretty bad,” he revisited a point that was painfully familiar to all of them. “Lots of people have trouble with their lungs. These help.” He grabbed a flower off the ground and crouched in front of Sky. “I’m going to crush the pod in the middle and it’s going to send up a puff of spores. When that happens, you’re going to inhale for as long as you can and then hold it for a second. Got it?”

Sky was pretty sure Hyrule was talking nonsense, and he wasn’t all that clear on what a spore was supposed to be, but he nodded because he trusted Hyrule and he badly wanted air.

Hyrule brought the flower up under Sky’s nose and gave a reassuring smile. “One, two, breathe.” He crushed the pod, and as promised, a vaguely yellow cloud erupted. It went against every instinct Sky possessed to intentionally suck a cloud of what was essentially pollen into his respiratory tract, but the very fact that he could inhale it was a miracle in and of itself, so he went for it.

He tried to hold it as Hyrule had requested, but the act of inhaling had disrupted his lungs in the worst way, and he dissolved into a coughing fit after a few seconds. When he recovered, he jerked in a breath and actually felt it hit somewhere in his chest. It wasn’t perfect, or anywhere near as deep as he would like, but it was there. “Woah,” he croaked, wincing at his own voice and forgoing further attempts at marvelment in favor of focusing on his semi-functioning lungs.

Hyrule smiled at his reaction. “You pick up a thing or two, living in a polluted wasteland. Don’t do that,” he reached out to snatch flowers away from both Wild and Wind, who had gathered up handfuls and were eyeing them a little too eagerly.

“What do your other flowers do?” Wind asked hopefully.

“Nothing you should be inhaling,” Hyrule shook his head and waggled a finger. “Wild’s a bad example; don’t put stuff in your body and see what happens.

“You did it to Sky,” Wind grumbled, crossing his arms and stalking off to kick dejectedly at a clump of grass.

Sky drug in one more breath, genuine excitement growing when it reached all the way to his stomach; entire chest feeling the effects of the first effective breath in too long. “Do those always work?” He asked, clearing his throat against the scratchy pitch of his voice.

Hyrule nodded. “As far as I’ve seen. Do you not have something like this in Skyloft?”

Sky shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

Hyrule smiled. “Well, it’s a good thing Wild was prepared to start a conservation colony in case we need to repopulate the planet in the event of total extinction. We’ve got plenty.”

“If we ever get home, I’m planting these on the surface,” Sky decided, refusing to believe that he could wreck the entire ecosystem. He had no reason not to believe that he was supposed to be responsible for introducing Miracle Flowers to Hyrule the whole time.

[lecherous-lollipop]

"Awkward"

***CW/TW: revenge, bullying, dubcon, abuse, pain, assault, torture, broken bones, PTSD, trauma, trauma bonding, referenced past abuse, noncon touching, dehumanization, implied slavery, brainwashing, abusive thoughts, loss of breath, asthma, general mean old whump***

~This is my third shot at writing something specific for the BBU, which I'm a *diehard* fan for since learning of it, so please, avoid this for your own good if you need to, or enjoy it for your own detriment; just please be kind!!~

It was hard to tell how much time had passed, with the drapes drawn over the windows and the looping playlist that kept pulsating in the background. The bass throbbed in and out time with Lucas' pummeling fists, which had started to flail and bend at the wrist against '742's exposed torso. He grunted and wheezed with the effort, but wouldn't let up for as long as his scarred heart would allow it.

He no longer had the breath or awareness for insults or laughter. Pure, relentless waves of rage and relief crashed inside and around him, fueling his ruthless assault. Adrenaline and endorphins stole his pain away like thieves in the night, leaving Lucas sweating like he had never before in his sedentary life as he *finally* got to beat down the monster that had tormented him for so long.

Therapy had been fucking joke all along. No amount of porn, drugs, or other forms of escapism had been good enough to wipe clean the filthy cancerous rot that grew inside. His few years out of high school had been a reprieve, yes, but there was something forever broken, damaged, wrong with him now. Lucas had spent his adult years finally indulging in all of his repressed hobbies and interests, and had even sunk the job of his dreams, but he had no friends. He wasted countless dollars and hours on self-help books, counseling, group meetings, and everything else that was recommended by society. Lucas was left to play make-believe, grasping at dreams that there was never any chance for to begin with. He had been mislead like most of everyone else was to think that if you do what is right, and what you are expected to do, you will find happiness. Lucas had to learn, the hard way, that if you wanted to be happy, you had to grab it, no matter what it cost.

Ironically enough, it had all come full circle; 970742 was the very one who had taught him this harsh life lesson.

After an indeterminate time passed, he weakly sunk against the box boy's chest, leaning heavily against him. Sensation began to saturate back into Lucas' arms and legs like blazing fire. Muscles unused to exercise screamed in protest, and Lucas looked down as the brass knuckles slipped from crooked, purple fingers. Sobs wracked his ribs, snot dripped down into his heaving mouth, and his dampened hair fell in clumps across his forehead. He became suddenly very dizzy, and his chest stitched together with fear as he labored to catch a breath.

Alarms and regret began to ring in his mind. Lucas was asthmatic.

He began to cough in spasms, unable to get his feet beneath him as he clung to the ever-steady box boy. The pet blinked at him stupidly, but held him up even as Lucas' nails dug desperately into the flesh of his forearms. His lungs burned with the need for air, and his diaphragm ached with convulsions.

Just as his knees began to give way, the only stability that was holding Lucas up abruptly pulled away. He fell forward, barely catching himself before slamming his head into the glass-top coffee table. Pushing into it caused the cup of water to topple to the floor. The exertion caused his lungs to strain even harder, the edges of his vision beginning to crumble away into bright kaleidoscopic shapes and colors.

Where was the fucking box boy? Panic rushed like ice through him as he realized he had been abandoned to die, coughing into his own spit and mucus, by his mortal enemy. In the end, Austin still won. It was his own fault, really, it was stupid and ballsy to bring the beast himself into his own home, brainwashed or not. Of course no one could break or destroy the monster that Austin was, no mysterious company, no bloodthirsty handler. It was all so very stupid. He'd laugh and gloat over his body, and probably even do that horrible thing to his face--

Without warning, something small and plastic was shoved into his clutching fingers. They burned and ached as they closed around the shape, but he realized with lurching hope that it was his inhaler. With the aid of the stronger, more capable hands, the inhaler was brought to his mouth and the little canister pushed down. It puffed the nasty, powdery medicine into the back of Lucas' throat, almost immediately providing alleviation for the crippling coughing fit.

It took a few seconds for his vision to clear and he focused his eyes on his feet. With his mangled hands down in his lap, leaning against his askew coffee table and half sitting in wet carpet, he felt an uneasy gratefulness for the box boy.

970742, not knowing what else to do to help, was sitting back on his ankles, watching his master with dark, mournful eyes. Undeterred by the giant map of bruises that covered him, the box boy seemed more worried for his master's well being then his own.

Lucas scooted himself weakly closer to the box boy, past the wrinkled balls of newspaper, past the inhaler and fallen knuckleduster, past the wooden Whumpees-R-Us box. At long last, exhausted from the bottom of his lungs, to the tips of his pulsating fingers, Lucas laid his pounding head into his pet's lap.

Lucas angled his head up to smile abashedly at his battered box boy.

"Well this is a little awkward... Isn't it?"

Tag list: @whumpocalypse @darkapatheticwriter