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forwhump · 3 months ago

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a/n; spoilers for the first three sentences : it’s been haaaaaaaard to always call silas “silas” because he calls himself “seven” for so much of the rest of the story that I get confused when I think about him & it alternates in my head LOL

tw/cw: captivity, medical torture, random acts of violence, gore, amputation, caning

living weapon whumpee

Asset Eleven Seventy Seven, they call him.

Seven, he thinks of himself.

Unfortunately, Seven has no will of his own.

He spends a lot of consecutive time in that small, grey room, in that grey bed, under those grey sheets. Surgeons in black come and go to poke and prod at him — so do doctors, so do nurses, always in black. Seven’s hair is black; everything else is kinda grey, his clothes and his sheets and his pallor. One of his legs is a polished, silvery chrome. Everything else seems to be discoloured scar tissue.

When he gets to leave the grey room, he gets muzzled with iron and taken further underground. They take him to spaces they call arenas, made to look like the wilderness or like cityscapes or desert landscapes, things Seven has never seen, things he doesn’t really understand.

He doesn’t need to. They take him to these places, and they remove the muzzle. The shackles.

They tell him to kill, so he does.

It’s fun. He’d be a filthy fuckin’ liar if he said it wasn’t. It’s the only bit of fun he has. It’s colourful, too. The arenas, too, colours Seven was unfamiliar with, but the colours of violence are his favourite. Splashes of red and pinks and yellows over the endless grey. He doesn’t care for bruising, the blues and the purples, the patterns of them. He doesn’t know why. He’s sure it’s something from before, something he doesn’t remember.

He knows there was a before. They won’t tell him, and he couldn’t ask if he wanted to, but he’s sure there was. Doctors come to poke and prod at him. Soldiers come to escort him downstairs. Before they do, they muzzle him. They strap him down. Soldiers are always standing guard, hovering close when the doctors come to inspect him. They watch him, and they’re weary. He did something before, something probably horrible. He makes them uneasy. He doesn’t know why, but he likes that he does.

Still, he does what they tell him to do. He sits in his little grey prison, and he kills when they tell him to kill. Time passes. He isn’t sure how much.

The cityscape probably isn’t his favourite arena, but it’s where he’s most comfortable. There’s a lot of concrete, a lot of grey. It reminds him of home.

The uniform they give him is black. It’s the only clothing they give him that’s properly fitted to him, a bulky silhouette that he imagines makes him look like a nightmare. Seven hears a lot of last words, and a lot of them are some version of what the hell are you?, or, amongst themselves, some version of what the hell is that thing? Or please, but that speaks less to Seven.

Above him, hundreds of feet above him, massive fluorescent lights in the ceiling act as sunlight. The buildings are all hollow blocks of concrete, windows carved from the walls but hollow, emptied of glass. Seven is allowed weapons during these times, he’s allowed to inflict violence to his heart’s desire, but Seven’s never been allowed anything that might potentially show him his reflection. He couldn’t even begin to guess why. He also doesn’t care enough that he’s ever thought too hard about it.

He doesn’t need his reflection, anyway. He knows well enough. He can see it in the way they always look at him. He can see it in the way the soldier looks up at him from the concrete, his helmet knocked away, his mask bunched up around his throat. He’s crying, and that always makes Seven smile.

Slowly, he pulls his hands from the opened cavity of the other soldier’s stomach, shreds of tissue and his uniform. They wear black, like Silas. It’s almost funny.

Even slower, Silas stands. He takes his time pulling his bloody hair back, tying it into a shitty knot at the nape of his neck with bloody hands. He toes the corpse at his feet over onto the open wound that was once his abdomen. Slower still, he steps over him.

“What the hell are you?” The soldier snivels, pathetic, and Seven thinks, hah.

He crouches next to him. With a shaking hand, the soldier reaches for his gun, and Seven catches him around the wrist. Crushes it.

The soldier screams, flails with his other hand, and Seven takes him by that wrist, too. Braces his other hand against his ribcage. Pulls. The sound is as loud as any alarm, echoing off of concrete and metal, a crack and a wet, fleshy sort of sound as Seven severs his arm at the socket. He pulls it from his torso, threads of flesh and sinew that snap, veins pulled loose and stringy.

The soldier doesn’t scream. The noise he makes is kinda soft and really wet.

Seven digs his fingers into the open wound and he does scream, that time. With a grin, Seven holds him against the concrete and opens his throat with his fingernails. The soldier gurgles, something panicked, and Seven grins again as he pulls out a handful of flesh and his windpipe.

He dies quickly. He dies messy.

Seven stands. Wipes blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. Smears more blood over his face for his efforts. Steps over another body.

There’s a specific target today. Seven doesn’t know why, what the point of any of this is, why they give him rules, sometimes, but it’s more to do than sit in a bland, grey room, so he does what they tell him to do. Today, he’s looking for somebody in particular. They’d had a picture of him, taken in front of a wall that looked a lot like any of the walls in the district. He was a particular threat, they said. Seven should be careful. Seven needs to do everything in his power to make sure that he dies.

Seven finds him in an empty, grey building, one with a lot of windows, a lot of fluorescent sunlight. He’s bigger than the other soldiers have been. Noticeably. Not big like Seven is big, but he isn’t one of them, either. He’s somewhere in the middle, something between them. Seven starts to think he might be in for a better fight, and he’d be lying again if he said he hadn’t been itching for one. Slaughter is fun, but that’s because it’s his only fun. Monotony is monotony.

He doesn’t get a fight at all. The soldier looks up at him, in a black uniform, but it’s different from the soldiers and it’s different from Seven, too. He looks at Seven different, too. He looks at him, and he looks at him for a long time. Seven doesn’t recognize the look on his face. He doesn’t say what the hell are you? or what the hell is that thing?

He says, “Silas?”

He says it with a sort of familiarity that stops Seven in his tracks. He doesn’t look tense, or like he’s scared of him at all. Seven doesn’t think he likes that. He thinks he’s disappointed.

He closes the distance between them and takes him by the throat. The soldier flails, but not for a weapon; he grabs Seven around the wrist.

“Silas!” He says loudly. “What are you doing?! It’s me!”

He’s saying a lot of things Seven doesn’t know, but he says it like he should, and it makes him feel — Seven doesn’t know how it makes him feel. He doesn’t like it. He can’t quite breathe around it, and he doesn’t know how to make it stop. His lip pulls back from his teeth.

“It’s me!” The soldier tries again.

Seven lifts him off his feet.

The soldier flails again. Grabs Seven’s forearm. “Silas,” he chokes out as his face starts to purple, “what are you doing? It’s me. It’s Hal.”

Seven can’t explain why he does it, because he doesn’t think about it. It’s an instinct more than anything else, but with a snarl, he drops the soldier on his feet again.

He inhales deeply, covering his quickly bruising throat with a shaking hand. “What the fuck was that?” He rasps.

Seven snarls again. Takes a step back.

The soldier watches him closely. His voice is getting rougher when he says, “what’s wrong with you? It’s me. It’s Hal.”

Obviously, Seven doesn’t remember Hal, and he doesn’t like the way it’s making Hal look at him. There’s something doe eyed and pathetic about it, something pitying, and it makes Seven’s skin crawl with something like disgust and he doesn’t know why. His hands have been shaking since he woke up in that grey room but they shake a little worse with this. Again, he considers killing him. For some reason, he doesn’t. Takes another step back, instead.

“It’s me,” he repeats, eyebrows pulling together in the middle, like he’s hopeful this time it’ll spark something.

Seven angles his head. He doesn’t fuckin’ know.

The soldier looks at him again. Studies his face. “Silas?” But his voice has gone unbearably soft.

Seven’s shaking hands twitch. He takes another step back.

The soldier drops his hand and Seven can hear him swallow. “You don’t know who I am?”

Seven shakes his head once, just barely.

“What the fuck?” He exhales softly. He pulls himself up a little straighter, looks at Seven a little closer, studies him like he’s looking to catch him in a lie. Seven doesn’t think he has it in himself to lie. Did he use to?

Crushed, apparently, by whatever he finds in Seven’s face, the soldier exhales, “what the hell did they do to you, man?”

But Seven doesn’t know. Seven doesn’t know fuckin’ anything, not before and not since.

That feeling he doesn’t like, the one he can’t breathe around, the edges of it are sharp and they wedge under his ribcage and it hurts in a way that’s unfamiliar. Usually, these slaughters they send him on are senseless, violence for the sake of violence. All the soldiers killed in these places had been green, unprepared — they never stood a chance against Seven. It’s never even been close.

Except this one. It’s bigger than the rest of them. It isn’t afraid of him. It remembers him, and it isn’t afraid of him.

Maybe that’s what his problem is. Seven doesn’t remember a lot, but in all the grey time and slaughter he remembers, he’s never come across even a single person who hasn’t been scared of him. He doesn’t quite know what to do with that. What could he have done that the shadow of it is still splattered across the walls and ceilings of this place but this one, lone soldier isn’t still afraid of him? He looks disappointed, in fact. What does he know?

What he says is, “we’ve been so worried about you, dude.”

For some reason, it hurts under Seven’s ribcage just as much as the other thing. He can’t even begin to guess why it hurts.

“You went to find Wren and you just disappeared,” he’s saying, and he says it with a sort of familiarity, like he’s already forgotten Seven has no idea what he’s talking about and Seven feels like he’s out of his element, Seven feels like he’s drowning. “You all just disappeared. Fuckin’ Point’s been gone, too. We thought —,” and he exhales sharply, “we knew something really fucked up had happened to you.”

Seven snorts. He can’t help it.

The soldier smiles, kind of sad, but he has a big smile, regardless. “I’m glad you’re not dead,” he says, and it feels like a punch to the chest for some reason. “Is Wren okay?”

Seven tilts his head.

“Wren,” the soldier says slowly. “Who’s been with you. Right?”

A lot of people are around Seven, pretty constantly. He doesn’t know a single one of them by name.

His face is falling again. “You have no idea what I’m talking about,” he realizes. Seven kinda shrugs, and he asks, “do you remember…anything?”

He heaves a wide shoulder. The soldier exhales like Seven hit him. Seven’s already forgotten what he said his name was, and he couldn’t ask again. It’s guilty, the pain this time, and that surprises him.

“Oh, man,” he says softly. “Wren’s gonna be so bummed.”

The sunlight, leaking in through the windows, turns red. The bellow of the alarms start to pound, so loud it makes the soldier jump as Seven’s lip curls away from his teeth. He’s familiar, unfortunately, with the sirens. His time’s up.

The soldiers swarm not seconds later, and Seven scoffs but kneels obediently to be muzzled and shackled.

“Silas —” the soldier starts to cry, and then he’s gone, dragged from the grey building with his hands tied behind his back.

“What did he say to you?” one of the soldiers hisses, urgent, but Seven couldn’t tell him if he wanted to. Wouldn’t, anyway.

With a growl, he cracks the end of his gun into Seven’s mouth, and Seven quickly tilts his face to spit blood at him before the muzzle is pulled tightly over his face. He smiles beneath it. Makes sure his eyes crinkle the way the soldiers’ always do.

Seven is taken from the arena, but not back to his grey room. He’s taken to a different grey room, stripped down to his grey, thermal pants and led into another grey room, so cramped Seven can’t stand up straight, has to duck his head. He gets shackled to the ground by his throat. They shackle his hands the same. They don’t remove the muzzle. They leave him there.

Seven can’t say for how long. It feels like it’s a long time. It might be days.

Eventually, a soldier joins him. “Did you remember?” He asks.

Seven tips his head back, bored. Of course he didn’t remember. He doesn’t remember anything.

The soldier curls and uncurls his fist. He says, “why didn’t you kill him?”

Seven couldn’t answer that if he wanted to. First, he can’t speak. Second, he doesn’t know why he didn’t kill him. He could’ve; he was bigger than the other soldiers, but he wasn’t like Seven. Not even close. What did he say his name was? How would Seven have known him, if that guy wasn’t one of these soldiers? What the hell is that guy? What the hell is Seven, for that matter?

The caged freak. Was he a soldier once? Was he like that guy? Why would they do this to him? What could he have done?

The soldier clicks his tongue, unimpressed. He’s been leaning hard on a cane, one that he apparently doesn’t need. He shifts his weight onto his feet and swings it up onto his shoulder.

Seven doesn’t know a lot of things, but he knows weapons. He thinks, ah, fuck.

“When the captain gets back,” the soldier explains, “you’ll be disciplined properly. In the meantime,” he says, and he swings his cane into Silas’ back. He can feel the way his skin splits around the impact, but he doesn’t feel himself starting to bleed so much as his back just starts to feel wet. “You’ve been a bad dog,” he says. “Point’s going to be disappointed.”

He swings the cane again. Hits almost the same spot, and Seven can feel the way his flesh splits, all the way through the meat of his back, a pain that resounds in his bones.

It’s probably not supposed to, but it makes Seven think. The soldier strikes him again, a solid strike to the chest, and this time, a steel barb at the end of the cane sinks through Seven’s skin and pulls a chunk of meat from beneath his ribcage.

It’s a pain that's really, oddly familiar, and it makes Seven think. He has a feeling they think that he doesn’t, that he’s incapable of conscious thought, and he can’t speak to tell them otherwise, but it isn't true. He’s left on his own so often he doesn’t do much else but think. He thinks, now, of how familiar this pain is, as the soldier swings again and skins a good portion of his back, peeling flesh back from tissue with a slick sound that’s almost as familiar.

It seems like an overreaction, really. To skin him for his failure? It makes him think. They’re scared of him, much more scared of him than he realizes, probably more scared of him than he can properly wrap his head around until he knows what he’s done to these people, until he knows what it is they remember when they look at him. They’re scared of him, they don’t trust him, and the field test was a lot more than just a field test. It has to have been. It was something else, something bigger, and Seven failed. Seven disappointed them. They didn’t like what they saw.

Why?

He can’t ask, and he doesn’t get a lot more time to think about it. This soldier is just like the other ones, and he’s seeing something in Seven he doesn’t like. He’s trying to get a reaction out of him, and he isn’t getting one. Seven kneels, shackled to the floor, and bleeds quietly, bleeds without a word of complaint.

The soldier doesn’t like that. He swings a little harder, swings the barbed end of the cane into Silas’ neck. Pulls his throat out.

Seven finally does make a sound, an involuntary gurgle. He slumps forward, watching the blood shimmer around his knees, and he doesn’t think much at all as he watches the way the colour shines in the fluorescence.

The soldier groans in frustration. “You used to be more fun,” he says.

He hooks the end of the cane into the hollow of Seven’s throat. It sinks through shredded tissue, scrapes the bone of his jaw from the inside.

It hurts for only a moment.

Mercifully, then, Seven bleeds to death.

When he wakes up again, in that bland, grey room, under those bland, grey sheets, his chest, his throat, and his arms are all bandaged. Beneath, he feels tender and sore. He can't remember why.

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cookies-and-coffee · 6 months ago

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telepathic interrogation (1)

cw: telepathic/telekinetic whumper, sadistic whumper, team leader/defiant whumpee, team forced to watch, psychological torture, interrogation, mentions of broken bones

a/n: this was a prompt that kept me up at night, just because i found it so interesting. the telepathic/telekinetic whump was inspired by a scene at the very end of the book Empire of Storms, part of the Throne of Glass series. TOG as a whole as some really good whump, highly recommend!!

Whumper's power curled around Whumpee's very bones, keeping them still as death. Any shake or tremble from Whumpee, and their spine would shatter from the tension.

A lick of power slicked and snaked up Whumpee's back, wrapping around their throat in a noose. Whumpee gasped shallow breaths, the noose tightening.

Whumper strode in front of Whumpee, smiling wickedly at the team leader on their knees. Whumpee barely noticed their team watching in horror, unable to turn their head from the power threatening to snap bone.

"This is going to hurt," Whumper said with delight, and ripped into Whumpee's mind.

Whumpee tried to steel themselves against Whumper's mind invading theirs, but they still weren't able to wholly prepare when their consciousness became violated in the most intimate sense.

Whumper carved into Whumpee's consciousness, their presence like a serrated knife against Whumpee's thoughts, memories, emotions. Whumpee would scream if they had any breath.

I don't have to do this, you know, Whumper said soothingly, but the sound didn't come from their mouth. Instead, it echoed inside Whumpee's mind, the words reverberating against the walls of their head. Where is Caretaker?

Whumpee shut their eyes, trying to find peace in the darkness, but Whumper just laughed into Whumpee's mind. The sound was deafening, like hearing gunshots from the inside out.

Whumper spoke casually in Whumpee's head, like they weren't tearing a psyche to shreds.

I'm going to get what I want, one way or another.

It's up to you to decide how will be left of your mind when I'm finished.

How much will be left of you when I eventually bring in Caretaker?

They should be proud of how thoroughly broken you will be, knowing you protected them...

fruitlessly, of course.

Whumpee sobbed aloud, the sound secondary to the roaring in their ears from Whumper's violent will. Still, they retreated further into their mind, running from the ripping, scraping, clawing-

They didn't notice Whumper gritting their teeth in frustration, tearing deeper into Whumpee's head.

They cried out in pain when Whumper laid a hand on their forehead. The touch itself was gentle, but the skin seemed to be blistering, like Whumper was trying to burn through the flesh and sinew and bone and brain.

The team couldn't look away, their gaze transfixed on the horrible pain written on their team leader's face, the fists clenched at their sides, the sweat soaking through their shirt.

Whumper was the picture of amusement, save for that glimpse of impatience at Whumpee's determination.

"Does your team know how frightened you are?" Whumper cooed, their thumb and middle finger digging into Whumpee's temples. "That burden you carry... it weighs down every step, wears you to the bone... such delicious fear."

Whumpee whimpered, tears flowing freely, unending.

Whumper reached a wall in Whumpee's mind. "Ah, there it is."

"No," Whumpee croaked, squeezing their eyes shut. That tension rippling along their bones tightened, forcing a shriek of pain from their throat.

No?

Oh, Whumpee, you're so cute to think I'm not going to get what I want from you.

Give Caretaker up, now.

I'm not going to give you another chance.

"No!" Whumpee screamed, their tear-filled eyes snapping open. Whumper lurched back, pulling their hand from Whumpee's forehead.

The pressure in Whumpee's head lessened, but the force trapping their body remained.

Whumper was quiet for a moment, rage crossing their face.

Then the rage dissipated, became something else...

Glee.

Whumper laughed, the sound horrible and dreading. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun."

#whump #whump drabble #whump prompt #whumpee #interrogation #intimate whumper #captivity #beaten #creepy whumper #team leader #defiant whumpee #sadistic whumper

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scifimedic · 25 days ago

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Military Whump in Stargate SG-1

Inspired by this post.

@glass-expanse

@cravesunconditionallove

Hearing the whumpee’s screams over the radio as they’re captured, the rest of the team frozen in horror. The First Ones

Patch job in the middle of the battlefield, someone pressing down on a wound with their bare hands, whispering, “Stay with me, okay? Just stay. Heroes Part 2

Post-mission debrief, but the whumpee is barely holding it together, swaying on their feet as the adrenaline wears off. Fire and Water

The whumpee refusing pain meds because they need to “stay sharp,” only to pass out mid-conversation Line in the Sand

“I don’t leave people behind,” they growl, limping and bleeding but refusing to abandon the unconscious teammate over their shoulder. Crystal Skull

Waking up in a field hospital, disoriented and panicked, pulling out the IV before being restrained by a firm but gentle voice.

Line in the Sand & Lifeboat

“We’re not going to make it.” “Yes, we are.” Cue one of them doing something reckless to ensure the other gets out alive. Lost City Part 1

Cold, soaked to the bone, huddled in a ruined building during a downpour, one of them feverish while the other desperately tries to keep them awake. SGA The Shrine

Hiding an injury to avoid being benched, only for it to get worse at the worst possible moment. Upgrades

“You don’t understand—I can’t go back. I can’t be discharged.” Meridian

A high-ranking officer demanding a mission debrief while the whumpee is barely conscious, words slurring, bleeding through their uniform. Death Knell

A medic struggling to save the whumpee in the back of a jolting vehicle, yelling for the driver to go faster. Entity

Post-rescue, sitting by the whumpee’s bedside, counting every beep of the heart monitor like a prayer. Merdian

#stargate sg 1 #stargate #whump

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whumpisgoodwhumpislife · 3 months ago

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WHUMPCEMBER DAY 18

Poisoned

CW poison, unclear character status

Team leader sighed in relief as they ran into a room, finally spotting whumpee. He looked unconscious, half collapsed on the basement's floor, an empty glass next to him.

- Whumpee ? Whumpee, wake up, we're getting you outta here.

Team leader shook whumpee's shoulder as teammate uncuffed his ankles.

Whumpee looked up blearily, and rubbed his eyes tiredly, his voice slurred:

- Oh, hi. Wher' we goin' ?

Team leader didn't respond. Whumper was likely to come back soon, and they needed to get moving now. He grabbed his arm and hoisted him up, dragging him behind as teammate led the way.

Finally. Finally they had their friend back. Whumpee was drugged, it was obvious by his sluggish movement and speech, but it would wear off quickly, medic would make sure of it. Team leader suddenly heard a light thud, and turned back in astonishment, to see whumpee collapsed on the floor.

- Whumpee ? Hey, kid ! What are you...

Teammate turned pale as he rushed to whumpee's side, whose face was flushed, his chest jerking weakly, his mouth gaping as he gasped for air.

- Call medic, now !

@whumpcember

#whumpcember #whumpcember24 #whumpcember24 day 18 #day 18 #poisoned #whump writing #whump #whumpblr

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fairyniceyeah · 2 months ago

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💎🐈‍⬛When did we normalize danger?

Title from SOS (SEVENTEEN)

Summary: “Hey, Wonwoo-yah”, Seungcheol greeted happily, “how is your photoshoot going?” “Hyung? Can you come and get me?”, Wonwoo whispered, feeling a bit choked up all of a sudden.

CW: emeto, medical issues with the eyes

Whumpee/Sickie: Wonwoo Caretaker(s): S.Coups/Seungcheol + Jeonghan

(It’s okay)

“Okay, nearly done”, the stylist noona announced, fixing a few strands of Wonwoo’s hair before stepping back to inspect her work. “I think I outdid myself.”

“You did, noona”, Wonwoo agreed, laughing at her proud smile. He was at a solo photoshoot to model for The Face Shop again, an activity he enjoyed more than he ever thought he would. The staff was always the same and they were very kind and forthcoming. He had grown quite close to them, as much as work allowed. “Can I keep my glasses on or do I need to switch to contact lenses?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to go with the lenses this time, sweetie”, she said, looking very apologetic though it certainly wasn’t her fault. “Apparently in this studio due to the new lamps the glasses might reflect the light so that the pictures will be useless.”

“It’s not your fault”, Wonwoo protested, already rifling through his backpack to find his contact lens case. Where had he put it? When he couldn’t just find it with touch alone, he completely opened his bag and searched through it.

Yet the contact lens case didn’t turn up.

For a moment, horror washed over him. A hot flush of shame encased his body and he felt his hands start to tremble badly. This was the worst case scenario - normally he was so diligent and reliable. For a reason. He hated inconveniencing others and currently, if he had no contacts, he would either end up accidentally squinting on camera and have to rely on somebody to get around or they might even have to break the contract - an expensive collaboration between their company and The Face Shop - if the pictures didn’t work out.

“Everything okay, Wonwoo-ssi?”, the stylist asked worriedly.

“I … I can’t find my contact lenses. I think I forgot them at home”, he whispered, bowing his head in shame. “I am so sorry.”

“Oh”, she said, “well, maybe your manager has a back-up pair?”

“I … I don’t know. I’ll ask”, Wonwoo said, cursing his own stupidity. Of all the days of this to happen was when there was a scheduling conflict, leaving him completely on his own at the other company. The manager had just dropped him off and then driven away to run an errand or something. It was moments like this that made Wonwoo hate solo schedules with a passion. He would have given a lot for his Seungcheol-hyung to take over dealing with the situation and his Jeonghannie-hyung’s comforting hugs.

Instead, he called the manager, hoping he had a solution.

💎

Fifteen minutes later the manager hurried in, handing over a contact case he had luckily found in the glove compartment of the car.

“My lifesaver, thank you”, Wonwoo thanked him with a deep bow, “I’m sorry for the … well, for everything.”

“No worries, Wonwoo-yah. I really need to go now, though. Remember to take your eyedrops before”, the manager said and vanished again.

Wonwoo took out his eyedrops, putting them in. He hated them with a passion but there was nothing he could do. His eyes were always so dry - one of the reasons he never really wore contacts in the first place, the other his hand tremor making it too hard to put them in - and today wasn’t a good day to begin with. As he unpacked the lenses, he accidentally had a glance at the expiration date printed on the case.

At once his heart dropped to his stomach. With the expiry rate this close to that day’s date it was clear that this was a very, very old pair. If he had to guess likely from over three years ago - meaning that it wasn’t his current prescription. He knew that it wasn’t the best idea to wear lenses that were so outdated and would probably hurt his eyes but he also couldn’t just not wear them. Not after his manager had run all the way down to the car to get them. Not if he would otherwise be a stumbling, blind idiot who should have remembered to pack the right prescription that morning. He’d rather have slightly less blurry sight than go completely without help, thank you very much.

Putting them in was as awful as it always was. It was hard to place them with his hand shaking so much. And, beside the fact that it was just wrong to have something directly on his eyes, he just couldn’t tell if they were placed correctly. After fumbling around for a few minutes, he gave up. It would have to do.

Already he could feel the headache starting.

When he arrived at the studio where they would take the pictures he was regretting his decision. It was even more awful to see less blurry than he normally did. At least that level he was used to. But taking the lenses out again was out of the question.

At least the atmosphere at the set was nice. He had worked with that particular photographer before and liked him well enough. It would be doable. Then he recognized belatedly who the woman waiting for him was.

“Good morning, Wonwoo-ssi”, the director greeted him with a small bow.

Wonwoo smiled at her, greeting her as well. He liked the woman, though she was a high executive for The Face Shop she always took the time to come greet him when he was asked to model for them - like today. It was nice to chat with her and often she would speak about the concept and even watch some of the photoshoot later on. He considered himself very lucky that she approached him with grace and kindness, never once making anything awkward despite his own awkwardness and shyness around strangers.

“I’m sorry for the delay”, he apologized, bowing his head.

“Don’t worry about it. Stuff happens. Sadly, I won’t be able to watch the whole shoot today but I will pop in sometimes to see how it’s going, alright?”

“Thank you, director-nim.”

💎

(No, no more)

Two hours later, Wonwoo was done with the day.

Constantly trying to compensate for blurry vision and simultaneously trying not to look like he was doing it was hard. A headache was pounding in his skull at the same time as his heartbeat. His eyes were extremely dry and stung so badly he could barely tolerate the harsh overhead lights. A dull sense of nausea swirled in his stomach - topping off a terrible day.

Yet, he continued. There was no sense in breaking off the photo shoot now and going back another day. Even worse, the director had come back in a few minutes ago - he liked her a lot, that was true, but he really wasn’t up for any idle chit-chat or for her to watch him as he fumbled his way through the shoot. He knew it wasn’t up to his standard, he knew he would hate whatever pictures the photographer would take.

“Wonwoo-ssi? Is everything alright?”, the director asked out of the blue. Wonwoo looked up, blinking harshly and trying to focus on her. His head swirled for a moment as he tried to adjust himself to look over where the photographer and the director were talking quietly with each other.

He couldn’t bring out much more than a pathetic: “Huh?”

“Your eyes look really red and watery”, the photographer commented, “let’s pull the pictures up on the screen but I’m afraid it will show.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Wonwoo took a deep breath and stepped down the platform he had been standing on for the shoot. Well, he tried to. With his vision blurry as it was he misstepped, expecting a bigger height than it actually was and slammed his foot against the ground. Immediately a hot pain shot up his ankle up to his calf, causing Wonwoo to stumble and drawing a sharp hiss from between his teeth.

“Are you alright?”, the director asked worriedly, hurrying over to Wonwoo who stood rooted to the ground as he tried to figure out if it was just a momentary pain or something worse.

“I …”, Wonwoo tried to speak up but broke off. He wasn’t alright, so much was clear. But he also couldn’t just ask to stop the photoshoot now, could he?

“It’s your foot, isn’t it? The impact looked painful? Did you misjudge the distance or were you dizzy or something?”, the director fretted. Wonwoo didn’t expect her to reach out to him, flinching as she touched his arm.

He could tell he was getting overwhelmed, everything becoming just a bit too much and too big for him. His ankle was throbbing, his eyes and head were aching and he was slowly becoming really dizzy and nauseous from his swimming vision.

The director seemed to take his silence and flinch as a sign that something was wrong, apologizing for scaring him and then adding: “Come on, let’s sit down, okay?”

Wonwoo let himself be pushed down onto the step, sitting down and stretching out his leg. Now that the immediate moment of impact was over he could tell it was indeed just the shock that had hurt, the pain in his foot slowly ebbing away.

At least something, even if he nearly wished that it was instead the headache that had faded.

“I’m fine, director-nim”, he said then, glad he finally found his words. “I think I just slipped. The pain is much better. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Are you sure? That looked painful”, she replied, sounding unconvinced.

“Yeah, I’m good to continue. My foot is fine, really.”

“What’s wrong with your eyes then?”, she asked bluntly. “Wonwoo-ssi, I’m really sorry, even if we wanted to continue - your eyes look really red and swollen. What is going on today? This isn’t like you.”

Wonwoo sighed, not really wanting to reveal his struggle to her. He was still a bit embarrassed about forgetting the contacts in the first place and he knew that he was costing both companies a lot of money at the moment.

“I … I forgot my contact lenses at home”, he started hesitantly, despite his weariness. She had been nothing but kind to him and he really had nothing to win with lying anyways, if they couldn’t continue. He didn’t want to imagine how bad his eyes looked considering how awful they felt. “My manager had some old ones in the car but it’s a really old prescription and normally my eyes don’t do well with contacts anyways. Guess it’s all catching up to me now.”

The director hummed sympathetically. “You’re having a really crappy day, hm? Why don’t you call your manager and go home? I think we should have enough pictures for it to work out. If not we’ll just reschedule the shoot. It’s no big issue. There is no sense in continuing. And don’t you dare apologize again.”

“Sorry”, Wonwoo offered, then sheepishly ducked his head. “I, yeah, I guess I should go home.”

What else was there to be done?

The director even went so far as to grab him something to drink and get his phone so he could call somebody to take him home. As he held his phone in his hand, ready to dial the manager, he was hit with a sudden sense of longing.

The manager was a kind man and he had been with the team for a long time. But …

… if Wonwoo was really honest to himself, he just wanted his hyungs after everything that had happened.

Without further thought, scared he would talk himself out of it if he hesitated any longer, Wonwoo dialed the number and lifted his phone to his ear, closing his eyes in exhaustion.

“Hey, Wonwoo-yah”, Seungcheol greeted happily, “how is your photoshoot going?”

“Hyung? Can you come and get me?”, Wonwoo whispered, feeling a bit choked up all of a sudden.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can”, Seungcheol promised immediately, with no hint of hesitation, his voice dripping with concern, “but Wonwoo-yah, what happened?”

“It’s a long story.”

💎

By the time Seungcheol arrived, Wonwoo was desperate for a hug. He had already switched back to the jeans and comfy hoodie he had arrived in, most of the make-up wiped away. However, no matter how much he had tried and no matter how careful the stylist had been during her tries, they couldn’t get the contacts out.

Wonwoo knew it was a risk - using them with dry eyes always was a bad idea - but now with his eyes burning and watering it seemed to be impossible.

“Wonwoo-yah”, Seungcheol called, rushing inside the room not caring for anything but getting to his dongsaeng.

“Hyung”, Wonwoo replied, his voice coming out shakier and more desperate than expected. He turned around on the swivel make-up chair just in time. Within seconds he was wrapped in a strong embrace, Seungcheol holding him tightly and even gently cupping Wonwoo’s head to his chest with his hand.

“I’m here, baby”, Seungcheol said and Wonwoo could just imagine the worried pout he probably had on his face, the same one he always had when one of his “kids” was sick or injured. Just breathing in his leader’s perfume gave Wonwoo a sense of home, making him grab onto the back of Seungcheol’s hoodie. He was aware that he was embarrassing himself in front of the director and the stylist but for once he couldn't care less.

After a few moments of just rocking them both from side to side, Seungcheol carefully pulled away. Wonwoo reluctantly let him, dropping his hands to his lap and staring down.

Suddenly he was embarrassed. He never should have asked Seungcheol to come - the leader had a lot on his plate and Wonwoo could have easily called the manager. Well, the manager might not have been available but that was a different story. Seungcheol hadn’t needed to drive across the whole city just to collect one of his hyung-line members who was too stupid to remember to pack his contact lenses.

“Ah, ah, I know that face”, Seungcheol said, his hand coming up to cradle Wonwoo’s cheek, “don’t apologize. From what you said I know you had a terrible day and, I’m sorry for being this blunt, but you look awful. I’m glad to be here for you.”

“Thanks”, Wonwoo mumbled quietly, face heating up under the caring attention. It always blew his mind just how much Seungcheol loved them all, loved him.

“Thank you for coming to take him home, S.Coups-ssi”, the director said, stepping over to them in the silence that followed, “I’m the director. Nice to meet you in person.”

“Nice to meet you too”, Seungccheol replied politely, bowing slightly. “Is it alright if I take Wonwoo home now or is there anything you need to talk about with the contract?”

“No, no. Take him. If there is anything we need to go, I’ll call his manager in the next few days. Maybe we got enough good pictures before we needed to stop. I think the most important thing right now is to get his contacts out.”

“They are not out?”, the leader asked worriedly, turning to Wonwoo again, automatically placing his hand on Wonwoo’s shoulder.

Wonwoo shook his head. “I couldn’t. It hurts. I can’t keep my eyes open to get them and with my hand tremor I’m not steady enough anyway.”

Seungcheol hummed unhappily. “I doubt you want to go to the ER. Why don’t I drive us home and then we can try to figure out how to do this? I think Hannie can help. What do you think?”

“Yeah, let’s go home”, Wonwoo croaked.

💎

Getting to the car was a mess. By the time they made it, Wonwoo was shaking all over, vision swimming so badly he could barely see anything but vague lights and he was clutching Seungcheol’s arm for dear life. The headache had not relented and he wasn’t sure if the rolling feeling in his stomach was nerves or nausea.

He collapsed into the seat, too exhausted to even buckle himself up. So Seungcheol did, gently talking to Wonwoo about his day to keep his mind off everything. How he had gotten brunch with the maknae-line members, how Seungkwan and Dino had play-fought over the last egg and gotten so distracted with it that they hadn’t noticed Vernon peeling and eating the whole thing until it was gone. How long and boring the meeting with the company executives was. How he had worked in the studio with Woozi, who had accidentally deleted a sample when he had sneezed and consequently pouted through the whole writing session. How he had been dancing with Jeonghan when Wonwoo had called. It was a nice distraction, enough to loosen some of the tension in Wonwoo’s shoulders.

“Close your eyes”, Seungcheol suggested as he started the ignition, “sleep if you can. We’ll figure everything out, okay?”

Wonwoo hummed in response, taking the advice.

He didn’t manage to fall asleep, however. The stop and go of the Seoul traffic was causing his stomach to slowly turn even more sour than before. It was no surprise, Wonwoo was normally already prone to motion sickness and apparently closing his eyes was the wrong move. Normally he would be fine in the front seat so maybe the issue was that his eyes couldn’t tell his body which motion to expect.

So he opened his eyes only to realize … that this wasn’t a solution at all. With his vision so blurry he couldn’t tell what was about to happen anyway. If anything the bright light was making his eyes burn and his head pound more.

It took about three intersections and the constant rocking of the car when stopping and starting again, that Wonwoo had to admit defeat. Holding out was not an option.

“Hyungie”, he spoke up quietly, hesitantly.

“Yeah?” Seungcheol seemed completely focused on the street in front of him, for which Wonwoo was thankful but he also just wanted him to realize what was wrong without having to speak up.

Today was really not his day.

“I’m … I’m really nauseous.” Wonwoo breathed out. “I think I’m carsick...”

“Oh. Okay. Uhm, try to look out the front … oh…” Seungcheol realized the problem quickly. Wonwoo could imagine the concerned frown of his face perfectly.

“Yeah”, he whispered.

“It’s still about fifteen minutes of driving. I can’t really pull over anywhere…”, Seungcheol said worriedly - probably both for his dongsaeng and his car interior. “Do you think you can hold out that long?”

Wonwoo bit his lip. His stomach was really upset now and his whole body was clouded in the shroud of nausea that made everything feel lethargic and unwell. His throat was tight in a very uncomfortable way and he had to compulsory swallow every few seconds.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” He felt close to crying but it was bad enough that he was mostly blind and carsick in his hyung’s car. If Wonwoo started to cry now he didn’t think he could ever stop again.

“Okay, it’s okay”, Seungcheol said, probably sensing Wonwoo’s impending breakdown and resting one of his hands on Wonwoo’s knee. “I don’t think I have a bag. Let’s just put your backpack on the backseat just in case. The floor matts can be cleaned easily enough.”

There was nothing Wonwoo wanted to do less than throw up in his hyung’s car - literally.

He grabbed his bag nevertheless and haphazardly threw it into the back, then leaned straight up against the seat, hoping it would help somehow. Seungcheol’s hand never left his knee.

💎

After a few minutes of deep breaths, he couldn’t help it anymore. He was so nauseous it was painful, his stomach cramping under his hand, the other hand pressed to his mouth. All he could do was swallow and pray.

“Wonwoo, baby, don’t hurt yourself”, Seungcheol interfered gently, “if you need to be sick, let it happen. Maybe you’ll feel better after. It’s really okay.” The leader's attention seemed to be more on Wonwoo than on the traffic now, as loud honks signaled.

“Eyes on the ro…”, Wonwoo pressed out, a sudden gag surprising him. It all happened so quickly that he couldn’t stop it. His body bent forward without any of his conscious doing, a prelude of what was to happen. Spreading his legs was all he could do before he was throwing up onto the expensive interior. He pressed his burning eyes shut against the sight.

“Shh, breathe”, Seungcheol soothed, patting Wonwoo’s back even while driving. Vaguely Wonwoo hoped he was paying more attention to the street now but he was too preoccupied with turning himself inside out to worry too much about it.

His stomach contracted again and again and everything that Wonwoo had eaten spilled down his lips and dripped down his chin. He was so nauseated and dizzy he could barely tell where up and down was, his hands pressing against his head, elbows on his knees, the only thing giving him a bit of orientation.

He felt disgusting, nauseous, sweaty and most of all very humiliated and tired. His stomach was churning relentlessly and he didn’t dare lift his head up for the rest of the drive even when he hadn’t thrown up in a good five minutes. He probably was just empty though, nausea still present nevertheless.

The headache seemed to reach new highs as he sat there trembling all over, sure he would lose any grip he had on himself should Seungcheol take his hand off his back. And indeed, as they pulled into the parking garage of their building and Seungcheol had to let go of him to park, Wonwoo couldn’t help the whimper escaping his lips. Tears and snot streamed down his face.

“Oh, Wonwoo-yah”, Seungcheol said, sounding a bit helpless. “We’re here. It’s gonna be alright. I texted Hannie, he is gonna help us get upstairs. We’ll get the contacts out and then you can go to sleep for as long as you want.”

They stayed like that with Wonwoo queasily bent over his mess and Seungcheol rubbing his back and muttering comforting nonsense until the passenger door was opened and Jeonghan said: “Oh, Wonwoo, baby. Come on, let’s get out of the car.”

With the help of his second oldest hyung, Wonwoo was able to stand on wobbly legs while holding onto Jeonghan for stability. All his strength had left him between entering the car and now getting out and as he could barely open his eyes anymore he was terribly disoriented. It was easier to just close his aching eyes and depend on his hyungs.

“Can you get him upstairs, Hannie?”, Seungcheol asked, voice coming closer as he exited the car himself and placed a warm hand on Wonwoo’s hip. “I’ll try to clean out the car.”

Wonwoo buried his face in Jeonghan’s shoulder, clutching at his hyung in humiliation. “I’m so sorry”, he whispered, voice muffled by the comfortable sweatshirt Jeongan wore.

“Don’t be sorry”, Seungcheol comforted, “it’s alright. You’re not well.”

“Let’s go, hm?”, Jeonghan said, wrapping his arm around Wonwoo’s waist to guide him. “You trust hyung, don’t you?”

All Wonwoo could do was nod and let himself be led.

💎

Jeonghan brought him to the apartment Wonwoo shared with their general leader, Joshua, Mingyu and Minghao. They were all familiar with the layouts of each other's apartments, spending a lot of time just cycling through the dorms but Wonwoo was still glad for the familiarity.

At least it seemed like none of the other members were home at the moment.

Wonwoo was sat down on the closed toilet seat, slumping into himself in exhaustion while Jeonghan bustled around.

“Are you still nauseous?”, Jeonghan asked before a clattering sound signaled to Wonwoo that he had placed down a bucket just in case no matter what Wonwoo would answer.

“A bit”, he admitted, “but it’s now more from my headache than motion sickness.”

“Is it from the contact lenses or something else?”, Jeonghan asked, his voice sounding close like he was crouched down in front of Wonwoo. Indeed, a few seconds later, Jeonghan took his hand and pressed a cup into his hand. “Rinse.”

How did Jeonghan know? Then again, Seungcheol probably had texted him the whole story or at least enough information that Jeonghan knew what was going on.

Playing for time, Wonwoo swished out his mouth with the offered mouthwash, happy to wash the taste of puke away. It was then that he realized he needed to get to the sink to spit it out and he really didn’t want to get up and stumbled his way there.

As if he had read his mind Jeonghan advised: “Just spit it back into the cup, I can dump it out in the sink. You rest.”

Too dizzy and exhausted to fight the renewed embarrassment creeping up on him, Wonwoo did as asked. He felt terribly self-conscious when he pressed the cup over his mouth and let the mouthwash fall back into it but Jeonghan didn’t seem to care. He just took the cup from him and set it aside, then patted Wonwoo’s knee.

“Tell me how you feel”, Jeonghan encouraged, pushing a strand of Wonwoo’s hair behind his ear.

“My head hurts”, Wonwoo hesitantly started. “Maybe because of how blurry my vision is. Or due to dehydration” - a mix of throwing up and crying would do that - “I dunno. My eyes are burning really badly and I can barely see when I open my eyes. I just want to sleep.”

“You can soon, hm?”, Jeonghan said in his soothing voice, reserved for hysterical and sad dongsaengs. If he wasn’t so exhausted Wonwoo would have been offended that he used it on him. “Let’s try to get those contacts out. Pain meds and sleep after.”

💎

It wasn’t as easy as Jeonghan had seemed to imagine. The dryness of his eyes caused the lenses to stick to Wonwoo’s eyes, and the burning pain from the wrong prescription and the blurriness of his vision caused Wonwoo to not being able to keep his eyes open, especially as he closed them reflexively when the darkness of Jeonghan’s finger came close.

After numerous fruitless tries, Wonwoo gave a frustrated cry, curling into himself as much as he could. It was a scary experience - something in his eyes that was damaging them and refused to come out terrifying. Especially with his already fragile state of mind he was slowly becoming numb and restless at the same time.

That was when Seungcheol came in, apparently having cleaned … no, Wonwoo didn’t want to think about it.

“No success?”, he asked worriedly, seeing Jeonghan hovering over Wonwoo, with the latter hugging himself in defeat.

“No.” Jeonghan sighed. “ER?”

“No, please”, Wonwoo whispered. He couldn’t take going to a bustling hospital on top of everything.

“Let’s try a different approach and if that doesn’t work, we will go to the doctor”, Seungcheol decided.

💎

Five minutes later, Wonwoo found himself basically sitting on Seungcheol’s lap, leaning back against his leader and wrapped safely in his arms. The hyungs had decided they should relocate to the couch to create a more relaxed atmosphere which apparently meant that Wonwoo was going to be cuddled. If he was honest, he didn’t mind.

Seungcheol was leaning back against the backrest and had Wonwoo rest against his shoulder so that Jeonghan had easy access to his eyes.

“Are you comfy?”, the leader asked gently.

“Yeah”, Wonwoo mumbled, feeling the tips of his ears turn red. Deep down he loved the doting and coddling but it was weird nevertheless. It seemed so exposed in the living room where suddenly a member coming home from schedules could see.

“Okay, I’m going to put in more eyedrops now”, Jeonghan said and carefully squeezed some of the liquid into Wonwoo’s eyes. “Blink a bit to get it moving around.”

Wonwoo did as bid.

“Ready?”, Jeonghan asked. Wonwoo nodded, for the first time feeling like he could do this. Seungcheol had taken his hands in his own, their intertwined hands a nice weight on Wonwoo’s stomach. With Seungcheol holding him and Jeonghan’s gentleness, maybe this could work.

Jeonghan pushed his eyelid up, which made Wonwoo’s eyes burn. But then he realized it was very dark in the room and he couldn’t even see Jeonghan’s face or his hands.

“Why is it so dark?”, he asked, fear making his chest ache. Rationally he knew he was overreacting but having issues with his eyes and then opening to find himself unable to see anything was unsettling. “What…?”

“Shhh, it’s okay”, Seungcheol soothed, playing with Wonwoo’s fingers in comfort. “We thought it might be easier for you if you couldn’t see your hyungs’ hand coming closer. I promise there is enough light for Hannie to see what he is doing. I thought you heard us talking but you were really spaced out, huh?”

“I guess”, Wonwoo mumbled, feeling a bit ridiculous how he had overreacted. But well, with the day he had, no wonder his nerves were fried. The rational explanation of his emotional state barely comforted him.

“Okay, love, take a deep breath while I wash my hands again. I’m going to be very careful, okay?”, Jeonghan said, his thumb rubbing Wonwoo’s cheek.

Wonwoo nodded and breathed.

💎

All too soon Jeonghan was back. Gently he pushed the eyelid up again. Then without any warning, Wonwoo could feel his hand connect and then: “I got it.”

Tears streamed down Wonwoo’s cheek in relief.

“Let’s do the other side as well, okay?”, Jeonghan said.

This time it wasn’t so easy. The lense didn’t seem to want to stick to Jeonghan’s finger, no matter how he tried.

“Baby, I can’t keep doing this. One more try and then I feel like we need to consult a specialist”, Jeonhan mumbled, sounding devastated. By that time, Wonwoo was so exhausted that he couldn’t care less. Did he want to go to the hospital? Obviously not. But if it put him out of misery he could do it.

“I’m sorry.”

Suddenly faced with the very real possibility of going to the ER and getting prodded by doctors and nurses and especially with having to drive there, Wonwoo did not want that. “Can you try one more time, hyung?”

“One last time, baby”, Jeonghan agreed, “breathe.”

Wonwoo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Do it.”

Jeonghan’s finger made contact with his eye. A cheer. Congratulations. Words spoken in kindness and comfort. Wonwoo just closed his eyes and let the tears fall again. Seungcheol turned Wonwoo so that he was laying on his stomach, on top of his leader who was rubbing his back and whispering sweet nothingness.

💎

Wonwoo woke up hours later to a blanket spread over him and Seungcheol and a hand holding his. His eyes burned and hurt but not nearly as badly as before. Blinking against the low light coming from the kitchen, he found Jeonghan asleep sitting on the ground by their side, leaning back against the couch and his fingers entangled with Wonwoo’s. Somebody had placed a pillow against his neck and he looked mostly comfortable, also cuddled up under a blanket.

Minghao, holding a cup of tea, was smiling at him from the second couch. Soft clatter from the kitchen indicated Joshua and Mingyu cooking together.

Wonwoo sighed and nuzzled his face into Seungcheol’s shoulder. He was cozy like this.

(It’s okay, again)

Notes: Written for this Dialogue prompt idea for @dudadragneel! It’s not June anymore but I finally finished it! Also, based on this prompt!

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - SEVENTEEN

#Kpop #Kpop blog #🧚🏻‍♀️#Title from SOS (SEVENTEEN)#emeto #Seventeen #💎#seventeen whump #🐈‍⬛#😇#🍒#whumpee wonwoo #caretaker s.coups/seungcheol #caretaker jeonghan

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belovedwhump · 2 months ago

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Beloved Whump Prompt #10

Near-sighted Whumpee trying to find Caretaker in a crowd without their glasses, but Whumpee can't tell if the blurry face is actually Caretaker?

Bonus: Caretaker and Whumper have roughly the same height, shape and colors - is that blurry shape Caretaker or Whumper??

#beloved whump prompts #whump prompt #whump ideas #whump scenario #near sighted whumpee #glasses wearing whumpee

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lancedoncrimsonwings · 6 months ago

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Make your Whumpees Chronically Ill.

What kind? Do they have Chronic Pain? Chronic Fatigue? Dietary illnesses? Connective tissue diseases? Autoimmune disorders? Something made up or fantasy based? Something else entirely?

What does their day-to-day look like? Maybe they don't need a Whumper to be suffering. Can they take care of themselves, or do they need help? Do they get that help? What happens if they don't? What happens if there is a Whumper using this against them, or a Caretaker who doesn't understand? Make them flare up, then worsen all their symptoms!

For invisible illnesses; Do people believe them when they say they're sick even though no one can see it on the outside? Do they struggle with not being able to see what they feel themselves?

For more visible illnesses; Do they face discrimination and ableism? Do people treat them differently, do people infantalise them? How do they feel about that?

Questions;

What are their symptoms like?

Do they flare up?

If their health worsens, will it ever recover?

Do they mourn the life they had before it got to this point?

Do they have a diagnosis, or even know what's wrong?

What gives them respite?

What makes them worse?

Do they suffer with mental health issues as well, and are they because of the Chronic Illness or a secondary thing to suffer?

Pain;

Neuropathic pain;

Widespread, often nerve based pains from a nervous system disease or disorder

Allodynia- tactile, thermal or mechanical allodynia, even the lightest touch can hurt, and your skin feels raw and bruised. Pressing on it hurts deeply, to the bone. Pain can worsen with temperature fluctuations, warm and/or cold.

Parasthesia- peripheral neuropathy, partial or full numbness, tingling, pricking, vice like or lightning-like pains, weakness in the affected areas. Can worsen with compression, such as restraints or stress positions, and can come and go.

Nociceptive pain;

Somatic sharp pain that's localised to the affected area and can be caused by long term, unhealing or reocurrent damage and injury

Visceral aching pain that's widespread and can be caused by systemic disease

Inflammation- hot, aching pains that throb incessantly, seizing joints and knotted muscles, brain fog, headaches and sluggish thoughts, stabbing tendons and sharp pain in ligaments, swelling, tenderness and redness

Dislocations, subluxations and connective tissue weakness, weak joints that can contort beyond what is normal, soft skin that bruises breaks and scars with ease, never ending joint pain, grinding bone against bone and broken cartlidge, permanently altered movements from ligament damage, agonisingly powerful sharp stabbing pains at certain movements

General:

Pain that's worst when waking. Pain that gets worse throughout the day. Pain that's worse in heat or in cold, pain that changes with the weather

Dissociation as a way to cope with the pain, to the point when they realise just where hurts it's like being hit by a truck. Depersonalization to the point they don't know who they even are, they don't feel alive, these limbs are not their own. Derealisation to the point reality feels like it's taken a step to the left, like they're a ghost and the real world is behind a pane of glass. Both blanketing over them in a desperate attempt by the brain to stop the pain that would have them screaming without it.

Pain that they no longer respond to, what's the use in screaming when it never ends. Chronic pain that masks the acute pain of injuries they didn't realise you had. (Ask me how I know...) Chronic pain that has medical professionals shocked at how little they react to things that cause severe pain. Chronic pain that wears down their tolerance for everything else, that makes them snappy, irritable and angry.

Vice like pains, twisting clawing tearing inside muscles, pain when they move, speak, even breathe.

Pain that never ends and isn't touched by most medications. Pain that IS helped by some medications, but the side affects are terrible, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, hallucinations, bladder and bowel issues, slurred speech and a hazy mind

Pain they cannot see that drives them to hurt themselves on purpose just to feel in control of it, just to be able to see what they feel upon their skin

Pain that will make them do anything for it to stop, pain that takes their hope away, robs them of their dreams, makes them want to end it all

Fatigue;

Fatigue that drives a haze over their brain and tears their memory to shreds. Slurred words, sentences said in the wrong order, fatigue that has neurological bases. Fatigue that turns a once sharp mind into a rambling incoherent mess. The ability to read, write, speak, listen all taken away, so the world becomes an incoherent mess too.

Fatigue that causes insomnia, so they end up physically exhausted AND fatigued at the same time

Fatigue that's worsened with light, sound and being upright, and can only be managed by aggressive resting, lying still in the silent darkness.

Fatigue that comes in waves, fatigue that flares if they overexert; Post Exertional Malaise, limbs weak and pumped full of lead, tachycardia, inability to stand or walk, inability to eat, think, drink, speak

Fatigue that feels like the flu, fever, swollen glands, hoarse throat and blood pressure dysregulation, fainting and dehydration

Dark circles under eyes that only seem to worsen over time. Weight loss and muscle wastage, ability draining away.

Fatigue that feels like dying whilst alive, that no one understands, that isolates until there's nothing left. Fatigue that strips of everything that made them who they were, until they are just a shell of a living thing.

Make your Whumpees Chronically Ill.

Sincerely, a Chronically Ill fuck who is suffering far too much today and wants to see more representation.

This are purely based on my own experiences, and is by no means exhaustive, hell, I've only scratched the very surface of my own chronic illnesses here.

Feel free to add to this!

#whump #disability whump #chronically ill whump #disability writing #chronically ill writing #chronic illness in media #disability in media #disability representation #chronic illness representation #whump writer #pain whump #fatigue whump #whump prompt

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chiharuuu22 · 1 year ago

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Whumpee and Caretaker sat side by side in front of the fireplace. Whumpee leaned his body against Caretaker's body and rested his head on Caretaker's shoulder. Occasionally, you could hear Whumpee coughing.

Caretaker, who sat beside him, embraced him from behind. Caretaker's hands stroked Whumpee's head, shoulders, and back, trying to provide comfort. Caretaker's hand holds a glass filled with warm milk, which Whumpee occasionally drinks.

They were both clad in pajamas, with blankets covering their shoulders and backs. Whumpee wears socks, and Caretaker leaves the soles of feet exposed.

Whumpee looked at Caretaker from his spot, and Caretaker just smiled back. Whumpee smiled back and closed his eyes. He had gone home. He's home now.

#whumpee #caretaker #whump #caretaking #whumpee x caretaker #caretaker x whumpee #whump writing #recovery whump #whump comfort #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump tropes #comfort #warm and comfy

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asianwhumpgalore · 3 months ago

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xxxHOLiC (ホリック xxxHOLiC) | Jmovie | Whump List

Genre: Thriller, Mystery, Drama, Supernatural, Fantasy, Suspense, Investigation

Synopsis: High school student Watanuki Kimihiro has the ability to see spirits and monsters but is actually plagued with them. Coming home one day, he’s once again assailled by evil apparitions but his feet lead him to a strange shop. There he encounters Ichihara Yuko, the mysterious owner who offers to grant Watanuki’s wish to be rid of the spirits. But the price must be of equal value, so Watanuki has to temporarily work for her in her shop that grant wishes. Thus begins his adventures in an world full of supernatural experiences.

Length: 1hr, 50 min

Whump meter: ▲▲◭△△ Whumpy Things: Supernatural whump, weak whumpee, protector/protectee, hunted by the narrative, erotic subtext (💀)

✨A whimsical dark surrealist fever dream in the best way possible. Visual stunner and very unusual.✨

⚠️Trigger Content: Blood, fantasy violence, some SA ⚠️⚠️Some SPOILERS will be found, proceed with caution⚠️⚠️

Whumpee: Watanuki Kimihiro portrayed by Kamiki Ryunosuke

00:45 | Running away from a dark force/energy, fighting against it, continues running away.

32:30 | Struck in the chest by a dark forced while trying to save someone, falls to the ground, darkness crawling up his neck, clutching chest, groaning, concern for him, writhing on the ground, labored breathing, struggles to get up only to fall onto his knees, whimpering, held | Bridal carried | Neck seen bandaged.

45:30 | Concerned for friend, grabbed by dark force, levitated into the air and throw off stairwell, concern for him, falls 3+ stairs into stacked glass, (in world) lying unresponsive, eye 'pulled out' (not graphic), screaming out in agony. (back in reality) Bloody hand bleeding onto white floor, wakes up wearing an eyepatch, seemingly not hurt, confused as to what happened.

48:15 | Reaches into pool of water and the dark force grabs him and pulls him under, (presumably in vision) lying in the rain, witnessing the death of his mother again, screaming, falls to his knees, wakes up suddenly.

01:08:50 | (continuation from fall scene recalled by a character) hand bleeding excessively, glass on his body, bleeding from the head, concern for him, held up by friend, struggling to speak, apologizing, unconscious, taken to be treated, bloody eye (non graphic), lying unresponsive on couch, flinches when eye is 'replaced'. (back in present) concerned for friend, guilty.

01:18:00 | Manhandled, pushed and thrown onto the floor, cries out in pain, clutching chest, writhing on the floor, pulled to his feet by his clothes, mocked and taunted, arm twisted behind his back, groaning, panting, choked, shoved onto the floor, dragged across the floor by his jacket, thrown, rolls across the floor and hits the wall, groaning, stepped on, thrown against friend, on the ground, dragged across the floor telekinetically, struggling to resist, concerned for friend, (in alternate reality) bound in a web made of red string. [01:25:16] Pierced by the red string and it starts tightly binding up his entire body and head, screams out in pain. Saved.

01:32:34 | Attacked by dark force, struggling to shoot a magical bow, screams, falls to the ground, panting.

#asian whump #whumplist #whump list #whump #jmovie #japanese movie #xxxHOLiC #ホリック xxxHOLiC #kamiki ryunosuke

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simply-whump · 11 months ago

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Legend of Shen li (与凤行) - Whump List

Whumpee : Xing Zhi played by Lin Geng Xin

Synopsis : Shen Li is ordered by the Immortal Lord to fulfil an alliance marriage to a member of the Divine Clan. This concerns the peace of both realms, who have been at war for a long time. She refuses and while the guards give chase, she is wounded and falls into the mortal realm. Xing Yun is an aloof, lonesome man who helps treat her injuries. This peculiar human enjoys pranking her and loves hiding secrets. Through their time together, Shen Li begins to understand just how frail mortals are, and to repay his kindness, she decides to protect her sickly saviour. (MDL)

Genres : Romance, Wuxia, Fantasy, Historical

Warning! Possible spoilers below!

Xing Zhi / Xing Yun

Ep 1 : (13:40) Coughing, feet got numb — (26:43) Coughing up blood

Ep 2 : None

Ep 3 : (11:22) Falls into the water, saved (comedic) — (19:10) Kicked to the ground, manhandled — (23:13) Thrown to the ground, whimpering, exaggeration his injuries (comedic) — (26:10) Pretends to have a headache (Comedic) — (31:20) Wearing a sling

Ep 4 : (15:45) Splashed with hot tea, at sword point, in pain

Ep 5 : (28:24) Hand slightly injured — (32:12) Coughing after inhaling some weird smoke, nauseous (comedic)

Ep 6 : (08:00) Coughing, hand injury became worse, unwell, on one knee, pretends he’s alright — (17:05) Coughing, coughing up blood, injury discovered, concern for him — (19:00) Unwell, injury superficially treated — (27:23) Weak, starting to get healed with magic, interrupted — (33:03) Taken hostage, at sword point, protected, coughing, dying

Ep 7 : (02:25) Saved with magic

Ep 8-9 : None

Ep 10 : (26:04) Magical injury on his arm

Ep 11 : (10:09) Overexerted himself, coughing, stumbling

Ep 12-22 : None

Ep 23 : (34:15) Learns that someone he cares about has died, shocked, lashing out

Ep 24 : (04:45) Using a lot of power for something he shouldn’t do, struggling, struck by lightning multiple times, keeps going (my man is freezing a whole ocean, grabbing lightning by hand then freezing the lightning and the sky itself, all for a woman), bleeding, walking unsteadily — (15:55) Spitting blood, collapses to his knees, concern for him — (17:58) Tries to get up but collapses, passes out — (18:51) Unconscious in bed

Ep 25 : (22:26) Still unconscious, wakes up

Ep 26-27: None

Ep 28 : (10:21) Wound on his back shown, treated with magic

Ep 29: None

Ep 30 : (25:35) Bleeding, concern for him — (31:00) Old injury flaring up

Ep 31 : (35:50) Hit again on his injury

Ep 32 : (16:27) Using a lot of power, coughing up blood, visibly in pain — (22:22) Spitting blood, concern for him

Ep 33 : (Flashback) (04:48) Stepping on glass shards, drunk

Ep 34-35 : None

Ep 36 : (09:07) Using a lot of power, bleeding — (32:10) Using a lot of power, blood at his lips, back cut — (35:30) Fighting, shoulder cut, spitting blood — (36:37) On one knee looking pretty roughed up, concern for him

Ep 37 : (04:30) Using himself as a shield and using his powers while heavily injured — (15:35) Walking unsteadily, heavily injured, bleeding, collapses to his knees, coughing blood, using a lot of power, struggling, exhausted — (32:51) Thrown to the side

Ep 38 : (02:25) Injured and exhausted, spitting blood, stumbling, concern for him, collapses into his loved one arms, dying, more blood coughing and collapsing, crying, dies — (30:30) Comes back to life

Ep 39 : (06:06) Cold (comedic)

>> More Whump Lists

#the legend of shen li #whump list #whump #asian whump #cdrama #chinese drama #lin gengxin

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ccieatchildren · 2 years ago

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Scars

Shower steam filtered in through the open bathroom door, warming the bedroom and permeating the smell of soap in the air. They had been reapplying ointment, what little he had given them, to their still healing wounds and rebandaging them. Whumpee turned from their spot on the edge of the bed to watch as he walked in. There was a certain swagger to the way he carried himself that they despised. However, while Whumpee hadn’t been here for long, they had already learned not to engage with him if they didn’t have to– it wasn’t worth the risk– so Whumpee just stared.

A towel was slung low around his waist and his hair was still damp, leaving droplets of water in his wake. His half naked body was on full display, and Whumpee couldn’t stop from curiously analyzing each part of him. They typically didn’t get to see much of him due to clothing or dark lighting getting in the way, but now they could see the various scars littering his frame.

There were two slash marks on his lower right abdomen that formed an uneven cross, a line of indented flesh that seemed to encircle his whole left bicep, a bullet wound sat right above on his shoulder, and on his right collarbone were four deep cuts, almost like claw marks. Whumpee hadn’t expected someone like him to have so many cicatrices, he was a simple researcher, and while they did get hurt sometimes, they typically were small cuts from broken glass or chemical burns. They had their own to confirm. Furthermore, normal villains usually had many more lesions and blemishes across their figures from many fights and powers going haywire. Though, he wasn’t like many normal archetypes anyway.

Their train of thought was cut off by a deep chuckle. “Like what you see?”

Whumpee blushed, glaring at him, and turning back to what they were initially doing. He continued to snigger at their embarrassment while they furiously tried to refocus on patching themself up. The thought of the line being cliché and overused made them feel a bit better, and they continued to bash him in their head to calm themself down as they worked.

The rustling of a towel could be heard as he dried off his hair, sounding like a wet dog shaking itself dry. Then, they could hear him shuffling in the background, presumably fetching clothes from the closet. Whumpee tried to keep their gaze solely on what they were doing, but could no longer concentrate on their task. Having been caught staring, and him misinterpreting their attention, irritated them, but now they were even more curious. Forcing themself not to look, only made them want to look more. Whumpee cursed themself for having the self restraint of a five year old…

Slightly pivoting their head to peek at him again as he picked out his attire, they barely managed to stop themself from gasping at the sight. His back was still turned to them, and scrawled there was one of the most unsettling wounds they had ever seen. Along his upper back, spanning from the left shoulder to the right the word “BASTARD” was carved in large letters. The raised skin along his shoulder blades conveyed that the cut had healed long ago, but whoever had done it, made sure to slash deep enough so the mark would stay there forever. They had seen many things, from their own burnt skin melting off, to arms completely torn off, but the deliberately and aggressively engraved swear on his body disturbed them in a way they had never felt before.

Whumpee had never met anyone, villain or otherwise, who intentionally and methodically cut someone in a way that would leave them alive but always wearing a reminder of their experience. Especially in a way that exuded so much wrath and resentment. At least not until Whumper. They looked down at themself and the injuries that adorned their body. Was he using the same techniques on them that someone else had used on him? The thought made them shiver. Vigorously returning to their task, Whumpee swore to themself that they would not allow Whumper to scar them like he had been himself.

— — — — —

“Just ask.”

Whumpee flinched. They had just finished one of their sessions and Whumper decided to patch them up afterwards this time. They would much rather do it themself, as his hands would always roam to places they didn’t need to, but Whumper would use better medicine whenever he played medic, and knew how to bind the wounds tighter than they ever could with their, now constantly, trembling fingers. They also weren’t allowed to say no to him.

“W-What?”

“I can practically hear the questions bouncing around in your head.” He suddenly pulled the bandage harshly, pulling a gasp out from them. “Not to mention the hole you’re burning into my back with your staring.” The hand on their middle considerably tightened, “it’s starting to piss me off, so ask.”

Whumpee contemplated his demand, unsure if he meant it or if it was just another one of his tricks, baiting them to make a mistake just so he could beat them again. But they could feel him getting agitated behind them, therefore they had to say something. However, Whumpee didn’t think asking him what was really on their mind would go over very well. They had to think of something quick, but, unfortunately, when it came to talking they didn’t work very well under pressure. So…

“How do you get your hair so sleek?” Whumpee wanted to smash themself over the head with a glass. This was the best their brain could come up with? Might as well say goodbye to a calm evening.

Whumper was still behind them, and they were already saying their prayers, until he barked out a laugh. “What?” The amusement pervaded his tone. “You have been ruminating for the past three days on how I do my hair?”

“… Yes.”

He continued to cackle behind them as Whumpee quietly panicked, hoping that was enough to quell him.

“Aww, that’s cute, darlin’. Didn’t know you still had the quips in you.” He took a moment to pretend to wipe a tear from his eye. “But I don’t think that’s what you’ve been thinkin’ about.” Arms locked around their waist, pulling them flush against him. A dark voice whispered in their ear, “Now, I’ve indulged your little game,” his arms constricted, pushing into their stomach, agitating their injuries, “letting you figure out the best way to approach this,” Whumpee looked away. “If I’m honest, it was quite nice to see you contemplate whether to ask me or not,” his voice grew smug, “it means you’re learning, becoming more obedient, which will only make things easier for the both of us in the future.” Whumper squeezed even further once again, and they groaned from the pain. “For that, I’m giving you an out. Be good and I’ll reward you. So,” he growled, “ask the damn question.”

Whumpee gulped. “Fine. Ju- Just let go,” they pushed at his arms, “it hurts.”

Whumper clutched them tighter. Whumpee could feel some of their wounds reopen under the pressure. “I’ll let go when you stop wasting my time.”

“Okay, okay,” they wheezed. “I just wanted to know about the large scar on your back,” the ache was getting worse. “The one that says bas–.”

He abruptly let them go, allowing air to filter back into their system and dampening the pain to a dull throb. “I know the one.”

Whumpee froze, trying to suppress their oncoming coughing fit. They didn’t want to set him off when he was obviously very displeased. He curtly got up and headed for the door, leaving them with the final words,

“Do not bring it up again.”

Extra:

Fuck that motherfucking mothafucka.

Whumpee wanted to punch something, they just did what he asked and now he’s mad at them, like it’s their fault.

Fuckin’ hate that fuckin’ kidnappin’ piece of shit. They continued to curse to themself as they finished the job Whumper brusquely left to them. Closing up the now open cuts, applying ointment, and finally bandaging them for the– hopefully– last time that day. Whumpee sighed to themself. Who were they kidding, he would ruin them again at night. But at least they had a new piece of information to exploit.

It may take a while, but they will escape from here and see everyone again.

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