#medical whump drabbles for life

[julie-z-vesnice]

Healer whumpee. Excellent medical knowledge. That's it. That's the post.

[holidayinhell]

Whump Writing Masterlist

Drabbles (<1000 words)

I need it

Good Dog

Hunting

Tea

Morning Light

Went Too Far

Mistakes

Ashtray

Carewhumper

Failed Escape

Ask for it properly

Don't fight this

Oneshots:

(asterisks = explicitly sexual and/or NC)

Failed Escape - Fearing for his life, Whumpee tries to escape his captivity, only for Whumper to drag him back.

The Laundry Room ** - Whumpee’s frustrations with being kidnapped hit a boiling point.

Heat Stroke - Whumper forces Whumpee to walk home in the desert heat.

Role Reversal *** - Whumpee turns the tables on Whumper and finds himself in the position of power.

Help Me - Whumpee is denied medical treatment.

Thesis Project - Whumpee volunteers to take part in an experiment to impress his crush.

The Table - Whumpee thinks he's the exception to the rule. He's not.

A Tough Lesson to Learn - Caretaker has gotten too close to Whumpee, Whumper’s personal bloodbag. The vampire master teaches his charge a lesson.

Hands Up - Whumpee managed to steal a gun, and backs Whumper into a corner.

Unexpected Visit** - Whumpee receives a late night visit from his old fuck buddy, Whumper. It takes a while for him to realize just how much Whumper has changed..... (vampire whumper/human whumpee)

Series:

Brutal Honesty - Part 1

Whumpee is held for ransom, and time is almost up. (update 10/7-- sequel in progress!!)

Went Too Far - Part 1

Went Too Far - Part 2

Prompts:

Taunting Whumpee

Carewhump Prompts

Human Whumper / Vampire Whumpee

Intimate Whumper dialogue***

Intimate Whumper dialogue 2***

Feeding Whumpee

Miscellaneous:

Interview with Whumper and Whumpee***

(also, hey, if you run through this list and like 5+ posts please do consider following me, I post regularly! thank you!)

[storeecbrcod]

Whump Drabble/fic where Soap suffers realistic trauma from MWIII (though we’ll put a bandaid over his ultimate fate lol).

TW: explicit medical injuries and treatments, angst with a bittersweet ending, will likely be inaccurate in some way seeing as I’m not a medical professional nor a trauma doctor/nurse (I’m just a girl fr), Ghoap✨

Ghost had been wrangling with this worm of guilt that chewed at his heart, something that he thought he had grown accustom to over his life but was now back with a vengeance. When he wasn’t clawing his skin from his bone to try and find the fucker, he was with Johnny.

He had thought the hardest part of this would be overcoming that guilt, but he quickly realised the coma was much worse.

He’d followed soldiers after they’d suffered significant GSW trauma before, of course he had. He’d caused many himself, knew how to engineer one that would guarantee a kill, knew how impossible it seemed yet possible it was to survive a shot to the temple, nearly point blank. He knew what recovery entailed.

Yet, he didn’t know what recovery entailed when it made the soft birdsong in his life silent and still.

He was a sniper and a stealth operative, he was used to sitting in one place during recon, unmoving and hyperaware for hours on end, days or weeks or even months at a time.

Yet, he wasn’t used to searching for a heartbeat and willing it to keep going rather than aiming to stop it.

He’d never felt so restless in his life, cataloguing every detail of the man on the bed in front of him every day. He watched as bandages turned red, watched as the side of his head swelled and bruised and went so black it was like staring into space. He read the words ‘Pressure relief DO NOT TOUCH’ scribbled on the vacuum-sealed, open wound on the back of a window in his skull over and over and over until swelling bowed the dressing and the words didn’t make sense.

He watched air be pumped through tubes down his throat when his brain couldn’t do it for him, and saw urine pool in a bag next to the bed. He watched nurses exercise his body, watched the shut door as they cleaned him up with sponge baths. He’d watched the codes be called and watched from outside the room as ribs were broken in the frail, pale body that was a fifth of the size it used to be and void of the usual tan.

He watched it all. He watched everything.

Just watched.

He knew people in comas could often hear what’s going on around them, he’d learnt that when he rushed Tommy to the hospital after a particularly bad overdose. But it was like his lips were fused together, vocal cords totally lax and frozen. He couldn’t speak, wouldn’t speak, scared of what would tumble from his tongue and leave in the open when Johnny couldn’t even respond.

Spontaneity was a common tactic on the field, as much as they tried to negate it. It wasn’t very often a plan went totally right. Damage control and problem solving were heavily exercised skills that Ghost possessed.

But he couldn’t solve this. He could wish death on Makarov as much as he did before, he could research the best trauma surgeons and doctors and nurses and therapists in the UK, he could monitor Johnny’s condition obsessively all he wants, but he can’t fix it. He can’t heal the snapped neurons, he can’t dig into Johnny’s veins and fish out the blood clots that continued to threaten his life or limbs. He couldn’t crawl into John’s skin and nest there in his warmth, protect him and feel protected. He couldn’t.

Helplessness wasn’t something he’d felt in a long time, but he’d much rather be clawing out of his own grave as ravens cawed again than have to put John in one, still and unable to dig to join Simon.

So when Soap eventually does wake, it felt like an endless tunnel came to an abrupt end with blinding lights and trees, waiting for birds to call their greeting.

He made his own greeting, his imposing yet solid presence next to the bed as tubes were removed and the body was propped up and assurances were given. He was eager, after 4 months of pure silence about to be filled with music again.

But it was off key.

“Where am I?”

“Hospital, Johnny.”

A furrowed brow.

“Who th’ fuck ah you?”

Simon thought that the worst part of all this was the coma, the silence, but he was wrong. It was the recovery.

Simon had learnt that the temple was the perfect place to locate the parts of the brain responsible to speech, decision making and rationalisation, and memory. He’d learnt how irritating it could be re-explaining the same thing over and over every few minutes could be, he learnt of the shame that followed the irritation knowing that Soap couldn’t help it. He learnt how much it hurt to be escorted out of the room for routine check-ups because the once unrelenting trust between him and Johnny had relented to the shadow of unknown.

He had learnt that nothing is permanent.

His visits became less and less. Unsurprisingly, John (not Johnny; only his family calls him that) didn’t want a mountain of a man, full of angst and anger and sadness, haunting the corners of his hospital room. He only wanted his ma and pa, and as much as it hurt Ghost, he respected his wishes.

For months, Ghost isolated himself, got lost in his work. For months, John worked at recovery, regaining his smart mouth and witty remarks, slowly relearning his impulse control that wasn’t really as much control as it was pure will power to restrain himself.

For months, Ghost sought birdcall in the gurgles of his enemies’ throats, revelling in the garbled melodies that never matched the one he remembered, but breaking off just the same.

Beware the mockingbird, Johnny would say.

Yet here he was, searching for a blue jay’s song among the mouths of the unknown and wicked.

He got so used to the warped record that he often found himself forgetting what the original chords sounded like when they reverberated through his chest, right to his heart. Was it sweet, like the pull of a blade through supple skin? Was it explosive, like the crack of body armour in the gap between Kevlar plates? Was it deafening, like the rounds discharged that aimed for his heart?

Was it quiet, like an unmonitored heartbeat over nighttime?

Was it gentle, like the lingering touches left on his waist that still burned his skin months later?

Was it still there?

“Simon.”

Ghost blinked, looking up to Price. He hadn’t realised that he’d let his gaze wander, his mind even further.

“You need to go see him.”

There’s a cry of a broken-winged dove in his ears, overshadowed by the croon of a raven. Stability and chaos, broken and mended in one.

It hurt his head.

“He asked me to leave,” Ghost reasoned.

“When he first woke up, yes,” Price conceded. “Back when you honoured your callsign very proficiently, mind you.”

A scoff erupted from Ghost’s chest, under his crossed arms.

“Look, Simon,” Price sighed, leaning back against his desk, blue eyes of cobalt melting the sulphurous gleam of Ghost’s brown ones. “He remembers, now. Remembered Gaz in a matter of moments, recognised me soon after.”

There was a pause, pregnant and heavy as Ghost kept his mouth shut, luring Price to continue. Daring him to try and push past the raven’s sharp talons to help the dove.

A hand reaches towards the nest.

“It might be time for you to try again.”

The raven hesitates.

“The hospital staff spoke to us about how helping Soap’s brain reconnect the broken neural pathways from the trauma could help him recover faster.”

The dove coos.

“Please, Simon.”

Outstretched fingers.

“Fuck, I can’t watch two of my men crumble at the same time.”

A flurry of feathers, the screeching of breath through gravel, rubber on road, nails on chalkboard. It’s overwhelming, sending his heart into overdrive and rationality to the wind.

“Fuck you, Price.”

Yeah, the recovery hurt the most.

Looking in the mirror during recovery, specifically, hurt like a bitch. Scars that pulled over once unmarred skin, hollow cheeks where laughter and smiles once grew, gnarled soul and memories where purity reigned. It was all thrown back at you, as insistent as a murder of crows at your doorstep.

He could see the way John, not Johnny, sifted through his memory like a locked filing cabinet while trying to place Ghost, desperately searching through the unlocked drawers over and over for the file he needed, all while the closed drawers taunted him with kept knowledge. It was all right there, yet he couldn’t access it.

“Ghost, aye?”

It’s met with a grunt. Silence stretches out, black feathers shielding the delicate white ones.

“And ye were my… lieutenant?”

He was going off of information fed to him, his brow furrowed in concentration, still trying to place Ghost. He couldn’t tell where the darkness around him ended and Ghost started, obscured by inky blackness.

He doesn’t sound right. It’s not the same teasing, playful lilt that danced in the air. It’s not pronounced the same, not said the same, it’s not the same.

It’s some… imposter. Something that looks the same and smells the same and tastes the fucking same, but it’s different.

A cuckoo’s egg in a nest.

“Price ‘nd Kyle were telling me some stories about ye,” John noted with a small smile. “You’re quite the stunner out field, ‘pparently.”

It’s an olive branch, a bridge built half way. An offering to meet in the middle, to talk and revere and remember.

But Ghost didn’t remember, and neither did John.

Recovery never ends, you know. It goes on and on and on, haunting your nerves and your wits for the rest of your life. You’ll always have some sort of ache or pain, a reminder of what happened to you.

John never ended up recovering fully. He was medically discharged, left to nurse a broken cage and a silent heart. He did well, considering; it wasn’t hard when you didn’t remember the song that beat with the rhythm of your heart.

He still joined the team on outings sometimes, staying in a local hotel when everyone was back at base. They’d have a meal, or go to a pub, catch up. Re-establish connections once lost.

Ghost rarely joined them, to save his own torment.

But of course, he had to honour the dove occasionally. Just as he was now, sitting across the table from the lively Scot and with his two other teammates, Gaz and Price. Beers had been served, a single glass of warm whiskey for cold hands. The table was lively, fun, rambunctious in all the best ways.

The cuckoo had hatched in earnest, Ghost found.

It was easy to see the progress John had made, loud and bright and cheeky like he used to be. Demanding of attention, hungry for every scrap of past he could swallow to try and heal old wounds. Listening to stories about himself and his old crew when they were all together, as if it was another version of him. The right version of him.

And by god, were the scraps from Simon the most nourishing of all.

John’s mouth felt desert dry, cactus dust caking his tongue as he bit desperately into every glimpse of Ghost’s bare face, lips wrapped around glass and breath smelling of potent, liquid gold with every word. It hurt, it tasted awful, and it was impossible to rid himself from. It hurt so good, feeling his heart pull and swell in ways he didn’t understand anymore.

He felt like glass, he felt like the air, he felt like expensive liquor, he felt like it was meant to be him in their places, held and touched and breathed and consumed. It was overwhelming, leaving him starstruck and staring, a flutter in his chest reawakened.

Ghost’s own nest was erupting with displaced wind, white wings desperate to spread and carry it away, escape the raven’s hold. Right now, meeting Johnny’s eyes, he realised that the time spent captive in the nest had only lent to the dove’s healing. It was stronger now, bigger and fiercer and so, so hopeful.

The cuckoo cackled, loud and leering. Mockingbirds whistled and cawed, off key and haunting. The raven keened, shaken and damning.

The white dove flew.

The blue jay sang above the bramble.

And the two nested together, among the dappled branches of a birchwood tree, cool and calm and surrounded by colour year round. Above the bramble of the past.

Ghost had learnt one thing over everything else; a lesson that was recurrent in his life, stubborn and overwhelming. It swallowed him in waves, crashing him into the sand bank below.

Nothing is ever, ever permanent.

Admittedly, his retirement had gone well. The down payment was easy, the renovations smooth, moving in a sigh of relief. They’d have their harder days, where getting out of bed and walking without aid was difficult for Johnny, but they’d have their good days, too. They’d have their days where they’d go for walks across the countryside, watch as their service dog bounced around through tall grass, tongue lolling from her mouth.

They’d have quiet days, relaxing days. They’d have loud days, rough days.

But they were all days where the sun would rise and then set.

They were all days when the blue jay sang.

Simon had forgotten silence. His life was filled with sound, and love, and content.

Maybe… maybe the worst part of it all was loss.

Maybe the worst part of it all was the unmoving body, still warm.

Maybe the worst part of it all was the frantic screams that drowned out the silence.

Maybe the worst part of it all was the silence.

Silence.

A/N: bandaids don’t last forever

Idk if this is coherent or cohesive or any other co-words meaning readable and enjoyable. Maybe I’ll rewrite it, who knows. Probably not, I can’t post consistently as it is lmao

[kartaylirnaak]

Knowing You Now

Cody/Rex/Echo/Fives

Explicit, No Archive Warnings

Summary: Unlike Fives, Rex actually knows how to use a towel, and is only slightly damp, rather than dripping all over the floor.

—

A collection of scenes about Cody, Rex, Echo, and Fives, and the moments between them as they fight to save as many clones as they can.

Tags: Drabbles of different lengths, Fives Lives, Clone Rebellion, Light Angst, Reunions, Poly Clones, Introspection, Canon Disabled Character, Caretaking, Medical Inaccuracies, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Canon Typical Violence, Whump, Injuries, Slice of Life, Domestic Fluff, Light-Hearted, Hand Job, Somnophilia, BDSM, Nipple Clamps, Cock & Ball Torture, Gags, Leases, Impact Play, Collar, Leather, Pain, S&M, Restraints, Top Fives, Bottom Cody, Dom Fives, Sub Rex, Dom Echo, Dom Rex, Sub Cody

Note: A lot of this is quite gen, apart from the bits that aren’t 😂 Check the Author's Notes on Ao3 for where to skip the smut, if that's not your thing.

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant Masterlist

Synopsis: Onyx, a 23 year old angel, has served Her Majesty Queen Lucia for as long as he can remember. It takes an overthrow attempt gone wrong to realize that what she’s been doing to him isn’t the usual treatment for servants.

General tropes in the series: royalty whump, non-human whumpee (wings), multiple caretakers, most of the story will probably be recovery, first person perspective (from whumpee's pov) (this means it'll say "I/me/my" instead of "he/him/his")

I usually update each Sunday, but my life does occasionally get busy so I am not the most reliable about this lol. Whenever I do post, I post a poll within the next half hour or so where you can tell me which chapter you want to see next, so you can watch out for those if you want! ^^

Also I made a pie chart to that everyone knows what to expect from this series!

[image description: a pie chart that is labeled with about 15% plot, 35% whump, and 50% fucked up character dynamics /end id]

Chapters:

(x) Chapter 1: an introduction to the story and Onyx

(x) Chapter 2: Onyx delivers breakfast to the queen

(x) Chapter 3: Onyx tries to clean for the princes. The key word here is "tries"

(x) Chapter 4: Ryan interrupts Onyx when Onyx is supposed to be doing dishes

(x) Chapter 5: Onyx gets corrected on how to be the best servant he can!

(x) Chapter 6: dinner and plot set up

(x) Chapter 7: Onyx is lucky enough to leave the house for once :)

(x) Chapter 8: The twins cause problems, as per usual.

(x) Chapter 9: The twins cause even more problems!

(x) Chapter 10: What's this? A person that meets Onyx and doesn't immediately decide he's deserving of every bad thing??

(x) Chapter 11: awww medical care :)

(x) Chapter 12: An interrogation! With a lot of lore.

(x) Chapter 13: Breakfast time!!

(x) Chapter 14: Onyx is Really Normal about eating a crepe.

(x) Chapter 15: Onyx takes a nap!

(x) Chapter 16: Onyx meets one of Kieran's servants

Other writing:

(x) Whumptober 2024: Ember processing grief in a Very Normal way

(x) Whumptober 2024: Onyx sunburn drabbles

(x) Ryan drabble during the overthrow

(x) Onyx's 19th birthday (during his time as a servant)

(x) Whumptober 2023: Onyx has a fever (post-servantry) (theoretically a chapter but very far in the future)

(x) Servant Training: Why isn't Onyx allowed to clean for Ryan?

That one time Onyx got sick during his time as a servant (part 1) (part 2)

Other:

(x) Official Timeline of the years leading up to chapter one

(x) Onyx official drawing and picrew!

More Onyx doodles: 1

(x) Picrews and drawings of the Raos!

Rao doodles: 1

(x) Onyx fanart by the lovely toyybox :)

(x) Ryan fanart by the lovely ihavetapeworms :)

Ryan asks: 1 | 2

Onyx asks: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Kieran asks: 1

asks for multiple characters: 1 | 2 | 3

anything tagged "ask game" is still something i will still happily accept asks from, no matter how old :)

Taglist: (lmk if you'd like to be added/taken off!)

@kaleidoscope-of-thoughts @toyybox @rainydaywhump @risk606 @jay--o

@fuckcapitalismasshole @cepheusgalaxy

Please let me know if you notice any broken links :)

[b0amagination]

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

"Tastes of Whumptober"

You know the drill: all 31 pieces from last month gathered here in the same place! They're organized by day and by story so you can find whatever it is you're looking for. Emojis indicate story association, and no emoji means a standalone piece!

As a general rule, I write creepy whumpers with defiant whumpees! Not all drabbles follow this religiously and I only write safe for work content, but you can expect those vibes from most of what I do! Otherwise follow content warnings and tags within each post, and ask for any missed labels.

In Order

Day 1 (Search Party: failed rescue, desperation, emotional whump)

Day 2 (Amusement Park: mistaken identity, recapture, knives)

Day 3 (Fingerprints: manipulation, gaslighting, friend to whumper, acid)

Day 4 (Sensory Deprivation: lab/medical whump, torture, unconventional drugging, mild horror)

Day 5 (Sunburn: captive whump, manipulating wounds, and a healthy dose of plot)

Day 6 (Not Realizing They're Injured: whumping the whumper, humiliation, nursing their own wounds)

Day 7 (Magic with a Cost: magic whump, pacts and punishments with deities, cave systems, and drowning)

Day 8 (🎧Isolation Chamber: sensory deprivation, multiple whumpers)

Day 9 (⛓Obsession: creepy whumper, shock collar, bargaining)

Day 10 (💸Passing out from Pain: caning, breaking bones, interrogation)

Day 11 (Convenience Store: public whump, threats, suspense)

Day 12 (📌"Just a little more": carved mark, tied to a table, collar whump, begging)

Day 13 (Team as a Family: multiple whumpees, pat down, criminal investigation)

Day 14 (Blackmail: captive as leverage, forced to listen)

Day 15 (💸Painful Hug: continuation. held captive, escape attempt, interrogation, dislocation)

Day 16 (📌Wound Cleaning: automotive accident, resigned to death, painful wound cleaning)

Day 17 (Ruined Map: pirate whump, swordfight, rivalry)

Day 18 (Loss of Identity: multiple whumpees, emotional whump, torture, punishment)

Day 19 (💸One Way Out: continuation. multiple whumpees, betrayal)

Day 20 (Giving Permission to Die: hero & villain whump, gun violence, threats of death)

Day 21 (🛏"Let the bedsheet soak up the tears": recapture, forced to watch, creepy whumper, whumpee called "pet")

Day 22 (🛏Reopening Wounds: continuation. forced to watch, creepy whumper, bastinado)

Day 23 (Public Display: medieval whump, public humiliation, put on display)

Day 24 (Equipment Failure: hero & villain whump, fighting, unconventional weapon)

Day 25 (Stitches: mild gore, held captive, blood, grievous injury)

Day 26 (📌Breakfast Table: continuation. recovering, foreshadowing)

Day 27 (🎧Muzzled: exactly what it says on the tin)

Day 28 (🎧Exposure: continuation. public whump, forced nudity, humiliation)

Day 29 (Fatigue: continuation. public whump, humiliation, forced drinking, whipping)

Day 30 (📌Recovery: continuation. painful wound cleaning, held captive, restrained)

Day 31 (⛓Therapy: mental health screening, held captive, caretaking from the whumper)

By Series

⛓Hasan and Declan⛓

My main story whose characters got just a few random drabbles this month when they fit the prompts!

Day 9 | Day 31

📌Nicolai and Payge📌

Payge's life is crumbling, due in no small part to the people he's repeatedly pushed away. One fateful night leaves him with no choice but to accept help, but he soon finds that there's nothing he can refuse anymore. (Pieces in story order!)

Day 16 | Day 26 | a gigantic time skip | Day 12 | Day 30

💸Financial Matters💸

Mari is the head accountant at an insurance firm, but the moment they notice the subtle funneling of funds they're already in more danger than they've ever known.

Day 10 | Day 15 | Day 19

🎧An Assault on the Senses🎧

A night of isolation for a captive whumpee veers quite suddenly into the unknown - helped quite handily by friendly guests and sensory restrictions.

Day 8 | Day 28 | Day 29

🛏Room For One More🛏

A happy couple, a recapture, jealousy, and torture, all in bed together. Or something like that, at least.

Day 21 | Day 22

[silvercap]

Hi hi for the whump drabble game could I get some hurt Chris with either dangling or perhaps painkillers? No worries if not ❤️❤️❤️

For sure!! (From this prompt list)

Dangling/Painkillers

Chris's arm trembles with the effort it takes to cling to the cliff face, gloved fingers already slipping even as he forces himself to dig deep into the mud and rock in the desperate hope that it will save him. Below, the ocean thrashes at the vicious spires of rock reaching upwards like ragged claws, rain and wind lashing the frothing surf into a roil. He gasps for air, left arm stretched taut where Jill hangs below him, her limp, unconscious form held up only by Chris's hand around her thin wrist. Above them, BOWs growl audibly over the rush of the storm, scenting the blood that pours down Chris's side in hot rivulets despite being too dumb to tell where it's coming from.

Chris blinks rain from his eyes, gritting his teeth with a groan when an attempt to haul Jill higher leaves his head spinning. Below, the waves lap hungrily at the rocky cliff edge as if sensing his growing weakness, eager to swallow them up into oblivion. Chris growls. What a stupid fucking way to die--knocked over the edge of a cliff he should've seen, bleeding out and unable to reach his radio. There's no way he's letting Jill die here like this.

He clings to the rock, eyelids fluttering. No giving up, no matter what.

Chris isn't sure how long it is before the sound of gunfire and squealing bioweapons filters in over the ringing in his ears, arms burning from the endless, intolerable strain that's becoming too much to bear. He's so tired. Rainwater freezes the back of his neck in icy sheets, hair slicked to his forehead as he gasps in defeat. He doesn't even have the strength to call out.

"Captain!"

He doesn't have to, though, because one of the men who'd been part of their backup team--he can't tell who over the rain--is staring down at him wide-eyed, two measly feet above where Chris is clinging to his crumbling lifeline. The man reaches down as another soldier appears behind him, already wrapping his hand around Chris's wrist.

"No," Chris snaps raggedly, unable to hold back a cry as he drags Jill to his chest with a sudden burst of superhuman strength. His heart is pounding, vision flickering, but all he knows is that he needs to save her. "Jill first."

The men bicker amongst themselves as they do as they're told, taking Jill's weight a split-second before Chris's arms fail entirely. He whimpers as his grip slides further, left arm useless as his right hand aches from the effort it takes to hold himself in place.

"Captain!" He hears someone shout, and then the cliff is breaking apart under his fingers, solid earth giving way to open air and the drop of free fall in his stomach. His eyes widen, and then he's slamming into the dark abyss of the boiling sea, and Chris knows no more.

He comes to to the sound of shouting and helicopter rotors, rain dotting his face as the sky above him swims. He's moving, he recognizes vaguely, a blurry sillhouette holding something plastic over his mouth and nose. Chris frowns, shifting--only to meet resistance over his chest and hips, a strangled noise of protest escaping him.

"Can you hear me, Captain Redfield?" The figure slowly squeezes the plastic thing as air floods Chris's lungs, leaning down to reveal the concerned face of a medic. "You're alright, we're just taking you to the emergency chopper. Captain Valentine is safe."

Safe. Something warms blooms to life in Chris's veins, tension he didn't know he'd been holding slipping away as his muscles go limp. Well, more limp.

"Hang on a little longer, Captain, you're doing great. Those pain meds should be kicking in right about now."

Chris is too far away to respond, eyelids fluttering closed with the hazy warmth that swallows him into oblivion.

[lthrboy]

About Me

Hi! I'm Esper (he/him). I've been a super longtime lurker but only recently decided to share my whumpy ideas with everyone.

I'm pinning this post as my intro to the world. My masterlist of writings can be found below.

Click Here For Masterlist!

I have a couple writings and some interesting prompts now!

I dont write very often at all, as I'm quite busy. For now, here's some of my preferences in whump. Expect to see these reflected in my future works.

Likes

Interrogation

Military whump

Lab whump/medical setting

Sadistic, insane, creepy, intimate whumpers

Multiple whumpers

1st person whumper POV

Prison setting

Military uniforms

Torture for fun

Basically every physical torture method under the sun (always looking for new ones too!)

Permanent bodily harm

Dismemberment (one of my absolute favorites!)

Blood

Fingore, eye gore (the more the merrier!)

Psychological torture

Dislikes

Female whumpee (if whumper is male)

Writing about sexual activities

Minor whumpee (under 18)

Bodily waste (including vomit)

Whumper turned whumpee

My blog will be centered around a whumper (yes, you read that right) by the name of Justin Li. He's an interrogator for Xenokore Industries, a paramilitary organization based in Salt Lake City that does "dirty work" for the US military (alternate history thingy). His current job is with the anti-espionage department, which interrogates enemy spies and political prisoners. He loves his job, although maybe a bit too much (I'll give him a proper intro later, where you'll find out why, and some of his ulterior motives as well).

This blog will be a collection of stories and drabbles about our beloved Justin. Not all of them will be directly connected, often just simple excerpts from his life. I hope you'll enjoy this whumpy collection.

Disclaimer: I also don't really know how to use some of tumblr's features lol so I'll see what I can do. This is my first ever non-reblog OC post! I'm really bad at tagging shit too so my blog might seem pretty messy at times.

[starrystorymaker]

He Simply Wasn’t There

a drabble written by my darling partner @thedrawingwolfie <3, who asked me to post their writing here.

cw: medical whump, vivisection, blood, the works

The dim lighting of the crude doctor’s office Neverland stood in was like a mockery to his senses. Once, he relished this. He relished the way the light flickered off of her skin, the way her eyes were burning and angry and defiant, and, more importantly, he relished watching that fire die. Once, it was some sort of drug. Now, it tasted bitter on his tongue.

Still, he thought, business is business.

He turned a blind eye to the way Crimson thrashed against the obsidian restraints. The checklist in his head drowned out her grunts of frustration. First, gas. Next was magic samples, of course. Then resilience testing. He’d wrap it up with the last of the samples and her vitals. It used to be so easy. Maybe it still could be.

With steady hands, Neverland grabbed the non-rebreather mask, checking the gas levels of the attached machine. He took a deep breath, watching all the dials click to green. He turned towards the patient table in the middle, taking in Crimson’s restricted form. She looked brazen, defiant. It seemed to unravel the second he stepped forward, though.

Crimson’s eyes widened. “No- no,” she breathed, pulling on her restrained limbs so hard that Neverland almost worried she’d pop something out of place. He shook his head. Not like she couldn’t heal it again.

“We do this every time, Crimson. It’s for both of our safety.”

“If you touch me, I swear to God, Neverland,” she hissed, turning her head this way and that to avoid the mask.

Neverland simply sighed. He let a cruel indifference fog his head. He couldn’t let feeling get in the way of science. Slowly, he stretched the elastic to wrap around her head, earning more desperate-sounding whines from Crimson.

“No, no, no, please-”

As the mask found the contours of her face, she gritted her teeth. Neverland almost laughed as she held her breath. She may be immortal, but human nature wouldn’t allow her to suffocate herself. He gently flicked the machine on and it came to life with a hum that surely churned Crimson’s stomach.

“Just breathe. You know it’ll be over faster that way,” he said, his voice starkly less compassionate than when he originally retrieved her from her cell. Crimson shook her head. He tutted softly again, upping the amount of gas flooding her airways.

Slowly, after a couple more minutes of bitter resistance, her eyes began to flutter. Neverland hummed in encouragement, stepping away to grab two empty vials from the cupboards in the corners. He slid them gently below the armrests of the patient table, setting them just under the small slits in her wrists.

She let out a soft groan, complaining wordlessly. Neverland tutted again, grabbing two cuffs from the table beside him and clipping them around her wrists. “Now, now. You know we have to do this every time. I thought I wouldn’t have to explain that to you.”

Crimson’s eyes fluttered again, squinting under the glaring light. “H… hurts.”

“We’re learning more and more about you every day, Crimson. Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asked softly, brushing a lock of hair from her face.

When she didn’t answer, he simply shrugged, turning on the cuffs. Her body tensed as the cuffs began to stimulate her magic, the substance flowing into the vials slowly but consistently. Neverland watched with a curious eye. His magic behaved so differently from hers, down to mere viscosity. Of course, it was to be expected, considering they had such different magical origins, but the stark differences still shocked him.

There was a couple of breaths of silence. Neverland removed the ventilator, finding himself relishing the soft gasp she let out as fresher air hit her lungs. Now she was properly subdued, enough to allow the test to continue.

Once the vials were full, he took away the cuffs, leaving her whimpering in soft pain. Crimson flinched as Neverland picked up a small scalpel, her body reacting faster than her brain. “No,” she breathed, shaking her head weakly. “No.”

“Relax, Crimson. It’s not what you think,” he said slowly. “I’m simply testing endurance.”

“No,” Crimson insisted again. It fell upon deaf ears.

Neverland then began the slow, painful process of making small incisions along her skin. He timed the intervals between the act of making the fresh cut and when her body finally healed it. It was predictable at first. The first few, placed along her arm, all took about 20 or 30 seconds to properly heal. The same results came from the other arm. Slowly, as the minutes ticked on, Neverland put cuts that deepened in her skin, seeing how long the process of healing muscle took. These were around 3 to 5 minutes.

And all the while, Crimson pleaded. She pleaded with the person Neverland couldn’t be right now. She pleaded with the man who took her outside of the lab in secret, the one who made her breakfast, and the one who kissed her bruises better. She pleaded with her lover, and he simply wasn’t there. He was a scientist, and she was his patient. It was so simple in his head.

As he began his final round of incisions, Crimson let out a whine through gritted teeth. He cocked an eyebrow. “Too deep?”

“You- you’re-” she gasped, her mouth barely able to shape words.

“I’m what?” he asked, looking down. The incision was a couple of millimeters away from bone. Blood pooled from it, dripping down her arm and hitting the floor with an agonizing plip, plip, plip.

He hummed in mild surprise. “My hand must’ve slipped. My apologies, Crimson.”

She let out a strangled cry, tears pooling.

Those final cuts, causing fat pools of blood to collect at the base of the table, took around 15 minutes to heal. Neverland entered in his report that there were the variables of magic fatigue, sedative gas, and intensity of back-to-back wounds to be kept in mind with these results. Though he knew the people reading his report wouldn’t care. They would simply ask for more control data to compare to, and then they’d go back to this damn room.

“Nev- Neverland,” Crimson sobbed gently, her body limp against the table. “Please.”

He bit back his urge to comfort her. “I’ll get your potion of regeneration soon. Just hold on, I’m entering the last round of data,” he said. He typed in the last line of data, staring at it for more seconds than he would’ve liked.

One incision hit the bone. After 20 minutes, it still hadn’t healed. To be reviewed later.

Neverland swallowed, stepping away and grabbing a potion from the same table the magic cuffs rested on. As he approached, the table’s restraints freed her. Crimson’s shaking form curled in on itself, holding her arms close to her chest. He bit his tongue, uncorking the bottle.

“Drink,” he insisted.

She shook her head, covering her face. Neverland scowled.

“I said drink,” he commanded, grabbing her chin. Crimson let out another strangled cry as the lip of the bottle was forced into her mouth, leaving her no choice but to drink. She choked on each glug of the potion, coughing as the bottle was removed from her lips. The fact that she started to feel marginally better was no comfort.

Neverland let out a slow sigh, setting the bottle aside. “Okay. You’re done with the worst bit. Let’s just collect those samples and vitals and we’ll get you to bed.”

Crimson gently turned away from him, shivering and whimpering in the cold embrace of the table. He watched her, biting back a well of sympathy. Slowly, he placed a monitor on her heart, drowning out the feeling of his own pounding so forcefully.

He was a scientist. She was his experiment. And together they were forwarding science. Together, they forwarded her destruction.

[apollo-likes-writing]

WRITING MASTERLIST

This list consists of all the work I have posted on this account. There will be things I've missed, and if that's the case it will be rectified. Things are still to be added, so please excuse me if you see things on my account that are not yet on the Masterlist. Feel free to request any fic ideas in my asks (should they be open). Blessed be :)

Requests:Open/Closed

Boundaries

My AO3

Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist

Febuwhump 2025 Masterlist

June of Doom 2024 Masterlist

DC

Oneshots

Fluff

Fresh out of the Box (COMING SOON)

Angst

Tick Tock

After Jason came back from the dead, life continued on as normal. Or did it?

Death in the Family

The world is falling. Dick and Jason are trapped under the rubble of a now-destroyed building. It takes everything to escape. Will potentially do a part 2?

Whump

Left for Dead

He was stupid. Now he deals with the consequences.

Alternate summary: Dick gets shanked lmao

Comedy

Taxi!

(Reader insert)

You applied for a job as a taxi-driver and somehow managed to get it. A lot of very interesting people now enlist your services.

Security Measure

Why is there a T-Rex in the Batcave?

Action

Drabbles

Zombie!Jason

Where Jason returns after his death but not in the way you'd think.

Ghost!Alfred Pennyworth

It's been 70 years, and the family still hasn't figured it out?

Long fic

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold [MASTERLIST IN PROGRESS]

Prologue

An alternate universe where Jason Todd never dies to the Joker - but someone else does.

Nothing is truly set in stone. Even meticulously crafted calligraphy on a headstone eventually withers away under the elements until nothing remains legible. It becomes difficult to make out who died, when they did so, and by whom's hand. In times of need, you need to learn who to trust and to what extent. After all, revenge is a dish best served cold. No one ever has any idea who holds the knife at your back.

CALL OF DUTY

Comparative ranks of Call of Duty

A guide on the ranks of different characters and where they stand compared to each other.

Oneshots

Action

Man Down!

The team get into a spot of trouble while hunting for a Malian arms dealer. Soap needs immediate medical attention as a result.

Headcanons

Ghost:

Domestic, holiday, and pride headcanons

Star Wars

Drabbles

Dead no More

Sith!Obi-Wan is killed in battle! Or so they presume. He saunters into the Council Chambers the next day, unharmed.

Long fic

Do Not Touch (Sith!Obi-Wan) (COMING SOON)

Honkai: Star Rail

Long fic

[Lapis Lazuli] (Aventurine/Ratio role swap!)

A role swap!AU where Ratio takes his rejection by Nous a lot harder than he did in canon and loses himself as a result, becoming one of the Ten Stonehearts, while Aventurine is not recruited by the IPC and is instead a scholar in the Intelligentsia Guild.

Inspired by @havanillas

[whump-protocol]

The Calibration

Below is a short drabble that we wrote as a trial run for a setting and story concept that we've been playing with for a while. The situation takes place in a fictional future universe twice removed from any source material, and with original characters and concepts thrown in for flavor.

We might write more if the mood strikes.

Content warning: whump -- mostly physical pain and mild despair

During the calibration, Jack screams until his voice is hoarse.

Hot, burning pain shoots down his spine and into and his shaking limbs until he feels like every nerve is on fire. It’s endless, and he doesn’t remember falling, but suddenly the metal floor is cool under his overheated face. Tears fall down his cheeks, unheeded.

A technician in gray scrubs stands over him with a tablet, taking notes as he runs the newly installed wetware inside Jack’s brain through its paces. A Fleet soldier lingers by the door, armed with a fancy cattle prod, just in case the prisoner gets any wild ideas.

As if Jack stands a chance against the governor implant that now controls his actions and behavior.

As if.

An inquisitor and the judge assigned to oversee his case are visible through a two-way glass window that separates the sterile medical cell from the observation room.

The older Fleet officer has enough humility to look uncomfortable. The short, imposing inquisitor who sealed Jack’s face looks downright bored. This is just another notch in his belt — another traitor brought to justice in the name of the Fleet.

Slowly, the agony fades into a dull ache, and he rolls over onto his back. The bright overhead lights barely register.

With bitter certainty, he knows that this is the first day of his new life. The implants are permanent as far as Jonathan Ceres is aware, and he will never be free of it again.

If you're interested in reading more (and more exists), it will be under the jack & rose tag.

[whumpbump]

Whumpril day 25

This is a continuation of an older drabble I did on a Caretaker kidnapping their own Whumpee bc they revealed information to Whumpee about their life before they were whumped and it was deemed inappropriate by the Caretaking Organization. Whumpee was going to be removed from Caretaker’s care despite Whumpee making huge strides in recovery due to knowing this information so Caretaker takes them on the run but says it’s vacation.

Jay is the name revealed to Whumpee, it was their name before they were conditioned. To keep with the gender neutral theme of all of my writing, Sam will be Caretaker’s name.

Cw: car crash, being watched by an organization

Getting in the car, a smile up to their eyebrows, Jay was feeling excited about this impromptu vacation. They hadn’t gone anywhere fun since before they were conditioned. They think. They don’t remember actually. So maybe this was their first vacation?

Sam didn’t seem as excited, they seemed stressed but Jay figured that Sam would calm down once they arrived. Maybe it was the driving that had them concerned.

“Sooo where exactly are we going?”

“What?”

“You said we were going on vacation but you never said where! Where are we going?”

“Oh. Um, I was figuring like, a road trip. We drive through a few cities, hit the beach and boardwalk, enjoy some scenery, does that sound ok?”

Jay nodded vigorously.

Stopping for gas, Sam seemed even more nervous than before. Jay didn’t quite understand but then again, Sam was never a big people person so maybe they didn’t want to talk to anyone as they ran inside for snacks.

Sam was in a panic. Do they leave Jay in the car or not? If they leave them, would the Organization steal them from the car? But if they took Jay in, would they see themselves on the news and learn the truth?

Sam took the chance of locking the car doors and running inside to grab food.

Returning, Jay seemed discomforted by something.

“Sam, I think that car is watching us.”

Sam’s heart rate about doubled, if that were medically possible.

“What car?”

Jay pointed out a dark car across the lot. Definitely a standard issue Caretaking Organization car.

“Well, let’s drive a bit and see if they follow us.”

Pulling onto the highway, Sam watched in the mirror as the car pulled on a few seconds later. Fuck. They were fast, the the Organization was just as fast when it came to repossessing people.

Sam sped up ahead and got to the front of a crowd of cars, knowing that the darker car couldn’t get through. They snuck onto an exit and kept going but kept an eye on their mirrors to be sure they’d lost them.

“We need to call the police! Where’s your phone?!”

“No no Jay, let’s not bother them about one weirdo.”

Jay looked extremely serious.

“You need to tell me what’s going on.”

“What?”

“Sam, you’re acting strange. That car was following us. We never do things like this. You don’t act like this. You’d have called the police and the Organization by now in case it was Whumper in the car. What is going on?”

“Uh. Um. Ok. Look. The Organization wants to remove you from my care.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Well, I wasn’t supposed to show you your file, regardless of how much it helped you heal. They were going to take you away from me tonight.”

“Well we should go to them so I can tell them I want to stay with you. I’ll sign whatever release papers I need to, I want to stay with you.”

Before Sam could respond, they were rear ended by the dark car and two more zoomed up. Agents poured out and yanked both dazed individuals out of the smashed car. Cuffing a bloodied Sam, they tossed Sam into the back seat of one of the cars like a ragdoll.

“NO! SAM! DON’T LET THEM TAKE ME!”

“You’re safe now, did Sam hurt you in any way?”

“No, YOU hurt me. Sam has done nothing but good for me! I want to stay with Sam!”

“Shhhh shhhh it’s ok, we’ll get you cleaned up and with a better Caretaker.”

Jay was screaming for Sam as they were shoved into another car. Tears rolled down Sam’s cheeks as they knew they’d likely never see Jay again. They could only hope that Jay would recover from this trauma as well.

To be continued…

[hitmanfanfics]

Chapter Update!

Myth_Blossom posted a new chapter of Songs and Silencers (24886 words):

Chapter 25: “Aftermath” by Caravan Palace (1139 words) by Myth_Blossom

Chapter Summary:

Short fic inspired by the song “Aftermath” by Caravan Palace from this Tumblr ask. Happy birthday, Issy! 🥳

Please note: this chapter contains an OC named Madeleine Burnwood. You can learn more about her from her creator here

Some “Previously On” Context for Readers:

Madeleine Burnwood (Issy’s OC, daughter of Diana and 47) was left behind on the train as serum-induced 47 was taken away by Arthur Edwards. Since then, she reunited with her mother to formulate a plan to get 47 back. 47 is sent after Madeleine but he spares her life and lies to Edwards about her demise before returning to Providence.

Chapters: 25/? Fandom: Hitman (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Agent 47 & Lucas Grey, Agent 47/Diana Burnwood Characters: Agent 47 (Hitman), Lucas Grey, Diana Burnwood, Olivia Hall (Hitman) Additional Tags: Song Inspired Fiction, Inspired by Music, Drabble Collection, Grief, Grief/Mourning, hitman 3, hitman 3 spoilers, Major character death - Freeform, Angst, Whump, NPC Dialogue, Legendary 47, Diana the Constant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Agent and Handler to Lovers, young 47, Young Lucas Grey, Subject 47, Subject Six, Medical Trauma, Memory Loss, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunsets, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, Madeleine Burnwood - Freeform, Original Character(s), Papa 47, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Family Fluff, Revenge, Jiao (Hitman 3), Mendoza (Hitman), Dreams, Hitman 3 Bad Ending, Nightmares, Road Trips, safehouse, freelancer - Freeform, romania - Freeform, Confessions, One Night Stands, Reading, Books, Brothers, Uncle Lucas Grey, Hitman Absolution, Injured Diana, Guilty 47, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Winter, Sleigh Ride, Cabin, Feelings Realization, Reunions, Drinking, Dancing, Berlin Safehouse, Ducks, Survivor Guilt, imaginary conversations, ICA, Forgiveness, Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary:

A collection of Hitman drabbles inspired by song/artist suggestions.

Please note: subject & focus will vary with each story*

*First chapter contains discussion of major character death, but that will not be the case with all future entries.

[the-bloody-sadist]

Masterlist

Taushin/Angel/Emery in Dancing With Death:

(Whump themes: fantasy, intimate, erotic, collared, slavery, non-con, nsfw, abuse, conflicted caretaker)

(In the process of updating the story as of January 2024)

Introduction to characters and art | 1. The Beginning | 2. Hello~ | 3. Minx | 4. Bound for Breakfast | 5. What did you wish to know? | 6. The Golden One | 7. Alone | 8. The Harem | 9. Demonstrations or Discoveries? | NOTICE - Going off the Blog

Drabbles and Prompt Scenes:

Chevalet Torture |

Character appearances: Angel | Taushin and Emery | Khoi | Angel and Khoi (prequel) | Minx | Nischal, Angel & Taushin

Ao3 Fanfictions:

Fyodor x Dazai, "Sinner" : A captivity whump/psychological thriller in which the clocks don’t tick and the chairs are dangerous.

Noé x Vanitas, “Forbidden Blood” : An angst fic written with the Whumptober 2021 prompt “hunger” in mind.

Dazai x Odasaku, “Blood & Curry” : A hurt/comfort/emotional whump/angst fic about Dazai coming to visit Oda with bloody bandages.

Yuki x Kaname x Zero, "Pureblooded Revenge": In which Yuki is an ooc abusive wife to Kaname and convinces him to help her punish Zero for all the trouble he’s caused them.

Dazai x Chuuya, “Bad Medicine”: Medical whump, angst/hurt/comfort fic about Dazai grieving Odasaku’s death through self-harm until Chuuya finds him and takes him in for treatment. He doesn’t realize Doctor Mori is the exact wrong person to go to for help.

Uenoyama x Mafuyu, "Voice, and How to Silence It": Hurt/comfort angst featuring a canon scene from the OVA where Uenoyama yells at Mafuyu, but the scene is much longer, Mafuyu hurts more, and the aftereffects comes with the conflict.

Ayato x Thoma, "Suffering in the Shadows": Hurt/comfort, angst, aftermath of rape. Ayato sacrifices himself constantly for the good of the Kamisato Clan, but Thoma is not about to let him endure it alone. Especially when he returns home one night, smelling of sex and stained with blood.

Childe x Kaeya/Diluc, “A Harbinger of Chaos”: Rape, explicit non-con, angst, and necrophilia. Childe seeks chaos and finds it in a destroyed Mondstat among two warring brothers—one of whom needs taming, the other whom Childe longs to submit to. Either way, he will cause chaos. Either way, he will be destroyed.

Chuuya x Dazai, “The Pain Called Love”: A spanking oneshot in which Dazai is not a masochist, but he’s also not a healthy communicator either. Hurt/comfort, aftercare, bathtime cuddles, belting.

Zhongli x Xiao, "The Past is Always Present": A oneshot about Xiao's PTSD response to sex, set after the Xiao/Yelan 2.7 quest, where Zhongli saves him from the chasm. Mentions his abusive past with Osial.

Tetsuo x Youji, "Sweet Agonies": A Sweet Pool oneshot, snippets of depression and life in Youji's head, assaults, and all that good stuff. High amounts of bodily hatred, horror, and disgust with one's own skin.

Dazai x Mori, Dazai x Chuuya, “His Shadow Over Me”: Dazai must go to his office every Monday. He has a deal with the Port Mafia’s boss. But even Chuuya doesn’t know the depth of suffering he endures. Not until this night, when Mori goes too far.

Chuuya x Dazai, "When Humanity Leaves": Post-Odasaku's death, an AU where Dazai remains in the Port Mafia, severely depressed, living with Chuuya - who makes for a terrible partner when it comes to his 'episodes'. He is frequently punished for them. A oneshot exploring domestic violence and the trauma attached to it.

Fyodor x Dazai, "The Unpredictable Structure of Control (A Study)": Dazai and Fyodor are fond of games. Lately, they've been meeting to play one together. But Dazai likes to lead their games to the bedroom, and it seems he prefers to lose as violently as possible. A oneshot exploring self-destructive masochism and asexuality as seen through Fyodor's POV.

Akihiko x Ugetsu, “Child of Misery”: In which Murata Ugetsu has Borderline Personality Disorder and experiences the extremities of loss and loneliness on an off-period of his relationship with Akihiko. Until, that is, Akihiko returns. A character study.

Chuuya x Dazai, “Ugly”: Dazai is banging on Chuuya’s door at 2AM, high as a kite. He won’t leave. Chuuya has to do something about it. Hurt/Comfort, panic attack, breakdowns, bathing, love confessions (??)…and consensual sex.

Vash x Wolfwood, "Worth, as Determined by a Lover": There are times in their relationship when Vash doesn't want to be touched. Wolfwood tries to find out why. Hurt/Comfort, angst, touch-aversion/touch-starved, and eating disorders.

Ayato/Ayaka x Thoma, “The Deflowering”: Thoma, indebted to the Kamisato siblings for his rescue on an Inazuman beach, is forced to keep a nasty lie. The siblings are not the benevolent leaders they appear to be, and Thoma bears the brunt of their abuse. One night, he’s ordered to the baths. Hurt/no Comfort, first time, rape, domestic abuse, and master/slave dynamics.

Zhongli x Xiao, “The Amity of Anguish”: Xiao is used to suffering. It's his only measure of worth. On his bad days, he comes to Zhongli, asking to be beaten. Zhongli always indulges him, but this time is different.

Fyodor x Dazai, “A Funeral That Will Never Happen”: Dazai keeps “accidentally” running into Fyodor on his outings. He keeps asking Fyodor the same question, if he thinks about funerals. Fyodor lets him into his hotel room one day to find out why.

Chuuya x Dazai, “Friends to Fear”: Chuuya has been seeing Dazai since the defeat of Fyodor, and Dazai has gone along with it. But tonight, the way he talks to Dazai is different. It’s different. Dazai tries to figure out why—and why it makes him so afraid. A discovery of asexuality fic.

Art Commissions:

Other platforms were you can find stuff I can't post here:

Twitter (for nsfw art)

Bluesky (not quite active yet)

TikTok

NEW Instagram

Ao3

Patreon (exclusive Dancing With Death art, story updates, and polls to choose an exclusive BSD artwork every month!)

[warmblanketwhump]

Oh, I’m loving your blog. Post-whump confort is my jam! This made me think: “caretaker watching helplessly as whumpee is brutally, mercilessly interrogated for answers caretaker knows they don’t have.”

Could you do a drabble where the caretaker finally rescues the tortured whumpee, who’s scared and in pain but just clings to the caretaker once they realize who it is?Maybe they are afraid of everyone else, but the caretaker. They know that the caretaker’s arms are the one place where they won’t be hurt. So, the caretaker needs to gently reassure the whumpee that the medics won’t hurt them but they have to please get the whumpee to a hospital.

absolutely! so sorry for making you wait so long - but i think i've finally got all the right words for this :)

cw: abused whumpee (no on-page violence), blood mention

"A?" B creeps into the dark cell, stomach flipping at the thought of what they might find. Please, please let them be here.

A sharp cry raises from the corner, and B flicks their light toward the sound. And there, curled in the corner, is someone B hasn't seen in weeks.

"A!" They immediately tear through the cell and fall to their knees at A's side - they're bruised and and bleeding, with a black eye and split lip, arms wrapped around around their midsection, but they're alive.

At the sight of B, A lets out a loud sob and collapses over onto them, their fingers weakly clawing at the fabric of B's shirt in a desperate bid for some form of comfort, of reassuring physical contact that they've been denied for so long. So B gently lifts them into their lap and cradles them close, whispering gentle shushing noises as A weeps.

B hears the footsteps of the team behind them and breathes a sigh of relief. Finally, people who can give A the care they need. But when the medics close in, A cries out and only holds on tighter.

"A, you gotta get looked at." B tries to keep their voice as calm as possible, but they feel the panic rise in their own gut. A needs medical treatment badly, but they won't let a medic come within 10 feet of them.

"They'll hurt me," A whimpers, burying their face in B's neck. B can feel their frail body trembling with fear.

"A, they're here to help you. Don't you remember them?"

"No." The whisper is pleading now, begging as they cling to B like a lifeline. "They'll hurt me."

B bites their lip in frustration. They have to have A get the help they need.

The cell. We need to get out of the cell.

"Hey. How about we get out of here, okay? Who needs this cell, anyway?" They try to keep their tone light, even though their stomach feels sick over the awful conditions A was kept in. If only they had been able to keep A safe, none of this would be happening.

A nods, their eyes half-lidded, fingers still clutching the fabric of B's shirt. B oh-so-carefully sheds their coat and wraps it around A's battered body, hoisting them into a bridal carry. Then, they nod at their team to clear the way and go ahead.

As A and B emerge from the dark, dingy cavern, B spots the rest of their team at a small, mobile medical station and their shoulders slump with relief - at least they don't have to go all the way to a hospital.

"A, we're gonna have some people look at you, okay?"

The mere statement sets A shaking with fear again, wary eyes suspicious of all the strangers around them.

"Don't wanna go with them."

"A, I promise you. I'm going to be with you the whole time, okay?" B's voice cracks on the last word. They can't have made it this far only to have A refuse the care that'll save their life. "I can't lose you. Heck, I'd help you if I could. But they know what to do and I don't. Please - let them help you. I'm begging you."

Something in that last sentence seems to break through to A. They're still flickering in and out of lucidity, but they manage a small nod, even as they cling tighter to B. "Just don't let go of me. Don't let go."

"I won't. I promise."

And they don't. Through the stitches and splinting, through the wound cleaning, through the administering of countless medicines to help the healing process, B keeps their promise and holds A's hand the whole time. Even that night, when they're both safely tucked away in a medbay bed, A stays curled into B, fingers wrapped into the soft fabric of their pajama shirt. And all the while, B stays awake, arms wrapped around the one who trusts only them - and vowing to never break that trust again.

[armysantiny]

It hurts – PJM

P: Jimin x female reader - BTS | G: fluff, angst/whump, drabble | Inc: assignments, migraines, Jimin napping, naps, painkillers | Wc: 430 | W: migraines, epilepsy | R: PG

Summary: With epilepsy, comes migraines. Intense migraines that leave y/n more or less incapable of getting anything done. It’s not something Jimin isn’t used to, and he’s always prepared to help his girlfriend.

Minnie's notes: This is basically what my life is like lmao

Drabble Series: Epileptic reader Masterlist

Y/n’s day had started out as normal; sat at her desk, fingers typing across her keyboard as she nibbled on the last of her breakfast, a hot chocolate within reach. Making progress on the assignment with little to no interruption, the university undergrad had little to worry about as the Word document in front of her continued to increase in size, research notes from several lectures and self-study making themselves useful. It was a normal day, at least, it was supposed to be.

And then it started.

Hands freezing in place as the first wave of throbbing pain hit her head, y/n’s eyes wavered; vision blurry as she breathed through the pain. It hadn’t been a week since her last debilitating migraine – one that saw her missing two days’ worth of classes – and she had hoped that she’d have enough time to get as much done before she was forced to spend her day in a dark room laid in bed. Pushing through via several deep breaths, y/n typed out the paragraph on screen, hands shaking as she tried to hold herself together and not wake up her sleeping boyfriend – namely Park Jimin, resting his head on her bed a mere arm’s length away from y/n’s chair.

Her efforts were in vain though, as she cried out in pain, head held in her hands. It was just too much to handle. Unaware that she had awoken the now-not sleeping man behind her, y/n resigned herself to laying her head against her desk, the cool wood only barely providing relief until she was able to carry herself to get painkillers.

“Baby?” Gently patting his girlfriend’s shoulder, Jimin chuckled, brushing strands out of her face and handing the tablets and glass of water over. “Another migraine?”

“Mhm…” Humming in confirmation behind the glass, y/n sighed once she’d swallowed the tablets. Tired of being held down by her own medical condition, the building emotion revealed its less-than-pretty face through tears, the sounds of y/n’s whimpers filling the silence. Pouting himself, Jimin crouched until he was eye-level, holding y/n’s cheek as he wiped away tears, pulling her into a hug she definitely needed.

“It hurts… ‘Min it hurts so much…”

“I know baby, I know. I got you, hm?” Whispering gentle nothings as he caressed her aching head, the brunet pulled away to look into her eyes, kissing the space between her brows with smile that screamed how in love he was. “Want me to draw the blackout curtains so you can take a nap?”

“I’d like that…thanks baby.”

“Anytime my love. Rest well.”

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