#per whump

[dokidokisadness]

From pet shelter whump here

[uuuhshiny]

Vladimir Verevochkin in Double

The next day doctor returns. Feeling absolute and complete power over another person, now he wants something else…

Next

[arduousflame]

Perrepatae’s Vintage

Please also read a short Part 2.

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Viago bit off the cork of the vial with practiced movements. The acrid smell hit hard as he poured the liquid over the gash on Rook’s arm, the wound bubbling instantly with a whitish foam as it reacted to the poison’s residue. Illario. Will. Pay. Rook flinched, her breaths shallow and erratic, her body twisting where she lay in Teia’s lap.

Pain. NO AIR. Help. Rook!

Lucanis could only watch, helpless, as Viago yanked open a second vial. "Dammit, Gwynn, drink!" he cursed, tipping it to his Crow’s lips. Rook choked, spilling the precious antidote between coughs, fighting those who were trying to save her. Teia tried to steady her, holding her head as Viago tried to pour the antidote down her throat.

-------

It had been a dirty fight. Illario’s treacherous coup to seize the First Talon’s seat erupted into chaos—a fierce clash of Crows against Venatori. It wasn’t unexpected. They had come prepared, armored and ready, after Viago and Teia’s missive. Yet, Lucanis had held onto a shred of hope—that the past year of betrayal hadn’t been Illario’s doing. A shred that was torn to oblivion once they had found Caterina alive and as well as can be as a hostage in her own home.

Rook had been quick on her feet, as always. Her magic humming beside Lucanis as she darted in and out of the fray. She kept the Venatori occupied, leaving him to cut them down one by one. But somehow, Illario had slipped through the chaos, exploiting her unguarded left side while Lucanis was locked in battle with a Venatori magister. She was no trained fighter. A Crow in name only, some would whisper. Yet she had proven she could hold her own in the past few months, with Lucanis at her back.

It had been no more than a shallow nick. But with Illario’s blade poisoned, it didn’t need to be more. Viago’s concoctions were nothing short of deadly—undetectable until the damage took hold. Even for one who spend considerable time in House de Riva where paranoia and poison reigned. No healer’s magic could counteract it without antidote, once it spread through the blood, attacking the heart and lungs.

Viago had named this particular poison Perrepatae’s Vintage, its lethal effects compounding the longer it lingered in the victim’s system. Years ago, he had called it his masterpiece—a special commission from the First Talon herself for her mage-killer grandson. Lucanis knew its power too well. Even he hesitated to use it. Death by this poison was no simple mercy but a brutal struggle to breathe and live. A death even Venatori did not all deserve. Something even Viago would reluctantly admit.

Lucanis had always ensured his own vials were accounted for, keeping them close on his person. None had gone missing. Which meant Illario must have gotten his dose from Viago’s backup stash. Whether through thief or traitor, Viago would have to uncover that answer later. The Fifth Talon would not show mercy on the Crow who had betrayed House and Talon.

Rook hadn’t realized she was poisoned. She wouldn’t have connected the subtle tremble in her hands or her magic depleting faster than normal. Fatigue from battle, she’d have told herself. The shortness of breath and heart pounding in her chest? Adrenaline, nothing more.

She wasn’t a fighter by nature. Drawn into the Crows to settle a debt at an age most already went out on their first contracts. Her skills lay in subterfuge, intrigue and forgery, not with blade or staff. But the months spent in skirmishes against the Evanuris had hardened her into a viable spellblade.

The battle ended with Illario on his knees, defeated. As he was dragged away, Lucanis was declared First Talon. There should have been relief, even triumph, as the inner circle retreated deeper into the villa to celebrate.

But then Rook collapsed, her legs giving out as she gasped for air her lungs could no longer hold.

Teia reached her first, her frantic hands trying to steady her. Viago arrived moments later, biting back a sharp reprimand for her carelessness—until his sharp eyes caught the oil-like sheen glistening on the gash in her arm. That unmistakable sign.

Lucanis met his gaze, their silent understanding instant and grim.

Mierda, Rook.

-------

Spite bristled at the edges of Lucanis’ mind, seething. He fought to stay in control, to suppress the urge to turn and crush Illario’s throat. A hesitant touch on his arm steadied him. Bellara stood beside him, worry in her eyes. "Is she going to be okay?"

Viago’s reply was clipped. "Not yet."

Teia’s hands trembled as she stroked Rook’s hair, whispering soft reassurances in Antivan. Bellara’s confusion mirrored Spites’ rising frustration. "Why isn’t the antidote working? Were we too late?" Rook. In PAIN. Stop. Pain. HELP ROOK!

Lucanis pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply, forcing calm into his voice. "Because sometimes the cure is worse than the poison."

Bellara tensed, her grip on his arm tightening. He didn’t know if she sought to steady him or herself.

Rook's writhing gradually slowed, her coughing and gasping subsiding. At last, she seemed to relax. Bellara let out a sigh of relief beside Lucanis, but he remained tense, unwilling to let his guard down just yet. “Oh thank..” Bellara breathed. Just then Rook’s breathing stilled altogether.

With this, the waiting game started.

Teia ran her fingers through Rook’s hair over and over. "Come on, come on now, Gwynn." The worry in Viago’s voice cut through the silence, his quiet plea making Lucanis’ heart falter his chest. “Not like this, you idiot. Not now. Breathe., damn you..”

Seconds dragged by, each one marked by the frantic rhythm of his own heartbeat, while hers remained unyielding, unmoving. It was taking too long.

"Viago..." Lucanis started, stepping forward and shrugging off Bellara’s hold on his arm. But the Fifth Talon was already moving. After a brief nod, Viago sprang into action. With a firm but gentle motion, he eased Rook out of Teia’s lap, laying her fully flat on the ground beside him.

Viago moved closer, placing one palm firmly on her chest, the other interlocking on top. His lips moved in a muttered count as he began the compressions, his movements precise and unwavering. Teia scrambled back to make room. Bellara now reached to find her and clung to the Crow with tears in her eyes.

Lucanis knelt down, taking the spot across from Viago. He forced himself to focus, to suppress the rising dread threatening to overtake him. All the while Spite remained silent. A silence that only deepened his unease. He tilted Rook’s head back with practiced care.

As Viago paused, Lucanis leaned in, sealing his lips over Rook’s to breathe life back into her. Please, come back. A first breath, her chest rose faintly. A second, but the stillness persisted.

“Damn it.” Viago resumed the compressions, his jaw clenched tight, the force of his efforts enough to bruise her ribs. This made both men flinch, but Viago did not hold back. A third breath. A fourth. Still, nothing. Panic flickered in Viago’s eyes, mirrored in Lucanis’ own.

They were losing her.

Viago paused again, his shoulders heaving with exertion. Lucanis didn’t hesitate, bending down once more to breathe for her. Just as despair began to claw at him, a faint shiver rippled through Rook’s body.

Then, a cough. A desperate, gasping breath.

“Maker.” Relief crashed over them like a wave. Viago sagged back, as he sat beside Teia, who dropped down with him. Lucanis barely registered the tears in her eyes as he pulled Rook close, murmuring softly.

"It’s okay, Rook. You’re okay now. I’ve got you."

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Thinking about drunk Lex being loved on this horrible and sad day

drunk Lex being loved 😭😭

cw: alcohol, relapse, implied aftermath of beating/whump

Wildefire Masterlist

× × ×

“M’sorry.”

It was all he'd said since coming back. Head on her lap, silent tears soaking into her jeans, whispered apologies.

“It's okay, Lex, it's okay,” Sarah repeated for the eighth time. He’d been late coming back for a mission. Two days late, leaving the rest of them scared and scrambling, asking around, certain he'd been killed or captured. Only for him to show up in the dead of the night, stumbling drunk in a way he hadn't been since September, since he'd suddenly quit cold turkey. Sarah wanted to ask him what happened. He’d left for a security recon, something that should've taken a few hours at most. What had gone wrong? Had he gotten captured? Hurt? It was hard to say. He was still dressed in all his layers, hood up and everything, and she wasn't about to start taking off clothes when he was like this.

She'd never seen him like this.

Sure, she'd seen him cry, she'd seen him drunk, she'd seen him panicking, but this was different. Before, he'd been afraid or angry or paranoid. Always guarded and ready to run. Never just… sad. He'd fallen through the door, practically collapsing in her arms, sobs already shaking his chest by the time they both fell onto the couch.

“What are you sorry for?” Sarah ventured in a soft voice. Maybe that was the best place to start.

“Almost didn't come back,” he replied. “Almost just… just stayed away.”

Was that where he'd been? Back in Neath? Back at Chopper's?

“But then I went and got wasted and… and I wound up back here. Just like always. Sorry.”

Was he… was he apologizing for that? Not for almost leaving forever, but for coming back?

“No, Lex, we want you here. It's okay, I want you here.”

“S’no good. Dangerous.”

It seemed they always came back to this one way or another. That it was dangerous to house him, dangerous to make him part of the team. Someone would come for him eventually, and then they'd all be in trouble. It wasn't an unfounded fear, but everyone here was in the same boat. Everyone was redlined. But Lex remained convinced that he was the one who was cursed, the one who would bring about their downfall.

Especially when he drank.

“We can handle it. We always do.”

He was quieting down some, sniffling and soft gasps in her lap, breaths getting deeper. Time for damage assessment. 

Sarah rubbed his back gently as she increased her hearing, listening past inhales that now roared in her ears, past the small hitches that were like gunshots. His heart was beating fast, but was that from pain? Or just the crying? She couldn't hear the click of a broken bone, which was a good sign, but his breaths seemed a little more pained than normal. It seemed like he'd calmed down a little. Might be worth a try to get a look at him.

“Hey, Lex, can I take off your jacket?”

Wounds had been the first thing on her mind when she heard him at the door, but a keen sweep of him hadn't shown her any blood, and he was at least fit to walk all the way back here, so she'd pushed the worry back for a moment. There were bruises on his face, but no worse than he'd come back with in the past, and she knew he didn't like a fuss being made over something so ‘trivial’.

Sarah winced at the sound of his metal fists clenching, quickly dialing back her hearing.

“It's okay. I just want to see if you're hurt, but if you feel fine, we can wait until morning.”

She could hear the choke in his breath, words trying to form and tangling in his throat, small whispered rhymes before he managed to speak to her.

“It's… not bad. Not bad enough. I don't…”

“We can wait.” He was breathing okay, he wasn't bleeding, they could hold off on a proper wound check until he sobered up. Until it was a little less dark.

“Are you comfy?” she asked after a moment, once his breathing had slowed again.

“Mhm.”

“Good.” Would he want to talk about it tomorrow? Where he'd been, what happened? Or would it just be another mystery, a few vague words she hoped she drew the right conclusion on? Sometimes he told her more. Sometimes he didn't want to speak on it at all. It was a hard field to navigate; how much to push, how much to relent. What could be crucial for the safety of the team? What could be crucial for Lex? She'd been playing it by ear for months now, wasn't it inevitable she'd miss a note eventually?

One day at a time.

He was here now, he was safe. He'd come home. Enough for now.

“Sarah?” Her name was a murmur in a hoarse voice.

“Yeah?”

“You'll stay?”

She almost laughed at that. Would she stay. “Yeah,” she replied. “Yeah, I'll be right here with you.”

× × ×

@whumpacabra  @enteredin2eternity  @kixngiggles  @whumpsday 

@kiichu  @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump  @shywhumpauthor  @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes ,

@fleur-alise , @whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow , @honeycollectswhump ,  @snakebites-and-ink

[thatsgonnaleaveamark]

this or that - whump tropes (53)

potentially dangerous flesh wound (and you might have to look out for rabies as well) or venom that a character might not even immediately notice?

[letitbehurt]

Yes I adore Whumpees who talk their way through the pain of field surgery. Yes I equally adore Whumpees who are so delirious with pain that all they can do is scream around the bit as Caretaker works to remove a bullet or suture a gash. When Caretaker has to hold a thrashing Whumpee still, whispering an endless stream of apologies underneath their wordless sobs of pain.

[but-is-it-whumpy]

Gi-hun should get tased. As a treat🙂‍↕️⚡️

[savebatsfromscratch]

Whump... I'm having thoughts...

I don't know what thoughts they are but I'm having them.

[evankinkley]

donovan rocker in every swat episode → 1x01

[cartwrong]

okay but slow horses has like the most whump per episode right?

[neuxue]

do I know what this novel is actually about yet? No.

do I know that one of the leads was once described as 'the blade of the empire', is now seen as a traitor, and made her first appearances by, in order: (1) flogging the other lead with a whip made of bones (her own??? unclear!), and then (2) imprisoned and tortured beyond normal human endurance, unable to stand or do anything but affirm the other lead's memory of her pain tolernace, before (3) pulling someone else's hidden dagger out as a first recourse for dealing with a member of the imperial family? Yes.

[uuuhshiny]

Vladimir Verevochkin in Double

He brakes

[citrine-elephant]

sedated by my cicada rhythm as my stupid flesh mech thinks it's days past bed time

post plaga leon and biting. how vets sometimes need to muzzle their clients?

leon gets a little too bitey at a checkup and is put in the shame muzzle.

or, a more grounded idea: leon gets squirmy in medical settings, and because of trauma response paired with post-plaga feral reworking of his brain, there's a chance he may bite when threatened. he understands, there's always a chance he could pass infection if he's a carrier for something and isn't aware. y'know.

fuckin parasites rewiring his brain...

[soapy-soartp]

Day 18 of @whumperless-whump-event (late entry!)

Day:  18- I DON'T SEE IT

Prompt: Hallucinations / Fever dreams / "It's just a nightmare. You're safe."

Fandom: TGCF

Characters: Wu Ming and Xie Lian

Wulian - XL having hallucinations 

Wu Ming stands guard just outside of the shabby hut that they had decided was their shelter for that night. It’s rare that they stop on their journey, his highness hasn’t been feeling well recently. 

As much as Wu Ming would’ve liked to help… (he tried) It wasn't his place…

So he merely stands guard just outside of the dilapidated house, he wants to give his god privacy but he’s unwilling to stray too far. Especially when he already wasn't feeling well… especially when there's a chance that masked monster could appear at any mo- 

A choked off scream rings out into the quiet night.

Before he knows what's happening he’s slammed open the poorly made door and is met with the sight of his beloved curled up in the corner. He feels his dead heart break, yet he freezes. The familiar feeling of helplessness takes over.

His god, his beloved, his most gracious and noble special someone is suffering right there yet he can do NOTHING.

His god is left trembling (bleeding) in the corner (on an altar) with ragged breath and unseeing eyes (choked breath and panicked tears) mumbling to himself (choking on bloody screams).

And for the second time that night Wu Ming does not control what he does. He’s suddenly gently wrapped himself around his god, as gentle as a weapon can be. His god’s heart thunders and he trembles with it. He mumbling a litany of no’s and get away’s. Most heartbreakingly of all are the small yet oh so pained *‘it hurts’*.

Wu Ming takes an unsteady breath, one he doesn’t really need but he can’t help it. He starts feverishly trying to comfort his beloved, trying to chase away whatevers plaguing him with his words (“Your Highness… Please breathe!” “It's just a nightmare. You're safe." “I won’t let them do that to you again. Never again. I swear it.”) and his hold (he clings to his highness as if he were that ten year old boy again, just told he had cursed and doomed fate). 

It's almost exactly like what his god had done for him, but he is no god. He can barely get his highness to take a proper breath let alone comfort him properly. The feeling of helplessness pricks at him yet again but all he can really do is continue to whisper reassurances and hold on tight.

And when the deep night came and his highness was once again calmly asleep, if he began to sing the vague lullaby that his mother used to sing, that's no ones business but his own. 

[crimeronan]

having an extraordinary pain day. pls feel free to dump a bunch of princess AU bullshit in my inbox i am So Miserable....