❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Keni
JVL
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Three Goblin Art
Product Placement
art blog(derogatory)
noise dept.
styofa doing anything
trying on a metaphor
@theartofmadeline
todays bird
tannertan36
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Cosmic Funnies
Kiana Khansmith
Misplaced Lens Cap
Show & Tell
★
Stranger Things
seen from United States
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@whumpchump
TAT: The slow, even breathing of a whumpee who's been delirious or in a lot of pain for a long time but has finally gone to sleep, and the hushed voices of people around them knowing not to wake them and to let them rest, but their friend is so worn out pretty much nothing could wake them at this point anyway.
TAT: Bruises around one eye and a graze on their temple, a split lip and another cut under their eye. When they take off their shirt to let the caretaker tend their injuries their back and chest are covered in more bruises, so that they wince with every movement. They look absolutely exhausted.
When the whumpee has a fever and removes a layer (blanket, change shirt, etc.) and their skin pricks up and they shiver
This made me shiver
someone deliberately choosing to wear
something w deep pockets to carry tissues and cough drops
long sleeves on a warm day so they have a backup plan when they inevitability run out of tissues
something soft for comfort
something nice to hide/distract from the fact they’re sick
concealer on their chapped nose but then it just makes it worse
their hair in a way that obscures half their face
two people having to fake a relationship for the holidays and one of them comes down with a cold but they’ve got to share a bed anyway to keep up with the charade
Explosion: *occurs*
Me: *silently praying for my whumpee to be one of the injured victims, hopefully at least slightly worse than the others to serve as motivation to escape the rubble*
Post-Explosion: *Everyone is fine, their hair is just a little ruffled and dusty*
Me: *ready to explode myself and do it properly this time*
Thinking about characters getting home and caring for themselves after a long time away
Blood and dirt rinsing down the shower drain
Fresh dry bandages on wounds
Comfy, clean clothes, even if they smell musty from the time they’ve been away- bonus points for cosy socks
Adequate food, painkillers and a warm bed after so long on the road
Bonus points for characters collapsing on the couch and falling asleep on each other within minutes
Whumpee found dazed and semi-conscious, washed up on the shore. Their clothes torn, stained with dirt, sand and blood, wringing wet, clinging to the many scrapes and bruises on their battered back and torso. Damp hair rumpled and plastered stiff to their face with sea water and blood.
Shipwrecked? Or a banished sea creature? Either works for me :)
Steri-strips/butterfly stitches used to treat the numerous shallow cuts on the whumpee's face (I'm particularly fond of it being on their temple or across one of their eyebrows👌) after being beaten.
It’s one of my absolute favorites!
Someone shivery and sick and just leaning on a doorframe because standing straight is too much effort, and all other options require them to make a decision. So, since the brain is offline right now, they just hang in this limbo between normal activity and relaxation until somebody saves them from themselves.
Someone lying sick in bed and their partner, who's been coming down with the same illness, quietly joining them later in the day
ughhhh I don’t know what’s better…. when the whumpee is sick and dizzy but refuses to lie down because they’re super nauseous… Them sitting up and resting their head on the headboard completely drained of energy… and then:
violently lurching forward to spill everything on the bed, forcefully spewing the content as they grip the bedsheets in pain… the continuous vomiting blocking their airway so they’re panting and wheezing when they’re over…
or
body shaking quietly as the content in their stomach creeps up the back of their throats that eventually overflows… Softly gagging as vomit drips beneath their chin… their lack of energy prohibiting them to change position so everything dripping on their body and clothes as they almost choke on their vomit….
I really . can’t . decide
When the whumpee is in a lot of pain and every movement hurts, but they’re in a situation where they can save lives if they keep going, so they do their best to ignore the pain. The caretaker knowing better than to try to stop them, and just preparing to care for them as soon as they’re done. The whumpee finally saving the last person, and barely making their way over to the caretaker before they collapse. The caretaker catching them and gently lowering them to the ground, their medical supplies already laid out, and beginning to patch the semi-conscious whumpee up. The whumpee trying to stay awake, but rapidly beginning to lose consciousness, and the caretaker noticing and telling them it’s alright if they pass out. The whumpee passing out, and the caretaker breathing a sigh of relief, because now they can patch the whumpee up without causing them any more pain.
Whump dialogue prompts:
“Just stay still, ________, do you want to rip your stitches?”
“What happened to you, ________? Hurry up and come inside, you’re completely soaked and it’s freezing out there, get in here before you freeze.”
“I know you don’t want to, I know, but if we don’t treat this, it’ll get infected, and you really, really don’t want that, do you?”
“You know, if you’d told me you felt that horrible, we could have just stayed home. There’s no reason for you to force yourself to go out when you feel like this, we could have just watched TV on the couch or something.”
“Sit down, you just got really, really pale. You really don’t want to pass out right now, you’ve already got enough problems without giving yourself a concussion on top of everything else.” “Are you sure you’re alright? If you need to take some more time to rest, nobody’s going to judge you. We all want you to take the time you need to recover.”
When the whumpee really needs proper medical attention for some reason, but they’re just so tired, and they don’t have the energy to go to the hospital. The caretaker having to get them out of bed and to the car through a combination of kindness, gentle coaxing, and stubbornness, and then having to repeat it all over again to get them into the waiting room. Them having to continue this whenever the whumpee needs to do anything as they get treated, and when the whumpee eventually ends up crying because they’re so tired and overwhelmed, them holding the whumpee gently and soothing them until they drift off for a few minutes, though they’ll have to wake them in a few minutes because of the doctors.
I love the disconnect that a caretaker has when nursing a usually very stoic person back to health. Even though the person’s sick, the caretaker still has the same expectations as if they were healthy, only to feel a sympathetic twinge in their chest when they’re proven wrong. Bonus points if the person is overworked to the point of illness.
“You really are sick...”
“You look horrible...”
“I’ve never seen you so miserable.”
“That cold of yours really is dreadful...”
“Oh, sweetheart...you’ve only gotten worse.”
“No wonder you’re ill...”
“I can’t believe I let you work this hard.”
“You’ve worked yourself sick!”
The end of a long day. A comes home and drops down on the couch, exhausted. “God, my head hurts.“ Face buried in their hands.
B’s in the middle of cooking dinner. They quickly glance over everything on the stove: Yes, it looks okay to leave simmering for a few minutes. Luckily, everything they need is right at hand: One cupboard door for a bottle of painkillers, quietly shaken out; another for a tall glass, filled with water at the sink.
“Here.“ Quiet, tipping the pills into A’s palm and then following it up with the water. A groans in relief. “Want me to turn the lights down?“
“Fuck, could you?“ A breathes it like they’re too far gone to have thought to ask. They press the cool glass against their temple, still hunched forward, curling in on themself like that will protect them against the pain.
B lets their fingers brush over the back of A’s hand, and then goes to turn down the lights. Checks on supper. Eight minutes before the timer goes off. They’ll have to keep an eye on that. Get to the kitchen to turn it off before it starts to beep. With the time they’ve got, though, they come back to A and let their hands settle on their shoulders. Maybe they perch on the back of the couch; maybe they stand behind it, pressing in close. Either way, they start in with a gentle shoulder massage, going deeper when A, slurred, asks for more.
“You okay?” B finally asks, still keeping their voice low. It’s obvious what the answer is, but they know from experience that A just needs some space to tell them what’s going on on their own. Trying to rush it will just shut them down.
“Just a tension headache.” Eyes scrunched shut. “Work sucked.”
“Mmm?” Leaving space, again.
A scrubs their eyes with the heel of their hand and it all comes tumbling out, everything that had gone wrong at work, “and I just couldn’t take it today, I don’t know why, I didn’t even have a headache then,“ and “the drive home was hell, I could barely keep my eyes on the road“ and “I just wanted to get home. To you.”
Maybe that’s a new confession, slipping out in a moment of vulnerability, or maybe it’s a familiar expression of long-standing care. Either way, B just lets them talk, and keeps up the massage, moving onto their neck, their scalp, and then down to their collarbone, encouraging them to sit up, to lean back against the back of the couch, to let their shoulders come down and back. One eye on the stove, and it’s time to get up, to do the next step in cooking, to keep the food from burning and the timer from going off. B eases off of the massage and pulls A in for a hug, arms wrapped around their shoulders from behind; gentle, gentle.
“Lie down,“ B murmurs. “I’ll let you know when dinner’s done.“
“Yeah, okay.” Pliant, letting themself be guided down. B glances at the timer again, and comes around the front of the couch. Down to A’s level. Their eyes can’t hide their concern.
“Hey.“ Quiet, hand still moving on their shoulder, their upper arm. Palm coming up to caress their jaw. “You sure this is just a tension headache? You feel pretty warm.“
A shrugs– “I think so”– and shivers a little, and sighs. “I dunno. Maybe not.“
The timer goes, and B pulls a throw blanket over A, whispering “sorry” for the sound. Lips to A’s forehead, and yes, that’s a fever coming on. B straightens up to go silence the timer, already mentally recalculating their dinner plans. “Sleep,“ they say, and A nods, already halfway there. “We can eat when you wake up.“
