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whumble-beeee · 8 months

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Whumptember 2023, Day 11

“There’s nothing else I can do”

Last resort | Character death | Medical whump

The Bee’s Whumptember Masterlist

~1490 words

CW: probably wrong medical procedure based on my own limited medical training and experience, wishing for death, blood, implied knife wounds, technical medical talk, mentioned past torture, brainwashed whumpee, medical malpractice (but the good kind ig?), needles

(Continued from Day 10: What Are You Doing To Them. Turns out Detective does save Whumpee after all. kinda. heh.)

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Where… where was Whumpee? This was all much too white, much too bright. New noises pounded on their eardrums. Weren’t they supposed to be dead? Hanging limply by their wrists, crimson red blotting out their dark flesh so that it was practically a second skin? So good and pretty for Whumper, because they couldn’t struggle anymore and couldn’t be entertaining anymore, so dead was the only way Whumpee could make Whumper happy? They were supposed to be dead. They wanted to be. That was the only way they could be useful now.

Something was poking and prodding at them. Multiple somethings, multiple someones. Whumpee shifted uncomfortably and tried to move away, only to find they couldn’t. Straps. They were strapped to a bed, and the bed was jostling around. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Every slight movement exacerbated their dizziness.

Had Whumper decided to keep them alive after all? Maybe this was just some new form of torture. That must be why Whumper put some sort of face mask on them. Poison, maybe. Whumpee would gladly take it. Even if their wounds made them so, so weak, even if the bright lights made them want to scream, even if they could barely feel what was happening to their body, even if the flurry of movement around them confused them, especially the agonizing poking and prodding.

Even if some dark horrible part of their heart fluttered because maybe, just maybe, Whumpee was being saved. If only… No, no, Whumpee didn’t want to be saved. Whumpee wanted to please Whumper and be good for them. That was their only job in life.

Was Whumper even here? They usually liked to talk while torturing Whumpee.

No, Whumpee was good. Whatever Whumper wanted, Whumpee would do, even if this wasn’t their usual style. They would take it because they had to, and they wanted to. They wanted to. They would always take it, always, always, always, always, always…

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Detective frantically patted Whumpee’s cheek, and their eyelids twitched open again. Barely. One of the EMTs shoved Detective out of the way with an understandably authoritative “Move,” and got to work wiping off a staggering amount of crimson just from the crook of Whumpee’s elbow. They quickly placed and taped down the IV before readjusting the oxygen mask on Whumpee’s face for the third time, as the other EMT worked on staunching the blood endlessly gushing from the various gaping gashes and stab wounds all over their body.

“They’re losing too much blood, tourniquet and elevate the limbs more and focus on stitching and pressure on the torso and head.”

Detective leaned back into the corner as much as they could. They almost wished they hadn’t climbed into the ambulance. They almost wished they’d listened as the personnel yelled at them to get out, before Detective’s determined glare and crossed arms made them decide it wasn’t worth trying to force Detective out when time was already a very precious and very quickly dwindling resource. Almost.

They smiled to themself, despite everything. If nothing else, even if Whumpee didn’t end up pulling through, at least they had made that sick sadist pay. A mist of red spraying to the walls. A second bullet. That was all Detective could have wanted.

Whumpee shuddered on the gurney, momentarily thrashing under their restraints before falling still again.

“Don’t they need blood?” Detective called, jarred out of their thoughts. They started taking a mental tally of all visible wounds again. “They lost so much, and we don’t even know–”

“Yes, they do,” EMT1 interrupted, not looking up from their tourniquet. “We don’t have any, they’ll get it at the hospital.”

Detective sputtered. “They’re not gonna make it to the hospital! We’re in the middle of nowhere, it’s gonna take–”

“Look,” EMT1 spun on Detective. “We can’t do anything about it, or else we would! Now stay out of the way or I’ll have you thrown out of the damn vehicle.”

They harshly tied off the tourniquet and moved to the next one. Then their face softened again. Just slightly. “We want them alive just as much as you...”

“I’m a universal donor!” Detective pleaded. “O negative! Take my blood!”

EMT1 paused and stared at Detective before remembering themself, shaking their head out and continuing to fuss over a particularly nasty gash. “Absolutely not, we can’t know that for sure, we can't test it, not to mention the malpractice suit alone would–”

“Shit!” The other EMT called suddenly. “Heart stopped beating, beginning compressions! Two, three, four…” They started pushing into Whumpee's chest before they even fully finished the sentence. The one chewing Detective out dashed to grab the AED machine, slammimg the two pads onto Whumpee’s chest around their partner's working hands, before rushing to the side of Whumpee’s head, tipping their head up and preparing to give life-saving breaths.

“Hey!” EMT1 yelled out to Detectives. “Come here and work the AED, it’ll prompt you on everything you need to do–” EMT2 finished their thirty compressions, and EMT1 stopped their orders to give two full breaths into the mask. Whumpee’s chest rose and fell with each breath before falling still again. EMT2 continued their compressions. EMT1 dashed across the cabin to press on the wounds again. ”--and make sure to yell ‘clear’ when it’s scanning AND when a shock is advised and then press the button–”

“They’re back!” EMT2 yelled again, ear pressed closely to Whumpee’s mouth and two fingers on the carotid artery. “Pulse weak as measured at the beginning, breathing normal. Continue as we were, and pay close attention to vitals!”

EMT1 froze, chest heaving shakily. “Okay, okay, nevermind, uh, go back to the corner…”

“Please, I’m O negative, I can help,” Detective begged. “They’re not gonna make it–”

EMT1 reeled on them, eyes fiery and wet, practically shaking, holding tense hands in front of themself placatingly as if they wanted nothing more than to grab Detective by the throat and hurl them out of the ambulance.

“We cannot give an emergency blood transfusion with your blood!” they yelled, breath ragged, whipping their hand up to silence Detectives protests. “We can’t verify the blood type, and if you’re wrong, they will die, and that’s not even touching on the amount of malpractice I’d be committing. There’s nothing I can do to–”

“Oh, lay off and just do it,” EMT2 called out from the other side of the gurney, pressing a cloth into Whumpee’s stomach wounds. “Guy’s a detective, they know their blood type, and you and I both know that the patient’s heart still somehow beating is one in a billion.”

They reached across Whumpee to grab their partner's arms and press them down onto the cloth so they could grab something from the cabinets, snapping at Detective to do the same, and Detective fell in right next to EMT1.

“We’re also what, twenty minutes away from the hospital? The will of God themself couldn’t keep this patient alive for that long without a transfusion.” They nodded to the blood still steadily pooling onto the floor, covering all their shoes in a dark crimson, soaking through the bottoms of their pants with a morbid stickiness.

EMT1 stared at Whumpee, searching over their frail frame as if the answers to their life were going to be etched onto Whumpee’s skin. Only different etchings, cuts, and deep purple and black bruises could be found, standing out brilliantly against Whumpee’s practically gray skin. They turned their eyes desperately to their partner, then Detective, then their partner again. “Do it. I’ll continue care until blood can be administered. If this doesn’t work, it's on your ass.”

“Always is,” EMT2 muttered with a jarring laugh. They beckoned Detective over as their partner worked in a flurry behind them, quickly tying a tight rubber tourniquet around Detective’s upper arm. “Try to keep still, lean on the wall. Get some water from the sink, too. You’re absolutely sure you’re a universal donor?”

EMT2 grabbed them by the elbow and shoved the needle into the vein without waiting for a response. Detective swallowed. “I’ve done this before. Never been more sure in my life.”

EMT2 nodded as they finished, rushing away to help with Whumpee again just as thick blood suctioned up through the thin tube and into the waiting blood bag. Detective was already starting to feel a bit woozy. Great time to remember their fear of needles.

They forced their gaze away from the slowly filling bag, over to Whumpee lying half dead on the gurney with the EMTs rushing around them, patching them up with practiced precision. They watched with baited breath each time their chest rose and fell, hoping the next one wouldn’t be their last. Up, down, up, down. Don’t pass out. Then back to the blood draw kit, sucking out the lifesaving liquid from Detective so it could continue its journey in Whumpee.

God, this had better work.

@whumptember

#whumptember2023 #whumptember day 11 #day eleven: theres nothing i can do #day eleven: medical whump #day eleven: last resort #whump #whumpee #caretaker #whump writing #writeblr #“but bee you didnt like day ten!”#“why are you writing a part two?”#turns out i like writing about detective and them emts because its a lot more action or something like that lol #something about completely conditioned and trained whumpees just doesn't hit the spot for me #also i am cpr certifiead and a lifeguard #so at least the crp portion should be medically correct #at least at the time of posting #the rest tho idk

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mirohtron · 3 years

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Villain whumpee going home after a fight to patch up their own wounds by themself, trying not to pass out all while being alone

tw: descriptions of torture including shattered joints and skinning and nerves, self-blame (like a lot of it) and self-worth issues, descriptions of injuries, emotional/mental stress from loneliness

second part

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It hurt. It hurt so much.

Villain almost cried in relief when they realised they'd gone another fight without breaking a bone. They could take gashes to the gut and bruises covering inches of their skin, even twisted joints, but they absolutely could not take a broken bone. Broken bones scared them. Just the thought of the pain, the expenses to heal it, the thought that it would get worse and worse overtime because villain wasn't a medic gave them full body shudders.

Oh, but their ankle was badly sprained, and a bruise covered their cheek, and their head throbbed, and cuts littered their knees and their arm and their knuckles and—God, their ribs hurt so much.

And fatigue weighed their limbs down, and they wanted to just collapse onto the sidewalk and let sleep take over so bad, but they couldn't do that, not unless they wanted little rocks in their wounds and infections making puss form over the flesh or unwanted attention from someone who wanted to get their anger out on a nobody.

The streetlamps were so bright. Too bright for villain. They grit their teeth, trying to push away the fatigue and the pain, but everything stung so much, like punches to their nerves. Tears were already prickling at the corners of their eyes, and every step hurt their ankle so bad, and everything just hurt so much that they didn't want to see the world ever again if it meant the pain would stop.

It was cold from the night. It was hot from the pain. It was like everything was coming at villain with all the intent to hurt in some way or shape or form.

They couldn't complain. Don't complain. They deserved it. Deserved to have their bones crushed inside their body and scream from the pain and have their nerves pinched between nails so hard their body went numb, deserved to be forced to walk on shattered ankles and crawl on skinned palms. Deserved it all because they were so stupid and naïve to start their stupid "plan."

God, was it even worth it now? Every day they hurt, every day things hit them like a brick, every day they went home to an empty apartment that had the overwhelming scent of soap invading their nostrils just to mask the smell of the dried blood on their clothes, all for something they couldn't even bring themselves to remember.

Villain sniffled. They had more detergents and medical products than food and it was all for the wrong reasons. They went hungry just to buy more detergents so they could scrub off the blood from their bedsheets and they cried more than smiled because every time they stitched themselves wrong it hurt so bad and there was no one they could go to because no one cared about a villain.

When was the last time villain even genuinely smiled? Why were they even asking themselves this? No one cared if villain never smiled—they didn't deserve to smile, they didn't. They deserved to be shunned and hurt and that's what all the heroes who ever fought them did. They laughed in villain's face and mercilessly hit them and gave them gashes because that's what someone like them should get.

The world seemed to get farther and farther away with each step villain took. Maybe they were too tired. Their eyelids felt like lead and they almost stumbled and whined when too much pressure landed on their sprained ankle. Breathing heavily hurt the bruise on their ribs and they couldn't even twist their face in pain without agitating the bruise on their cheekbone.

Four blocks seemed much too far away for villain right now. Four blocks. They should—maybe they should pass out, maybe they could continue walking once the fatigue had washed away, maybe they didn't even deserve to have an apartment they could go home to every night.

No—no. No. Their mind felt like two people with opposing views had control of it, God. They didn't... maybe they didn't deserve this. They didn't know. Villain didn't know anything, when did they ever know? When did they ever know how to patch themselves up? They just cried and cried and cried because they didn't know how to dress a wound properly and they cried more when the warmth of their hot tears was the closest thing to the missing warmth of a person they yearned to be there for them after every fight.

Crybaby. One time, villain had cried during battle, and the hero fighting them had told them to "put a sock in it" and fight them because villain had technically asked for it. Asked to go home and pass out the moment they landed on the bed, waking up with bloody sheets and open wounds that stuck to the fabric with the help of their dried blood.

Villain didn't know. They leaned against the wall for support, aching, head pounding. Every day there was pain and no one was there for them and everyone hated them and they shouldn't feel bad about it because they deserved it but since when did people decide that hurting in the name of justice was a good thing when the culprit—when they...

Villain's face twisted, and the bruise on their cheekbone hurt. No excuses. None of that. Maybe.

Villain didn't know. What they did know was that they'd walk into an empty apartment with the scent of soap invading their nostrils again, and wake up crying because no one would ever want to care about a mess of a human again.

Maybe they deserved to be a nobody.

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decahedron-crabclaw · 2 years

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the lady

Started off as a thing for @brutal-nemesis neck day but then I changed my mind :))

Takes place in my oc-verse ig but doesn’t involve anyone important, just an unfortunate wounded guy and some sadistic chick. Might turn this into a two shot idk

Contains: impalement, lady whumper, intimate whumper, a tiny bit of defiant whumpee, minor gore, broken bones, steppy, war setting

The fight is over, the pawns long dead or long gone. Save for Whumpee, of course, unlucky enough to remain in the ruins of his camp with a mangled leg and the wrong end of a spear dug through his abdomen.

The enemy arrives after some time, laughing among themselves as they pick through the remains. Wedding rings are pried off of cold stiff fingers and shoved into the pockets of cheap cotton fatigues. Filthy hands unclasp lockets and push old pictures of freshly widowed lovers out from their homes.

One of them kicks Whumpee’s boot, twisting his already shattered leg a few degrees more into the unbearable. Whumpee doesn’t even hear his own yelp through the pain.

“Oh, we’ve got a live one!” One of them exclaims.

“Shall we hand it over to the medics?” Another asks.

Whumpee glances up to meet two pairs of hungry eyes staring down at him. Their words and the rest of the world’s sounds fade to static and the accelerando of Whumpee’s own heartbeat.

They could do anything to him.

“Sorry boys, but he’s mine.” The world returns. A woman steps forward between the two soldiers. Her uniform, hugging the curves of her hips with well-tailored perfection, are the gold accented crimson of an imperial captain. At her waist hangs a spellbook bound in deep green drakescale and an ornate rapier.

“Yes, lady Whumper,” the two men both mutter. With a bow, they hurry away into the depths of the ruined camp.

Left alone are Whumper, Whumpee, and the scent of blood on the wind.

Before Whumpee has any time to react, Whumper has the tip of the rapier against the skin of his neck. If Whumper so wished it, she could flick her wrist and end Whumpee’s life right there and then. Unfortunately for Whumpee, Whumper doesn’t seem to have that intention. Instead, she raises his chin with the thin flat of the blade and tilts his head side to side.

“My my, you’ve got a pretty face,” Whumper purrs, the edge of her thin lips curling into a smirk. Despite the persistent agony in his stomach from the spear, Whumpee manages to keep a stoic face as Whumper continues. “So young too. It’s a pity you’ve ended up here. Tell me, pretty boy, where were you conscripted from?”

Whumpee spits a small spurt of blood towards Whumper. For a moment, Whumper just stares at the stain on her blade.

“Hm.” She pulls her rapier away and wipes the blade off with her free gloved hand. “That’s just rude, you know.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Whumpee rattles before coughing up some more bits of his guts. Whumper tilts her head. Gossamer strands of jet black hair sweep across her face.

“So you do talk,” she says. She raises her leg and holds the heel of her boot a few centimeters above the broken spear haft poking out from Whumpee’s stomach. Whumpee’s eyes go wide. Whumper grins. “Wonder if you scream too.”

Deep breaths, he reminds himself deep in the depths of his mind. Down here, below all the din of his own screams ripping from his throat and the magma rushing through his nervous system, it’s easy to hide. Up above, Whumper digs the haft further and further into his flesh with every grind of her heel. Deep breaths. Instinct, raw and angry and entirely out of his control, drives Whumpee to punch at Whumper, to claw and push that leather boot off and away from him until his fingertips are raw and bleeding. Deep breaths. At some point, the dull end of the haft breaks through the skin on Whumpee’s back and begins to bury itself in the dirt. Deep br--

He can’t even scream anymore, just rattles and cries half-assed sobs that trickle out of his mouth and pool on the ground.

She’s got her hands on the side of his head now, face just inches from Whumpee’s own.

“Everything about you is just so pretty, you know?” She purrs, tracing the tear tracks on Whumpee’s face with her thumb. He whimpers. “Still with me even though you can’t scream anymore.” Stars dance at the edges of Whumpee’s vision, leaving Whumper’s jet black eyes framed in shadow. “Just, gorgeous, you.”

#whump #whumpblr #gen whump #lady whumper #impaled #impalement #intimate whumper #broken bones #defiant whumpee #soft gore #light gore #my stuff #my writing #war whump #steppy

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mid-knife-crisis · 2 years

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Unpopular opinion within the whump community I think but I honestly can't stand the phrase "I'll be good," like when a whumpee says it to a whumper to try to get them to go easier on them or whatever. Like don't get me wrong I'm all for begging for mercy or whatever but I feel like this one phrase in particular carries some weirdly sexual connotations to it? (Obv if the scene IS sexual, then it makes sense lol but I'm talking about strictly nonsexual stuff) Idk I'm obv not judging anyone who likes the phrase or writes it into their works, it's just a personal distaste ig. Then again I'm way more of a defiant whumpee type so ig this is to be expected

#if i had to write a scene like that i'd probably go with something like ''i'll cooperate'' or whatnot #idk there's really no point to this post at all fhdjkfg #i'm just rambling at this point

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whumper-boi · 3 years

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Heyyy 👹💅 @whumpmasinjuly

I debated posting this cause I’m lazy and there’s only three hours left to the, but I figured, ‘fuck it’.

So hey whump community 🌚 My name is Micha (pronounced like Misha), and I am a genderfluid whump creator-

I forgot to do one of these when I first joined (in September, I think? Fuck if I know), so I just popped in and started posting shit. You’re welcome 🥶💅

My blog centers more around recovery than anything else, so if you’re looking for the torturous part, feel free to send me an ask ✨ (just don’t be surprised if it doesn’t come out immediately, I’m either posting five times a day or I’m doing Jack shit. No in between.)

My favourite type of whump troupes (in no particular order:

Caretaker Whump

Kidnapping

Comfort

Revenge

Mind control

Sickness

Assassination attempts

Fluff (like recovery ig)

RECOVERY(!!!)

This one is a bit controversial, but Non-con (fuck off it helps me cope 😻)

Ones that I’m not too,,,, fond of

Pet whump

Death

No escape

No recovery

Whumper redemption (in special cases, maybe)

Complacent whumpee (now don’t get me wrong, I love to tear down their spirt, but I love the drive in them too-)

Brainwashing

I LOVE TAKING ASKS THOUGH!!! NO MATTER THE PROMPT!!! PLEASE SEND SOME IN!!!

Now for my creations, I don’t have too many on tumblr (if any, I don’t think), but I’m working on publishing some books, so here’s my (main) characters that are in the works:

A point in time: Follows the years of two boys as they discover the powers of time travel and the world behind it

Matthew W: main character, 16-year-old afrolatino boy (he’s from America, he dances, he’s a himbo, that’s about it.) Martin’s Boyfriend

Martin KV: other main character, 16-year-old German boy (from England, and is incredibly smart) Matthew’s Boyfriend

Tristan KV (Martin’s older brother), Oliver KV (Martin’s father, main caretaker to him), Nick KV (Martin’s Godfather, Oliver’s husband), Molly W. (Martin’s mother)

Celeste W (Matthew’s mother), Ava W (Matthew’s other mother, Celeste’s wife)

Seth (Whumper, Martin’s stepfather), Chris (Whumper, Matthew’s b*rth f*ther)

The Newest Testament: Follows the life of two archangels in running heaven and hell

Michael the Archangel: Main character, African American, prince(ss) of heaven (genderfluid)

Lucifer the Archangel: other Main Character, African American, king of hell, Michael’s older brother

Adam: Michael’s partner, African American, Second hand general to heaven’s army, and Michael’s right hand

I also have a miny series that follows the life of Misha (yes it is partially based around me), Kasey, and Tiny, three boys forced back into the running world after being kidnapped and turned into a form of child soldiers/assassins. Might post it on here, might let it die in my brain, who knows. Y’all ask and I’ll do it.

I have a LOT more, and I mean a lot, but those are some of my current, big ones.

Anyways

Seriously ask about the mini-series, cause now I wanna do it.

That’s all the tea I have about me for now 👹💅 it’s kinda long, and I’m surprised if you got this far 💅

Okay bye lol

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pythagoreanwhump · 3 years

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Hello asks for whoever you want Whumpee: 🐯Roles are reversed (they are now the whumper), what do they do? 🐹If they got to choose how they would be whumped/punished, what would they pick? Whumper: 😃What’s the meaning of their name? How/why did you pick it? 😶Do they have any regrets related to whumpee? -S

Whumpee

🐯Roles are reversed (they are now the whumper), what do they do?

I honestly don’t have many whumper-whumpee pairings except for just,, Kai and Anastasia lmao (or Kai and their other officers). Uh ig I’ll go with Elias and Oliver? I mean, in canon, after Elias’ rescue his team wanted to hurt Oliver in revenge and he actually tried to convince them not to, but uh he didn’t exactly try very hard lmao. If his team weren’t there, then he still wouldn’t do it himself, but he’d leave Oliver to his men with the implication that he’d want them to do something.

🐹If they got to choose how they would be whumped/punished, what would they pick?

Look I’m just really trying to not answer with Kai for all of them lmao cuz we all know what Kai’s chaotic terrible masochist ass would do already skjfhskjdf. Gonna go with Maria (also to warm up since I got an ask about the team from my secret sunflower that I’m gonna answer later). Although she is a bit of a masochist and usually enjoys more physical pure pain stuff, she usually gets hurt because of her job and she prefers to keep masochism and work separate ksjdhf. I think she would pick waterboarding and electricity and some more psychological stuff just because that’s what she’s been trained to withstand.

Whumper

😃What’s the meaning of their name? How/why did you pick it?

I don't think any of my WhumperTM characters' names mean anything lmao. ig Rao counts as a whumper lol. 娆 literally means charming/seductive, and it's usually used to describe women and occasionally used in names, but I used it for him because he is a fox spirit who traditionally gets their power from seducing men.

😶Do they have any regrets related to whumpee?

lskjflskdjf welp I'm really running out of whumpers to answer for so uh we're gonna do Maria ig ksjdfh. She doesn't have one main whumpee y'know but like,, in general she regrets torturing people for the military but also mainly like,, just avoiding learning about her whumpees because she thought it would make her feel better. Even after she stopped doing it she always thought that if she actually tried to understand the reasons she was being told to do that, she would've realized that it was wrong earlier.

#asks #ask games #oc ask games #asks answers #OC: Maria #OC: Elias #OC: Rao #also yeah sasha uh idk ig we never really said if it were canon or not lol #but in whatever universe that happened maria definitely does feel bad for torturing sam #a bit grateful that it happened and kinda made her realize #but also kinda guilty that it took that #and for sam to have been hurt because of it

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saccharine-suffering · 4 years

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Impatience

Ethan almost fucking dies.

Dollface is not a very patient person. In fact, she’s the worst.

tbh this one’s kinda hard to stomach but whatever ig.

Read It On AO3

Masterlist

C.W: Amputation, captivity, creepy comfort (kinda), lady whumper,(read tags if i missed anything ;;)

- - -

Ethan is completely infuriating. Dollface couldn’t understand why he’s not scared of her. She has given him every reason to be afraid. It’s not like he had a reason to stand up to her- other than spite. And one of these days she’d snap entirely. Who knows what she might do to him, probably accidentally kill the poor boy.

“Y’know,” Dollface started, “Micah would have cracked by now. He would have begged and screamed and cried.” She taunted.

“Don’t talk about Micah like that!” Ethan couldn’t stand it when she talked down about him. Some primal part of him encouraged him to act out whenever she mentions his name. “He’s a fucking human being! So am I! It’s sick that you treat us like toys!” Ethan thought he saw something in Dollface’s expression change, but he was probably just psyching himself out.

“Why is that? You two are property.” Her voice had a low growl to it that Ethan had never heard before. It was unsettling, to be completely honest.

“You don’t own me! I’m not yours, you took me and I will never accept you as an ‘owner’” Ethan tried and failed to hold back tears. It seemed like his constant defiance and back talking finally cracked her. She was by no means stable before, but now Ethan can tell he’s in serious danger.

She moved quickly and aggressively. It started with a harsh blow to his nose. Enough to make it crack and bleed. But his nose wasn’t the only thing she was planning on breaking. She took Ethan’s left arm in his hands and forced it in the wrong direction. He wailed as the bone shattered, but she wasn’t done. This wasn’t over. She reached for the closest bladed weapon- which just so happened to be a hacksaw.

Aggressively handling the sensitive break site, Dollface sawed clean through where the break was. The saw effortlessly cut through skin and flesh. Ethan tried to pull away, but it was fruitless. By the time his limb was completely discarded, Dollface seemed to have blown off enough steam to really look at what she’d done.

Ethan was bleeding a lot. Like a lot. He looked close to passing out from it. Or maybe it was from the pain, she couldn’t tell. Either way, she had to fix this. First things first, tying a rag near the wound to slow bleeding. At least until she found- there it is!

Tranexamic acid. Filling up a syringe, Dollface injected it into Ethan’s bloodstream as fast as she could. What was next? Right, gauze and rubbing alcohol, to clean up all the blood. Fuck, there was so much blood. At this point, he seemed to regain some of his senses. He saw her still messing with the wound and tried to pull away from her, seeming to forget that he’s still tied up.

“Relax, I’m trying to clean it.” She tugged him back into place.

“Why’s it matter? Don’t you want it to hurt?” Ethan asked half-sarcastic and half-confused.

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to bleed out and die. Because when you die it will be very intentional. Not some spur of the moment decision.” She answered. Ethan was going to say something snarky, but decided against it, given that this is the same girl who literally cut off his arm on a whim. “Now, this might hurt a little- actually it’ll hurt like hell.” She said before pressing the gauze into the fresh wound. The rubbing alcohol stung Ethan’s sensitive muscle and he let out a sharp wince. Dollface tried not to smile, but he just sounded so nice when he was in pain.

Once the bleeding stopped, Dollface was finally able to bandage up the wound. It took a while, given just how much was exposed. But for some reason, the long silence was almost comfortable. Neither felt like they should say anything.

She was done. So, she untied him, escorted him back to his cell, and left. They made eye-contact for a split second. It was strange. Ethan had seen a new side of Dollface. And, strangely enough, it wasn’t her impulsive side. He deep down knew she was like that. It was her panic. She was always either calm or careless when she was torturing them. He had never, ever, seen her worry like that.

And he didn’t know how to feel about it.

#Blood Runs Pink #whump #whump fic #captivity #torture #amputation #loss of limb #creepy comfort #noncon drugging #kinda?#just to be safe #alright #thats the end of this chapter #and things are gonna get a lot worse #:)

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shut-up-im-jay · 4 years

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PEEPS THERE IS MORE

WHAT ARE. THE. FUCKING. REPRESENTATION. OF. PAIN. IN. ART.

Sorry I’m overly excited rn

I love this. And I’m sorry but I’ll tag peeps here too bc it’s really interesting, tell me if you want more in the future or if you want me to stop tagging me lmao

@whumpthisway @whumpster-dumpster @untilthepainstarts @ashintheairlikesnow

Let’s dive into it.

SOO how does art represent pain and how does it allow us, spectators, to feel it and why do we represent it in art?

Art and stuff, when I use the word it’ll be about every representation of it, paint, fanfic, writing, films, series.... everything.

first of all, maybe when we experience art we aren’t just communicating with the author and the characters but also with the other readers somehow. Like there is a community behind any form of art

heroïc pain, comical pain and the experiment of pain in stories about real people --> restitution of sensation of pain, (recent phenomenon apparently) are the three main thing we’re gonna talk about here

What is a hero and what is its link to pain?

stoïc heroes are the ‘best’, those who take pride in toughening up, very often a mannly trait, there is historically a superior power in play. They’re heroic bc they fight till the end knowing that they can’t do anything (see La chanson de Roland, the agony of Charlemagne’s nephew, it’s apparently a really good agony/whump thing)

Action is superior to affection when you’re a hero (martyrs hello, we’re talking about st Sebastian, our true gay icon, I love him)

------ Tbh this is basically the base for whump, but not the cool part. We want our whumpee to go further. The strength is cool but I don’t just want this, I mainly wanna feel the pain and no one is that hero. It’s often more the tipping point that gives me whumperflies --------

Philoctet here. Who is the guy? Heroic af, but he is an ass. So anyway he is wounded and he has an ulcer and yeah that’s why he screams and smells and his friends just let him to die on an island (lmao) bc he has invincible weapons so they just go away with it (savage)

So he is the metaphor of a patient isolated in their pain, that’s cool. Also there is a caretaker in the story. True antic whump peeps.

-----------Now comical pain(?) (not whump related here)

Can we really laugh about pain? we’re talking about the ripping a bandage kind of comical pain in caricature. How can some kind of pain affect us while other makes us ‘laugh’ or at least be amused...

We then laugh more about the idea of humiliation, for example in comical theater, laughing at the pain as punishment for the ‘bad’ characters. Also laughing makes people superior, so when we laugh together it binds us together, and then pain can be bounding but anyway that’s not the point.

The real question is: how the fuck do we have an insensibility to pain when there is a comical situation?

let’s talk about someone who falls and it’s funny cause they slipped on a banana peel or smtg. bc there is a social convention in the funny situation. Also pain isn’t really obvious, it’s often ambiguous and we can’t really have empathy so yeah, we maybe don’t relate that much? and also small kids don’t seem to find it funny apparently bc they’re not really aware of the comical situation.

I think that this kind of things would be more interesting to do it as a psychological/social study on why we find things funny related to culture and our background, more than our relation to pain

------------ Now, the historically modern kind of pain tale, the one more related to whump, when the goal really is to describe the pain, often trying to get the spectator to relate.

The body has a new place in art. Historically the soul was really the center of art while nowadays we are more in a somatic art, the body is the focus.

Cenesthesia is the internal perception, the general sensibility we have toward our internal feelings. And it’s a general tendency now, Hunger, K.Hamsun, Nausea, Sartres, they focus on those internal feelings. Another great book: ‘La doulou’, Alphonse Daudet (he suffered from syphilis) and he described in a diary all the pain he was feeling, and he tried to be really accurate. Again, great writing material ig.

Léon Werth: The white house is an auto-fiction, basically the story of a guy that has an ear infection and his surgery then the fever. The whole story is about post-op sensations. Interestingly enough, the character doesn’t even have a name, the whole story is only to describe the pain, and the main character is really interested in his own pain. He uses GREAT analogies tbh, like there is an industry in his ear and everything, that’s.... that’s good shit. But like, he isn’t bad about it, he is just weirdly okay with it? he only describes things as he feels them, he has some kind of dissociation from his pain.

This is basically one of the example of pain descriptions in modern art, when the person in pain becomes the spectator of its pain

Dolor y gloria, Pedro Almodovar --> good PTSD shit, how emotional pain becomes physical pain. Two narratives at the same time: the main character with chronic pains as an adult, but then there is the other story: how, as a child, MC was influenced by his past

on an unrelated note, the teacher just said that main character and his mum are hot lmao that’s bi energy af

Well now she’s dissecting a cinematic scene and it’s not really interesting so I’ll try to express what I took out of this.

Seriously, it wasn’t as cool as I expected it to be, I thought she was going to focus more on how we relate to pain. That’s unfortunate, bc I’d love to have an external pov on whump. The actual psychological effect of seeing pain, and why it’s truly appealing to us. Why the fuck do we enjoy it.

It was more of a dive in the representation of pain in different arts. Some good whump references in it I guess. But nothing really psychological and it’s kinda a shame tbh.

Oh but some cool things maybe(?), some interviews of neurologists:

WHAT IS PAIN AND HOW DOES IT INTERACT WITH THE MEDICAL WORLD?

(also there are people specializing on pain out there which is fucking rad and metal lmao)

Scientific pov: Pain is an experience. Sensorial, emotional and physical. the pain isn’t really localized in a part of your brain. Sure, things are processed in the thalamus but it’s a very large zone already, there are so many ways to feel pain, and so many structures in our brain, it’s almost as complex as memory(!)

-The facial expression of pain and why it’s ambiguous? How to see the pain? There are literal descriptions of non-verbal cues, and how to detect pain (there are even photo stocks of facial pain expressions lmao to try and educate our brains). And often, the more you’re affected, the more you’re ambiguous in the way of expressing it.

Frowning is one of the first ways of expressing pain, muscles have a kind of order in the way they react.

Our anatomy teacher now: words of pain. As doctors, it’s often unclear how to understand the levels of pain based on patient expressions. So we have precise forms to help, but we need patients to be really educated to have enough vocabulary. Unfortunately sometimes as we already stated, pain can be anesthetic in a way, and hard to describe, and trying to fix the pain in time is near impossible. We would even need to do a linguistic study on pain and stuff to make sure we can be precise (and write more whumpy things lmao)

Here, a take on pain as an alarm system. Dramatic consequences ensue when there are lesions of nerves, so it is obviously a very useful and protecting tool. But then what about neuropathic and chronical pains? They’re basically when in a house, the alarm goes off all the time for no reason. And then the definition of a protecting system is really wrong

What are the bias medical professionals have? The more a patient says he’s in pain, and the less they’re believed (it’s almost an auto protecting factor: we shut down our empathy and it conducts us to underestimates the pain, and this is terrible bc the more you’re in pain, the less you’re going to be actually taking care of!)

The logic and chaos of pain: either persistence of a physical issue or malfunctioning of nervous systems In a western, there is a tendency to have pain representation when an arrow gets in the flesh, then when it’s extracted, but we mostly won’t even blink when the character just isn’t in pain anymore bc we have that representation of pain being linked to trauma. (whumpers, I think there is where we have something to say: we actually understand the role of pain after the trauma)

And knowing that pain is linked to something is a very relieving factor for most patients. Thus the known placebo effect: if we actually say to patients that there is a cause to their pain, they almost always have better results with pain management!

Placebo also works the other way around peeps, if you think that smtg is going to be painful, oh boi. It’s gonna hurt like hell. Like more than it should... you get the hint

The human mind is fascinating

#not so cool #ssh #whump #anyway it was kinda interesting #some good references #not so whumpy too #the end is better #I like scientifical pov on things #later #italics are basically my thought

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