▪︎he looks better in red▪︎

Tagging systems ->

#beloved mutuals - anything involving my mutuals on this blog or my main!

#sethtalks whump - general whump chatter and occasional whumpdates for wips!

#not whump - relevant to this blog, but not whump specific--feel free to block this tag if you're just here for the beating up blorbos!

#the whump advice corner - writing help to answer questions or provide references

#whumperfly hotline - ask responses!

#blorbo tag - for when the whump is particular to a blorbo. often followed by a character tag. this one is for me so I can find those prompts that resonate with specific blorbos of mine, but you can use it too!

🚧Important Links ->

Masterposts

Fandom Masterlist

Strings Universe Masterpost

Royalverse Masterpost 🚧

World Ends Everyone Dies 🚧

Whumperless Whump Event 2025 Masterlist

Series Links

Persona 5: Yusuke Kitagawa; status effect whump. 3 fics (Ao3)

Master Tag Links

#whump dialogue ask game - the first iteration of the ask game, with over 300 responses, can be found here

#whump drabble ask game - for the 2025 march madness, I did one word drabble bribes to get coughing up blood as far as i could. here's the drabble collection!

🚧#new years wdag - round two of the whump dialogue askgame responses are in this tag

Disclaimers ->

I will reblog gifsets, fics, prompts, resources, and references. You will see lots of blood here.

I support whump as kink. However, this is not a kink blog.

This isn't run as a fandom-specific blog, but there will be fandom-related things here.

I prefer male whump. I will, however, use they/them when prompt posting, unless special circumstances (like blorbos) are in play.

I am anti-censorship. I am of the opinion that all fiction deserves to exist. If you can't be normal about this, I encourage you to block me. Which brings me to--

This is not a discourse blog. I run this for fun. Do not ask me about discourse. If you want a page free of news, you won't see any here. (If on the off chance they do become relevant, it will be under a tag called #vent. Please block this tag if needed!)

That's it for now, I think! Thanks for visiting! Stay awhile, if you fancy. And drink some water while you're at it!

post dividers link here by @/saradika-graphics

profile photo is Simon Tam from Firefly in episode 7: Jaynestown (with color edits to make it fit the blog). here's the scene as gifs and here's the full screencap:

"Stop, it's okay," and that's Winter. Gloved hands against his cheek, wiping the blood from his cheek. He needs them. "There. There, it's fine. Take a deep breath. It'll help, I promise, okay?"

They listen, dragging a rough inhale into their lungs. It stings. Dizziness cascades through them.

Then fingers follow through his hair. "I got you. I need to hold you still, I'll be gentle."

More voices nearby, but Winter's behind them, voice in their ear, telling them it's okay. Part of them doesn't believe it--Winter is never totally truthful with those words--but all they know is pain, and the steady presence against their back. They choose to trust it.

Something moves. They flinch, a strained noise crawling up the back of their throat.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," Winter whispers, frantic and tight, "Cor's helping, you just need to stay still, it's going to be fine--"

And it rips, and a scream tears out of their throat--

"Minnow!"

"On it."

Frey feels more than blood filling his eyes now, but the gloved thumbs wipe it away, holding tighter. "Minnow has us silenced, it's okay. You can scream. It's okay."

They cough, try to pull from the fire in their side. Helpless noises fall from their lips. Humiliating, part of them whispers, but Winter said it was okay--

"It's out, Minnow--"

"Yeah, move."

Ice hands touch their bare skin. They want to run, to hide, they can't move.

"Relax," a smooth, spiralling voice croons. "I'm getting the poison out. You need to breathe, follow your prince."

"In, Frey, follow me."

Shuddery breaths. They follow. A finger taps against their collarbone, keeping the rhythm. Out, and some of the fire leaves with it.

"Almost done."

"Cor, you got the--"

"Sutures, yes. Minnow, can you trance them?"

"They won't appreciate that."

"I don't care," Winter rasps, breath hot on their ear. "They don't deserve more pain. Please, Min, I can't hold them down like this."

"...okay."

The hands touch their cheek now, and they falter in their breathing as something swims in their vision. "M-Minnow," they manage.

"That's me, soldier," Minnow whispers softly. "You're going to focus on me for a little while, okay?"

"'Kay," they murmur.

Arms around their shoulders, hugging tight. Careful fingers against the wound in their side. And bracing, cold palms against their cheeks.

"Sleep," Minnow whispers.

If he weren't so worried, he would almost be amused. "Yes, highness," he says, instead of making fun of him like normal. "The poultice irritates the skin, to kill the remnants of the surface poison. It causes an itching and burning sensation. That means the herbs are doing their job."

Withering somewhat, Winter nods. His eyes wander back to the white cloth. "I'm sorry I was reckless, Cor. I didn't know it was..."

"None of us knew," Cor reassures.

He turns his attention back to the small fire. Across the way, the knight's eyes catch the light. Frey is watching him closely.

Cor ignores them. Instead, he focuses on the boiling water, where he adds his personal blend of tea into the pot. Nothing special, nothing healing. Just warm and spiced, to calm the spirit. "And what you did kept the rest of us alive. I can do the same for you."

"How did you figure it out?" Winter says quietly, shuffling forward to sit closer to the flames. He shivers slightly.

"My whole work is with poisons, highness." Cor stirs the mix slowly, lazy. The urgency is gone, now that he's siphoned the majority of the danger out of his colleague's wound. "If I didn't know, I'd be a poor herbalist."

"You saved my life."

"And you saved mine," he reminds. "Don't put me in debt to you so late now."

Winter flushes, and looks away. The firelight illuminates the underside of his jaw and neck. He looks young, so slumped into himself.

Cor strains the water into a small cup. He swirls it carefully, sniffs to make sure it's not too bitter, and turns, beckoning Winter's hands open. He gently presses the cup into Winter's grip. "Drink, highness. It'll warm you."

Frey's eyes, still open from across the fire, narrow. So protective.

Pouring another cup, Cor lifts it to his lips and blows, before swallowing a sip. He has no intention to harm the prince, but he has little qualm with proving it.

Still, the knight barely relaxes until Winter makes a noise of surprise. "It's sweet!"

"Shh," Cor murmurs.

"Minnow's on watch, we'll be fine," Winter says, taking another drink. He starts. "Hot..."

Cor can't help the smirk that crosses his face. Across the fire, Frey is hiding their own smile.

"You're something else, highness," Cor says.

Winter blinks. "...You say that like an insult."

"I'm observing."

"You are insulting me!"

"Shh," he urges again. "You're in no state to provoke the night. Minnow is on watch, but even she can't protect from all dangers by herself. So drink, then sleep. I'll tend the fire."

Admonished, but still delighted, Winter takes a sip of the tea, and watches the fire.

Cor watches him drink, taken by the redness dancing on his skin, the way his head droops the longer he fights sleep. A prince, but a bright one, undeserving of the cruelty he's suffered.

Cor leans, wobbly. Winter catches his elbow and guides him to the pillow, pulling the thin ratty blanket to his chin.

It's only been an hour since Frey and Minnow left to get money for another night at the inn, and hopefully for some sort of fever reducing potion, if there's an herbalist in the outskirts of town. They weren't supposed to be here at all.

But when Cor collapsed after they escaped yet another round of bounty hunters, the group really had no choice.

Cor makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat. Winter snaps his attention away from the small candelight on their bedside, and back to his charge.

"You're okay," Winter soothes. It's automatic now. Every time Cor surfaces enough from the flow of the fever, he starts to panic. Winter smoothes down the edges of the blanket. "We're at an inn. Frey and Minnow will be back soon."

A shaky hand reaches toward him, and Cor cups his cheek, running his thumb against the crease in his chin. "...Hurt?"

"No," Winter breathes. "Only you."

"Look... scared."

"I'm worried about you," he says, candid, reaching up to squeeze Cor's wrist. It's the most he's said in twenty four hours. "You're ill."

"I'll... recover," Cor murmurs. His face looks drawn and pale, but determined. Still weak, still dazed. "So... calm. D'n't worry."

Winter huffs a laugh, and leans over to brush a sweaty strand of hair from Cor's forehead. "Worry about you, not me."

"S okay," Cor insists, eyes fluttering.

"It is," Winter agrees, and taps his cheek gently. "Now sleep, please. I'll wake you when the others are back."

Cor hums, and drifts somewhere else.

Winter watches the candle. The window, looking for his companions. The floorboards. The light sneaking in from under the tiny room's door, where the tavern below surely remains quiet and ugly.

Anything but the fluttery breaths of his companion. Cor can try to hide it when he's conscious. But in sleep, his body betrays him.