#bleach whump

[pearynice]

Eddie doesn’t like spending time away from Steve. 

He’s fine during the day. He can do his job and chat with his coworkers and do what he needs to do without thinking too much on it, but there is nothing in the world that he looks forward to more than being able to come home every evening to the love of his life. Nothing more gratifying than being the person that makes Steve smile when he walks through their front door. No better feeling than Steve welcoming him home.

So call it unhealthy, call him whipped or codependent or whatever else, but Eddie doesn’t like spending extended time away from his boyfriend. Maybe it was the more-than-one near death experience, the nights they spent in hospital waiting rooms, not allowed to be at each other’s bedside, but being away from Steve, especially at night, makes him anxious. Makes his heart rate pick up and his palms sweat, makes him ruminate on whether or not Steve is okay.

So Eddie hasn’t exactly been sleeping. Or eating all that well. Not for the past three days, at least. Because Steve is at a teacher’s conference in Chicago for the week, only leaving under Eddie’s profuse and continued promises that he’d be fine. That Eddie can survive a week without him. 

Which he can. It just doesn’t mean it’s exactly pleasant. Especially today. Because Eddie has the day off, and there’s not much to distract him from the gaping, Steve-sized hole in it. 

He starts by doing the laundry. Washes their sheets. Washes every throw blankets and every towel, moves onto the kitchen while the washer rumbles and does all the dishes. He goes on the truly spiritual experience of cleaning their dishwasher. Which, why must things that do the cleaning need to be cleaned? He scrubs the grime from the shower and wipes the spit from the sink, vacuums the rugs and wipes down the windows, organizes their pantry and cleans out the fridge. 

By the time he’s done his fingers ache. His back smarts from where he spent too long hunched over their tub, and still he misses Steve. 

Who is coming back tomorrow. Late in the evening, sure, but realistically Eddie only needs to survive another 30 hours. 

Which is far too long. 

He considers baking something. Like those those blueberry muffins Steve likes so much, but Eddie just knows by the end he’d have shitty muffins and a dirty kitchen.

So he tries to read. Tries to play guitar and write some songs, tries watching TV and listening to music, even tries going on a walk to pick up some dinner he knows he won’t eat, finally taking Steve’s advice on fresh air to heart. But as the clock ticks on, the itch under his skin only gets worse.

Not even their nightly phone call helps. 

He can tell Steve knows something’s up, keeps reminding him he’ll be back tomorrow, that it’s just one more night, because despite Eddie’s best attempt at deflection Steve knows him far too well.

“Tomorrow.” Steve reminds him, again, at the end of their call.

“Tomorrow.” Eddie repeats. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Eddie misses his boyfriend. 

He tries to sleep. Can’t, of course. He tosses and turns in his bed and then tosses and turns on the couch with the TV humming staticky with whatever late-night garbage he has it on. 

And he just—has to do something. Keep occupied until the sun comes up and he can go to work and lose himself in whatever car some idiot brought in because he didn’t change the oil. Keep his hands busy enough to keep his mind busy, too.

He sits bolt upright. Remembers, suddenly, the bleach and hair dye he’s almost positive Robin left here. 

It doesn’t take him long to find. He’d organized them, without even realizing, nestled them between all of Steve’s bottles and jars and potions. 

Never one for instructions, Eddie remembers Steve mixing the bleach with something else before he smeared it over Robin’s hair. 

It was white. He remembers that much. Thick and gloopy. Like… conditioner?

He mixes the two together in an old Tupperware with a toothbrush, the smell sort of making his eyes water. 

He can’t see much of the back of his head, but he’s just getting the ends, anyways. 

Eventually the toothbrush becomes cumbersome, and he massages the last of it in with his fingers. 

He’s pretty glad that part goes quick because after a minute he can feel his cuticles begin to burn. 

He remembers Steve wrapping Robin’s hair in a plastic bag, and he finds one, eventually, has to fish out a crumpled receipt but sticks that over his head. And waits.

He forgot about the waiting part. That he’d have to sit here while the bleach did its thing and then again when he puts on the red. 

He sits on the toilet with the lid down, picking at his firey cuticles. The clock in the hallway reads nearly 5 a.m., which means Eddie has at least four more hours to kill. 

He goes through their drawers again, wondering if Steve maybe has a different color hiding around. He thinks green would be cool. Maybe pink.

But Eddie doesn’t find another color. He finds, instead, his sewing kit. And he thinks of all the goofy tattoos his has. The goofy tattoos he gave himself. His dice. His Tree of Gondor. His triceratops. And, really, how it’s a shame he hasn’t gotten one for Steve. 

He knows what he’s doing and where before he even has all the supplies, snapping a ballpoint into a small dish and sterilizing the needle with his lighter. He shaves his inner thigh and washes out the bleach from his hair, which is a little underwhelming, honestly, having done little to lighten his dark locks. 

He puts the red in regardless, puts his plastic bag hat back on and gets to work on his thigh. 

And that’s how Jeff finds him. Appearing, in Eddie’s bathroom doorway, two coffee cups in hand. He takes in the plastic bag, smeared with red, on his head, Eddie’s bald and inky leg.

Eddie has no idea what time it is.

He looks down at himself. “I think Steve is… 86% of my impulse control.” 

Jeff doesn’t say anything. Just rests the coffees on the sink and crouches to look at Eddie’s fresh ink. 

“Is that… hairspray?”

“Three puffs!” Eddie answers, a little deliriously, and dips the needle back into the ink to start the third said puff. “How’d you get in here?” He asks, not taking his eyes off the needle. 

“How do you always forget you gave me a key?” Jeff snorts, and then, a little softer, adds, “Steve asked me to swing by before your shift today, you know. Bring you some food.”

Eddie’s gaze flicks to the coffee as he dips his needle in again. “I only see caffeine, here, Williams.”

Jeff’s quiet for a moment before, “how about you finish that up, wash that dye from your hair, and then I’ll give you the food?” Jeff’s voice is still all gentle and obnoxious, and Eddie resists the urge of poking him with the needle.

But Eddie’s almost done with the last puff, anyways, and… breakfast does sound nice. 

“‘M almost done.” He mumbles. 

Jeff sits on the bathroom floor, sipping his coffee and watching Eddie finishes. Then he helps him untangle the plastic bag from his hair. Then makes sure whatever soap they have is unscented, makes sure whatever Eddie’s about to slather all over his thigh won’t turn it septic. 

Damn paramedics. 

In the shower, though, Eddie’s exhaustion starts to creep up on him. Four days with little sleep makes his eyelids droop in the warmth. Makes his shoulders sag as he washes the dye out of his hair. Makes his limbs heavy as he cleans his new tattoo, which, looks pretty damn good, if he does say so himself.

A can of hairspray. Three puffs. 

Eddie towels off, only a little disappointed that the dye didn’t do much. He can see it, a little, but only if the light hits it just right.

Jeff’s waiting for him with a greasy breakfast sandwich and coffee, and Eddie bites into it before he’s even seated, moaning at the taste. 

“Jesus.” Jeff mutters, “let’s wait until Steve gets back for that, okay?”

Eddie doesn’t have the energy to bite back, just takes another bite before he swallows the first. “Fank ‘oo,” Eddie grunts, word garbled around egg and sausage and cheese. He swallows. Looks down at his hands. “For.” The skin of his inner thigh is pink. “Everything.” He takes another bite. 

Jeff smiles. “And miss whatever disaster just happened in your bathroom? Not a chance, Munson.” He puts down his coffee cup. “I did call you in sick from work today, though. Just so you know.”

Eddie drops his sandwich. “Jeff!” Egg flies across the table. “What the fuck!”

Jeff raises his eyebrows and dusts Eddie’s food from his shirt. “You can barely keep your eyes open. I’m protecting you from dropping a car on yourself during a tire rotation.”

Eddie swallows, hands already twitching, “dude. I’m gonna go insane here by myself.”

Jeff raises his other eyebrow.

“More insane.” Eddie corrects. His leg starts to bounce.

“Good thing I’m gonna be keeping you company, then.” Jeff leans back in his chair, picking up his coffee and tilting the styrofoam at Eddie. “Movie marathon?”

Between he and Steve they only have about three decent movies, but Eddie finishes his sandwich on the couch as Jeff fiddles with the VCR. 

The movie begins, and that wave of exhaustion returns. Floods him. It’s hard to keep his eyes open. He leans into Jeff’s side. Who isn’t Steve, but who smells nice. Like linen.

Jeff rests his cheek on Eddie’s head. “Sleep, man.” He mumbles.

So Eddie does.

He doesn’t know how long he was asleep. But he wakes to a hand in his hair. To fingers massaging his scalp, and he knows before he even asks. “‘Teve?”

“Hi, baby.” Steve whispers, his hand stills, and he pulls Eddie closer. 

Steve feels so good. Warm and strong and here and here. 

Eddie opens his eyes only to bury himself in Steve’s chest, his boyfriend falling back onto the couch to accommodate, his arms winding around Eddie’s middle. 

“I missed you.” Eddie murmurs, and breathes Steve in, presses his nose into his sweatshirt and curls closer, fists his hands into Steve’s clothes and holds on tight.

“I missed you, too.” Steve sighs. He sounds tired. “Let’s… not do that again.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Never again.” He agrees. 

Steve shifts, opens his legs so Eddie falls between them. “I played hooky on the all-hands luncheon today.” Steve admits, quiet. “Didn’t feel like sitting around with them all day when I could be here with you.” Steve’s hand returns to his hair, twirling the strands between his fingers. “Did you… dye your hair?”

“N’ got a tattoo.” Eddie hums.

Steve giggles, and kisses the top of Eddie’s head. “I like it.” Steve’s fingers dance across his scalp, and Eddie never wants to go another night without this. 

“I like you.” Eddie volleys back, and he feels Steve laugh, feels it rumble through his chest because Steve is here and he’s laughing and then there’s another kiss placed on Eddie’s head before Steve murmurs, “I like you too, baby.”

My permanent tag list 💗: @hotluncheddie @hitlikehammers @hbyrde36 @littlewildflowerkitten @chaotic-waffle

@westifer-dead @perseus-notjackson @finntheehumaneater @theheadlessphilosopher @spectrum-spectre

@itsall-taken @marvel-ous-m @bookworm0690 @acasualcrossfade

(Sorry taglist that you’re getting tagged late I’m still getting used to tumblrs new STUPID TAGGING SYSTEM)

[love-me-a-lotta-whump]

ブリーチ - Bleach (2018) - Whump List - 🇯🇵

Whumpee: Kurosaki Ichigo played by Fukushi Sota

Synopsis: A Japanese teenager with the ability to see ghosts gains a soul reaper's powers and begins his duties as a substitute soul reaper. (IMDb)

Genre/Tags: Action, Fantasy, Supernatural, Comic Relief, High School, Super Power, Slashed, Impaled, Field Medicine, Little to no Romance, Collapsed, Passing Out

Watch On: Netflix (Original), Dramacool, KissAsian

WARNING: POSSIBLE SPOILERS BELOW

4:12 - fought

9:35 - restrained (magic), struggling, breaking the restraints

10:40 - concerned for someone, hit, thrown into a fence, fought, anxious, fought

25:56 - hit with baseballs repeatedly (semi comical), hit in the stomach, fell, sparring (he loses by a long shot) ::: sparring, sweaty

38:05 - bow pointed at him, shot at

39:50 - concerned for someone, protecting someone, fought, struck in the chest, fell, nearly killed, coincidentally saved, attacked, chest slashed, thrown into a tree, winded, gasping for air, hand stepped on, kicked, thrown, heavy breathing, weak, nearly killed, saved, protected, wincing, concern for him, bloody, heavy breathing, someone suggests doing something that would kill him, “He could die.”, heavily lidded eyes

46:00 - helped to walk, stumbling, weak, laid down, heavy breathing, groaning, wounds painfully treated, heavy breathing, told if they don’t treat his wounds well enough that he’ll die, passed out

47:38 - woke up, torso bandaged, caretaker by his bedside, looked after, emotional, comforted

49:52 - torso still bandaged, concern for him, anxious

1:13:30 - chased, thrown into a convenience store, thrown into a wall, groaning, fought, impaled in the shoulder with a monster’s claw, saved, fought, restrained (by monster) by all 4 limbs, saved, found laying against a bus, exhausted, concern for him, sweaty, someone was told to kill him, protecting someone, fought, thrown into a car, kicked, thrown, winded, thrown, in an explosion, concern for him, concerned for someone, slashed with a sword, concern for him, collapsed, struggling to stand, slashed with a sword, concern for him, collapsed, struggling to stand, bloody, stumbling, struggling to walk, concern for him, slashed with a sword, concern for him, collapsed, weak, struggling to get up to kneel, kneed in the chest, chest stepped on, pushed up against a car, weak, heavy breathing, emotional, shaking, crying, passed out

———+———

MORE WHUMP LISTS >>> {x}

[ichigotheringbearer]

I'm apologizing in advance for spamming the IchiIshi tag on ao3 next month; however for those of you that are interested I currently have 18 fics either partly or completely drafted for whumptober and a few more that I haven't started yet.

So for any fans of the ship...I guess you're getting fed next month. Hope you enjoy, and I'll be sharing them here on tumblr so keep your eyes out :)

[daydreamwhumpinc]

When you are AroAce and also likes Whump and have a type:

"I don't want to bang you, or kiss you, but I do want to see you suffer and then heal and receive comfort and find your own found family."I have so many more comfort characters LMAO

(Also, not saying that wanting to kiss or bang the characters is wrong, my brain just wants the cake in these situations🤍🩶🖤💜)

[thatsgonnaleaveamark]

watched a movie because i saw a nice looking gifset (and then lost it :() and wow it's been a while since i've seen a movie that is so entertaining and satisfactory in the whump department for me with characters that are so my type (whump & aesthetic attraction wise) with Such an unsatisfactory ending

[mytheoryjoules]

Estaba escribiendo un sickfic para wattpad y pedí una portada me gustó mucho, gracias a chatgpt.

Deberían hacer sickfics de esto.

[the-narwhals-awaken]

Bloody Hearts Bingo Day 8

Prompt: Sweetheart, General | Helping somebody take care of themselves

Orihime wanted to pace. She wanted to be moving, to be doing something other than keeping the hot packs warm as Ishida-kun shuddered in his bundle of blankets.

They'd thought everything was going well. The decision to go to Urahara hadn't been made yet, but they were feeling good- the quiet nagging feeling of hunger had faded, and Orihime could tell that they were all stronger- just a little, just enough to be able to adapt to and ignore, just enough so that fighting Hollows was a bit easier than it had been. Orihime had dared to be hopeful- maybe they could just live like this, maybe Urahara wouldn't push too far and they could keep up this neat little balance.

And then Ishida-kun had gotten sick.

It had started out as a complaint of nausea the last time they'd gathered- hardly uncommon, unfortunately, Orihime was aware that her cooking was sometimes a bit much for those not used to it- but it hadn't faded like that kind of thing usually had. When Sado-kun had tried to check his temperature, instead of the fever they'd expected Ishida-kun was freezing, far colder than he should have been in the late summer.

Orihime had thought that Urahara's work had been helping the way that Ishida-kun's powers were missing- he'd still been able to see Hollows, after all, and though he couldn't fight them he was incredibly useful in their rambles to help put spirits to rest. But Ishida-kun was really sick now, barely able to hold himself up and shivering like he was stuck in Antarctica during a storm even so bundled up he looked like a moth in a cocoon. It had hit fast, too- he'd complained of nausea only a few hours before.

Kurosaki-kun was pacing, turning around and around even as he made sure to keep the hot packs warm whenever Orihime passed one to him to reheat. Sado-kun was sitting in his usual sky-watching spot, hands clenched on his knees in an attempt to keep from breaking anything.

"We need to talk to Urahara," Kurosaki-kun finally declared, trading a butterfly-patterned hot pack for one shaped like a penguin. "Either he did this on purpose, in which case we kick his ass, or he didn't, and he can help."

They'd kept going back and forth on confronting Urahara, but they hadn't made a decision when there was only a risk to their safety in doing something. Now that doing nothing was a risk as well, the decision was easier.

Orihime nodded, squeezing her hands together for a long moment. "Shun'o and Ayame can't do anything about this- they can't tell what needs to be rejected, it's all too bound together in there. Urahara-san's the only one who could help with this."

Necessity might have been the mother of invention, after all, but it was also the aunt of desperation and quite fond of drop-kicking solutions off cliffs. It hardly mattered whether he was trustworthy or if he was going to demand more from them if he could actually solve the problem, and Orihime did not want to see any more of the people she cared about dead.

Sado-kun just nodded, uncurling to squeeze Kurosaki-kun on the shoulder. Kurosaki-kun went still, head bowed and breathing slow and steady for a few long moments, then nodded back and dug out his phone.

Urahara-san immediately invited them over, and Orihime added three more blankets to the cocoon and tucked all her hot packs into the layers to try and keep Ishida-kun from freezing on their journey. Sado-kun picked him up with all the apparent effort of lifting an egg roll, and Kurosaki-kun led their little group to the Shouten with the kind of face that scared small children and most gangsters.

Urahara-san was at the door, waiting for them, and the second he saw Ishida-kun, the semblance of cheer that he wore like makeup vanished like mist at dawn.

They all followed him down to the lab, and Urahara-san didn't protest, just pulled out a handful of stools and showed them things to do while he worked. Orihime stepped up to help- Ishida-kun was mostly floppy instead of cooperative- and the others settled in to watch and make sure that everything they needed was in reach.

It took two hours. Two hours of Sado-kun holding Ishida-kun up while he lost what little water they managed to get down his throat while Orihime held his bangs out of his face and Urahara kept his kido going. Two hours of Kurosaki-kun making sure that all of them choked down dry toast and saltines and ginger tea and rinsing out the bowls of bile. Two hours of steady work with kido and injections and sharp needles and the kinds of things that Orihime was fairly certain that she should have been more worried about.

But Ishida-kun stopped shivering and managed to eat two slices of toast and a sleeve of saltines and sriracha on cucumbers (Orihime's favorite anti-nausea food, along with a useful source of hydration) and drained an entire bottle of the pedialyte-ish fluid Urahara had sitting in a fridge in the corner. Urahara didn't even ask for anything, just shooed them off to the room that they'd slept in on previous nights and promised to keep checking in to make sure that everything worked properly.

And when Ishida-kun woke up, he summoned sparks of reishi like he'd never lost that ability. He was still weak, still weary, but at that moment Orihime knew their fate was decided. For the debts they owed, for the proof of help and care, for the assurance of future safety, Orihime was well aware that she'd do almost anything to keep her end of the implicit bargain. It worried her less than she'd thought it would, and from the looks on everyone else's faces she was certain that they agreed.

[cheshirecaine]

POV Your friend’s in mortal peril + the sight sends their nemesis feral

Length: 493w Fandom: Bleach (Anime & Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Aizen Sousuke/Hirako Shinji Characters: Kurosaki Ichigo, Aizen Sousuke Additional Tags: POV Ichigo, No Dialogue, Thousand Year Blood War Arc (Bleach), Mild canon divergence, Secrets, Temporary Character Death Summary:

The guts were for knowing, Ichigo’s mother had always said.

﹒ ❀﹒

how do you fix something? first, you break it

[allyouneediskilly]

BLEACH by Tite Kubo

Chapter 286 - guillotine you standing

[fan-of-chaos]

I finally got around the re-watch of bleach movies and.

I love the trend in them, that had like, each movie upping the previous one in how much they can make Ichigo suffer.

Memories of Nobody: Ichigo makes a friend and that friend sacrifices herself for him and the world, he watches her pass away in a graveyard.

Fade to Black: Everyone forgets Ichigo and he has to deal with his friends attacking him and nobody listening to what he is saying. Oh, and he has to fight possessed Rukia who he doesn't even know how to save for the most of that fight.

Hell Verse: His sister gets kidnapped, a person he started to trust betrays him, his sister get a hell chain and Orihime is unable to fix it, he left his friends behind in hell bc he went berserk. And then many screams of agony from Ichigo and some mental breakdowns on his part. And did I mention his hand getting covered in and burned by lava???

[anigst]

something about ichigo's helpless/betrayed/tired look..

Bleach : Thousand-Year Blood War

[ramblingkat]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Bleach (Anime & Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke Characters: Kurosaki Ichigo, Urahara Kisuke, Shun'Ou (Bleach), Ayame Additional Tags: Tropetember, Whumptember, Time Travel, only one, Bleeding, near bleeding out, Blame the UraIchi Discord, Blame Cross, The idea from TropeWhumptember came from her, Blame the Rat Pit Series: Part 3 of TropeWhumptember Summary:

Kisuke always had plans. Which was how he was alive. For now. Though he was also doing his best to bleed out while hiding after a theft gone bad.

[ichigotheringbearer]

Collected Soul is finally completed. I'm so proud to say that.

Be sure to check it out. 🖤🍓

[meruhenshoujo]

... Renji. It's not even once or twice, if he gets defeated, the pinepple has to come unfurled.

Long haired character with the hair falling like liquid all over them as they’re hurt and on their knees

[holidayinhell]

Hmm… could I request some forced body modification dialogue prompts, perhaps?

1- For Your Protection

“What did you do to me?”

“Nothing.” 

“This is my body--” “My neck. What did you do?””

“It’s nothing you need to worry about. As long as you don’t try to cross the fence.”

Whumpee’s hands started to shake as he thumbed at the sore lump on the side of his neck. “Wh-what does that mean?”

“Just for once, can you be quiet and listen to what I’m telling you?”

“...sorry…”

Whumper sighs. “No, no. I’m sorry. Listen, Whumps. I want to keep you safe. This is for your protection.”

“I told you already, I’m not gonna leave…”

“I know you won’t.” “So it shouldn’t matter one way or another.”

“What'll happen…?”

“The implant will sever your inner carotid artery.” “In plain English, you’ll die.”

2- Bleach

“The bleach didn’t take. I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do…”

Whumper shoots him a deadly glare, clearly annoyed.

“I watched the video. I tried, I really did but-but I think you have to get a special type of bleach for hair.”

“Try it again.”

“Maybe you can get a kit at the drugstore? I think they sell hair dye there…”

“No. Try again.”

“It won’t do anything! And it burns my eyes and scalp.”

“That hideous brown hair of yours is burning my eyes.” “Get back in there. do it right. Don’t come out until it’s perfect.”

3- Modifications

“Nipples, of course. Tongue.” “And what do you think, Whumpee? Bellybutton?”

“A Prince Albert, perhaps?”

“Yes. The largest gauge you can manage up front.” “We’ll work to stretch it out at home.”

“I’m happy to oblige. And I wrote here that you were interested in a tattoo for him, on the forehead, correct?”

“Nah, I’ve actually changed my mind on that one.” “Little fucker is lucky he’s pretty. Didn't wanna ruin the face.”

“I understand completely-- that seems like the right call for this one. But on that note, I’m curious, what are your thoughts on branding? The overall look ends up looking rather natural. I’m sure we could come up with a flattering design, and place it somewhere a bit more inconspicuous. I’m happy to create something custom.”

“I like the way you think." "Hmm hmm--how about the inner thigh? And make it say USED.”

“Haha. That’s great.” “Okay sir, I’ll draw that up and have the proof sent to you by this evening. Drop Whumpee off at 10 am tomorrow, and we will make all the requested modifications.” “Young man. You should be flattered. Not everyone gets an upgrade this… tailored.”

4- Quiet

“Good. You’re awake.”

Whumpee’s eyes snapped open, immediately sensing something was wrong. He stumbled backward, hitting the wall hard. His throat fucking burned.

His lips trembling as he tried to scream—anything.

“Save your breath. I made a few adjustments.”

Whumpee's throat strained, but nothing came out.

“Don’t hurt yourself. I removed the vocal cords.”

He stared, horror etched across his face—why?!

“Because you were quite… well, too vocal. Heh. Thought I’d try something new.”

Whumper stood, brushing off invisible dust. “So yeah: rest up. Drink lots of water. I’ll check up on you in a few hours.”

A smirk. “’Til then, I think I’m going to enjoy the peace and quiet.”

(more whump)

[zorofan69420]

terrible news: i am writing bleach fic even though i think bleach is bad. this is because i am deeply unwell