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No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

AND

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

Yes I know Whumptober is over, but in my defense...I'm slow

AO3 Link

(fic under cut)

“Fireball Jutsu!”

FWOOSH!

A ball of flames moves just above the river, stopping halfway across. The boy creating the flames blows harder, reaching out his hands in a way that suggests he’s attempting to flatten the ball into a line. Unfortunately, the boy’s lungs just don’t have enough air and the jutsu falters, flames falling and dying in the water below. 

Sasuke fell to his knees and looked across the river to see the target of his attack; a single apple he’d placed on the rocks mere inches away from the water, completely untouched by his attempt. He groaned in frustration, his fist punching the ground below and feeling instant regret at the jolt of pain that shot through his arm as a result.

“Why the fuck am I even here?” A valid question; It was the hottest day in Konoha’s history and Kakashi had canceled training for the day so they could stay home and keep cool. Yet here Sasuke was, sweating his everything off in the middle of the day, practicing a fire jutsu of all things because of a stupid idea-

“I was wondering something similar myself.” Sasuke was quick to get up into a fighting stance, headrush punishing him for the sudden change. He looked to see who’d interrupted his training, the voice sounded familiar but…for some reason, he couldn’t place who it belonged to. His vision was hazy, and maybe the heat was getting to him, but the person there looked like…

“...Nii-san?” Sasuke squinted and caught sight of the other person’s eyes widening a fraction. “What’re you…you here to kill me or…?”

 “Of course not, I just…a little birdie told me you were training nearby, and I figured that I’d check up on you. Is that alright?” Somehow that didn’t seem right; who would’ve ratted on him in the first place?

‘Probably Naruto, that dumbass…’ He’d only told Naruto where he was going because they’d run into each other on his way to the training grounds. The blond had been hanging out at Ichiraku Ramen to escape the heat because his A/C was broken and the owner was generous enough to let him hang around the shop (provided that he washed some dishes, but Naruto hadn’t seemed too bothered by that).

Regardless, Sasuke was pretty sure he didn’t want his brother hanging around but…why was that again? The genin blinked as he tried to remember, getting distracted by the spots forming in his vision. Did his brother trap him in a Tsukiyomi? It almost felt like the world was distorting around him and he found himself pitching forward. Something caught him before he hit the ground (a hand?) and he heard someone calling him, but for some reason he couldn’t process the words.

=

The Uchiha woke up lying back first on the grass. His forehead felt bare, causing him to panic for a moment before he realized it was folded next to him. Then Sasuke realized he wasn’t lying entirely flat; his legs were being propped up by what looked to be a green jacket. Did he faint?

“Well, look who's back in the world of the living.” Sasuke pitched himself up, regretting it immediately when his head pounded.

Sasuke turned to the voice and saw his Kakashi sitting next to him. “Sensei…wha’ happened?”

“Well, I stopped by the ramen shop for lunch today and Naruto said he hadn’t seen you come back from training yet-”

“That traitor.”

“-So I decided to check up on you.” Kakashi continued, ignoring his student cursing out his blond rival. “And I’m glad I did. I don’t exactly have any medical ninjutsu, but even I can tell you have some sort of heat exhaustion.”

“...” Sasuke took a moment to process the diagnosis, the symptoms he was experiencing earlier starting to line up clearly with what was being said. But then, that’d mean… “Were you the one that caught me earlier?”

“...Yes, I did…”

“Then that means…” Sasuke flushed in embarrassment, “Oh my god, I called my sensei ‘Nii-san’”

Kakashi laughed watching his student struggle with the realization. “That was certainly a shock, though in hindsight I’ll take that as a compliment; I’ve heard from Asuma that Shikamaru had a similar mixup once, though in that case he called him ‘Dad’.”

Sasuke found himself laughing at the story, then wincing when his head throbbed. “Ow.”

“Alright, I should probably get you to the hospital and make sure they check you out.” The genin found himself being moved onto his sensei’s back.

“I can walk!” Sasuke complained as he protested the piggyback ride.

“Your dramatic swoon to the ground earlier tells me otherwise.”

Sasuke grumbled about Kakashi treating him like the kid he didn’t think he still was, but didn’t push away once the jonin started moving. He ended up feeling reminded of his younger days, back before everything was so complicated…back when his brother would carry him back home, just like this.

“Thanks…sensei…”

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Naruto shippuden ep 209 capter (idk)

The last picture is my own additive.

[highwaytosickfics]

Sketch commission for @jarred-bees !! More pages under the cut!

Gai: Still with me, Tenzou? Yama: Nm! yeah... Gai: Something's wrong Yama: I don't sense anyone following Gai: No, with him. He's not moving right [Whistle] Kks: What's wrong. Gai: We need to stop. Tenzou needs to rest a moment. Yama: What?! Gai, I'm-

Kks: 30 minutes. [yamato groaning] Gai: Bleeding a little still, but should be good. I'm going to check on him too. Flare your chakra with this if you sense danger. Yama: What are you getting at, gai? He always acts like this on our missions. [huffs] ....Hello. [wheeze panting] [grooooooan] Kks: Uuh

Kks: You left Tenzou alone. Gai: I cannot carry you both. We should camp for the night. Kks: That's not happening. I just needed a second. Gai: Are your ribs broken, Kakashi? Kks: He needs to be seen by a medic soon. Gai: He's not in lethal condition. You're in no shape to- Kks: IT'S MY CALL, GAI. SO JUST DROP IT! Gai: Do you not trust me to protect Tenzou? Kks: Of course I do Gai: Listen to me, Tenzou's ok, Kakashi. I'm safe. You're safe. No one's going to die on your watch. It was a close call. But /you/ sacrificed yourself to get us out of there. You've gone above and beyond, please trust me to get all of us home

Gai: Easy, I've got you! [yamato chuckles as the tortoise crunches on a leaf] Pakkun: Oh! yo, Tenzou Gai: Change of plans Yamato: Senpai?

Biscuit: It's all clear, Gai, you can rest your eyes. Gai: I can endure it..... [muffles talking] Gai: Eat more, Tenzou! You need your strength! Yamato: yeah yeah Kks: Mm! [kks bumps gai's arm] Gai: Biscuit, stop licking him

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No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE

Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

this one's pretty tame and alot shorter than the previous 2, but I felt like it'd be a funny twist on this prompt.

AO3 Link

(fic under cut)

“I warned you guys!” It was a rare occurrence that Sakura would scold Sasuke with Naruto. The pink-haired girl wanted to be seen in the best light possible by her crush, but this time…this time she was furious with the both of them. “Why would either of you think this was a good idea?!”

“Ehehehe, c’mon Sakura it’s not too ba-AH!” Naruto’s awkward chuckling was cut off by a yelp. “Kakashi-sensei what the fuck?!”

“Language, Naruto.” Kakashi chided, wrapping the cold compress closer to his student’s fresh burn. “I’d have to agree with Sakura here, I just can’t understand why either of you thought it’d be a good idea to try roasting marshmallows with the fireball technique.”

“Would’ve worked if that dumbass actually put the marshmallows on the sticks right.” Sasuke grumbled.

“It would’ve worked if someone hadn’t decided to activate it on the firewood before I finished the countd-OW!”

“You’re both stupid! How did you manage to catch Naruto’s hand on fire making s’mores?!”

“His hand was in the way of the wood.”

“You were supposed to wait to light it!”

“Well I’m sorry, I thought it would be faster to light the wood first!”

“Now now,” Kakashi cut off the bickering between the two rivals. “Once we get Naruto’s hand properly taken care of, why don’t we try making s’mores again. This time without lighting anyone’s hands aflame?”

The group went silent for a few moments, before finally agreeing to their sensei’s suggestion. By the time they got to the hospital, the burn on Naruto’s hand had mostly healed. Not wanting Sakura and Sasuke to be suspicious of their teammate’s recovery speed, Kakashi still had the medics prescribe Naruto some burn ointment to use ‘until the burn was completely gone’.

The s’mores they made the next day were delicious, and thankfully had resulted in fewer injuries.

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No. 2: TRUST ISSUES

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

fair warning, i can't guarantee quality or that it relates very well to the prompt, but i spent...*checks calendar* 2 weeks writing it and I don't want to keep spiraling on it, so here you go

AO3 Link

(story under cut)

Kakashi’s friends had given him a lot of advice when he finally found a team he’d deemed worth training. He was often told to be patient, which was an easy task; years of ANBU training and missions had made waiting as easy as breathing. 

They’d also tell him to treat and train all of his students equally, though that was far more difficult given that his students all had different things they needed to improve on. Plus the people that usually gave him that piece of advice clearly weren’t following it themselves (it wasn’t exactly difficult to tell who Guy’s favorite student was at the very least).

One thing his friends hadn’t warned him about, however, was what to do when a student didn’t show up. So when Kakashi had shown up to their gathering spot (late as per usual) and saw that Naruto still hadn’t arrived, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to do. Should they wait? They were already late…

Luckily the silver-haired sensei didn’t need to think to long about it, however.

“That idiot!” Sakura cursed, pushing herself up from where she’d been leaning on the bridge. “Can’t believe he’s still pulling this kind of stuff! He’s a genin!”

“Something you’d like to share with the class, Sakura?” Kakashi asked.

“Naruto’s not here!” Sakura replied, steaming a bit even though she was still doing her best to keep her cool. “He used to skip from time to time back in the academy, I bet he’s just running around somewhere causing trouble.”

“I didn’t think Naruto would be the type to skip out on training.”

“He doesn’t.” Sasuke interjected. “Not usually, anyway. Let’s just get started, he’s probably training by himself or something.”

Sakura still seemed a bit annoyed, but she followed Sasuke nonetheless as he started walking towards the training grounds. The pink-haired girl made some comment about wanting to train alone with Sasuke, but Kakashi had already drowned out their chatter while thinking about his missing student.

It was easy to imagine the blond skipping out on academy lectures, but he knew the kid was always eager to train. It also wouldn’t be odd for Naruto to train by himself, but…if that were the case, he’d would’ve let Kakashi know in advance.

The silver-haired sensei found himself summoning Pakkun before he had time to think much about it, sending the small but fast pug to locate the blond while he focused on coming up with his lesson plan for the day.

=

It took longer for Pakkun to come back than Kakashi had expected, with the pug scampering over right around lunchtime. 

“Found him, he's at home.” The dog mumbled softly enough that he could only be heard by his master. “Doesn't seem like he's doing too good though, think he might be sick.”

‘...He can get sick?’ The silver-haired man’s eye widened a bit at the realization before admonishing himself. Of course he could get sick; regardless of his Uzumaki healing or the nine-tailed fox inside him, Naruto was still a child…one that was currently living alone in a shitty apartment, with no one to care for or even check up on him…

“Seems like this will have to be a half day.” Kakashi calmly announced to his other students, who looked up from their bento boxes confused. “I'm being called for a solo mission.”

Sasuke grumbled something under his breath, obviously annoyed at his training being cut short. Sakura seemed more amicable to the idea, however, and took the opportunity to drag Sasuke with her under the excuse that she wanted him to walk her home.

Kakashi, meanwhile, decided to pick up some supplies before making his way to the blond’s apartment. He didn’t even bother knocking on the door, instead hopping up to the roof and going in through the window. It was probably concerning that Naruto didn’t always remember to lock them, that’d be a lecture for another time.

The bed beside the window was empty, with the comforter half-way falling off as though it’d been ripped away in a hurry. Kakashi slipped inside, successfully avoiding the scrolls on the floor his student hadn’t remembered to put away. The room was quiet and dark, but he could hear coughs and retches from one of the other rooms. He rested the plastic bag he’d brought near the bed, taking a water bottle from it and further entering the apartment to find the source of the noise. It didn’t take long to find that the door to the water closet was open, allowing him to see Naruto dry-heaving into the porcelain throne.

Kakashi waited for the dry heaves to calm into panting before sitting down in the hall next to his ailing student. Naruto jolted at his sensei’s sudden appearance. 

“Ka…” The blond tried calling out to him, but his throat cracked at the attempt and left both of them wincing at the sound.

“Try and drink some of this first.” Kakashi opened the water bottle he was holding and handed it to Naruto. “Slowly, unless you want it to come back up.”

The kid just nodded, taking slow sips of the cold water like it was the most precious thing in the universe. Once half the bottle was gone, he tried again even though he seemed to be having trouble finding the words. “Thanks…Kakashi-sensei, what are you…aren’t you supposed to be training right now?”

“I decided to make it a half-day.” Kakashi responded. “I noticed that a certain student of mine hadn’t shown up, so I thought it’d be good to do a ‘wellness check’.”

“Oh…you thought I was skipping, didn’t you?”

“I can’t say the thought didn’t cross my mind,” Naruto winced at what almost sounded like an accusation. “But I figured you would’ve told me directly if you didn’t like the training we were doing, rather than skipping it entirely. I suspected the cause might’ve been a bit more serious…and clearly I was correct.”

“Yeah…” Naruto gave a weak looking smile. “Sorry to worry you over something like this. I get minor bugs like this sometimes-”

“Naruto, I’m not sure a ‘minor’ bug would have someone vomiting their guts out.”

“They don’t last very long though, really!” Naruto whined. “It’s usually just like this for a day or two, then I feel all better.”

‘That’s probably because of the Uzumaki healing mixed with the nine-tails chakra.’ Kakashi thought to himself. ‘His recovery progress is sped up, but it seems to be at the cost of making his symptoms more severe.’

“Hmm…” To test his theory, Kakashi moved to lay a hand on Naruto’s forehead before quickly drawing it back. Even without contact, the heat coming off him was near scalding. “When was the last time you checked your temperature?”

“I haven’t really checked it, I kinda…broke mine the last time I used it and haven’t gotten around to replacing it yet.”

“You…you broke the thermometer?”

“Yeah, it was a glass one too. That was awful to clean up-”

“You cleaned it up by yourself?!”

“I mean, yeah? Who else would’ve done it?” Naruto tilted his head in confusion. 

“...” It truly dawned on Kakashi then that, besides the 3rd Hokage giving him a monthly allowance, literally no one was watching over this kid’s well-being. Did anyone else know that Naruto was sick? That he even could get sick? How many times had Naruto suffered by himself in his apartment, without someone to give him medicine or water or…”Naruto, when you get sick like this, did you remember to call out sick from school?”

“I could’ve done that?!”

Kakashi pinched at the bridge of his nose, this kid was going to be the death of him. “Well, that answers why you didn’t just tell me you were sick…”

“I’m sorry sensei.” Naruto looked down with a sad, apologetic look that Kakashi knew he couldn’t get mad at. It was the same look his ninken would give him whenever they went against orders or failed a task for a mission.

“It’s alright,” Kakashi’s hand moved to ruffle the blond’s hair. Naruto initially flinched at the touch, but when Kakashi was about to withdraw his hand he leaned into it. “I suppose it would’ve been hard to call me like this. But next time you feel like you’re coming down with something, you need to let me know alright?”

“Yeah, promise.” Naruto mumbled, losing focus as his sensei’s hand continued gently ruffling his hair. The poor kid looked exhausted. “Can’t end up collapsing on a mission or something, right?”

“Even if there wasn’t a mission involved, I’d want to know.” Kakashi replied. “I’d be happy to stop by for another wellness check.”

[highwaytosickfics]

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

idk if I'll do any more prompts, but I've been peeking through the Naruto fandom...as someone that hasn't finished Shippuden or Boruto, I've mainly been skimming the wiki.

Anyways, I've been living with a headcanon that Naruto and Shikamaru are both "wife guys" ala Mae Hughes and...like it's probably ooc, but...

here's two overworked overcaffienated dudes with anxiety, one of them is having a panic attack, both of them love their hot wives

AO3 Link

(story under cut)

“You need to breathe, dumbass.” Those weren’t exactly the most comforting words Shikamaru could’ve used, but they were all he could muster at the moment. 

The village had hit a sort of busy season in terms of missions; an era of peace meant a lot more smaller, safer (usually) jobs that ninja would usually complete in record time. Piled on top of that were endless other documents about expanding their infrastructure, technology, education, agriculture…they were all needed advancements that benefited Konoha as a whole, but for the Hokage and his advisor it meant being swamped in paperwork that never seemed to stop coming in. They really needed to divvy some of this stuff up to smaller departments, but that would involve interviewing and hiring trustworthy people which involved so much time…and paperwork.

This wasn’t usually an issue; Naruto was always up for a challenge and, being the jinchuriki of the nine-tailed fox, had almost boundless energy. Despite Shikamaru’s lazy reputation, he found Naruto’s energy to be pretty contagious and it kept them both up and working…for a while, anyway.

They were about a week (or maybe two weeks? It was hard to count the days) into catching up on paperwork, and they were just about finished. There were just a few more papers to process, and then…they’d have more papers waiting for them tomorrow…today…in a few hours, but maybe they could both go home and sleep in an actual bed. They’d been taking turns sleeping on a couch in the other room (well, mostly Shikamaru), but it was old and stuffy and unbearably uncomfortable. They were running on fumes and caffeine at this point. Shikamaru’s throat burned at the thought of brewing another coffee pot, but he felt even more nauseous looking at the full trash can of energy drinks and empty ramen cups at his Hokage’s desk.

“I…I just…” The same Hokage who, at the moment, was curled up on the floor and hyperventilating. Naruto wasn’t the first person Shikamaru ever would have suspected to be prone to panic attacks, but when he thought about it the idea wasn’t too far-fetched; growing up with literally everyone hating you for unexplained reasons could give anyone anxiety. The caffeine and lack of sleep were definitely not helping the situation.

“Breathe slowly.” Luckily for the both of them, Shikamaru had enough practice dealing with his own anxiety to know what to do. Even if he was working on a tenth of his usual brain power. He felt the blond next to him breathe slower and deeper in an attempt to calm down. “Five things you can see?”

“What? Um…the floor, my shoes, the desk…the papers that fell off my desk…”

“Don’t think too much about that, what’s your fifth thing?”

“The door.”

“Alright, four things you can touch?”

“Are we really doing this right now?”

“Apparently we are.”

Naruto groaned in some kind of complaint, but he played along with the exercise anyway. “The floor again, my prosthetic…the Hokage robes I’m definitely getting dirty sitting like this-”

“And?”

“My hair.” He ran his fingers through his hair, getting one of his fingers caught on a knot. “Next is things I can hear, right? Hmm…the light buzzing above us, my computer fan…”

“Can’t think of a third?”

“Well I can now, your voice.” Naruto chuckled. “Two things I can smell is easy, paper and whatever’s rotting in the trash.”

“I think it’s leftover ramen.”

Naruto looked slightly offended at the accusation. “I would never-”

“You only ate half of it at lunch.” Shikamaru interrupted, causing the blond to pout for a moment. “One left.”

“Something I can taste…acid, mostly.” Naruto absentmindedly moved his arm over his stomach, which was rolling from the energy drink he’d slammed down barely an hour ago to keep himself awake.

“Want me to bring in an empty bucket?” Shikamaru asks, already grabbing the trash bin from his desk.

“Not now, but…thanks. Sorry if I’m being ‘troublesome’”

Shikamaru chuckled at the familiar word. “Don’t worry about it. So…you want to tell me why we ended up on the floor again? It’s fine if you don’t want to, but…I know talking helps.”

“No, I can talk about it, it’s just…it’s a bit stupid-”

“Most things you worry about tend to be stupid.”

“Rude!” Naruto snapped back, but the tone was light and his advisor’s jabs were merely playful at worst. “It’s about Hinata. I’m barely ever at home anymore, and anytime I manage to get back I’m always exhausted. I’m only now just starting to get a feel for what it takes to be the Hokage, but it feels like I’m missing everything else important as a result. Sometimes I just…I get scared that she’ll-”

“Get sick of you and leave?”

“Yeah!” The blond sniffled like the kid he still was at heart. “Why does she settle for someone like me? She’s hot, talented, rich…god, she’s hot…”

“Naruto.”

“She just…she deserves someone better than me.”

“I mean…it’s not like I haven’t thought of something similar before.”

“Hey-”

“Not about you, dumbass! About…me and that troublesome woman.”

Naruto stared at Shikamaru in utter disbelief. “What the fuck are you talking about?! You and Temari are the perfect couple!”

“We are not! She’s the one that’s perfect, I’m just-”

“Shikamaru, you’re ‘not just’ anything. You’re the greatest advisor and strategist…literally ever, I would’ve died so many times if you weren’t around. Besides, Temari loves you, she’d never let you go.”

“Says the man who thinks the woman that’s loved him since preschool would drop him without a word...” Shikamaru sighed, pushing himself up from the floor. “We’re both worrying about something incredibly stupid, and we still haven’t even finished the rest of the paperwork.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Naruto groaned, rubbing his eyes and the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I’ll even be able to read right now. Everything’s kinda fuzzy.”

“I’ll read them,” Shikamaru grabbed the last of the paperwork they needed to do from Naruto’s desk and sat back down next to the blond. “If I see something you need to stamp, I’ll let you know. Just don’t pass out til we’re done.”

“No promises.” Naruto yawned, looking over Shikamaru’s shoulder despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to register the words. “...I miss my wife…and my kids…and Hinata…”

“Hinata is your wife.”

“God I love her…she gets hotter every time I see her, I don’t understand how she does it.”

“I get that, man…” The advisor nodded in understanding. He was just as exhausted as Naruto, and really only half-paying attention to whatever he was reading. “Temari’s the same way…all this work is such a drag, I just want to go home and hug her…”

“Maybe we could just save it until tomorrow?”

“It is tomorrow.”

“Fuck.”

=

While one of history’s greatest Hokage and advisor duos were babbling about their wives and struggling to get through the last bits of their paperwork, two women were standing quietly in the hallway just outside the office picking up their sleepy conversation. 

Hinata had realized that Naruto had forgotten to come home the past couple nights, but she hadn’t been too alarmed about it; a quick glance with her Byakyugan let her see where he was via his chakra, and that he’d been working hard the past few days trying to get everything all caught up for once. What did concern her, though, was the way that chakra would suddenly flicker and die down, like a candle burning through the last of its wax. Shikamaru didn’t seem to be doing that well either, so she decided to call up Temari and discovered she was having a similar issue. 

Though she wasn’t exactly the princess of the Hyuga clan anymore (that title got passed to Hanabi when she left), Hinata still had more influence than one might’ve expected. She didn’t use it very much, or rather she hadn’t really wanted to; Naruto had always been unstoppable when it came to working towards his goals, and right now his primary directive was to make sure everything in the village was running smoothly so that his family could live peacefully and want for nothing. That hardworking spirit had always been something she’d found attractive about Naruto, but at the moment it seemed like it was becoming a detriment to his health.

So Hinata called up her sister and pulled a few strings. She was able to use the last “birthday disaster” (read: the time they swamped her husband with work despite knowing it was his daughter’s birthday that week) as leverage to give the Hokage and his advisor a couple weeks off, letting a group of trusted jonin and elders pick up the slack while they were gone. The fact that they needed a group of people rather than just two showed exactly just how overworked they’d been.

Later that evening, she and Temari had come up expecting to drag their husbands away from the office. They’d stopped just before reaching the door at the sound of Naruto crying and Shikamaru comforting him, which turned into them listening to the two men’s concerns and later their affectionate babbling about their families.

The fact that Naruto worried so much about Hinata leaving…it hurt a little, but it also felt nice in a twisted kind of way. To know that he loved her so much that he cried at the mere thought of her. She smiled softly as Temari tried not to burst out laughing at the pair.

“They’re such dorks.” Temari whispered. “As if I could ever leave that crybaby of a man.”

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” Hinata whispered back.

“Almost sickeningly so. They must be insufferable at meetings with the other kages.” Despite her words, Temari couldn’t stop grinning at her drowsy husband’s words. “God and if kids get brought up, you know Gaara would join them.”

“Speaking of kids…would you mind having Boruto and Himawari over for a sleepover sometime this week?”

“Oh? Planning a date night?”

“Something like that.” Hinata teased. “He always works so hard for me and the kids…I want to reward him a little.”

Temari smirked when she saw the look in the younger girl’s eyes. “We can take them for a night, so long as you return the favor a couple days later.”

“Deal.”

[highwaytosickfics]

day 6 babey we've got this!! another FMAB fic! it's a rewrite of a fic i wrote a long time ago, and I think this one kicks that one's ass. :)

After such a terrible, violent brawl that had ended in a lot of blood on the train platform, Ed thinks that it’s unfair that the only thing that’s really bothering him is barely even a paper cut. The assailant had barely even nicked him with the knife. Through the glove, it had barely been enough to bleed. By all counts, it’s one of the most trivial injuries he’s ever walked away from a fight with. 

However, it burns, and it hasn’t stopped since the second the blade parted the flesh. Normally, he tries to deflect that sort of blow with his metal arm, but he’d been too slow to pull away. Between Ed and Al, the three guys that the police had ended up arresting were considerably more roughed up than this, and he hadn’t seen them whining about it. Maybe he’s just so used to cuts being so deep that he barely feels them that has this one stinging like a bitch. It’s so painful that he’s shaking, sweating from exertion of merely walking in this much pain. 

All he’d wanted to do was go back to the dorms and sleep, but fate had had other plans, and the kids had ended up witnessing a near hijacking of the train. They would have succeeded, too, if it weren’t for Ed and Al. He wishes that were worth anything when all he’s getting out of it is another meeting standing between himself and sleep. 

“Are you okay, Brother?” Al asks, pulling him from his thoughts. “You’re quiet.”

“Sorry, Al. I’m fine. Thinking,” he says, tugging at the collar of his shirt to let some of the sticky heat escape. Heat rises from the shirt hole like steam from a hot cup of tea. 

“Are you worried about something?”

“Just dreading seeing Mustang’s smug face,” he lies. Well, it’s not really a lie. His whole life is spent between moments of having to deal with that bastard. Still, it’s not what’s bothering him. In fact, he’s not sure why he can’t think of anything more to say. His head is pounding in time with the beating of his heart and the throbbing of his injured palm. 

They walk through the doors of HQ quietly so as not to draw attention to themselves. Normally, he doesn’t have a problem with making a scene to annoy Mustang, but right now, talking is the last thing he wants to do. The adrenaline from the fight is starting to wear off and it’s leaving him feeling strange. Dizzy, shivery, and nauseous. 

He opens the door to Mustang’s office and enters, but no one is there. 

“Do you think we should come back later?” Al asks, but Ed is already flopping down on the sofa, feet on one arm and head on the other. He shakes his head. 

“Nah, I’m sure he’ll be here.” In truth, he’d rather just lie down on the couch and shut his eyes for a moment than leave just to return when Mustang calls them and demands to now why they didn’t want to sit around and wait forever for him. 

He’s just barely starting to fall asleep when the door opens and shuts with a loud, head-achingly loud rattle. 

“You’re here,” he says in lieu of a greeting. “I’m sorry I’m late. Your report was scheduled for 17:00.” 

“But Colonel,” Al argues gently and politely, “it is 17:00.” 

“Hence, I thought I’d have at least another hour.” Ed can feel the smirk that’s lying in wait behind his calm demeanor, ready for when Ed takes the bait and starts a fight. Sometimes, he thinks that’s the only excitement he gets in a say, which is pretty goddamn sad, he’s got to admit. “Anyway, I won’t waste your time. I know you’re always running a little short.” He pauses for reaction and frowns when he doesn’t get one. “Where is your report?” 

Ed doesn’t reply. It’s like the words just enter one ear and spill out the other, not a single one landing in his consciousness. The cut is horribly painful now, so distracting that he can’t think about anything else. 

“Fullmetal?” Roy prompts irritably. When that doesn’t work, he tries his name again, but this time, his tone is confused, maybe even a little nervous. He can’t make it out enough to identify it. All he can do is prod the cut on his hand with his metal fingers, wincing at the pain it elicits. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, a rare concerned expression passing over his face. Ed shakes his head dazedly, wincing against the vertigo that the motion elicits. 

“Headache.” He expects an argument about how he has to be able to work through these things, or a reaming for whining, but neither come. 

“You seem off. How long has he been like this?” he asks, turning toward Al. 

“Only since the fight. I thought he as just tired. What’s wrong with him?” 

He can hear the fear in Al’s voice and knows that he’s the reason behind it. As much as he hates that and wishes he could reassure him, he can’t quite figure out how to do that. Instead, he keeps poking at the cut. 

“Did something happen to your hand? Are you injured?” 

Ed isn’t so sure anymore, but he shakes his head. He knows that whatever is happening, his injury isn’t severe enough to be causing it. He’s probably just exhausted. He’s been running around like a dog for the military recently and it wouldn’t surprise him if it were finally catching up to him. 

“Brother? Are you okay?”

“Let me see that,” Mustang says, his tone suddenly gentle and patient, like he’s a young child. He takes Ed’s hand and begins to examine it, noting the small amount of blood on the glove and removing it. It’s when he sees it that he gasps—the black tendrils branching from the cut like a root system of a dead tree. 

“This looks bad. When did this happen?” 

“About two hours ago,” Al provides, which is clearly not the answer he’d wanted, because he shoves his hand back toward him. 

“Damn it. I need to make a call.” 

“Colonel?” Al frets. “What’s going on?”

“Hawkeye,” Mustang calls, sticking his head out of the doorframe. “We need a medic to my office immediately. Fullmetal’s been poisoned.” 

Ed stumbles forward a few steps and vomits into the trash basin before he even has time to register what he’s heard. In an instant, Mustang is behind him, easing him to the ground when his knees begin to get wobbly and weak. 

“The medic will be here soon,” he reassures. “Just wait a few minutes.” 

“How are you feeling, Brother?” 

“Tired,” he replies, a candid complaint that is neither stoically denied or childishly exaggerated, both of which would be much more on brand for him. 

“Don’t sleep yet,” Mustang snaps. 

“I know it’s hard. Do it anyway.” 

“S’happening?” 

“Did you not hear what I just said? You were poisoned.” 

Ed nods, fear bubbling up in his chest and sticking right behind his tonsils. Or maybe that’s just stomach acid. His eyes flutter shut again, and Roy shakes his shoulders unceremoniously, 

“What did I just say? Stay awake.” Ed tries his best, but against the gravitational pull of sleep, his fiercest resistance doesn’t even stand a chance. 

[highwaytosickfics]

day 5!! let's go!! we love to see it!!

Hughes should win a medal for his valor. Despite the fact that his beautiful wife and daughter are at home waiting for him, he’s decided to take a detour before heading home after a long day of work to swing by the dorms and check on the Elric brothers. It’s been the hottest week in recent memory and Ed and Al have been running around outside all day working on various errands for Mustang. A few hours ago, Al called to let the Colonel know that Ed had gotten a bit sick from the heat and that they’d meet with him first thing tomorrow morning rather than at the end of the day as they’d planned. For once, purely because something else had come up and it was actually more convenient to free his afternoon up, he’d obliged the request, but since then, Hughes has been thinking of them. If they stay in the dorms all night, they’ll be miserable. At least if he invites them over, they’ll have somewhere more comfortable to sleep. 

When he knocks on the door of the Elrics’ dorm, he doesn’t have to wait for long before Al opens it, so eclipsed by the doorframe that Hughes has to step forward to see all of him. 

“Hello, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes,” he greets, his tone troubled and posture stiff. “What are you doing here?” 

“I was in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by and visit my good friends,” he says easily because it’s only half a lie. He’s not sure what “in the neighborhood” might mean, but this destination is in the exact opposite direction of his home. Still, he doesn’t have to let the kids know he’s gone out of his way for them. It’ll only make them feel bad. “It was a hot one today, wasn’t it?” 

“Well, I can’t really tell,” he admits, which makes him feel a little silly about having said something at all, “but Ed got really overheated. I’m still trying to cool him down now.” 

At that, he frowns. Though he’d been expecting they might need a nice home cooked meal to get their minds off the miserable weather, he’d in no way been anticipating that he could still be in sick from the heat. “Still? Haven’t you boys been inside for hours now?” 

“He’s very prone to heat sickness. His automail gets so hot, plus the metal doesn’t sweat, so he struggles to cool down.” He strains to see Edward inside the room, who is lying on his back on the floor. “Would you like to come in?” 

He’d have barged in even if he weren’t being invited. 

“Who’s at the door?” he calls in a slurred, shaky voice that sounds nothing like the Ed he’s used to. 

“Just me,” Hughes replies. When Ed sits up, the cool washcloth that had been draped over his forehead falls into his lap. Hughes almost gasps when he sees how violently red and angry his cheeks look. “Are you sunburned?” 

“M’fine,” he snaps, more bite to it than he’s used to. Sure, he’s fiery when he talks to the Colonel, but he’s never taken a harsh tone with Hughes himself, especially for a good deed. 

“You don’t look so good. Mind if I take a look?” 

“At what?” he demands, though it sounds a little more confused than angry. Hughes closes the gap between them and stoops down to Ed’s level, where he reaches out and presses a hand to his forehead. The heat he finds makes him wince. 

“You’ve been like this since you called the Colonel?” 

Though Ed doesn’t reply, Al does. “Yes, is he okay?” 

He doesn’t want to lie, not to them, but he also doesn’t want to worry Al further. He’s already worked up enough. 

“I think this might be a little more serious than a few cool washrags can cover. I think you should come to my place where we can draw a cool bath and keep an eye on him.” 

“No,” Ed bites. He doesn’t elaborate. 

“Don’t be like that, Brother. He’s trying to be nice.” Hughes isn’t about to let this go no matter what Ed says.  

“I have a car waiting downstairs. Will you come with me?” 

Ed grumbles about it, but nods. When he gets to his feet, he wavers so hard that Hughes has to steady him by the shoulders. 

“You alright?” 

Ed nods. “Sorry, just—I got a little dizzy.” 

“Let’s get you two to my place. You’ll start feeling better in no time.” 

Ed doesn’t say a word the entire drive. Even when Al and Hughes talk about him right in front of him, he doesn’t appear to listen. All he wants to do is sleep, resting his forehead against the window with his eyes shut. 

“Gracia,” he greets, nearly dropping Edward to the floor when he sees her, just barely able to both kiss her hello and keep Ed upright at the same time. “I’ve brought company.” 

“It’s lovely to see you kids,” she says. “Is something the matter?” 

“He got a little overheated. I thought it might be a good idea to pop him in a cool bath.” 

“He’s sunburned terribly,” she frets. “I’ll find something for his face. You two get him situated.

Ed is positively malleable in Hughes’ grip while he is ushered to the bathroom, throwing up little to no resistance against his hands. Hughes helps him to strip down to his undergarments and then scoots aside so Al can pick him up and put him in the tub. Though he seems pretty out of it, Hughes knows he’s one moment of lucidity away from having a jaw broken by a metal fist. 

“Easy,” he soothes as Ed tries to struggle and thrash against the relative icy chill of the water. “Just a few minutes, I promise.” 

That doesn’t calm him at all, but he does begin to lose steam, and after a few minutes, he’s lost the strength to do much of anything but soak and complain. It hurts him to have to force him to endure this because it’s clearly tortuously uncomfortable and he’s not in his right mind to begin with. Still, he has to stay strong even when he begs to be released and slips between varying stages of consciousness. 

After a few minutes, his gaze becomes clearer, more focused, and he perks up a bit, looking confused and upset.

“Why am I soaking wet in my clothes? What the hell; is this your bathroom, Hughes? What’s going on?” 

“You’re back with us?” 

“I didn’t go anywhere.” 

“Brother,” Al sighs in relief. “You got really overheated. We’re at the Hughes’ home so that they could help us cool you down.” Ed does have the wherewithal to look embarrassed. 

“I’d’ve been fine on my own.” 

“No one says you wouldn’t,” he replies sunnily, though he does have his doubts. “I just thought you’d be more comfortable here.” 

He braces himself for a long and volatile argument, but instead, Ed shows just how ill he really is by crossing his arms over his chest and muttering. 

“Can I get out?” 

“In a few minutes. Are you hungry? Gracia made dinner.” 

Ed hesitates, but nods. “A little.” 

Hughes grins. “Great! We’ll get you fed once you cool down a little more. I’ll have her set aside a bowl for you.”

“I don’t need help, you know.” 

“I know.” 

He can’t bring himself to look anyone in the eye when he rolls his eyes and says, “but thanks.” Hughes smiles. It takes a lot to get that out of someone as prickly as Ed, and he’s elated to have earned it. 

“Any time, kids,” he says, and he means it.

[highwaytosickfics]

whumptober day 4 - hallucinations

another FMAB short fic! enjoy!

Roy can always tell when Fullmetal arrives at HQ. Usually, it’s because he kicks in his door, too impatient to knock and wait for him to open up, so he braces himself for a loud entrance that doesn’t come. When he hears the commotion outside his office, he knows immediately who’s responsible. It’s only when it doesn’t die down that he sighs and stands from his desk, rolling his neck from side to side to alleviate the stiffness he’d acquired from staring at paperwork for so long, and opens his office door to investigate.

What he finds is not what he expects. Ed is sitting on the floor with Riza and Havoc kneeling beside him, their expressions worried and serious. 

“Edward, you need to calm down,” he hears Hawkeye say as soothingly as she can. “Scar is dead. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.” 

“Where’s Al?” he demands in a shaking, terrified voice Roy has never heard from him before. 

“The dorms, safe and sound. He’s waiting for you.” 

“I can’t—I have to find him.” 

‘What’s going on here?” Mustang asks when he’s close enough not to have to shout. 

“We don’t know,” Havoc admits. “He came in here raving about Scar taking his brother.” Roy frowns. 

“That’s impossible.” 

“Yeah, that’s what we’re trying to tell him, but we can’t get him to calm down.” Breda approaches with a glass of water in his hands. 

“Here, drink. Take a breath. You’re okay and so is your brother.” 

“I saw him,” Ed insists. “He took him.” 

“Something is wrong,” Havoc says, “but we can’t get anything out of him besides this.” 

At that moment, Roy’s office phone rings. Perfect timing, he thinks. He really doesn’t want to have to deal with the situation out there. 

“This is Colonel Mustang,” he greets. 

“Colonel.” It’s Alphonse’s voice on the line. “I’m so glad you picked up.” 

“Is something wrong?” 

“I was wondering if you’ve seen Ed,” he says, anxiety thick in his tone. “He left this morning to turn in his report and he’s not back yet.” 

Edward left the dorms this morning? What the hell has he been doing for so many hours? 

“He’s here,” and he feels bad to bait and switch when Al lets out a relieved sigh, “but something’s not right. I think you should come down here.” 

“Is he okay?” 

He’s used to lying to the kids. It comes so naturally to him. If he doesn’t say a word, then he doesn’t have to deal with the emotional fallout of delivering bad news. Still, they have to get Ed out of here some way or another, and maybe if they bring Al here, he’ll settle down enough to tell them what he’s ranting about.

“He’s a bit worked up. We’re trying to figure out what happened.” 

“Well, he wasn’t feeling well this morning. He told me he’s fine, but he seemed really sick. I can’t tell if he has a fever.” Roy is a little surprised by that. Ed takes every opportunity he can get to put off turning in reports, but the one time he has a valid excuse, he doesn’t use it? “I’m on my way to headquarters now.”

“We’ll look him over in the meantime. If he’s ill, we’ll call a medic. Thank you for your help.”

Once they hang up the phone, Roy returns to the circle. It appears as though Ed hasn’t calmed down at all, despite their best efforts.

“We think maybe he hit his head,” Breda says. “He says it hurts.” 

“I don’t think so,” Roy replies. He stoops down to Ed’s level, something he normally wouldn’t do, but this circumstance is different and he doesn’t want to frighten him into running away and making this worse. Now that he’s looking for it, he notices that Ed looks terrible; pale and flushed and shivering. “Fullmetal, do you know where you are?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he insists, slurring his words slightly. “We’ve gotta find Al.” 

“He’s on his way here right now. Do you understand?” 

His face implies that he doesn’t. Reluctantly and at the risk of Ed breaking his wrist, he reaches out to touch his forehead. He’s no doctor, but he knows a high fever when he feels one. 

“He’s roasting,” he announces. “We need to call a medic and cool him down.” 

Hawkeye immediately takes the phone in his office and calls, which Roy tries not to be annoyed about. He’d wanted to do that—it meant that he wouldn’t have to be here dealing with a very sick and delirious teenager. 

“Breda, Havoc; wet some hand towels and bring them here. Hurry.” 

“Why isn’t anyone doing anything?” Ed demands, his eyes either glassy from fever or dangerously close to tears, or perhaps both. “Al is—” 

“He’s on his way here,” Roy replies as gently as he can. He’s never been good with this sort of thing, with comforting people, and he definitely doesn’t know what to say now. “Just wait a few minutes. You’re not doing yourself any favors by staying so worked up.” 

For the first time since he’s gotten here, Ed stops squirming enough that Riza is able to slacken her grip. 

“He’s really coming?” 

“I promise.” He seems to accept that, now, at least for the moment. Maybe he’s just worn himself out. He relaxes into Hawkeye’s shoulder, but starts fighting once more when the cool rags are placed over his forehead and flesh limbs. This time, it’s got nothing to do with a hallucination, but rather, discomfort. He’s shivering against the temperature difference, and that’s how Al finds him when he throws open the door to HQ and rushes toward him. This time, there’s no mistaking the tears in Ed’s eyes. 

“Brother,” Al greets, fear thick in his tone as he kneels beside him. “Colonel, what’s wrong with him?” 

“He’s running a fever. He was rather upset that you’d been taken.”

“I knew I should have come with him this morning, but he said he wouldn’t be long.”

“It’s not your fault,” Hawkeye comforts. 

“It might be that wound he suffered on your last mission, but he won’t let us check to see whether it’s infected. We’ve sent for an ambulance, so it shouldn’t be long.” 

Al nods. “Thank you,” he says, allowing Ed to hold his hands like he’s going to vanish at any moment. “Please jut relax. You’re making your fever worse.” 

With A there, he’s finally able to shut his eyes and lie back as they try their best to cool him down until the ambulance arrives. 

[highwaytosickfics]

day 3, still going strong! :)

“Alright, military pig,” the guard says, “you’re free to go.” Ed’s heart races as he fiddles with and finally unlocks the lock holding the cell shut. 

“What?” he asks confusedly. He’s relieved, of course, but doesn’t totally understand what’s happening. 24 hours ago, they’d been ready to execute him, and now he’s being set free? 

“Seems someone paid your bail. You lucked out.” 

“Who?” 

Had Al managed to scrounge up the money somehow? It doesn’t make sense that he’d have been able to gather that much, especially not here. It’s not as though anyone would be sympathetic enough to donate anything at all, even if he explained the situation. 

He follows the guard past the other cells filled with grown men who make threats and taunts that he tries to block out. When he opens the door leading back to the office window, he’s shocked to see Colonel Mustang standing there waiting impatiently. 

“Colonel?” he asks incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

“Your brother called me.” His icy tone implies that he’s in a lot of trouble, but he can’t think about that now. All that matters is that he’s not going to die in a jail cell. He watches as Mustang takes in his bruised jaw and black eye with practiced indifference. He follows him to the car without a word, where Al is standing outside. 

“Brother!” he greets, unable to resist scooping him up into a very painful hug. “Did they hurt you? Are you okay?”

“Easy, easy,” he says. He’s still bruised from the “lesson” that the officer had tried to beat into him. “I’m fine. Stop worrying.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just so glad you’re okay.” That’s playing it fast and loose with the word “okay,” but he doesn’t argue. Even if he wanted to, he doesn’t have the energy.

“Let’s just get out of here.” He expects to relax as soon as they pass the town’s entry sign and is a little confused when his jaw and fists remain clenched. 

“You really got yourself into trouble this time,” Mustang says. Ed can’t even think straight to remember the series of events that had led to this. It had happened so fast. Trying to write this report is going to be a nightmare. “Care to explain to me what stunt exactly you pulled that landed you in jail?” 

“Nothing,” he snaps. “Or I don’t—I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know.” Mustang’s tone is condescending, mocking, but he doesn’t care about that now. 

“It’s true,” Al defends. “One minute we were in the library archives, and the next, we were attacked by the police.” 

“They said you resisted arrest.” 

“Of course I did! He was—” beating the shit out of me, he wants to say, but that’s embarrassing to admit. “We didn’t know what was happening.” 

Roy rolls his eyes. “In case you can’t tell, I’m not happy with you.” 

“I know.” 

“There’s going to be punitive action taken for this. You’re a reflection of me, and you really screwed up this time. Why is it always you who’s getting into trouble? Why was I not surprised to get that phone call?” 

“I—can we stop talking about it?” he asks in a small voice. It’s earnest and fearful enough that it gives Mustang pause. Thinking about it makes Ed’s heart race and his chest tight. “I’ll write it down in my report. I just—don’t want to talk about it right now.” He doesn’t expect anything short of more scolding, but that’s not what happens. Instead, he sighs. 

“Fine. We’ll discuss it another time.” After a beat in which he studies Ed’s shaking hands and pale face, he speaks in a gentler tone. “Alphonse told me you’ve been held for a few days. Did they feed you?” 

“Did they… what?” 

“Food, Fullmetal. Did they give you any?” 

“Um, a little. A few bread rolls, but I didn’t eat them. They were hard, and I wasn’t hungry, anyway.” 

“What about water?” 

“None.” 

With that, Roy’s expression softens. “Pull in and park up here,” he says to the driver, who complies without complaint. 

“Why are we stopping?” he demands in a voice that trembles frustratingly. All he wants to do is get back home. Maybe they’ve left that horrible little town, but they’re not in the clear yet. Not until they arrive back at HQ, in Ed’s eyes. 

“You need to eat and drink something.” Well, as much as he hates to admit that Mustang is right, his growling stomach gives him away. “Come on. It looks like there’s a diner over there. Let’s get you something to eat.” 

“Aren’t I in trouble?” he asks. Mustang frowns .

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to starve.”

Once they’re seated at a booth, he can’t bring himself to look at the menu. He’s too suspicious. Mustang is never nice, especially when Ed’s in trouble for something. 

“Order whatever you’d like. It’s on me.” 

“Seriously?” he asks. “Why are you doing this?” 

“Don’t sound so suspicious. We’re here because you’re clearly hungry.” And that’s it. Someone is taking care of his needs just because he has them, plain and simple and rare as can be. When the waitress approaches their table, Roy orders a black coffee, while Ed asks for a bowl of stew. Something warm and comforting might help ease his mind a little. He sips the water in front of him. 

“How badly are you hurt?” Mustang asks. Despite his initial instinct to lie to spare his brother’s worry, Al was there when it happened. He’d watched the officer hit and kick him and if he’s not honest, Al will fret even more. 

“Just some bruises. I don’t think anything is broken. I’m just sore.” 

“They shouldn’t have treated you with such force. It doesn’t matter what minor infraction you’d committed. Violence against you was inappropriate. So was starving you and withholding water. I’m going to have to send someone to sort that out.” 

“Don’t,” Ed warns. “They’re not—if you send someone, they’ll just end up getting hurt. Or worse.”

“Then I’ll send a group.” Ed just stares in disbelief. “They shouldn’t get away with this, Fullmetal. You know that as well as I do.” Ed glares. Mustang exclusively pisses him off, so what’s with this sudden kindness?

“Why are you acting like you care?”

“Because you were punished severely and unjustly. That’s not acceptable.” 

The stew arrives and it takes all his willpower not to eat it so fast that it doesn’t stay down. He’s ravenous. Mustang watches as he eats, which makes him feel a little self-conscious. 

“We should get going,” he says when Ed finishes the last bite of his second bowl of stew. He could probably eat another, but the appeal of leaving is too strong. Mustang pays the bill while Ed and Al head out to the car, which is still waiting outside. Ed sits in the back seat and presses his cheek to the window and shuts his eyes. He’s barely slept at all in the three days he was held captive, and he’s exhausted. 

Mustang opens the door and sits as the driver pulls away from the diner and back onto the road. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Al asks, so he puts on his best smile. 

“A little tired. Nothing to worry about.” That’s not even a lie. It’s taking all his will power not to fall asleep just sitting here. 

“You should get some rest.” While he expects Mustang to argue, he doesn’t.

“Your brother is right,” Mustang agrees. “You look like you could use some sleep.” 

“You’re not gonna lecture me?”

“There will be plenty of time for that later. Right now, you need to recover. I’m giving you a few days of leave, effective immediately. You’re no longer on duty.”

Ed doesn’t thank him. He doesn’t praise him for his kindness. All he does is shut his eyes, leaning against Al for support. Mustang won’t say a word about it, not to anyone. 

[highwaytosickfics]

day 2! i meant to upload this yesterday but I fell asleep early. i went with "trust issues" for this prompt, but it's just a little drabble. enjoy!

“Mustang,” Ed’s voice comes, strained and quiet through the phone, “gonna have to reschedule.” Roy frowns. 

“This is a mission, Fullmetal, not some meeting or report. I know you think you can just show up to things whenever you want, but there are consequences for this, not just for yourself.” 

“I can’t.” 

“And why not?” 

“Can’t move.” 

Roy pauses. “Are you injured?” 

“No,” he says. “Sick, or—I dunno.” 

“You’re sick,” he repeats incredulously, condescendingly. Ed doesn’t reply. “Then you won’t mind if I send a doctor over to check up on you.” 

“Just lemme’lone,” he whines, the words slurring together a bit around the edges. That would be a little alarming coming from anyone else, but since it’s Edward, he’s not convinced that it’s anything but an act. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s procrastinated something important. Granted, he’s only ever tried to wriggle out of giving reports he didn’t write, but there’s a first time for everything. If he’s decided that he’s got something better to do this week than go where Mustang has assigned him, then he’s probably not above lying to get out of it. Before Mustang can say another word, Ed hangs up, and that settles it. If Ed’s going to bluff, then Roy’s going to call it. 

About two hours later, his phone rings. 

“Colonel Mustang,” the doctor greets. “This is Dr. Brooks. I hope I haven’t called at a bad time, but I’ve had a chance to examine Mr. Elric.” He sits back in his chair, a smirk locked and loaded for when he hears that Ed is faking this. He’s been preparing his lecture between documents he’s had to sign. “It’s a good thing you sent me. He’s having a pretty severe migraine.” 

Roy sits up straight. “A migraine?” he asks. “So, you mean—what, he’s really too ill to report?” 

“He’s been given some pain medication and something for nausea and is doing a little better, but yes, I’d say it’s best that he rest for at least 24 hours, or until the pain recedes.” 

“And there’s no chance he’s faking this?” 

He can hear her expression sour. Probably not specifically what she’d been expecting as a response to hearing that his teenaged subordinate is ailing. “In my professional opinion, no. He was in pretty intense pain when I arrived and wasn’t keeping down anything to drink.” 

“And he’s—he’ll be alright?” 

He should be feeling back to himself within a few days. If not, he needs to be examined again. I gave him my office number to call back if he needs.”

“Right. Good. Thank you, Doctor.” He hangs up the phone feeling slight disbelief. So Fullmetal really wasn’t making this up. It almost makes him feel a little guilty for sicking a doctor on him the second he’d tried to call out sick. Not to mention, he’d sounded so pathetic over the phone. If that hadn’t been an act, then it meant that he really is that ill, and that worries him a little, but he has to trust the doctor’s word that everything is alright. Still, it doesn’t leave his mind completely until the next morning, when he receives a phone call not long after he settles in with his coffee and a large stack of paperwork. 

“Mustang,” Ed greets, sounding much stronger than the last time he’d heard his voice.

“Fullmetal. How are you feeling?” 

“Like you give a shit. We just checked into the inn, unless you want to send someone to see if I’m lying about that, too.”

“I was merely looking out for your best interests.” 

“Right,” he says in a tone that tells him that Ed isn’t buying it at all. He hadn’t really expected him to. “Well, Al and I are going to start talking to locals, so we’re going to get a move on.” 

“Wait,” he says before Ed can hang up. “You never answered my question.” 

“What question?” 

“Are you feeling better?” 

“Seriously?” he asks, and Roy doesn’t say anything. “I’m fine.”

“I thought you were instructed to take at least a day to recover.” 

“Whatever that doctor gave me helped. I’m fine, now.”

“Glad to hear it. Check in again if that changes.”  

He winces when Ed slams the phone down forcefully and hangs his own in its cradle. For all his doubt about Ed’s conveniently timed illness, he’s just as dubious about his recovery, but he supposes he’s just going to have to trust him this time. 

[highwaytosickfics]

whumptober time!! starting out strong with an FMAB fic on day one!! let's gooooooo! i used the prompt "panic attack" :)

Ed stumbles away from Mustang’s office with a tight chest and numbness in his fingertips. He feels so stupid. Weak. Even just reporting what had happened with Scar has him reeling. It doesn’t help that Mustang had so many questions, forcing him to relive the fight in vivid detail. It could have easily ended so differently. He was a hair away from being killed. Then who would restore Al’s body? Thinking about it makes him ill. He can’t just abandon his brother. He’s lost too much in his life already—their mother, Nina, his very body. Taking away the only family he has left in this world would break him. 

He manages to make it to the break room in search of water. A little down his throat, a little splashed over his face might help to ground him once more in reality. He’s so absorbed in trying to keep it together that he doesn’t notice that Riza Hawkeye has rounded the corner and collides into her with a good deal of force. 

“Edward,” she greets in surprise. “Sorry about that.” 

“No, it’s—it’s not your fault, I’m just—I need some water.” She frowns. 

“Are you alright?” 

Barely perceptibly, he nods. “Fine,” he lies. “Just—water.” 

She follows him as he rushes away. She has a good instinct for when something is wrong, and alarm bells are ringing now. He stops in front of the sink and turns the water on, immediately plunging his hands and face into the stream. 

“Is something the matter?” she asks, laying one hand on his back. It’s then that she can feel that he’s trembling. He doesn’t reply, just continues to splash water on his face. His breathing is fast and shallow and he’s out of breath by the time he finally shuts off the water. She wrestles a clean handkerchief out of the pocket of her coat and hands it to him. Gratefully, he rubs it over his face to dry it. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks. She’s no longer allowing him to brush her off, not with Edward so pale and shaky. 

“Nothing,” he says. “I just—I don’t feel like talking about it and I had to—I’m—” he trails off to take a breath, pressing his palms to his eyes. Is he crying? 

“Let’s have a seat,” she advises, leading him to the nearest chair. He doesn’t open his eyes, so she has to walk him there. “Breathe, Edward. It’s going to be okay.” 

“I know,” he says. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” 

“You don’t seem fine to me.” 

Another few shuddering, quick breaths escape him and she takes his hand. Though she’s not usually so touchy feely, she’s willing to make an exception for a 15 year old child who’s having a meltdown in the middle of his workplace. It takes a lot to break him down, and she has a feeling she knows what did it. He was attacked just yesterday and barely escaped with his life. Alphonse was nearly killed, too, if she can call it that. It must have shaken him up. She can’t imagine someone who wouldn’t be. She takes the handkerchief back and runs cold water over it, then returns to press it against the back of his neck. 

“Can you feel that?” she asks. He nods, but doesn’t respond verbally. “Good. Focus on that feeling. The water. My voice.” 

“I don’t need—” he trails off, unable to finish the untrue sentence. 

“Just think about the cloth,” she says. After a few moments, his breathing begins to even out and he moves his hands to his lap, though they’re still clenched into white-knuckled fists. “There. Are you feeling better?” 

He nods. “Sorry. I can’t… I don’t want to think about it anymore. Al almost—and that bastard made me talk about it.” 

“I’m sorry that you had to relive that,” she replies. “But the Colonel needed to know the details if we’re going to catch the man who attacked you.” 

“I know.” 

“I think you should go back to the dorms. Maybe you’ll feel better if you can see your brother. I’ll explain to the Colonel why you had to leave early. You look like you could use some sleep.”

For a long moment, he’s hesitant. She’s never known him to want to be working on anything other than his own personal quests, but she supposes that it’s a point of pride. Trying to push through it to prove himself. As much as she understands, he’s got to learn to draw the line somewhere. 

“I’ll call a car for you.” 

“I can walk. It’s not that far.” 

“But you don’t have to, so why would you?” 

Ed doesn’t have a good answer for that, so he shrugs, which she takes as an confirmation that if she calls a car for him, he will get in and accept the ride. So that’s what she does. After all, someone has to take care of these kids, and while she’s certainly not looking to fill the role of mother to them, she knows he needs allies, and she’s going to be one today. It’s not easy to explain to the Colonel that she granted him permission to leave, which is not her call to make, and ordered a car, which she has no authority to do, but he does accept it because he trusts her judgment. If she says the kid needs a day off, then he’ll grant it. He’s not a monster, just a man with high standards and an ambition to be the best. He and Ed are alike in that way, which is why they often butt heads. This time, though, she ensures that Edward will take home one small victory. 

[highwaytosickfics]

Can you write the angels of death sickfic prompt where Zack has a fever I'd love to read it if you have time

Thank you for the request!

Unfortunately, I'm not really in the same fandom headspace that I was when I wrote that prompt...*squints at post* 6 years ago...god I've been online for way too long...and usually when I'm not in the swing of things for a fandom, whatever I write for it comes out really shitty. If I end up revisiting the series, I'll be sure to try that out though!

[highwaytosickfics]

WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPTS LIST

Welcome to Whumptober 2024 — Seventh Time's a Charm!

Please make sure to read the Event Info and FAQ below carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

This year's playlist can be found here.

The 'Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt' post can be found here.

And our 'Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics' post is here.

We’re very excited to see the community come together for another year of Whumptober! Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(Text versions of the prompts, as well as event information, rules and FAQ are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2024 Prompt List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE

Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES

Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION

Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

No. 9: OBSESSION

Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD

Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE

Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

No. 12: STARVATION

Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY

Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD

Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

No. 16: NECROSIS

Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO

Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

No. 18: REVENGE

Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL

Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

No. 21: BODY HORROR

Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES

Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE

Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING

Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

No. 25: SURGERY

Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

No. 26: NIGHTMARES

Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

No. 27: VOICELESS

Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

No. 28: DENIAL

CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."

No. 29: FATIGUE

Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

No. 30: RECOVERY

Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP

Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

Alternatives List:

Body Swap

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

Event Info & Rules

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag it with:

#whumptober2024 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

#bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#altprompt …..(if you use an altprompt, tag the post with the number of the prompt you replace)

#fandom or #OC, …..(ironman, original content, oc, etc.)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself)

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive��blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.

Frequently Asked Questions

Please read this before you send an ask!

TIMELINE

July: Trope voting form released. Late August: Prompt list is released for at least four weeks of preparation time. Tropes cannot be posted earlier than August 25th because of Moderator obligations in real life. (But, you know, go ahead and start writing/drawing, and add the themes in later, if you want!) September: Do as much or as little on your works as you want. You can prepare everything in advance or let September go by with vibes and start working in October. It’s up to you. October 1st: Challenge begins! A storm of whump breaks upon us all! During this time, some posts will be reblogged to the whumptober archive blog. We open the yearly AO3 collection for posting (optional). November 1st: The challenge is officially over! Completionist form opens for those who want to be included in the hall-of-fame. Early November: We release completionist and participant badges, solicit feedback, and post a hall-of-fame list of completionists by the 10th.

PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION

Q: What counts as participation? Create or continue at least one work inspired by one of this year’s prompts. Q: What counts as completion? Creating work(s) inspired by at least one prompt from each day (or alts), for a total of 31 unique prompts. Q: Do I need to create 31 works? No. You can, if you want. Or you can create one work that you add to every day with a new prompt. Or several works that combine prompts. You can also update an existing work by adding new material with the current prompts. Q: Do I need to post my works somewhere to be a completionist or a participant? No. Q: How do you know I actually completed the challenge? We’ll take your word for it! Q: Do I have to finish my work(s) to be a completionist? No, you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish them in October, but if you want it to count towards being a completionist, you must have completed 31 prompts by the end of the month. So for example, if you’re writing a long fic and you fit 31 different prompts into the writing you did in October, it’s okay if that fic isn’t finished by the time October ends, you’ll still be a completionist. Q: Is co-writing/illustrating allowed? Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you. Q: Is there a min/max limit on word count for written works? No. Q: Is there a min/max limit of quality for art? No. Q: Do I have to do something each day to be a completionist? No. You can skip days whenever you want, and as long as 31 daily prompts (or alts) are in your works done in October, you can be a completionist. For example, if you wrote a 1000-word ficlet that covers prompts in days 2, 3, and 17, you can check all three days off your list even though it’s only one work. Q: Is this challenge just for fics? No! Artworks, GIFsets, headcannons, rec lists, poetry, moodboards, or any other creative work is encouraged. Q: Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges? Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

PROMPTS

Q: How do the prompts work? There are FOUR prompts per day: a theme and three ideas. You can use one, two, three, or all four prompts for each day. If you don’t like any of the daily prompts, you can substitute one of the ALT prompts instead. Q: How strictly/literally should we interpret the prompts? As literally or as figuratively as you want. For example, if the theme is WATER, that could mean drowning, waterboarding, raining, swimming, take place underwater, be lost at sea, construct a metaphor about a character’s mood that changes like a flowing river, crying, or whatever else you can think of that fits that theme. Q: Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many? No limit and combine as many as you’d like. If you create a work that checks off multiple prompts, that work will count for a fill of multiple prompts. You need to address 31 different prompts to be an official completionist, but you don’t have to produce 31 separate works.

WORKS

Q: What’s whump? Hurting a character, whether that’s physically, emotionally, intellectually, psychologically, or any other way you can think of. Comfort afterwards is optional. Angst is emotional whump, so it counts. Q: How do I know if it’s whumpy enough? If your character is just mildly inconvenienced, it probably needs more whump. However, no participant has to prove whumpiness to the mods. Whatever you write is up to you. Q: What kind of characters can I create for? Anything. Generic “whumpee,” OC, PC, NPC, major characters, minor characters, or whatever you want. There are no limits. Q: Does it have to take place in a specific fandom? No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want. Q: Can I create AI-created works? We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created. Q: Is there anything we’re not allowed to write? As long as it contains whump and is based on our prompts, it’s fine. Please courtesy tag your works if you post them so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences. Q: What about sex, minor characters, and potentially disturbing content? You can create whatever works are legal in your country and post them accordingly. Please courtesy tag anything you think might be objectionable if you post to Tumblr so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.

POSTING

Q: Where can I post my work? Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive. There is an AO3 archive for Whumptober 2024, as well as the parent collection for works completed outside of the event. Q: Can I start posting early? You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? We won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st. Q: Can I post late? Yes. For the sake of our hardworking Post Fairies, only a day’s themes will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive each day of October. But you can post whenever. Some of us are still working on and posting Whumptober fics from years ago. Q: Do I have to use your tags? Only on Tumblr and only if you want us to reblog your work on @whumptober-archive. Q: How do I have my works reblogged to the archive? Properly tagged posts will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive. If you want the official archive blog to reblog you, post on Tumblr and tag correctly (see this FAQ link for more info on tagging). Please note not all posts will be reblogged each day. Q: Can we @ you? For questions and comments, of course. We’ll be getting a flood of notifications, so if you really want us to see something send an ask. Q: Can I cross post on other blogs? Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable, as long as they allow cross-posting (to us). You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once. If you post some works under your main and others under an alt blog, that’s fine for completionist purposes. Q: Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms? Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there, which can be found here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the personal boundaries of any whumpers in your social circle (don’t out anyone as a participant who would prefer not to be outed).

Most importantly, have fun, create, and enjoy all the whump posted this October!

[highwaytosickfics]

when the hurt meets the comfort

[highwaytosickfics]

The Yuzuki Family’s Four Sons - Ep 01 & 09

[highwaytosickfics]

Fever & Sweat

1. Zoku Natsume Yuujinchou ep.9

2. Akatsuki No Yona ep.7

3. Madan No Ou To Vanadis ep.7

4. Code:Realize ep.9

5. Hakuouki Movie 2