#“I never knew daylight could be so violent”

[amethystfairy1]

"Did I leave the curtains open!?" - Zed, probably.

Today's Whumptober prompt is up! Please check it out!

[alicewritingstories]

Whumptober 2024 Fills Part 4: Secret

AO3

Fandom: Linked Universe

Central character(s): Sky, Hyrule, Legend

No.9: OBSESSION | Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

No.11: SEEING DOUBLE | Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

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

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)

Warnings: torture, imprisonment, hunger

---

Sky choked as another kick landed in the small of his back. His stomach twisted, but there was nothing left to throw up and all he could do was cough and gasp, reaching for some happy memory he could use to comfort himself and escape this experience.

"Oh, no, Chosen Hero," said the Shadow, kicking him again. "You don't get to pass out just yet."

Sky gritted his teeth and screwed his eyes shut. One of them, anyway. The other was already so swollen with bruises he couldn't have opened it if he'd wanted to.

"It makes sense, though." He heard footsteps walking round him and the Shadow's voice shifted to something like an echo of his own. "You always were a coward."

"If y'... wan' me… g'v… trif'rce… wrong way… go 'bout it." he panted out.

The Shadow snorted. "Do they know? Those two boys I captured you with?"

Sky didn't waste breath on asking what Hyrule and Legend were supposed to know.

"Do they know you're the reason for all their pain?" The incongruously-light footsteps paced around Sky in circles. "The sharp-tempered one… does he know you're why his beloved uncle died in his arms and he's spent his whole life on one quest after another? And your sweet little healer. Does he know you're why his world is, well, the way it is?"

The words sent a chill through Sky's body despite his pain and weakness.

"So much suffering," mused the Shadow, pausing by Sky's head and putting a booted foot on his right arm, just below the manacle on his wrist. "For so many people, but especially the ones you call your brothers. All because you were slow. All because you were a coward."

The words wormed into the wound in Sky's heart that had never fully healed, but he was determined not to show the Shadow that he'd found a weak point.

"I assume you'd like to keep your lie going and let them keep thinking you're a hero just like them." The Shadow leaned a little more weight on Sky's arm, grinding the bones together and finally wringing a whimper through gritted teeth. "Oh, good, I was starting to wonder if you were still conscious."

"Oh… 'm still… conscious." It was intended as a growl, but he knew it came out as more of a moan.

"Good." The Shadow eased up slightly on Sky's arm. "So. Do you want me to tell them the truth?"

Sky didn't, but he still didn't want to show that kind of weakness.

"Not even enough courage to say 'no' out loud, I see." The Shadow stepped off Sky's arm and started pacing around him. "Heroes. You talk so much about goodness and light. Who knew that you would find daylight just as violent as anyone else?" His voice took on the hiss of his lizalfos form even as he spoke.

Sky still didn't reply, trying to ignore the pain in his body and heart, trying not to let the words land.

A scaled hand grabbed the back of his neck to hold him down and he squirmed instinctively, his breath catching in his throat. The Shadow barely acknowledged his struggles except to tighten his grip slightly as with his other hand he released the chain between Sky's wrists from the catch holding it to the floor.

Sky yelped in pain as he was hauled to his feet, still by the back of his neck, and almost before he had found his feet the Shadow had taken hold of his wrists and was dragging him off down the corridor back to their cell, so fast it was all he could do not to trip and fall as he followed, especially as the pull on his arms sent fire chasing through his injured ribs. When they reached the door, the Shadow shoved him against the wall, one hand still holding his wrists high above his head, the other closing on his jaw.

"I want information from you. You want silence from me. I suggest you consider your options," the Shadow hissed in his ear.

Sky knew his options. And giving up the triforce and the other heroes wasn't one of them.

The Shadow unbolted the cell door and hurled Sky in. He cried out as he landed, pain once again shooting through his battered body, and couldn't even try to resist as his chained wrists were once again attached to a tether in a corner of the cell. He had barely gathered up the strength to move when the door slammed and the cell was plunged into darkness.

"Sky?" asked Hyrule's voice. "Are you there?"

Sky stirred, biting back a moan.

"How bad is it?" asked Legend quietly.

"Nothin' new broken," replied Sky. Plenty of new bruises and some lash marks, but nothing deeper. He coughed to clear his throat. "Not too… much blood lost. You two OK?"

"You worry about yourself for now," said Legend.

"You missed a meal," said Hyrule sadly. "We saved you some of our rations. Can you move enough to reach?"

They'd discovered early on that they could just about touch each other if they reached out and strained against the chains on their manacles. Sky didn't have the energy to do that right now. And in any case he really didn't feel right taking any of their meager rations of food and water.

"Finish it," he said. "I… I'll be OK." He coughed again, struggling to find the words he knew he needed to say.

"Sky," said Legend suspiciously, "What's wrong? What happened?"

"There's… something I need to tell you." There. At least he'd started.

There was silence for a moment.

"Sky, we're going to get out of this," said Hyrule at the same time as Legend said, "Save it to tell us after."

"No, I… I have to tell you now. I should have told you before." Sky sighed and winced at a searing pain through his ribs. "There's… a secret I've been keeping. The Shadow seems to know it. I… want to tell you before he does."

Silence. Sky used the time to take another long breath, as deep as he could through a tight throat and broken ribs.

"There's… a curse. On me. On all of us. And it's my fault." Another cough. "It's… I fought… you know I didn't fight Ganon. I fought the demon lord Demise."

Gradually, he told the whole story, bleeding words into the darkness. How he had been too late over and over again. How it had taken him too long to save Zelda and how she had suffered as a result. How when the battle was done and he stood over the defeated demon, he had been too slow once again. The words Demise had spoken, dooming him and Zelda and all their descendents and successors.

"I was too slow," he said bitterly, the words scraping in his dry, worn throat. He ignored the pain and difficulty. It was the least he deserved. "And that's why… that's why. There are thousands of years of blood on my hands, all through time, all across timelines… Everything Ganon has done to any of you or your lands or those you love… ultimately it's because I was too slow." Finally, the words choked off. "I… knew you'd hate me. So I didn't tell you. I… I'm so sorry…"

Then he waited, choking back more sobs, more alone than he'd ever been, for their reaction.

He wished he could see them.

He was glad he couldn't.

Hyrule spoke first. "Sky, drink something," he said softly. "Here." There was a soft scrape of a wooden cup across the stone as it was nudged towards Sky.

Sky stared in the direction the voice had come from. "Dri- What?"

"He's right," said Legend. "You sound awful."

"Didn't you hear anything I just said?" That was more than his throat could stand and he broke down coughing.

"Of course we did," snapped Legend. "Now drink something."

Sky reached out, wincing as he moved his bruised, stiff body, and managed to hook a finger over the edge of the cup and carefully draw it towards himself. The water was stale and dirty, but it was wet and soothing on his dry throat and that was all that mattered. He sipped carefully, not wanting to risk making himself sick.

"Right," said Legend shakily. "Now, you listen to me, Feather-brain. None of this is your fault. You didn't make Demise kidnap Sun and you didn't make him curse you. You did your best to fight to save yourself and your home and your family the same as any of us. It's not your fault you had to."

"It is my fault I failed."

"Stop insulting my brother," said Hyrule, his voice raw.

"I'm… not?" said Sky, confused. "Legend -"

"Not my brother Legend, my brother Sky," said Hyrule.

"We can talk about what happened and what it means," said Legend. "But right now, stop blaming yourself for everything that happened to us. Even if I thought you did it on purpose for some dumb reason, Goddesses know there's blame to share around."

"And you'd have to have done something way worse for us to hate you," added Hyrule.

"Right," said Legend.

Sky's breath caught again and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry. He couldn't lose too much water. "You… mean it?"

"Yes," they said together.

"Th-thank you."

"Now get some rest," said Legend, more gently now. "We're going to get out of here, but you need to keep your strength up."

"Eat first," said Hyrule, and Sky once again heard the scrape of something being slid across the stone. "It's going to be OK."

Sky grabbed the plate and nibbled the two small pieces of stale bread, still sniffing back his tears.

It's going to be OK.

He still had his family. And with that knowledge to sustain him, he could hope.

It's going to be OK.

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 24

“I never knew daylight could be so violent”

Contains: generic whumpee and caretaker, captivity, rescue, blindfold

They’d longed for light, those long days locked in the cell. There were no windows, and the few times the door did open there was only more darkness beyond. Whumpee’s eyes had adjusted to it as best they could - not that there was much to see in the cell, anyway. But they’d dreamed of the sun, of basking in its rays and taking in the beautiful, colorful sights of the world once more.

Rescue came, at last. The cell door opened for the final time, and Whumpee finally got to stumble through it, following the gentle hands that guided them down the dark hallway toward freedom. It was so close. Their battered, weak body moved a little quicker, ready for fresh air and sunlight.

But when the door to freedom was thrown open and the daylight flooded in, Whumpee cried out and threw themself backward, trying to escape it. They closed their eyes, but even through their eyelids it hurt. With their back to the door and their arm slung across their face, they tried to catch their breath, involuntary tears from the sudden strain wetting their eyelashes.

They were finally free, and they couldn’t even enjoy it. Couldn’t even take the last few steps to leave this place behind. They tried again to look, squinting, but everything was blinding white and they couldn’t hold their eyes open against it.

“Here.” Caretaker placed a hand on their shoulder, then something soft touched their face. “Is it okay if I tie this around your eyes? It’ll help until we can get you somewhere that’s not as bright.”

Reluctantly, Whumpee lowered their arm, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and allowed themself to be blindfolded. “It’s just…temporary, right?”

“Of course,” Caretaker reassured them. “We’ve just got to take it slow, alright? We’ll introduce a little bit of light at a time.”

[inscrutable-shadow]

Whumptober 2024 Days 5, 24 - if i'm not back again this time tomorrow

No. 5: SUNBURN

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

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING

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

This is ieiunusverse canon, Thanatos's first time waking up after being turned. Enjoy!

contains: references to sex and intoxication, blood drinking, vampire fledgling, vampire sire, nonbinary whumper(?) (they're not really doing anything to him right now but like. you'll see ig)

also available on ao3!

Thanatos. My name is Thanatos.

The thought echoed in his head when he awoke, the only remnant of a dream he could not remember. He clung to it like a lifeline, because he couldn't remember who he was otherwise. He huddled in the corner of a dark room, alone, as far as he could tell. His head ached terribly. 

Thanatos, since that appeared to be his name, tried to cast his mind back to the night before and make some sort of determination of how he'd gotten to where he was. The effort made pain lance through his temples, and he quickly gave up the attempt. That left him clueless as to his identity or his purpose and somehow very very hungry. Gods. He'd never been so hungry in his life. And not just hunger either, a thirst so powerful a sea of wine couldn't quench it. He swallowed hard, and wrapped his arms around his groaning stomach as if that could quiet the pangs. What time was it? He really ought to be getting home…

The problem with that was that he wasn't sure where home was. He had a faint memory of a market street, an alleyway, the face of a woman, but nothing attached to them. When he looked around, the edges of the objects in the room jumped out at him in greyscale, more defined than he'd ever seen but with all the color sucked out of them. Was this awful headache doing something to his eyes? The sounds, too, so loud. People talking downstairs, birdsong, the wind through the trees, furniture creaking, all as sharp as if they were in the room with him, but he could still determine their true distance. He was so hungry.

And cold. As the sun slowly crested the horizon, it cast a narrow beam of light into the far corner of the room. Thanatos (he was still unused to the name) felt a sudden craving for it, he needed the warmth on his skin, his very bones were cold like he'd never felt before. He forced himself to his knees and crawled toward the light, stretching out his hand like a man in the desert searching for water. The instant his fingertips brushed the sunbeam, he drew back, screaming. The sunlight burned. He felt like his hand was boiling from the inside out. Retreating to the darkened corner, he curled himself into a ball, shaking and holding back tears. When the pain had receded enough for him to stop clutching his arm to his chest, he could see that the skin on his fingers was charred black. Why—?

Footsteps on the stairs. His scream had drawn someone's attention. "Oh! Look at you, what have you done to yourself. I would have been back sooner if I thought you'd be awake soon…"

Thanatos vaguely remembered this person. Nubian, most likely, and tall, with hair like a dark cloud and an inscrutable face. From last night, perhaps? He'd… had sex with them? "W-What's happening to me?"

They took his hand in both of theirs and smiled. "Hurts, doesn't it? It's all right. I can make it better. You're hungry, aren't you? I've brought something for you. Drink this, and you'll heal that right up."

They held out an amphora toward him, and expecting wine, he took it without question, putting it greedily to his lips. Instead of the sweetness of grapes, his mouth filled with salt and rust. He wanted to spit it out, but instinct took over and he gulped the whole thing down before he could force himself to stop. It tasted so good. Like nothing he recognized, but he knew the flavor all the same. "What… is this?"

"Like that?" The Nubian grinned, white teeth against dark skin, highlighted in the gloom. "It's blood. Fresh. I went out to get it for you, knew you'd be hungry. Good, isn't it? I saved you the end of my meal. Strapping young man, about your age, you should have seen him. Delicious abdominals."

Blood. Thanatos wanted to vomit, but couldn't summon the nausea. He'd just drunk down blood as if it were mother's milk. How could he do that. "Who— what am I? What are you?"

"As for who you are, I'm sure you know better than I. You had a name before, but you have a new one now, don't you?"

Thanatos swallowed hard. "I'm… Thanatos."

"Thanatos. The god of death. A bit arrogant, don't you think?" They grinned at him again. "You may call me Orôsel, of the House Iuventae. The vampire House Iuventae. You, Thanatos, are a vampire, just as I am." Thanatos's face must have shown the lack of recognition, because Orôsel frowned at him. "Nothing? Ah. This world does not yet have vampire legends. No wonder I haven't encountered many of us. If there were more, they'd know what we are. Vampires: immortal creatures of the night. Human lifeblood is our sustenance, and it grants us power beyond mortal ken. I am your sire, I chose you to receive our gift. You should be grateful."

He didn't feel grateful. "Why…?" He was cold and he wanted to go home. He realized with a start that the skin on his fingers was already regrowing.

Orôsel chuckled. "Why? Because you were beautiful. I am a slave to art, you see. Any beauty I encounter, I simply must preserve. The idea of something like you withering and dying was simply untenable to me. You have made some alterations since, but you have good taste. You've managed to highlight and preserve what was already there while minimizing unaesthetic elements, but staying true to the original spirit. Have you considered being an artist?"

"N-no…" Thanatos's head was spinning. He'd changed what he looked like? He didn't remember doing that, and his face didn't feel like it had any cosmetics on it. "I don't understand…"

"You will. Take it one day at a time. You don't have to worry about anything else, after all, your old life is over. You won't be going back to that family or that job, everything will be new. I'll teach you everything you need to know."

Thanatos couldn't respond. He felt like crying. Everything was still too loud and hurt and he was confused and scared and he wanted to go home but Orôsel was telling him he couldn't. Would he never see his mother again? He let out a hiccupping sort of sniffle, and Orôsel frowned pityingly.

"I know, it's a lot. Take some time to absorb it all. Let me know when you're hungry again, all right? We can start with the first lesson: how to hunt."

"H-hunt what?"

They grinned again, and a pair of fangs glinted in the low light. "Well, people, of course."

Thanatos shuddered and curled in on himself. He was a monster now. He'd drunk a whole amphora of blood and already his stomach was growling for more, warmer, fresher. He could never go back to the person he'd been. He could never go home. It would be like he'd never existed. He looked up, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes, at the sliver of light in the corner once again. The burnished bronze mirror near the same wall reflected back at him an empty room.

taglist: @albatris @athenswrites @thethistlegirlwrites

[whump-my-dear-watson]

my heart is black and it beats for you

WHUMPTOBER 2024 NO. 24 "I NEVER KNEW DAYLIGHT COULD BE SO VIOLENT"

[psychologeek]

Whumptober #24: Psychopomp (pt. 1)

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

Psychopomp is standing by a collapsing building, and watching.

(There are few Livings inside– she won't touch them. They won't be able to notice her anyway. Not like that.)

No one died here. Well, not yet. There is a certain feeling of dying around, but that's life. Everybody is dying. Some just take longer.

Yet, something is attracting her to the inside.

She closes her eyes, letting herself follow that feeling.

She opens her eyes and sees a man under a table. 

(He's bleeding. And there's this feeling she already knows. One  which marks a nearby death. She isn't one to stop it, but she can reduce the suffering.)

She touches his arm, the closest body part she can reach, and connects.

~

They are in a library.

There's a man sitting on a rocking chair, basking in the sunlight. It smells like old books and cookies.

She can only see him from behind– black hair and wide back.

“Hello,” she says quietly, trying to gain the person's attention.

(It can be hard, she knows. It can be scary, and painful, and agonizing. It can also be a blessing, sometimes. A relief, a quiet goodbye and a happy reunion.)

In this in-between state, this liminal space, there is no pain. 

Sometimes they remember.

Others don't. 

Both are fine.

(Death is inevitable, unstoppable, the final outcome.

It isn't a bad thing.)

“Hello,” she tries again, and this time the man turns towards her.

“How did you get here?” he asks in confusion.

(She looks at the scar on his forehead, the burn on his cheek, the familiar birthmark spreading up from his shoulders, halfway through his neck.)

“I'm sorry, dear,” she says. “I'm afraid you are about to die.”

(Psychopomp is an abstract concept. A gestalt of multiple thoughts and ideas and prayers. A reply to the oldest cry: Please, I don't want to be alone.)

Pt. 2

Psychopomp is an essence.

(But Jazz is, yet, only human).

(Like it? I have more mini-fics Whumptober index | And full size fics on ao3. )

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 24 - I never knew daylight could be so violent. (No light, no light)

Warnings: whump/angst/therapy

Word Count: 2k (gif not mine)

Summary: Olivia needs help; but then again so does Natasha.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist.

.

Pain shoots through her abdomen and and she bows to it.

She doesn’t allow herself a cry of pain, only a huff of a breath and closes her eyes.

Her hand shakes as she empties the last of the tryptophan her heart sinking as she feels nauseousness rise and tremors shudder through her.

“Fuck,” she swears.

The night is going to be long.

She takes one of the last two tablets anyway knowing it’s only delaying the inevitable.

She sighs, laying down and trying to breathe through the pain.

Shield had the medications that she needed, but she didn’t quiet trust them.

Pain thrusts its way through her, making her clench her fists and forcing breath in and out consciously.

She decides in the moment to find Coulson or Fury. Shield is not safe but the two men would perhaps help.

She owed them, they owed her, and she’s sure she could call in a favour.

.

The seizure leaves her on the floor, her head pounding as she feels her consciousness return to her.

Wiping her mouth, she pushes herself up.

Hands still shaking, Olivia takes the last pill, hoping it makes her functional.

She knows she’s running out of time. She didn’t realise how close she was running out when she left.

Stupid, she berates herself.

Living in America had made her soft, dependant… Compliant.

If she was on her own, she’d have stocks, but instead, she’d just worked through the emergency medication knowing she’d have access to more.

Allowing herself a moment of self pity, she wonders just how to find the others, and slowly dresses herself.

The number she’d memorised for Fury may still work, and she contemplates if she’s able to make it to the closest pay phone.

The small apartment’s furniture helps her to move on shaking legs, and the walking stick she keeps in the closet feels like a good option.

Armed with a knife and sunglasses, she makes her way out to the harsh light of day.

Nauseous, she descends the stairs, tremors still wracking her body.

She can do this, she’s done much harder things.

One hundred steps, she tells herself.

When she reaches that, she counts 100 more.

At 345 she stops, breathing labored at the public pay phone.

“This better fucking work,” she mutters to herself, dialing the number.

Four rings in and she feels bile rise in her throat.

On the fifth, the phone picks up and she closes her eyes in relief.

“It’s bad,” she opens, “I need… what you owe me.”

Fury seems to understand.

“Safehouse six. I’ll organise for it to be sent there.”

He pauses.

“You owe me too. Don’t think I won’t collect.”

The phone hangs up and she groans, sinking to the floor, holding onto the walking stick and feeling another seizure coming on.

.

The knock at the door sets them all on edge.

Even though Fury calls to tell them that Olivia is coming, they all stand. Maria’s hand on her gun, Clint close to his bow and Natasha stands near the draw with the knives.

Coulson opens it, and finds Olivia standing there, just as Fury had said.

He opens the door wider, letting her in and showing the others that they have nothing to fear.

She enters, and Clint frowns.

“Are you… are you okay?”

The woman waves him off, and says something quietly to Coulson. He walks to the back room and returns alone.

“She needs some privacy and sleep,” he announces, much to all their confusion.

The shower starts running and Clint thinks of all the scenarios that could have had her looking so drawn and pale.

He turns back to the game of cards that he had been playing with Maria and swears as he loses again.

“I’m bored,” he complains.

Maria shares a look with him.

“How do we know Fury is okay?” she asks, much to Coulson’s annoyance.

“He’s okay,” he assures, “but if you want to go help, then fine, I can’t stop you.”

Maria grins at Clint.

“I’ll let you know how I go.”

“He’s gonna be angry,” Clint assumes, throwing the cards to the container.

“Nah; he’ll be appreciative. Who reads the lackies of Shield, better than me?”

Coulson sighs.

“I should go with you.”

He looks to the door that Olivia just moved through, and sits back down.

“Go. Call me in four hours and tell me what’s happening.” He looks at time.

“Four hours okay?”

Maria grabs the keys and a piece of pizza.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll call,” she smiles, pleased to have something to do.

The evening feels early, even though it’s 6pm, the sun moving to sleep. Maria reveals in the fresh air; and heads for shield.

.

Natasha lays on the couch. She’d opted to take first watch.

Olivia was still in the room, door closed having not come out since she went in.

Coulson in the other room, and Clint gently snoring on the other couch.

She doesn’t feel tired.

Probably, would be unable to sleep anyway.

If nightmares plagued her like they did in the cabin, she would have the whole house on edge.

At least the cell was soundproofed.

Here, she thinks she would wake up the whole apartment block.

Clint has eyed her when she’d offered to take first watch, and she had nodded assuringly.

Maria had called to say she was with Fury, he hadn’t sent her away much to Coulson’s surprise.

Coulson had decided he’d return in the morning, barring no incidents during the night.

Natasha was determined to just let them sleep.

She liked the darkness, and with others around, she was sure she wouldn’t be seeing anything… anyone.

Lost in her own thoughts, she catches movement on her left and stands to confront it.

“It’s me,” Olivia announces quietly.

Natasha sits up straighter.

The psychiatrist moves into the dimly lit room, and then to the kitchen finding water and taking a sip.

She downs two pills as Natasha watches on in interest.

“I’m defective,” she says, noticing Natasha watching her.

“They experimented with us, trialing… god knows what, to try and make us better soldiers. And they succeeded but at a cost.”

Olivia’s eyes rake over Natasha.

“Shield has drugs that help combat the symptoms. The Red Room would have just killed me.”

She feels scrutinized and wants to hear so much more of her experience of the Red Room.

It’s like piecing together bits of her own history, things she’s forgotten, things that have been wiped.

Part of the debrief had asked so many basic questions that she should know, but couldn’t retrieve it.

Experimented was right.

Natasha moves to seat at the bench to sit across from her.

Her face itches where the cut on her forehead is healing, and she suppresses the urge to touch it. Her whole body is itchy, uncomfortable and foreign.

Olivia looks to Clint, and deciding he’s asleep enough, starts to make coffee.

Natasha watches practices motions and refrains from talking.

She wants to ask her so much.

Waiting until Olivia sits, Natasha takes an offered coffee and they sip it together.

“Ask, if you need to,” she tells her, voice tired and resigned.

Natasha has so many, she thinks of the last couple of days. How impaired she had been to take care of herself, of Clint and how, if she was back in the red room, she would have been killed ten fold by now.

“How do you stop the nightmares? The flashbacks? How do I… I can’t sleep and then when I do… it bleeds into the day. I try.. But everything in me keeps remembering.”

Natasha holds back, the feelings and worries that have been plaguing her, she wishes she knew how to articulate them.

She feels like she’s going insane.

Wounds wide open and she can’t stop remembering.

Olivia looks at her, takes a slow sip of her drink.

“Your mind is an open wound, they’ve dug into in debrief and left it bleeding.”

Natasha nods.

It’s exactly what it is.

She feels like an exposed raw nerve.

Olivia sets down her coffee.

“We don’t have a lot of time together. Not what you need anyway.”

She sighs heavily, fatigue seeming to weigh her down, but the kindness and patience that she has always shown to Natasha remains.

“It’s not fair, that you have to deal with this. So the coping mechanisms I’m going to say to you I want you to use when and where possible. There are going to be a myriad of times, where they don’t work, but for a lot of the times it will.”

Natasha swallows, understanding what she’s saying.

“We haven’t the time so I need you to listen. To hear me. Okay?”

Olivia doesn’t even wait for her to respond.

“Being triggered, doesn’t apply to you because your nervous system is always going to be heightened, walking on eggshells, and when they crack, is likely going to be when you will feel it. With or without flashbacks, the emotions will come, and you won’t always understand it. When this happens I need you to note that it’s there, label it and stay with it, even for a moment.”

The urgency in her voice makes Natasha give undivided attention.

She doesn’t notice that Clint sits up, moves closer; but Olivia does.

“Emotions, they try and tell us something, things we aren’t subconsciously aware of, they sit in our body, in our chest, sometimes like a weight, sometimes like itch you can’t scratch. They can sit in our minds; numbing us to the world that’s happening around us. In small ways, in big ways too.”

Natasha feels her face grow hot.

Olivia’s words are true and she knows it.

“Work on finding where the emotion is in your body. Close your eyes, for a moment and extend your mind out. Learn Natasha, learn about emotions, their labels and how they feel. The Red Room didn’t care and the words you have for emotions mean nothing. You have to learn beyond happy and sad.”

Natasha swallows.

“Learn what happiness feels like, and remember it so you have something to compare it to. Learn anger, and how it’s different to hatred. Disappointment. Anxiety. Frustration. You know these in a sense, but your education on them is poor.”

Olivia stops, taking a breath and then a sip of her coffee, acknowledging Clint.

“Accept help from those that are willing but don’t trust blindly. You have your own thoughts and feelings and they matter too. Do you hear me?”

Olivia talks softer.

“They never taught you, because they never wanted you to know, how smart and powerful you are. The feelings and emotions and the rawness of it all won’t last forever. But when it comes do something with it. Do something with your hands like shooting a gun at the range, clean, shower, breathe. Anything that you can do that acknowledges the feelings but doesn’t erase them.”

She reaches across and grabs at Natasha’s hand, pulling her sleeve up to expose raw handcuffed chaffed wrists.

“Nights will be the hardest,” she acknowledges, “but they will get better.”

Natasha pulls away, embarrassed.

“Feel it,” encourages Olivia, “try not to hide from it.”

The silence in the room extends; but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

“What if I can’t?” Natasha whispers.

Olivia smiles.

“Then you can’t. And you try again next time. This is not pass or fail. This is not the stakes of the Red Room. You won’t die because you can’t do something; even though it might feel like it.”

Finishing her coffee, Olivia stands.

“I’m truly sorry, Natasha, for everything you’ve been through. I can see why you’ve made it this far. I believe our paths will cross again, but it might not be for a while.”

Natasha nods, biting down on her lip.

The one person that understood her and everything she had been through… disappointment and grief floods her.

She feels it.

Olivia touches her hand again.

“You’re not without support.”

She nods to Clint.

Coulson bustles in and looks at the two women and Clint.

Daylight streams through the windows and Natasha feels herself withdraw.

.

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Whumptober 2024 - Day 24

Radiation Poisoning | Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.”

A mage's magic is only possible because of how the world ended. Flashes of sunlight, impossible concussive force, poison and a winter that never seemed like it would end. But it did, just like everything else.

Sometimes when a war mage casts, it's like a peek into the moment that ended everything humanity knew and welcomed in a new future.

Sometimes, the daylight at Mariano's hands and lips can be so beautifully violent.

@whump-captain @whumpr @whumperofworlds @lektricwhump @cyberwhumper

@bxtterflystxtches @inscrutable-shadow @whumpbees @painful-pooch

[hywenhei]

RADIATION POISONING: Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.”

CW: swearing (towards the end)

"The tracker- it isn't working. We don't know where Whumpee escaped to." "Ah, a clever little trickster that one is. Oh well, they won't get far anyways. Not in their state."

Character A and Character B are on opposite sides of a war, and one day, during a battle, one of their teammate's attacks is so powerful that it brings down a building on top of the fighters. A and B find themselves trapped in a small air pocket in the rubble, with both of them having to sit and wait for rescue. During this time, A and B get to know each other, able to talk freely about their lives without being punished for fraternising with the enemy. The only problem is, Character A has a fatal wound that they're struggling to keep hidden from B; so what happens when they manage to spot a growing bloodstain on A's shirt?

Alternate ending to the last prompt: A's rescue team shows up first to the wreckage and manages to uncover A and B. A is easily welcomed back into the team, but they're now given a choice by their teammates: help B out and let them live, or seal them back into the rubble? (Bonus points if A used to hate B's side more than any other team member.)

"Whumpee- Whumpee, can you hear me? No, don't go into that room with them, it's a trap! Shit, why aren't the comms working properl- Whumpee!"

me when florence and the machine recognition: o⁠(⁠(⁠*⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠)⁠o so so so excited to watch the bbc proms performances :]

anyways see you tomorrow for day 25!!

[khoirkid]

Mourning Person - IsArt Sketches in collaboration with @amethystfairy1

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 24: Radiation Poisoning

More Vampire AU today's @whumptober prompt, but it's Giorno whump.

Prompt: 'I never knew daylight could be so violent' Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5 (Vampire Hunter AU) Character: Giorno

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

~~~~~~~

Too Close to the Sun

Vampire Hunter AU—Giorno accidently comes into contact with a serum that makes his weaknesses as a dhampir more prevalent.

~~~~~~~

Sounds of crashing could be heard behind the door as Mista put his shoulder to it, trying to force it open.

“It’s probably barred,” Giorno said. “We need to try getting him to calm down before we get him out of there or this could become a very dangerous situation.”

“Because talking went so well earlier,” Fugo snapped.

Giorno clenched his jaw, but couldn’t deny Fugo had a point.

They’d been asked to look into a young dhampir who had taken it upon himself to become a nuisance to the vampire society of Napoli and talk him down before he did anything he would really regret. However, as soon as they had gotten there, he had gone off on some rant about taking down the vampire aristocracy and ran off to the upper story of the house where he had locked himself into one of the rooms.

Mista looked between his companions with a shrug obviously deferring to their opinion.

Fugo huffed. “We need to get in there.”

Giorno stood back, arms folded over his chest. He still would have liked to go with a less violent approach, but it did seem like they wouldn’t get anywhere otherwise.

Mista took out his blunderbuss and pressed it against the lock. “Stay away from the door!” he shouted into the room as he fired.

Parts of the door splintered off and Mista and Fugo gave it a couple firm kicks to open fully.

Giorno rushed inside after them, stopping for a moment in shock at what he saw.

The room was covered in laboratory equipment. Liquids boiling and distilling in tubes and beakers. There were glass shards on the floor as if some equipment had broken.

The dhampir spun around, facing them with a large knife, glowering.

“You’re just the same as all of them!” he snarled. “You’re all on the side of the vampires!”

“That’s not true,” Giorno said, trying to put his hands up calmly, stepping in front of Mista and Fugo who were both carrying weapons at the ready. “It’s a Hunter’s job to be unbiased.”

“Then why are you coming after me?” the dhampir demanded.

“Because we’re worried that you’ll hurt someone who doesn’t deserve your wrath,” Giorno told him. “We just came to talk.”

“Then tell them to put their weapons down!”

Giorno shook his head. “They can’t do that. But you can just talk to me, okay? I’m a dhampir as well. Your name is Marco, right?”

The young man eyed him warily, before his face contorted in rage. “If you are a dhampir then you should understand more than anyone what it’s like, and yet you defend those who oppress us!” He threw an arm toward the beakers. “I have been trying to find a way to make us stronger, so that we at least have a chance to go up against them. Don’t you see, Hunter? The future will be ours. You should join me so we can take down the ones who wish to grind us into the dirt.”

Giorno felt a deep sadness at the desperation on Marco’s face. “I can’t speak for you, Marco, and the life you’ve lived, but the one thing I have learned is that for every bad person in this world there is a good one who is also seeking change. I know it’s hard to see it this way, but flashy displays of violence only hurt a cause like ours. I know it can sometimes seem that there will never be a light at the end of that tunnel but that light isn’t going to be made with an explosion either.”

Marco seemed to contemplate his words for a few moments, before his fists clenched again. “Have you ever thought that you’re just a coward for thinking that way?”

Giorno tried not to let that bite at him, but he could feel Mista and Fugo’s impatience behind him, their unease as the dhampir got more and more agitated. He needed to stop this. He stepped forward.

“Marco, you have two options here. Either come with us quietly or we’ll be forced to take you down to the prison.”

Marco sneered. “You really are just like all of them, aren’t you?! Why don’t you all just go to hell!”

He rushed the Hunters, and grabbed Giorno, flinging him to the side. Giorno crashed into one of the tables tipping over a rack that contained multiple vials of liquid. The vials crashed to the floor with Giorno and shattered. He hissed as glass from one dug into his hand.

“No!” Marco shouted, clenching at his hair, distraught. “No, no NO! That was my serum! That’s all I had!”

He tried to rush for Giorno, grabbing for several of the unbroken vials that rolled around the floor when Fugo and Mista managed to grab hold of him from behind, dragging him backwards as he screamed and fought like a madman.

Giorno pushed himself up, removing the glass from his hand. He had no time to think about what might have been in those vials and now consequently in his body, because Fugo and Mista were struggling to restrain the dhampir who was spewing curses at them.

“You alright, Giorno?” Mista called, barely avoiding a flying fist.

Giorno plucked a couple more shards of glass from his hand. “I’m fine. We need to call the constables.”

“Well, do it quick,” Fugo snapped as he and Mista finally wrestled the dhampir to the ground and started to tie restraints around his wrists and ankles before tying them together.

Giorno tied a handkerchief around his hand as he hurried out of the room and down the stairs. His footsteps clattered uncomfortably loud in his head for some reason—must be the emptiness of the house.

Their carriage driver was waiting outside and Giorno planned to ask him to run to the police station in town.

However, as soon as he stepped from the shade of the house, his body burned as if he had suddenly caught fire.

Giorno let out a shocked scream, staggering backwards as he stared down at his right hand, seeing it red and blistered. His whole arm, up to his neck and that side of his face also felt raw and painful.

The driver leapt off the carriage and hurried over to him.

“Signore Giovanna! Are you alright?”

Giorno gritted his teeth, wincing at how loud the man’s voice was, his heartbeat so much more prominent than it should have been. “I-I’ll be fine. We need you to run for the police now.”

The man looked skeptical, but Fugo burst out the door in a second, staring at Giorno.

“What happened, why did you scream?”

He trailed off as Giorno turned to him and his eyes widened, crouching next to him. “Giorno! You’re face, what…?”

“I’ll go get the police,” the driver promised, seeming satisfied that Fugo would help Giorno now as he hurried off down the street.

“What the hell happened?” Fugo demanded again.

Giorno cringed. “Please, be quiet,” he pleaded. “My head….everything is so loud.”

“Was there some kind of booby trap?”

Giorno shook his head. “Just…the sun. I don’t…I don’t know what happened.”

Fugo took Giorno’s good hand and helped pull him to his feet, allowing Giorno to lean on him as he helped the dhampir back inside. “I’ve only ever seen these kinds of burns on a vampire who got exposed in the sun.”

Giorno nodded, wincing as Fugo sat him down at the base of the stairs in the foyer. “Stay here for now. I’m going to go see what the hell that little bastard put in his ‘serum’.”

Giorno sat there, slumped against the railing as Fugo headed back upstairs. He could hear everything they talked about from where he was.

“What’s in it?”

“I told you,” Marco snapped. “It was meant to make a dhampir more powerful.”

“It doesn’t seem like it worked,” Fugo replied.

“It simply magnifies our senses and abilities.”

“You realize it also magnifies your allergy to sunlight, right?”

Giorno furrowed his brows. The serum was interesting in theory but it did seem rather counterproductive even if it seemed to work the way it was intended, more or less.

“How long does it last?”

“I don’t know, I’ve only done one test run. Not very long.”

Giorno wished his body wasn’t in such agony at the moment. The burns pulled against his clothing—it really hadn’t done much to protect him. Was this what it was like to be a full vampire?

The police showed up and took the dhampir into custody as he continued shouting threats. Then Fugo and Mista hurried to help Giorno up and get him out to the carriage.

“We’ll get the driver to pull it as close as possible,” Mista promised. “In the meantime, take our coats. We’ll use this umbrella too.”

Mista and Fugo settled their coats over Giorno’s head and Mista held the umbrella over him as Fugo helped him to the carriage, shutting all of the windows as soon as he was inside, leaving them all in darkness.

“How bad is it, Giorno?” Mista asked him worriedly.

“I’ll…be okay,” Giorno grunted. He thought, anyway. Every mild bump the carriage went over jostled his body painfully, and his increased audio sensitivity was really starting to make his head pound on top of it.

They repeated the procedure of getting him out of the carriage covered as much as possible. Giorno could still feel the uncomfortable heat on his lower body, but the house was blessedly cool since the maids kept the curtains drawn for the most part with so many supernaturals living in the mansion.

“Infirmary,” Fugo said.

Footsteps sounded and Giorno could see Trish heading down the stairs.

“Oh, you’re all back? I assumed you would still be at the police station. Bucciarati just headed over there.”

“Giorno was injured,” Mista said.

“What?” Trish demanded, hurrying over to them. As soon as she saw Giorno’s face, she gasped. “Did you get burned?”

Giorno cringed and Fugo turned to Trish. “Try to keep your voice low, he’s overly sensitive right now.”

They explained what had happened as Trish followed them to the infirmary.

“Trish there should be some salve on that shelf over there for burns.”

Trish headed over to look and Giorno slumped onto one of the cots as Mista and Fugo helped him take his coat and shirt off.

Giorno hissed, the burns stinging abysmally as they were exposed to the air.

“Here, I found it, oh—Giorno those look awful.”

Trish looked horrified at the sight of the burns. “Was that holy water?”

“The sun,” Giorno said, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose against the headache.

“These are pretty bad,” Fugo murmured. “Hopefully the salve will help a bit but it will probably take a few days for you to recover fully.”

“I’ll let you have some of my blood fresh for extra nutrients,” Mista promised.

Giorno nodded and slumped there on the cot as Fugo started on his face and neck, spreading the salve on thickly and following it with gauze Trish helped to wrap on.

The pain of any pressure at all on the burns made Giorno nauseous and he swayed, trying to resist the urge to pull away from Fugo completely.

“Here,” Trish gently coaxed, sitting down on the cot beside him and helped lower Giorno down until he was lying on his good side with his head in her lap. Giorno stiffened in surprise and Trish flushed slightly, but stood her ground as she turned to Mista. “Could you get him a cool cloth for his head?”

Mista nodded and hurried to fetch the cloth as Fugo continued.

Giorno was tight with pain. The burns were getting worse as they traveled down his arm to his hand and Fugo’s ministrations were quickly becoming agony.

Trish seemed to see how much he was suffering and reached for his good hand, squeezing it gently.

Mista brought the cloth back and Trish placed it over Giorno’s eyes and forehead, giving him something blessedly cool to help ease his headache.

“I just need to wrap your hand now,” Fugo said, carefully twining the bandage around his fingers.

Giorno let out a small sound of relief as Fugo finished and settled his hand carefully down on the bed.

Mista came over with a freshly drawn cup of blood.

“Can you drink?”

Giorno nodded and Trish and Mista helped him sit up to drink before laying him down and tucking him into bed.

“I’m afraid that’s all we can do for now,” Fugo said. “I’m going to have to go to the station to make our full report.”

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Trish assured him.

“Thanks,” Giorno murmured. He felt a little better after drinking the blood, but he was mostly exhausted. “I think the serum is already wearing off. Nothing is as loud as it was before.”

“Good to know,” Fugo said. “I guess next time we corner someone so delusional we need to be more careful not to do it in his lab.”

“Is he really so delusional?” Giorno couldn’t help but ask. “All he really wanted was to be equal. Isn’t that what everyone wants?”

“Most of us aren’t okay with murdering for it,” Fugo pointed out. “What you said to him back there was true—essentially that it’s better to make small changes for good, instead of big changes for bad.”

Trish nodded. “And hopefully in a world without Diavolo in charge, we might have a better chance of those small changes being impactful.”

Giorno smiled slightly. “Yes. You’re all right. Thank you.”

Trish pulled a blanket over his waist. “Get some rest. Let me know if you need anything.”

Giorno let his eyes slip shut as his companions left and dreamed of a brighter future.

[forcebookish]

whumptober no.24: I never knew daylight could be so violent

[Merciful God, please take me away!] Make them stop! They're everywhere! Every city, every—every house, every room! They're all inside me! I can hear them all, and they're saying... nothing! Get up! Please, get up. [I will close my ears and heart and be a stone.] Please, God, make me a stone. She is starting to damage my calm— Jayne—! She's right! Everybody's dead. This whole world's dead for no reason.

[ahmoseinarus]

Day 24 Radiation Poisoning | Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” 

[overdueforarevival]

Whumptober Day 24 - Violence Of The Dog Days

'I never knew daylight could be so violent'

Summary: Sirius Black grew up in darkness, his friends show him the light but every light burns out eventually and the darkness will always come creeping back in.

Also posted to AO3

Sirius Black grew up in darkness, it surrounded him from all sides and with every passing day it grew closer and closer. It ate away at everything he loved, pulled every shiny, sparkling thing into the deepest depths of its abyss. Parents who brought him up with gentle words and warm embraces turn to captors with cruel plans and firm hands. Even his little brother, once bubbling to the brim with joy, has all the life sucked out of him by the darkness in the walls.

And then Sirius is sent to Hogwarts and he’s sure that the walls of the Slytherin common room will be just as dark and dank as those in which he grew up. The Sorting Hat sends him in a different direction, though, towards a table filled with red and gold banners, loud cheering and joyful greetings. Sirius doesn’t remember ever seeing anything quite like the Gryffindor table. It’s brimming with light.

Three other boys join him at the table, three shining lights descending down on him and not a single one of them says a thing about his family. Sirius’ first feast at Hogwarts is the happiest ordeal of his life so far and the first of many to come.

Years crawl past and Sirius basks in the light, it beams down on him from all sides and not even the dark walls of his childhood home can darken it. Light streams through his windows, letters flying back and forth with details of everybody’s adventures over the holidays and every one of James’ letters is signed off with offers to stay at his. At first, Sirius declines, knowing his parents would never allow it, besides he won’t leave his little brother behind if he can help it.

And then Regulus starts to scowl at him, starts calling him a disgrace to the family because of his red and gold robes and Sirius doesn’t recognise the boy anymore. There’s darkness on his face, some days Sirius worries it bleeds through all the way to his soul. Eventually, Sirius realises that Regulus doesn’t need him anymore and so he starts spending more time in the light of the Potter’s household.

There’s warmth there, an overabundance of it that radiates from Mr Potter’s awful jokes and Mrs Potter’s signature honey cake. It’s in James’ casual declaration that Sirius is his brother and the days that Remus and Peter come to visit too. Sirius is convinced that darkness is scared of the Potters, positive that it would never dare to touch their doorstep.

Sirius gets fed up of the darkness, tired of the cold and emptiness so he leaves it all behind, showing up shaking and exhausted at James’ doorstep and never looks back. He lets the light imprint on him, wash away the darkness that he was sure would cling to him forever and when they graduate Hogwarts and offer themselves up the fates of war, Sirius has no doubt that the light will win. It’s all around him, in the people he loves and the people who love him. There’s no way it can lose.

His life began in darkness, then James Potter came and flooded it with light. It has wrapped him in its arms and carried him through thick and thin. Sirius loves the light, he’s not sure how he ever survived without it.

It grows and grows, more people filling his life with their light. Marlene McKinnon, the girl he swore he’d marry one day now promising to be the maid of honour when he marries Remus. Mary MacDonald, a quiet girl who taught him how to draw, he didn’t know then that one day the drawing he made of her in their fifth year would be the only memory he has of her. Lily Evans, firm-handed and feisty who promised to never go on a date with James Potter now giving birth to his son. Sirius Black loves so many people in his life and each one of them shines a different light in which he bathes.

But every sun must set and every light burns out eventually. It starts slowly, his brother who he hadn’t seen in a year is pronounced dead in the Daily Prophet one morning. The light begins to dim, nothing Remus and Peter can say or do will ease the pain brewing in his chest and James refuses to speak about Regulus, though Sirius isn’t sure why.

Marlene McKinnon and her whole family are found dead next, followed shortly by her girlfriend Dorcas, killed by Voldemort himself. Remus starts going on more and more missions with the werewolves and Sirius wonders if he’s going to lose his fiancé to this war as well.

James and Lily take Harry into hiding, Sirius wants to protect them but he knows that he can’t so he begs Peter to instead. He’s reluctant at first but when Sirius doesn't give up, Peter gives in as he always does.

And now Sirius sits in a damp, dark cell as all his worst memories cry out in his mind. One brother drowned, another murdered in his attempt to protect his family. A fiancé who thought him a traitor and he hates himself for knowing that the feeling was mutual. In the end, it was Peter. A boy who always thought himself to be left behind when Sirius knows he would have killed for him if he’d said the word.

Dementors drift left and right, he can hear his cousin screaming somewhere in the distance. His brother’s best friend, Barty, is mumbling on the other side of the wall against which Sirius sits. Crying for Regulus, apologising endlessly to his mother and swearing up and down that he’ll have his revenge against his father.

Azkaban is a place of regret. Any man would beg forgiveness and mercy if they spent any time here at all and Sirius wouldn’t blame them one bit. He’s not sure what he did wrong, but he begs for mercy all the same, sobbing against his knees, pleading for James to come find him, to feel Remus’ arms around him once more and to crack Peter’s skull between his fingers.

The sun rises in the morning, as it always does, and the light comes streaming in. It’s Sirius’ birthday today and the last year he’ll care to remember as much. Twenty two years old and everything he’s ever loved is lost. He wonders if Remus knows yet, if Remus is cursing his name and wishing they never met. He wonders if where baby Harry is and apologises to James over and over for failing his son. Sirius had sworn up and down when James asked that if anything ever happened, he would drop everything to care for Harry. In the end, he didn’t even last an hour.

As more and more daylight beams down on Azkaban, it seems to lull some people to sleep, the distant screaming ceases and Barty decides to hold his tongue. Sirius remains awake, squinting against the light that pierces through the bars in front of him. It’s all over his skin, shining in his eyes and illuminating the bare cell around him.

Sirius Black never knew that light could burn so violently.

[thefootnotes]

every single thing to come has turned into ashes a fic by @thefootnotes for @whumptober and @jeddieweek

Buck’s voice keeps Josh up at night; the splintering, cracking of his tone and the pain when he says Eddie’s name. The howling agony that seemed to rip from his chest, his grief like a creature clawing its way out, tearing flesh in it’s desperation. And then there were the faces, from every direction; pity, and fear, and the rough impress of grief on Maddie’s expression, because this isn’t just another man down, it isn’t just another mayday. It’s Eddie.

Or the one where Eddie’s been gone for a month, now, Bobby wants to offer his help, and Josh can’t work out how he’s supposed to feel.

T | josh russo & bobby nash | 2.1k whumptober day 24 -  radiation poisoning: collapsed building, equipment failure, "i never knew daylight could be so violent" + jeddie week day 4 - missing you

read on ao3.

[copics-and-renegades]

Whumptober 2024 Day 24: No Light, No Light In Those Bright Blue Eyes (I Never Knew Daylight Could Be So Violent)

The last thing his enemies see barrelling down on them like a freight train.

---

This is genuinely the first artwork this entire October that made me feel a true Emotion. That was very good.

I guess it's not very whumpy all on its own (except for whoever has the misfortune of facing off against him), but the whole song for today had a huge Botta Vibe for me and also... this IS him at his best (also craziest) so it's only going down from there, peg by peg by peg. I honestly feel very intrigued by bringing him low and breaking him down BECAUSE he is The Top Specimen Of Man when he's at his best. Hyper-competent at everything he touches, strong like a bear, crazy loyal and dedicated, extremely attractive *cough* err...

So take it like. "Meet our unsuspecting Whumpee when he still thinks he's invincible. Also he's a bit scary to the people he loves sometimes, which I guess is pretty angsty."

It's interesting to make him fall apart and to find out how he'll pick up the pieces. If he can. If I let him. Is what I'm saying.

If that makes sense.

I love this man.