#Altprompt

[blaiddraws]

OH YEAH. another whumptober! using the alt prompt "shivering". fulcrum au akari doesn't do well with the cold...

[lostwhump]

@whumptober | Day #25: ALT PROMPT "Friendly Fire L.A. Confidential (1997)

[whumble-beeee]

You Look So Much Prettier This Way

Poor Stan. What will you do to get out of this predicament, I wonder?

What will you do when fighting back isn't even an option?

Stan sat stunned. He couldn't speak. He couldn't scream for help, he couldn't complain, he couldn't quip, he couldn't stand, he couldn't struggle, hell, he could barely even move.

He wanted to cry.

His face hurt from where they punched him. His neck hurt from where they grabbed him. His entire body hurt from where they'd manhandled him to the ground and pinned him down and tied him up, choking him, punching him if he dared flinch, or god forbid he struggled against their grasp.

And after all that excessive tying, the rope that scratched against his tender skin and pressed in on his ribcage in a suffocating embrace.

They'd gotten out the duct tape. His heart stuttered, eyes wide. He started to scream, he kicked out at them.

Big mistake. As soon as they finished they mortifying ordeal of wrapping his mouth in layer after layer of duct tape, they slammed him down onto his back and hoisted his legs into the air, bent them into the most odd position, and by the time Stan realized that had still more rope, they were already wrapping it around his ankles and his thighs.

Over and over.

He tried to scream. They kicked him. He screamed some more into the duct tape gag. More blows. Tears. It didn't stop. He couldn't even curl in on himself to protect his soft underbelly.

Then they plopped him on the floor.

Surrounded him.

Appraised him, hungry eyes searching over his body.

Stan couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

The one he thought to be the leader stepped foreward.

Knelt in front of him, cupped Stan's cheek in their hand.

Stan could barely even find the strength to jerk away, and when he did, they just grabbed his collar and yanked him back, made him stare right into their ruthless shark-like eyes. And there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop them.

"You look so much prettier this way," they lulled. "I wonder if your friends will agree when they come to find you."

* * * * * * * *

Whumptober 2024 | Day 7 | The Bee's Whumptober Masterlist

Stan is an OC that belongs to The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping!

Whumptober Taglist: @whumperofworlds | @whumptober-archive | @regular-whump-sfx

(If you wanna be added or subtracted from the taglist, don't be afraid to ask!)

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2024 No.4

Prompt: Finding Old Messages (Alt)

Warnings: Angst, angst, angst. Emotional whump.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

gif is not mine - google

“What’s this?” You stared at the paper, a hastily drawn map to Alexandria but that wasn’t what unsettled you. It was the message beside it, Daryl’s handwriting.

I belong with you

Daryl flinched, his back facing you. You saw his shoulders tense under your gaze, understood that he knew of what you spoke without seeing it himself.

You asked again, “Daryl, what is this?” You stood, the paper between your fingers, Dog whining at your heels. “Was this her place?” He continued his silence. “Is this where you were with her?” His head dropped forward, fingers flexing at his sides. “It is.” You reasoned with a nod, grasping the note with both hands.

“Was hers. Came back an’ she was gone.” His voice was small, but the words were steady.

You nodded, letting the paper flutter to the floor. “So you chose me because you couldn’t have her.” It wasn’t a question but spurred him into an answer regardless. He finally turned, his blue eyes sad and apologetic.

“Wasn’t like that. Ain’t like that.”

You opened your mouth but snapped it shut, not trusting your words to be anything but venomous. With a shake of your head, you turned to the door and walked, not knowing where you were going but Dog followed on your heels.

“Y/N, don’t.” Daryl beckoned from the doorway once your boots had left the porch.

As difficult as it was, you turned, not bothering to wipe away the tears. “And all this time, I thought you belonged with me.”

He called your name as you disappeared into the trees, but he didn’t follow.

And you found that you didn’t want him to.

[noforkingclue]

Remembering (11th Doctor x reader)

Summary: sometimes remembering is the most painful thing to do

Warnings: mentions of genocide

“I-”

The Doctor held up a hand. The hand that was still holding that damned fob watch. That simple watch that started this whole thing off. The Doctor had been so excited to see it. To think that there was another of his species out there.

And now look where it had got you.

“I didn’t know,” you said, “Doctor please-”

“All this time I thought I was alone, that it was now just me out there.”

You flinched at the tone of the Doctor’s voice. Amy and Rory stood awkwardly off to the side, not entirely sure how to react.

“So let me guess this straight,” said Rory, “that… watch made y/n a time lord.”

“Yes and no,” you said, “it’s part of the chameleon arch. It… rewrote my DNA. Made me human.”

“So you were never a human.” said Amy

“It rewrote my DNA. I was but now I’m-”

“Why.”

The three of you looked over at the Doctor.

“Why did you do it?”

“The War.”

The three of you flinched as the Doctor slammed the watch against the TARDIS console. He gripped the side of it and you continued,

“I had enough of it. All the killing so I ran.”

“You ran.” the Doctor said coldly

“Yes.”

“From everything.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I told you,” you snapped, “I was sick of everything. After what you did-”

The Doctor finally turned around and marched over to you.

“What I did?” he said coldly, “I did what I had to. To stop the bloodshed.”

“By committing genocide.”

“And how many more people would’ve died if I hadn’t done it.”

“There it is! Do you regret what you did! Do you care about destroying our home?”

A thick silence fell over the two of you. You were breathing heavily, angry tears threatening to spill over. A pained look crossed the Doctor’s face and for a second you wondered if you had gone too far.

“I know you were hoping for anyone else,” you said quietly, “or, more accurately, weren’t expecting it to be me.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, clearly unamused.

“But surely you can see why I did it? I wanted to forget.”

“And you don’t think I didn’t?”

You winced at the harshness of the Doctor’s voice. The previous excitement (and slight nervousness) was gone from his voice. He walked over to you and handed you the fob watch. He put it in your hand and closed your hand around it.

“Feel free to run away again,” he said, “if it gets too much for you again.”

He walked off into the TARDIS. You tried to walk after him but Rory stopped you.

“Give him time,” he said, “he’ll come around.”

“I doubt it,” you said, “I seriously doubt it.”

[piplupfluffwritingstuff2]

Whumptober 2024 No. 28 Altprompt- Venom

I had to do so much research for this snippet guys, I really hope you like it!

“And this, my dear Hero, is where I keep my babies,” Villain said, opening a large metal door.

Hero followed them outside, astounded to see what looked like a mix between a zoo and a wildlife center. All kinds of exotic animals prowled about in enormous enclosures.

“Is this what you spent that stolen bank money on?” Hero asked in awe.

“Maybe~” Villain sang.

Villain strolled up to a tiger and petted it, the tiger purred loudly.

“Who’s a good boy, you are!” Villain cooed.

Hero kept their distance; they didn’t want to be tiger meat. Villain beckoned them over.

"He won’t bite,” Villain promised, “unless you’re a raw steak of course.”

Hero gulped, coming over. The tiger sniffed Hero’s hand, then pressed its head into it, purring. Hero stared slack-jawed as they stroked its fur.

“Aw, he likes you!” Villain smiled.

Villain showed Hero a number of other animals, all of which were rescued in some way or another and unfit to return to the wild. A scarlet macaw, a European badger, a very tiny species of deer. Suddenly, Villain’s face fell.

“Oh no,” they said, “not again.”

“What’s wrong?”

“My platypus,” Villain said, “he’s run off again.”

“Maybe he had to fight Dr. Doofenshmirtz,” Hero joked.

“Oh, this is no laughing matter, you have no idea what Percy is capable of.”

“What do you mean- AUGH!”

Something pinched their ankle, and Hero dropped to the ground, clutching it for dear life as electrifying pain exploded through it.

“Hero!” Villain shouted.

Villain bent down and picked up the offending animal; it was none other than Percy the platypus.

“No sir!” Villain scolded, putting Percy back in his home, “we do not sting people!”

“That thing is venomous!?” Hero screeched through the pain.

“Well, yes,” Villain said between Hero’s screams, “stay there, I have what you need.”

Villain ran to a cabinet near Percy’s enclosure. They pulled out a vial labeled “nerve-blocker” and a syringe. Filling it, they ran back to Hero’s side.

“Shh, I know, I know,” Villain soothed, “it’ll be over soon, I promise.”

Villain pulled up Hero’s pant leg and examined the wound. Their ankle was already quite swollen. Villain injected the contents of the syringe right into the envenomation site. After a few minutes, Hero’s screams died down to little whimpers.

“Why,” they panted, “do you have… that… in your collection!?”

“Percy can’t swim,” Villain said, “he wouldn’t make it very long in nature. I’ve gotten my fair share of stings from him. I’m just sorry you had to experience it. He is a bit skittish around visitors.”

Hero went to stand, but Villain stopped them.

“You won’t be able to walk for a few weeks,” Villain said, “I need to have you on nerve-blockers around the clock.”

“WHAT!?”

“Your symptoms won't subside until then, and you might still have trouble for a few months after that. Fortunately, I am delveoping an antivenom. I’ve been studying Percy’s venom and I think I almost have it down.”

“Wait… there’s no antivenom!?”

“No, but there will be as soon as I finish it,” Villain smiled awkwardly.

Hero couldn’t even feel their ankle now, which was far better than the last minute and a half, but that meant no heroics or anything at all really for some time.

“I’ll take care of you, Hero,” Villain said, seeming to read their thoughts.

Villain picked Hero up in a bridal carry and took them from the site, back inside their lair. They brought them up to a guest room and laid them down in a bed.

“I’ll get all the medical equipment hooked up to you,” Villain said, “and then we’ll talk about the recovery plan, okay?”

Hero nodded, their adrenaline wearing off and giving way to shock. In all of their fights, they had never felt pain like that. Percy was suddenly far more terrifying than any supervillain.

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[losthavenmine]

Whumptober 2023 Day 9 || Betrayal

Gladiator (2000)

[blaiddraws]

surprise! I'm doing whumptober apparently. first one is an alt prompt, "secrets revealed". looks like someone caught were-zoroark zisu at a bad moment 🤔

[lostwhump]

@whumptober | Day #4: ALT PROMPT "Shivering" Big Sky - Happy Thoughts (2.10)

[friendship-ditch]

Whumptober Day 14 - Survivors Guilt (Alt.)

Platonic Aragorn x Fem!Reader ✼

Summary: After a harsh battle in Bree, Aragorn blames himself for the lost lives.

Warnings/Notes: Lil alcohol abuse and sad Aragorn

Word Count: 1201

  “How many of those drinks do you plan on downing?” You watched in amazement as Aragorn finished his sixth flagon.

  The man beside you, your ranger partner since the two of you both first started out, was not a heavy drinker. At best he had a few ciders and even then he felt it terribly in the morning. Now here he is finishing these drinks off like it was a job and he was being timed.

  Aragorn wiped his mouth with a grimace. Alcohol’s effects on him were slow but once the hill steeped downward there was hardly a second in between his sober and utterly inebriated states. It hadn’t kicked in yet but you had a feeling that time was coming.

  “As many as I can.” He muttered gruffly before waving to the bartender for another. His fingers eagerly reached for the new glass, about to lift it to his lips when your hand grabbed his arm.

  “Take it easy…” You murmured. You expected him to comply, not to suddenly drink as much of the ale as he could. When he finished the whole thing in a few gulps you slapped him on the arm. “What is wrong with you?!”

  You were quite right. The alcohol's effects were beginning to seep in.

  Aragorn stared at you through bleary eyes for a moment, twitching a little. Then he turned away. “I need to forget.” He mumbled. “Just for a while…”

  You tugged his arm again but he refused to look at you. Even your gentle slap to his arm didn’t draw him out of the strange trance he had fallen into, eyes boring a hole into the wooden counter of the bar. Finally you shoved him with your shoulder, snapping him out of it a little.

  “Forget what? What’s going on with you?” You frowned, moving your hand to rest on his back. 

  Earlier today the rangers had taken down a large army of orcs in Bree. You all had arrived halfway through the battle and saved the remaining citizens of the small town. It was Aragorn’s idea to go to the Prancing Pony Tavern afterwards and celebrate victory, but now it was as if he wasn’t even there beside you, more of a shell than a man.

  “We should have gotten here earlier.” Aragorn finally whispered. You could hardly hear him over the loud banter of the bar, but his words clicked in your ears after a few seconds.

  Your thumb rubbed in soft circles against his cloak. “There was nothing we could have done, Aragorn.”

  “There was… If we had run faster.. Traveled lighter… didn’t stop for that stupid, stupid rainstorm, we could have saved so many more lives, y/n…” He rasped, voice starting to become a little incoherent as both the grief and alcohol numbed his mouth, filling it with ash and fluff. “Everyone that died… those poor citizens. They were unprepared and… and we were supposed to save them.” Aragorn was struggling to catch his breath now, fingers digging into your arm as his eyes stung with tears. “We were supposed to save them but we didn’t.”

  You thought back to the attack.

  The orcs were vicious and merciless, killing any citizen they could get their hands on, from the town guards to the young volunteers who had seen far too few winters and could hardly wield a sword. Out on the field you had to make the choice between saving a boy, hardly an adult, or Aragorn. Regardless to say, as much as it hurt, you did in fact choose the latter. You knew Aragorn would be horrified with your choice and angry with you but you couldn’t bear the thought of losing your best friend. 

  He never confronted you on the incident but it was clear now that it was weighing him down heavily. He was bordering on the edge of some sort of panic attack or melt down, air going everywhere but his lungs as his head spun. The alcohol in his system was not helping, making him too unsteady to stand and leave himself.

  So you did the next best thing.

  You dragged him to his feet and–half carrying him–brought him outside.

  The second the cold air hit your skin he broke into sobs in your arms. The weight of the pain and tears made him surprisingly heavy, even for you. So you dragged him once more until the two of you were tucked behind some barrels, just letting him cry into your arms.

  “It should have been me.” Aragorn wept into your chest, fingers clutching your clothing so tightly he was almost ripping it with ragged nails, torn from aiding in burying the dead. His sobs grew more animalistic and raw. Aragorn had an awful habit of punching walls or such when he was distraught like this and his fists were shaking from the force of restraint, trying desperately not to punch you on accident.

  You eventually nudged him in a way that set his energy free and he pounded into the ground a few times before his fists met your torso. It didn’t really hurt. You held him through the whole thing, accepting whatever misplaced throws and globs of tears that fell from his face. What else could you do?

  When the alcohol fully kicked in and all Aragorn could get out was soft whimpers and whines, now sort of rocking back and forth in your arms, you held him tighter. You gently tucked his face into the crook of your neck, raking your fingers through his hair in soothing motions, fingers grazing his scalp. The motion soothed Aragon slightly but it was your words that did the true deed.

  “It is not your fault Aragorn.” You murmured softly to him, feeling him gasp for breath against your skin. “I would always save you… no matter what. You do not need to wish to have given your life for these strangers… what’s done is done. Love what you still have, not mourn what you could’ve.”

  Aragorn whimpered. “But…”

  “But nothing. We saved Bree. Yes, lives were lost, but lives always are.” You whispered. “I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner… and I’m sorry so many died, but beating yourself up over it will not bring them back.”

  Shakily, Aragorn rubbed his red face. Your words, though blunt, were true, he couldn’t deny that. 

  He slowly pulled his face and looked up at you through tear cladden eyes. “Sorry…” He whispered, sounding more like a lost puppy than a ranger.”

  You chuckled a little and shook your head, planting a gentle kiss to the top of his. “Don’t be. Just… let’s just sit here for a while, alright?”

  “...alright.” Aragorn whispered.

  If there was one thing you were not looking forward to, it was dragging a very drunk Aragorn back into the tavern and putting him to bed… as well as what would follow in the morning. For now, you were content with sitting here, curled up behind some barrels with him in your arms. And he seemed to feel the same as the last of his pain faded with a heavy sigh, his head laying back down on your shoulder.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2024 No. 31

Prompt: Motion Sickness

Warnings: Mentions of vomiting

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

“Hell’s the matter with you?” Daryl barked from behind the wheel, his steely gaze on you in the rearview mirror. You couldn’t answer—wouldn’t even if it were possible. Your stomach rolled again, this time with a lurch that had your hand flying to cover your mouth. “Ya sick?”

“I’m—I’m fine.” You panted. Motion sickness was something you were accustomed to since childhood, riding in the backseat somehow always the worst. You hadn’t protested when the four of you had left for the run. You wanted to be a part of the team, had no desire to appear weak. Especially in front of Daryl.

The grumpy redneck may have been rude and standoffish, but there had been so many moments of kindness. Small gestures that gave you a glimpse of how gentle he could be. Your crush had become something more. Now that your group had found the prison, you were near desperate to show him you could be valuable.

The car hit a pothole and jostled you, causing your stomach to spasm and you to gag. It wasn’t as quiet as you had hoped.

“Hell nah. Y’ain’t horkin’ in the car.” He turned the wheel hard, which helped matters none.

The vehicle had barely come to a stop when you clambered from the backseat and landed on your knees just beside the ditch, painfully retching. You were certain you were vomiting everything you had eaten since elementary school when you felt hands in your hair, pulling it back over your shoulders. Carol, you assumed.

“Should’a said somethin’.” Came Daryl’s raspy voice. Panting, you blinked with wide eyes.

“I’m sor—sorry.”

He replied with a hum and remained silent and still, holding back your hair until you were finished, wrung out. “Can ya ride in the front?” He asked quietly.

Your voice had fled. Once you looked up at him, saw the concern in those blue eyes, you weren’t sure you’d ever find it again. So, you simply nodded. The indignant squeak that left you when he scooped you up had your cheeks burning. Carol opened the door, smiling that gentle yet knowing smile of hers as she stepped out of the way.

Not only did Daryl place you in the car, he buckled your seatbelt, leaning back to hold the top of the door.

“Next time, say somethin’.” He grumbled.

He wasn’t angry, you could tell that much. As he shut the door and ordered the others into the backseat, you smiled to yourself and closed your eyes. Who would have thought motion sickness could ever be a good thing?

[amethystfairy1]

"Where are my KEYS!?" -Scott, probably.

AND SO IT BEGINS

I'M SO EXCITED

IT'S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR EVERYONE

WHUMPTOBER!!!!

Please enjoy the first fic of my attempt to complete a month long writing challenge yet again, hopefully I can manage it this time! 😅

[whumpypepsigal]

Whumptober 2023 | No. 2

Alternative prompt: Betrayal

Titans s03e11: “I had no choice.”

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

[noforkingclue]

Back (Five x reader)

Summary: he was back at last. He thought his time in hell was over but really, it had continued but in a different way

Warnings: Five has feelings for the reader but the reader DOES NOT for Five

This was hell.

Trapped in a body that hadn’t even gone through puberty yet and with a mind of a far older man.

And he had gone through this over and over and over again until he finally found his way out.

It was over but at the same time it wasn’t. While the physical effects were over the memories remained. The memories of being trapped, living the same day over and over and-

“Is everything ok?”

And then there was you. Your family were friends of his father, if you could really call him that. While you didn’t have any powers your family was wealthy and influential enough for them to be deemed suitable. None of them really appreciated you at the time, the only bit of sanity in their lives.

You smiled faintly at him and sat down next to him. He glared at you as you handed over a cup of coffee.

“It’s half decent,” you said, “at least I hope so.”

It was better than that. It was what he needed to pull him out of his thoughts. Still, he could feel the effect it was having on this stupid fucking body. A body that was too young for him. He was getting too hot, too many thoughts were whirring about his mind.

But at least time was steady. Time was… stable-ish for now. He was in one place in his body which felt so alien. So strange. He’d been through puberty once before and he despised those thoughts. Why did the body he ended up in have to be this one.

And why did you have to sit so close?

Why did your perfume smell so fucking good.

What that the scent of your shampoo?

Did your hair always look so good?

And did you always look at him like that?

The softness in your eyes. He vaguely remembered that look. It was one your parents gave you. Familial love. A love that had been so deprived from his own childhood (if you could call it that). This was hell, not only on his mind but his body. Going through this again, with an adult you, with his adult mind and teenage body.

It almost made him wish he was stuck in that damned time loop.

“Five?”

Your gentle voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He glared at you and took another gulp of his coffee.

“What makes you think this is ok?” he snapped, “the fucking apocalypse is going to start fucking soon and you’re here being…”

‘Fucking distacting.’

“Fucking useless.”

He got up and stormed away. You were right though, the coffee was half decent. You just sighed and shook your head.

“Same old Five.” you muttered

[kybercrystals94]

To Forgive

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 27 - Alternate Promos: Secrets Revealed

Rated: G | Words: 581

“Did you ever try to make contact with us before the war ended?” 

The question itself doesn’t surprise her, only that it took so long for one of them to ask. Omega kneels to pick up another smooth stone from the sand, adding it to her pocket. “I tried, but Nala Se always caught me.”

Crosshair mutters a curse under his breath. “Kriffing long neck.” 

“And what would you have done with me during the war? If I had managed to make contact?” Omega asks, and the question is only partially rhetorical. She often wondered what her brothers might do if they’d known she was there, or if they would do anything at all. 

Even after they found her, she’d been left behind, and Omega thought her course was set. 

But so long as her brothers were safe, she had been ready to accept the lot she’d been given. 

“Something,” Crosshair returns. 

Omega snorts. “Vague and foolproof. I like it.” 

Crosshair bumps into her hard, nearly toppling her into the tide lapping the beach. “You know what I mean,” he grumbles. 

“I know,” Omega assures him, regaining her balance to bump back into him. 

They continue walking down the beach, Omega finding agates and rocks worn down by sand and sea. 

“I’m…sorry,” Crosshair says, voice so low that Omega almost doesn’t catch it over the murmur of the waves.

She looks up at him, but he doesn’t look back at her, eyes determinedly set ahead. “I don’t blame you guys for not knowing about me, Crosshair.” 

“Not that,” Crosshair bites out. “For how I was…when we did find out…about you.” 

“That was the chip–” 

“Not all of it. I tried to send you away. On Kamino.” 

Weighing her options, Omega finally replies, “You’re not the first brother that tried to send me away.” 

That snaps Crosshair’s gaze to hers. “What?” he demands. “When? Who?” 

“Hunter,” Omega says. “After we escaped Kamino the first time. He didn’t think they could take care of me the way I needed, so he sent me away with Cut and Suu. Obviously, I didn’t stay with them more than a few minutes before I ran back to the Marauder.

“At the time, I’d thought it was because I’d done something wrong. I’d spent my whole life dreaming of being with you all again, and I couldn’t just let it go because of a stupid mistake I’d made. But now, I understand that Hunter was afraid of the mistakes he’d make…that he believed he already made.”

Like leaving you behind goes unsaid. 

“At least Hunter was trying to offer you a safer life,” Crosshair mutters. “I was trying to get rid of you.” 

Omega wraps both of her arms around his left one. “And look at us now,” she says sweetly. 

“Hm.” 

Omega roots herself in the sand, forcing Crosshair to stop walking. “I forgive you, Crosshair. Of anything you think you need to apologize for.”

He’s not looking at her again. “You shouldn’t make it so easy,” he tells her bitterly. 

“You’re my brother,” Omega says. “I love you.” 

She doesn’t think he’ll say it back, but she knows it all the same. Her brothers love her, all of them. She’s seen it in their actions, felt it in their determination. Omega may have doubted before they found her again, may have wondered if she could step outside of their love’s reach. Not anymore. She knows it deeply. 

“I love you too.” 

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[losthavenmine]

Whumptober 2023 Day 30 || Reluctant Whumper

The Quick and the Dead (1995)