#Asking for help

[matt-eldritch]

I've been rewatching The Owl House for the first time in over a year and since it was the 10th anniversary of the Cartoon Network classic, Over the Garden Wall, I had the idea of combining the two properties for a piece of fanart. I was inspired by the works of another artist, @dazeddoodles, specifically the way of how they can imitate TOH's artstyle yet also avoid copying it by adding their own flair and style to it. It wasn't too difficult to pick who would play the leads in this little alternate universe of mine, since I felt that both Luz and Hunter were quite similar in personality to Greg and Wirt, respectively. It also helps that both pairs are siblings of unconventional relation (Greg is Wirt's younger half-brother and Hunter is informally adopted into the Noceda family). I'll eventually make some screencap redraws of the original OTGW series for this AU, but I haven't really planned out who'd be who here. Belos would obviously be the Beast, but the rest of the cast is up in the air. Does anyone have any suggestions?

[forged-in-kaoss]

What can you do when you can't even pull yourself out of the water? NOTHING! THAT'S WHY I NEED HELP! I DON'T KNOW HOW TO USE SWORDS, YOU BASTARD. I can't navigate. I can't cook. I can't lie, either. I'm confident that I can't live without help!

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Autism & Asking for Help

Lil Penguin Studios/Autism Happy Place

[hel7l7]

I'm afraid you'll leave when you see me at my lowest

[whumpypepsigal]

Whumptober 2024 | Day 31

Asking For Help

Outer Banks s01e07: “I just wanna do the right thing.”

[akindplace]

You don't have to tolerate pain in silence to prove strength. You don't have to carry all your problems and hurt alone. Admitting you're in pain is not the same as admitting defeat. It doesn't make you a quitter, it doesn't make you weaker, it makes you human.

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Whumptober 2024 No. 31- Asking for Help

Since today is Halloween, I thought I would make my last Whumptober fill a little festive! I can't believe I completed all 31 days!!

Villain sat by the door, a bowl of candy on the side table. The doorbell rang. Finally! They wondered where all the little trick-or-treaters had gotten to.

They opened the door, but instead of a tiny pirate or a witch…

“Hero!?” Villain exclaimed.

“Trick or treat?” Hero slurred.

“Woah!”

Villain dove to catch Hero as they lurched forward. Villain got a good look at them. They were covered in blood and bruises.

“What happened to you!?”

Villain carried Hero inside and laid them down on the couch.

“Sorry to bug you like this,” Hero mumbled, “ow. I know it’s a holiday and everything, but- mm…”

Villain gave Hero a gentle slap to the face.

“No sleeping,” they said, “talk to me. Who did this to you?”

“Dunno, they were in costume…”

“Hero,” Villain warned.

“Can’t you give me some ibuprofen before you interrogate me?”

Hero needed more than over the counter pain meds. They needed stitches, bandages, and probably a hospital visit if they were smart. Hero’s eyes started to droop closed. Another slap.

“Stay here. And don’t you dare go to sleep.”

Villain ran from the living room to get the med kit. When they got back, Hero was trying- and failing- to sit up.

“Hey! I said stay awake, not ‘get up and jostle your injuries’!”

“Sorry…”

Villain handed Hero some painkillers, which they took and swallowed dry. They grimaced as they went down. They started to clean their wounds.

“Now talk, or I will turn this into a kidnapping,” Villain said.

“Do you believe in monsters, Villain?”

“Come again?”

“You know, vampires, zombies, ghosts, those sorts of things.”

“I believe in politicians,” Villain stated, “as for the other monsters… where are you going with this?”

“Pretty sure I just met one… a vampire that is.”

“Okay, you’re delirious,” Villain sighed, moving on to stitching Hero up, “vampires aren’t real.”

Just then, the doorbell rang again. Villain sighed, they had left the outside light on when Hero showed up. They’d see to the one trick-or-treater, then turn it off.

Villain opened the door, and their eyes went wide.

“Greetings,” a pale, cloaked figure said, “I think you have something of mine… may I come in?”

“Who are you?” Villain asked.

The figure shed their cloak, and great bat wings sprouted out from their back. Their red eyes seemed to glow in the night, and they grinned widely.

“Who I am doesn’t matter, but I’m sure you’d agree that what I am certainly does.”

“Get lost, Vincent Price,” Villain ordered.

“Oh, I would reconsider,” the figure said, fangs glinting in the warm light of Villain’s porch, “you see, when I want something, I always get it.”

“Cute, you’re entitled,” Villain said, “scram, before I break this wooden table leg and plunge it into your heart.”

The stranger huffed.

“Be careful, human,” they said, “your abode might protect you now, but it will quickly become your prison if you don’t indulge me.”

“Entitled and melodramatic. Leave. Or just stand there until the sun comes up and turns you to dust, I really don’t care.”

With that, Villain slammed the door in the stranger’s face. Their brave façade cracked at once, and they stumbled over to Hero’s side.

“So,” they said, their voice going up an octave, “vampires, huh?”

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@mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

@electrons2006 @just-a-space-rabbit

[furiousgoldfish]

everyone: ask for help when you need it! don't try to get through everything on your own when it's too much!

me: asks for help, is immediately rejected and scorned for asking, feels worse

[zee-rambles]

———

Once you start, it’s hard to stop.

First I Prev I Next

[friendship-ditch]

Whumptober Day 31 - Asking for Help

Platonic Aragorn x Fem!Reader ✼

Summary: Aragorn hits his head and has no choice but to ask the nearest person for help.

Warnings/Notes: I'M DONE! WHUMPTOBER COMPLETED HELL YEAHHHH

Word Count: 1356

 Aragorn had never been the best at taking care of himself. Ever. It was always ‘make sure everyone else is alright,’ then tend to his own wounds. More often than not this ended up with him in a worse situation than before; see: ignoring injuries until they get infected, nearly bleeding to death, and about 25 other accounts.

  That was the case once more.

  He didn’t remember hitting his head too hard in the skirmish in the woods… but apparently he had. He’d been flanked by orcs unexpectedly and upon realizing there was no way he could kill them all, took the risk and jumped into the river.

  Perhaps it was there that he hit his head. The water was ferocious, fighting to keep him like quick sand and nearly drowning him in the rough rapids. He would’ve likely drowned had he not managed to kick off a rock and float to shore, but he was rather woozy at the time and still couldn’t recall the exact details.

  All he knew was that he woke up, drenched and cold, on the shore of… somewhere he couldn’t quite recognize.

  The rocks beneath his bleeding head were a foul pillow to his aching body. He felt frozen to the bone, limbs jolting with shivers. He tried to sit up but was overcome by a wave of dizziness so he lowered himself back onto the ground with a grunt. He must’ve hit his head harder than he thought.

  It took a few moments of contemplation, and a lot of pain, but eventually Aragorn managed to sit up. His world spun even faster and he squeezed his eyes shut, lifting a hand to his forehead. It came away slightly stained with blood.

  Eventually Aragorn managed to stand. He was already not the most precise walker due to various wounds to his ankles and legs over the years, but now every step he took was uncalculated and clumsy. He’d be lucky if he made it a mile from the water before collapsing… but what other choice did he have?

  It was either wander in search of shelter and help, or give in and die. The latter wasn’t the most enticing, so he forced himself to walk despite the pain and dizziness. 

  Beneath him the ground changed from gravel and rocks to rough dirt and roots. He had to step carefully. It was a struggle, though. If it were not for the thick woods he was walking through and the stumps he caught himself on, he would be face down once more.

  After an hour or so of wandering Aragorn began to feel just… worse. The injury on his head was pounding as though someone was hammering a nail into his skull. It stopped bleeding long ago but during his trek he managed to stumble and bash it against a tree, starting the bleeding once more. His whole body felt warm, unnaturally warm against the chill of the coming night. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’d caught a fever in his weakened state but he tried not to think about it because there was nothing he could do.

  His stomach ached and his limbs felt almost too heavy to move. Every step was a struggle on his trembling legs. 

  Then, something came into view. A house of some sorts… a cabin or a cottage, tucked in a small clearing of the trees. Was he hallucinating? He had to have been. There was no way this sanctuary was so perfectly placed just at the end of his strength. A warm glow emanated from the windows, smoke billowing from the chimney. This had to have been a dream.

  With no other option left Aragorn decided to take the chance.

  You were sitting inside your home, tending the fireplace when there was a strange noise at the door. Some sort of a thumping sound, almost like a knock.

  You’d had quite a few strange visitors during your time in the woods, but nothing could have prepared you for this. When you opened the door, you found a half dead, half conscious man slumped at your feet. For a second you wondered if this was a joke but when you bent beside him, he groaned.

  “Help… please…” Aragorn whispered, voice raspy and hoarse. His eyes were closed and he was just barely hanging on. 

  You stared at him for a moment and in the split second he opened his eyes, he stared at you. And then he was gone, chest softly rising with breaths but whatever strength he had was utterly depleted.

  Aragorn woke up on another hard surface. For a minute he wondered if he dreamt it all and was still lying upon the shore. But it wasn’t rocks under his back… it was solid and flat. He reached a hand to touch it. Wood? 

  His eyes weakly fluttered open, then winced at the light. He felt warm, but no longer excruciatingly warm. It was a comfortable temperature. He was inside, on top of a table.

  There was a cold cloth draped over his forehead and a bandage overtop the deep gash. The smell of herbs was in the air, heavily. Where was he?

  “Hey, easy there.” You watched as he tried to sit up, knowing it was no use to try and keep him down. You planted a hand upon his back and eased him into a sitting position. “You’re okay.”

  Aragorn let out a weak groan as the world faintly spun around him, but it was nothing like before. He rubbed his eyes to clear the blurriness and they fell upon you. He could faintly remember your face. “Who are you?”

  “Y/N.” You replied, taking the cloth from his head and dunking it into a cold bowl of water. Then you laid it across his brow once more, soaking up any escaping droplets with a towel. “Who are you?”

  “I am… Aragorn.” He hesitated on whether to refer to himself as Strider or not, but decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. 

  “Well, Aragorn, I’ll tell you now that I’ve never seen someone with a concussion fight so hard. You weren’t close to dying or anything, but you’re stubborn.”

  He let out a weak laugh at that. “Stubborn? I suppose that’s right…”

  “You were feverishly fighting me, not that you remember… that’s probably a good thing.” You tilted your head. “What happened to you? How in the world did you end up here?”

  Aragorn told you what he could remember of his story of the orcs and the river. It hadn’t occurred to him that you were only getting him to talk to distract him from the horrible pain of removing the bandage from his head, but he cried out when you pulled it off. He stared at you like a dog who was rejected a treat, wary and uneasy, but then settled back down. “Ow…” He rubbed his forehead. It wasn’t bleeding.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  You made a soft humming sound and stepped back, observing your work. The gash on his head had begun to heal pretty well for something so makeshift.

  “How does it look?” Aragorn asked hesitantly, a little embarrassed he had to rely on the help of a stranger, but thankful either way.

  You smiled. “Much better. You’ll be just fine with a little rest… as your medic, I cannot let you leave in this state, by the way. At least stay the night.” 

  Surprised, but not about to disagree, Aragorn returned your smile with one of his own. “If you wish.”

  He had a hearty bowl of stew and then took some medicine to help ease the dizziness, which was almost gone anyway. Afterwards you settled him down on the couch beneath a blanket and ordered him to sleep, claiming it would help him heal faster.

  Aragorn was in no position to argue, nor did he really want to. He was safe, warm, and had gotten the help he needed. It wasn’t often that he put his trust into strangers but you’d only given him reasons to do so, so he let himself drift off in your care.

[homosociallyyours]

Need a little help :/

Hello friends, I'm sorry to ask but unfortunately I'm about $200 short of rent at the moment. If anyone is able to help me out, I would appreciate it so much. And of course if you're struggling in any way, a boost/reblog is helpful too.

Venmo: Megan-Beene

Paypal: homosocial

[wrexkinghxvoc]

Benjamin Alire Saenz, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe // Grimes, from Oblivion // Marya Hornbacher, from Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia // Sylvia Plath, from a journal entry featured in The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath // Kaveh Akbar, from Calling a Wolf a Wolf // Euripides, from “Orestes”, An Oresteia (trans. Anne Carson)

[unwelcome-ozian]

[i-am-trans-gwender]

It's annoying to me how because of copyright non Middle-earth stories can't say "hobbit" so instead they say "halfling". (Even though both hobbit and halfling were coined by JRR Tolkien.)

It doesn't make sense in universe because from the "halflings" perspective there not "half" there normal height. Should we start calling humans in fantasy stories "averagelings" and call giants "doublelings"?

May we please come up with a better non copyrighted name for hobbits?

[serenityquest]

— colormehappii