#Drowning Future

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Fictober '19 Prompt No. 8 — "Can you stay?"

Category: Original WIP: The Darkspace Portent series (Drowning Future AU) Rating: T Timeline: Set two years in the future from the end of book one, in an alternate universe where Thrive did not leave (which is the point of the DF AU) CW: blood Word Count: 911 Additional Notes: N/A

***

PART I

When Warren opened his eyes, he immediately realized he couldn't recall ever closing them. He took in the overwhelming smell of isopropyl alcohol and sterile plastic, the dizzying fluorescent lights bearing down on his face, the general numbness in his entire body like he'd been drugged, and the flat surface under his back causing it to give off a dull ache.

Something shifted slightly at the edge of his consciousness—a soft noise like the draw of a breath or the rustle of clothing. He tried to move his head but found he couldn't do so with the level of efficiency he'd hoped for. He opened his eyes again…how did he manage to keep falling unconscious without knowing he was doing it?

He could make out Thrive's blurry outline sitting on the floor by an open door. His knees drawn up, head resting back against the white wall, hands covered in blood up to the elbows. He stared at the ceiling, lost in whatever emotion presented itself on his fatigued, stoic expression.

Warren attempted to gather the strength to speak, but all that came out was a quiet rasp.

Thrive looked at him, surprised. "Warren…?"

Losing another couple of seconds, Warren dragged a shaky hand up to his face, moving at roughly negative three centimeters per hour to grip the oxygen mask resting pointlessly over his mouth and chin. The sharp tang of copper filled his nostrils, and in his peripheral vision, he caught the sight of sticky blood coating his fingers. "Wh…what…"

"Don't move. You've been badly injured and I've only barely managed to patch you up." Thrive hurried to him and removed the mask, lifting his head with the utmost caution to tug the elastic band from around his neck. "Let me know if you need this again."

"Am I…" Warren fought another wave of unconsciousness. "Am I on the floor?"

A wave of startling pain slammed him then; a soul-rendering pulse of white-hot agony originating from somewhere under his ribs that permeated into his shoulders, chest, and entire spine. He grabbed Thrive's arms and squeezed, close to lifting into the air to escape it, a reverberating cry leaping from his throat, cold sweat springing to life on his forehead as he screwed his eyes shut.

Thrive's hands went to work somewhere around his side, sliding under his shirt to flatten a palm to his skin and cradling his head with the other. After a few seconds, the pain began to fade, replaced by a low, tolerable throb that still had Warren perspiring against the frigid tile.

Another calmer moment passed and it occurred to him that Thrive had started to tremble against him. "What the hell was that? What…what happened to me?"

"Where do I start?"

Warren looked at him, the haze clearing from his brain. "…The beginning, usually."

Thrive swallowed and nodded. "We were moving east, looking for supplies to get us through the rest of the season. You and I found an abandoned school that had been set up as a shelter against the eliyi…we were ambushed and one of them impaled you. I was all the way down the hall, I couldn't get there in time to stop it."

Warren winced through a twinge in his ribs. "That's not very badass of me. Tell me I got a few of them first."

"You actually held your own fairly well," Thrive admitted, a faint smile crossing his features. "I was impressed."

"So…what happened then?"

"I held them off as best I could, but there were too many of them, so I picked you up and ran away. I tried to stop the bleeding once we were safe, but…it was in excess. There was no way I could save you if I didn't find the right equipment. I brought you here, to the nearest hospital, but it was practically too late. You…died. I couldn't bring you back."

He stopped, having also noticed the slight wobble his voice had taken right at the end of that sentence. He shook his head, not meeting Warren's gaze, continuing with no impatience to stave off his pain.

"…I thought I lost you."

Warren watched him carefully. "That's an interesting way to phrase that, E.T…" He let out a bark of pained laughter when Thrive combed his fingers through his hair. "Oh, god, that feels incredible but I'm definitely not excited to have blood in my hair now."

"You clearly haven't seen the rest of you yet."

"I've been avoiding that on purpose. It feels like I took a bath in it." He tightly grasped his hand, heart pounding against his chest at all of the unexpected intimate physical contact. "Christ…I think I'm gonna pass out for a couple of hours if that's okay."

Thrive squeezed his hand. "Get some rest. I'm going to look around for useful items."

Warren felt his warmth leave him and opened his eyes when Thrive passed through the door into the dark hallway. "Wait."

Thrive stopped and turned.

In that moment, Warren felt more vulnerable than he'd ever felt. The haze began to return and fatigue settled onto him like a weighted blanket. "…Can you stay?"

Without thinking twice about it, Thrive stepped back into the room. He gently scooped him up into his arms like he weighed nothing, moving him to the bed, where he stretched out beside him.

"I'll be here until you wake," Thrive murmured.

Warren fell asleep with his fingers laced through Thrive's.

[soldrawss]

@funneylizzie got me in that Casey Jones Jr brainrot and I haven't known peace since

[wishchip106]

man imagine if Charles died here

THAT BLOCK MISSED HIM BY A HAIR HIS SKULL WOULD’VE BEEN CRUSHED

hrmm Hank running over to find Charles only to see his decapitated body with his head under a cinder block

since Charles stopped Raven from killing Trask she probably shoots him before she hears Hank yelling and screaming

Erik is unconscious on the ground he doesn’t even know what’s happening ☹️

Raven runs over to see Charles’s body. Now she’s screaming and crying, trying to lift the pieces of scaffolding and beams covering his body

Hank can’t even turn beast mode and help because he took five syringes of the serum

by some miracle Erik wakes up again? (idk i just want him to also experience the sudden death of his ex husband)

he freaks out after seeing Charles, realizing this is his fault for ripping up the stadium and dropping it. Everything metal surrounding them is completely destroyed

he lifts everything off the body except the block that has fresh blood dripping off of it

completely ignoring the gaping wound in his neck, he just kills all the rest of the government officials. No real reason whatsoever he’s just extremely upset

and yeah thats all i got so far 😁👍

for some reason i can’t take writing angst seriously how do other people do it 😿

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 198

Now Bruce was not expecting to reincarnate upon his death. At least he thinks he died, he’s pretty sure he did. There wasn’t any other reason for him to be a well, literal baby. Around two he thinks, which fits well with the fact that it’s around that time that babies start forming memory recall, if he, well, remembered correctly. 

But while he knew about reincarnation thanks to Shayera and Carter, he’d never exactly given it much thought towards himself. Because seriously, what were the chances of such a thing as him being given another chance? 

So he was quite surprised at his situation, experimentally opening and closing pudgy hands that looked well, just a tiny bit off. He’d never been that pale before, he thinks, even back when he never went outside like, ever. 

He turned his gaze towards the mobile above him with a sort of idle curiosity- a mixture of bats (ha) and other trinkets he wasn’t familiar with. It also caused him to get his first good look at his parent, asleep on a rocking chair right next to the crib. 

Huh. They had the same pale skin he did, albeit in the light it looked like it was slightly tinted blue, and while their hair was white they didn’t exactly look old. They looked surprisingly well rested for raising a toddler too, unless they had a nanny or something similar… He rolled over, managing to very shakily push himself to his feet with the help of the crib. 

Why was standing so hard as a toddler? And why did he have his memories of everything except how he had died anyway? 

His head whipped up from where they were staring at his feet when he heard a snort, finding his parent awake and standing. Somehow silently enough that he hadn’t noticed- or he was that easily distracted by the unfamiliar giddiness bursting in his chest. 

“Morning little bat,” his parent easily picked him up and held him while he inwardly sighed at the nickname. Of course his bat motif would follow him into this life. A low rumbling almost caused him to jump, his body relaxing before he could fully register the sound. The… purring? 

Oh. 

He wasn’t human this time around. 

[baeshijima]

imagine an au where you wake up to a chill seeping through the comfort of your duvet. it's a little unusual. the mornings shouldn't be so cold anymore; did you maybe leave the window open?

a headache blooms along your conscience, and you think that maybe you had one too many drinks out of frustration last night. but, then again, it's not your fault that prickly bastard got on your nerves and made you drink till you passed out. he just has it out for you!

bare arms are draped over your equally bare midriff, its hold around you tightening and— wait. you're NAKED?!

by the speed at which you flipped to your other side, you wouldn't be surprised if you got whiplash. actually, scrap that. maybe the familiar face lying beside you, alongside the marks you barely caught a glimpse of amidst your turn, is more than enough to wish you actually did get it.

"mmh, what's wrong?" he mumbles in all his sleepy glory, clearly disoriented from your sudden movement. a hand rubs against his heavy lids in a feeble attempt to clear out the bleary fog which clings to his vision, one in which blocks the sight of you by default. "you're never up before me in these mornings."

...how did you end up in the bed of your arch-nemesis (self-proclaimed), naked, and— why is he staring at you so affectionately? weren't you just at each other's throats a few hours ago? (figuratively or literally, it doesn't matter. you were at each other's throats all the same.)

(or, you somehow find yourself three years into the future, married to the very same prickly bastard who made you black-out drunk (self-inflicted). and naked (not self-inflicted. probably).)

[karokawwo]

be the change you want to see in the world i guess

i've always felt a bit let down by the lack of body diversity in ts so i took matters into my own hands + other itty bitty modifications

[fairyroses]

— SMALLVILLE, "Tempest" (1.21) & "Fragile" (5.18)

[jewreallythinkthat]

Would love it if people stopped fandomising the war. Like person XYZ wouldn't have an opinion cause they are a fictional character.

People are dying. People are starving to death, dying from bombs and gun fire in a war that the majority of them did not want to start. This is not your blorbo fandom. These are real people.

I get that it's overwhelming and scary and horrifying but if it is too much for you, no one will blame you for logging out for a couple of days and just processing. Coping by forcing war into fandom spaces that people go to try and escape the horrors of real life is disgusting.

[serickswrites]

Heyyy. Um, Would it okay to req part 3 to Spare? Not an alternate ending, more like.. Continuation of part 2? Whumpee lives - not rescued, just.. Whumper like, 'see? they de' and toss them to Caretaker so Caretaker get a chance to save Whumpee 🥲. (and so the whumping can continue.. muahaha)

Hey, Anon. I can write a alternate ending to part 2 since Whumpee actually died in part 1. I hope you enjoy this alternate ending!

Part 1 Original Part 2

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, forced to watch, self sacrifice, drowning, cpr, unconsciousness, implied future torture

"It's a shame they had to break, Caretaker," Whumper said as they tossed Whumpee's body at Caretaker's feet. "But at least I can enjoy your pain." Whumper undid Caretaker's restraints.

Caretaker collapsed to their knees, sobbing so hard they hyperventilated. "I think I'll let you enjoy them a little longer, Caretaker. Who knows, maybe I'll let you keep their corpse until you break, too."

"I'm so sorry," Caretaker sobbed as they heard Whumper walk towards the door. They continued to mutter their apologies until they were sure Whumper was gone.

Caretaker quickly got to work once Whumper was gone. "Hold on, Whumpee. You can't leave me. Not yet. Come on," they said urgently as they began compressions. "Come on, Whumpee. Come on."

Caretaker had no idea how long they worked. Had no idea how long they pounded on Whumpee's chest. They just knew they couldn't stop. Whumpee had drowned because of them. Whumpee had drowned for them. They couldn't let Whumpee stay dead.

"Come on," Caretaker said with one final push. Whumpee convulsed beneath them. "Thank God," Caretaker said sagging with relief. They quickly turned Whumpee on their side and into the recovery position as a fount of water poured from Whumpee's lips. "There you are. There you are. It's ok," Caretaker murmured.

Whumpee coughed weakly, their breathing uneven and shallow. They didn't respond to Caretaker's words. Didn't respond to Caretaker's touch. But it didn't matter, Caretaker told themself, Whumpee was alive. Whumpee was alive and Caretaker had to find a way out for the both of them.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@artisticdemon @rainysflowers @isntthisblank @orangeduckweed @whumpybookmarks

[oodlally-doodlally]

feeling deeply atrociously sorrowful over Nie Huaisang and the position he ultimately ends up in and i am not a big enough boy to stop crying. this man has destroyed my spirit by destroying his own life (and others) i need to hug him immediately

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Fictober '20 Prompt No. 7 — "Yes I did, what about it?"

Category: Original WIP: Drowning Future Rating: T Timeline: unsure CW: none Word Count: 996 Additional Notes: I was more or less experimenting with this AU for these prompts

***

PART I

The streetlights cut out several hours into the trek down a long stretch of road leading out of Somerwilde. No ceremony, no loud sound to accompany it, just sudden darkness coinciding with the complete lack of moon to provide relief of any kind from the void.

Warren stopped in his tracks and gripped Thrive's arm instinctively. The line of trees beside them became vague shapes reaching, clawing out of the ground toward the stars, begging for visibility.

Without a word, Thrive took Warren's elbow and led him further down the road. Their footsteps crunched against fallen leaves and forest debris, shattered glass from unfortunate vehicles, and remnants of forgotten snow.

A flash of yellow on the horizon with the brief strength of the sun ushered in an eerie glow in the sky and a period of uncomfortable quiet. Warren glanced at Thrive, who continued leading with a concerned eye on the far distance.

"What happened," Warren asked.

Shaking his head, Thrive slid his hold on Warren down to his wrist. "I'm not sure. The eliyi transport ship seems to have gone offline from what I can see down here."

Warren's eyes began to adjust but he made no move to pull himself from Thrive's grip. "What's that mean? Is it over?"

"Unlikely. It could mean they're out of fuel, in which case..."

Adjusting the heavy rucksack on his shoulder, Warren cleared his throat against the steadily rising warmth in his face as a result of Thrive's long fingers drifting absently closer to his own. "Could they get their fuel from us?"

"No. Their ships are powered by a crystallized chemical only found in Andromeda."

Warren almost tripped on something and Thrive's grip tightened to keep him steady. "Uh…so…they're gonna fall out of the sky."

"It's not guaranteed that's what's happened. It was…just speculation."

"Did you take my hand to keep a line of calm between us?"

"Yes, I did. What about it?"

Warren inhaled sharply and tried to keep himself from spouting too much emotion through their touch. "Nothin'. Just…do you…wanna set up camp somewhere? I'm getting tired, and we could use a fire right now."

Later, as the light from their established campfire threw sharp shadows across the trees and frozen ground, Warren watched Thrive pace the perimeter of the clearing. He'd never seemed so agitated, so unsettled by something in the few years he'd been on Earth.

"I'm beginning to think," he said at length, soft enough to be all but drowned out by the gentle wind rustling through the trees, "that we should've stayed at the cabin."

Warren snorted. "Well, it's a little too late for that. Are we about to have another conversation about how you can't protect me and going into Anchorage is something you need to do oh-so-valiantly on your own?"

Thrive turned to him. "You continually insist on staying with me."

Warren bit his lip and lifted the flap of the rucksack in an excuse not to make further eye contact. "Yah…I'm a grown man with autonomy."

To his surprise, Thrive strode to him and crouched down right in front of him. "I'm not going to pretend I can sway you, as knowing you for as long as I have up to this point has made me wise to your absolute reckless regard for your own life veiled under the thin guise of bravery. So I've given up trying and have, instead, prayed with every spiritual fiber of self that you will change your mind and keep safe."

The fog from both of their breath swirled together and Warren's gaze flicked between each of Thrive's emerald eyes, shimmering with frustration and the light of the lapping flames beside them. "You've prayed."

"I haven't prayed since I left Slodia, but damn it, Warren…you cannot lure me into caring for you and then refuse to let me protect you in any way I can."

"Stop talking to me like that."

"Then stop forcing me t—!"

Warren's hand snapped out to clutch Thrive's chin with a fierceness he didn't know he currently possessed. The air around them charged with static and Thrive's eyes flashed with anger but he initially didn't stop him or retaliate in any way.

"To what, E.T.," Warren growled. "You'd better not say anything you don't fucking mean."

He could feel the power roiling through Thrive's skin beneath his fingers. The heat from their proximity cut through the stinging cold of the air, and tension engulfed the entire forest.

"Do you suspect that I could?" Thrive muttered through gritted teeth. "Do you suspect after all of this time and all of my insecurities, after we've shared body and brain, that I could look you in the eye and mean it?" He finally slapped a hand around Warren's wrist. "Would I be lying, Warren?"

"There's no un-saying it. If you say it now, you can't take it back."

"We could die tomorrow." Thrive's face underwent a strange metamorphosis of guarded hostility to exposed worry. "And you're concerned about whether or not I mean it?"

Warren didn't realize his own hand had snaked around to bury fingers in Thrive's golden hair. "Fucking mean it."

Thrive observed his face as if truly seeing it for the first time. He took in every feature, every freckle and eyelash, every line and curve. His hands held his face, thumbs grazing his cheekbones, and for the first time in three years, the heaviness of the world became fully realized. Every moment was not a guarantee. Every breath was a gift. Their coming together was a fluke, a glitch in the universe, and at any moment it could've been fixed. With every unsteady exhale Warren forced out of himself, an inhale could be robbed from him.

"I mean it," Thrive whispered. "I mean it."

Warren kissed him for the hundredth time, but it felt like the first. And through their vulnerable touch in intimacy and in sleep, he made it clear that he meant it, too.

[vimbry-moved]

jumping off the back of the post about genres of song lyrics, another thing about tmbg's lyrics in particular is that even when they write about pleasant themes, they still manage to frequently do so through a sinister lens:

the experience of having children and looking after them:

a nice little nightlight protecting a child muses on the shortcomings it would have outside its assigned responsibility:

fantasising about getting high in the park with your crush:

[goodfish-bowl]

Nap With the Fishes Art

Ectoberhaunt 2024 Day 10: Creepy and Wet

Based on this fic I did for last year. Thought it would be a good fit for both prompts. Kept it simple this time.

Ectoberhaunt 2024 Masterpost

[mispatchedgreens]

by the two-edged sword

Baoxiang knows he is poison

band au/ 5k/ m

[verdantglow]

I finished reading Not friends, no we're something in between by @prudentseer about 45 minutes ago.

I am still getting hit by random waves of residual emotion whenever the slightest thought of it creeps back up in my mind.

Please go read this fic, y'all. Please. It's so good. Please.

[starbuck]

idk why people think that just because they’re good friends with someone means they should be in a relationship… like. i’m SORRY you like me more than all your other friends now… can’t it just be good that we’re good friends??????? why does that automatically mean that we have to be life partners??????????