#I could do at least two whumptober prompts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whumptober · 3 months ago

Text

FAQ

Please read this post before you send an ask!

TIMELINE

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

PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION

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

PROMPTS

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

WORKS

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

POSTING

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

#whumptober2024 #faq #frequently asked questions #whumptober information #event info 2024 #event info #whumptober

158 notes · View notes

skyward-floored · 1 month ago

Text

Whumptober Day 11: seeing double

Totally not what this prompt meant, but I don’t care lol. I do care that I keep making Wild cry though, sorry buddy 😬

No clue if anyone cares anymore, but this has some brief age of calamity spoilers in it. Just a heads up.

Warnings: broken bone, discussed past character death

Ao3 link

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wild had two thoughts as he went plunging through the portal, the others’ frantic cries in his ears:

One, that hopefully Legend wouldn’t give him too smug of an ‘I told you so’ the next time he saw him, since Wild had entirely forgone his advice to stay away from Dark Link and was now plunging rapidly through the air. And two, well, at least I’m going to fall into the water down there.

Which he promptly did with an explosive splash.

It wasn’t so high up that he was badly hurt, but Wild was still thrown for a loop, and found himself crashing down a river with little sense of which way was up.

Water got in his mouth and he spluttered, trying to spit it out and also get his head above the surface so he could breathe. The current was fast here though, and Wild couldn’t do much except flail around like a drunk Zora.

Wait, could Zora get drunk?

He actually had no clue.

The current got suddenly faster, and Wild breathed in some water as he got smacked against the rocks, coughing and hacking as he struggled to get any air. He managed a wet gasp when his head briefly poked up, but then he was pulled under again.

Air wasn’t the only thing Wild had gotten when he went up though— he’d also gotten a sight of the river up ahead. And at the sight of the waterfall rapidly approaching, his struggles grew even more frantic.

I need to reach shore, he thought as he continued to cough and claw his way to the river’s edge in a panic. I need to reach shore now, I need air I need—

The angle of the water shifted, and Wild was shot out of the waterfall, the rapid change in direction making his head spin.

He found himself in open air, water still in his lungs, and he clumsily grabbed for his paraglider as the lake below rapidly approached. Wild managed to snap it open just in time, but he didn’t manage a good grip on the handle.

His arm slipped, and Wild slammed into the sand near the shore, a choked yell escaping him as pain blazed up his shoulder.

All he could do was cough up water for a minute and catch his breath, trying not to wrench his shoulder more. Something was broken in there; he wasn’t sure if it was his shoulder itself or his arm or collarbone, but it hurt. He could barely move without his whole arm lighting up in agony, and hoped blearily that none of the others had suffered the same fate as him.

Then he heard a splash behind him, and his stomach sank.

Had one of the others fallen in the portal already? Or was it something else? That hadn’t sounded big enough to be a splash from something falling from the waterfall, but then again, he could be wrong.

“There, look!”

The voice sounded familiar, but Wild couldn’t place it over the sound of the water behind him and the blood rushing in his ears. He tried to raise himself up, and pain tore across his senses, and for a minute all he could focus on was the fire ripping through his shoulder.

“—know who he is? He looks just like—”

“—in the water, don’t—”

Two voices floated around his head as the fire eased, and Wild took a deep breath, opening his eyes again. His hair had fallen in his face, and between that and his blurry vision he couldn’t see much, especially through the damp strands. Unless he moved again, but that seemed like a bad idea.

Wild groaned, blinking to try and get the hair away from his eyes, but he barely succeeded. His wet hair slipped to the side, but all he could make out were two blobs, silhouetted by the sun shining behind them.

Then he heard a soft gasp, and the sound of a weapon being drawn.

“How is this—”

“This has trap written all over it,” a different voice than the first interrupted, soft, but sharp. Cold steel nudged Wild’s chin, and he stiffened. “Don’t go near him.”

The other voice made a worried noise as Wild weakly coughed. “I don’t think he would have fallen down a waterfall on purpose and hurt himself like this if that were true.”

“It could still be a trick.”

“I know... but we won’t get any answers if he’s too dazed to speak.”

Wild heard a huff, then the sound of footsteps padding towards him in a familiar way. A hand settled over his shoulder, and Wild groaned again, a soothing noise coming from the voice.

“Hold on just a moment.”

Then a feeling like that of a gentle stream swept over his shoulder, quiet and small, but carrying the mighty power of water along with it. Wild automatically relaxed, sinking into the bubbly feeling. A blue light flickered in his vision, healing his shoulder in a familiar way, and Wild relaxed even further before he abruptly stiffened again.

Wait...

The smooth magic trickled into his middle, down to where his lungs were still burning from the water he’d inhaled. It soothed the ache, and though Wild still felt exhausted, he could tell his shoulder had been completely fixed as well. Even the various scrapes and bruises from the fight before the river had been healed.

Which meant...

The bubbly rush of magic faded away, Wild’s vision fully cleared, and his stomach dropped out.

Red scales. Yellow eyes. A petite figure covered in scales that were smooth and shiny in the sunlight, and healing magic that was fading from slender hands.

“M... Mipha?” Wild choked out.

The Zora woman (it couldn’t be Mipha, it couldn’t—) gave him a concerned look, but before Wild could do or say anything further, the steel was back at his neck.

Wild stilled, and followed the blade resting at his neck up to the person holding it. His already fast heartbeat tripled, and he choked for a second time.

The person holding a blade at his throat was himself.

His double’s hair was much shorter, pulled back into a neat ponytail, and instead of the champion’s tunic he was wearing the Zora armor Wild had received. His eyes were steely as he watched Wild, but the most shocking thing about him was the fact that the right side of his face was entirely smooth.

He didn’t have a single one of the scars that had killed Wild.

I’m unconscious. I’m dreaming. I hit my head on a rock and I’m hallucinating—

“Explain yourself. Who are you?” his double demanded, not appearing to notice how Wild’s world was caving in on itself. Wild stared, and coughed once, still feeling tired from his fight with the river, and just... unable to process this. What could he even say?

What was going on?

“I asked you a question, who are you? What are you doing in Zora’s Domain?” his double repeated, voice even sharper.

Mipha sucked in a worried breath as she stared at Wild, and touched the double’s arm. “Oh no, did... did a little guardian bring you?” she asked, and Wild stared at her, her words jumbling in his head as he stared.

Mipha.

Mipha was alive here. Wild was alive here, and missing his scars, and wearing the Zora armor that Mipha had crafted to give to him as a—

“Wh... who are you?” Wild whispered, throat suddenly dry as bone. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was just a mistake, a strange coincidence, but he— he had to know. He had to know.

“We asked you first,” Link’s double replied suspiciously, and Mipha set a hand on his shoulder.

“Link, he was just injured and half-drowned, I believe he’s confused. If he were here to kill us, he already would have tried,” she said pointedly, studying Wild with an intent look. “I think he looks too much like you to be a coincidence.”

“It could still be a trick. A Yiga or something,” his double said suspiciously. Wild didn’t blame him. That did sound like something the Yiga would do.

“But why add the scars and long hair?” Mipha countered, and the double looked frustrated.

“To confuse us, I’m sure there’s a motive. He’s probably here for you, you know you’re—”

“If you say “at risk” again Link, I will set Sidon on you,” Mipha said with a little huff, and turned back towards Wild with a kind-if-cautious look. “My apologies. I am Princess Mipha of the Zora, and this is my husband, Link.”

The words were like a slap, even though Wild knew they were coming.

Husband. Mipha. Zora armor.

Husband.

Link.

Wild would have fallen over backwards if he’d been upright in any way, and he stared between Mipha and his double, wondering if he was about to be sick.

They all knew the portals were transporting them through time. Wild had been a part of Time and Wind’s discussion on fractured timelines, and they all knew that there were splits and sections where the history of Hyrule didn’t make sense.

But this...

Was this a timeline where Wild hadn’t failed?

Mipha’s face grew more worried the longer Wild stared at them without speaking, and even his double started to look a little concerned.

“Did I miss an injury?” Mipha asked, scooting closer again, and Wild froze as she approached.

“No, no you got— you got everything,” Wild choked out. He felt perfectly healthy apart from being tired and his falling-apart mental state, just like if he’d used Mipha’s grace. Even though he hadn’t used it in nearly a year because the champions were finally at rest and they’d passed on and Mipha—

Wild lurched to his feet, using a rock for support, and immediately the other Link’s blade was raised again.

“Stay where you are,” he said sharply, and Wild stumbled backwards towards the water. His double’s face grew fierce and he leapt around him and blocked him off from the river. “I said stay where you are! We’ve told you who we are, now tell us your identity or I will treat you as a threat.”

Wild stilled, and swallowed. He might as well explain.

“I’m... well, Link,” he began, and the other Link didn’t move. “You... probably figured that out. I... I don’t know how I got here— I mean, I do, but it wasn’t on purpose, I-I... I don’t know what you mean about a guardian, but one didn’t bring me here.”

Wild looked at Mipha again, and swallowed thickly, his eyes stinging.

“This isn’t a trap. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not here to hurt you,” he croaked, and the other Link pulled his sword back just a hair. “I— my companions and I are traveling through time, but... I think something went wrong,” he finished in a whisper.

We’ve never had anything like this happen with the portals before.

Did the Shadow do this?

“Time travel...” Mipha said thoughtfully, and exchanged a loaded look with the other Link.

His face had creased further, but in a different way, and he finally pulled the sword away from Wild’s neck. He kept it at the ready though, and watched Wild intensely.

“How did you get here?” he asked again, a little less accusatory and a little more curious.

Wild exhaled. “It’s a long story... but it was through a portal,” he said, deciding he would just... ignore what was going on for now. It was that or completely freak out, and he wanted to know more before passing out due to shock. “My group is hunting a Shadow, one ripping holes in time. We’re trying to stop him.”

“So no Terrako then?” Link questioned, and Wild shook his head in confusion.

“No? No... Terrako. Just portals that sometimes spew powerful monsters.”

Link and Mipha both stiffened.

“These monsters, do they have darkened blood?” Mipha asked, and Wild nodded. “Oh my. We’ve seen some up in the highlands, remember that moblin, Link?”

Link grimaced. “Yes. What a disaster. We assumed it was just leftover magic from Astor or something of that nature, not... time travel related. Bazz is still recovering.” He paused for a second, then his eyes went wide and he whipped his head back towards Link. “You said you came through a portal that expels these monsters?”

“Yeah, from upriver somewhere,” Wild nodded. “But it’s not sending out monsters right now. I fell through it, then fell right in the river.”

Link frowned. “So no monsters were coming out when you went through?”

“No, they were all on the other side, my group was fighting their leader. But I don’t know—”

“Papa?”

Link froze, and Mipha looked worried as Wild turned around towards where the voice had come from.

A young, orangey colored Zora was poking his head up from the water, and he looked between Wild and Link, a wide look on his face.

“Papa?” he repeated in a curious voice, and Wild stared, studying the little Zora’s features.

“Stay in the water, Ty,” Link said seriously, and the Zora hesitated, eyes darting between Mipha and Link and Wild. Then he hopped out and scurried over to stand next to Mipha. He hid behind her leg and watched Wild with large blue eyes, and Wild began to shake, recognizing them as his own.

Oh Hylia, haven’t you put me through enough?

Mipha put a hand on Ty’s arm, and he continued to watch Wild, his expression concerned as he studied his face.

“Papa... hurt?” he said worriedly, and Link shifted around so he was standing beside him, and placed a hand on his head.

“No, I’m not hurt,” Link reassured, and Ty switched to clinging to his leg instead, still staring at Wild. His orange scales shone brightly in the sunshine, like the last rays of light before the sun set.

“Wh... who is...?” Wild choked out, and Mipha gave him a look that was as conflicted as he felt.

“This is our son. Tyde,” she explained gently, like she knew the words would hurt.

They did, hitting Wild like a laser, and he felt a mixture of longing and wonder and grief so intense he was nearly sick.

Tyde was small, and as he shifted around the other Link’s leg, Wild saw that his left arm was shorter than it should be, the fins the wrong size. He had Wild— Link’s eyes, and his frame was proportioned more like a Hylian, but he had golden-orange and white scales all along his body, and had the Zora tail on the back of his head.

All in all, he was exactly what Wild would expect a child of his and Mipha’s to look like.

A tear fell down Wild’s cheek without his permission, and he sank back down to his knees, overwhelmed. He was married here. He had a child here.

This was what would have happened if he hadn’t failed?

This was how much Mipha had loved him?

Wild began to shake, and barely even noticed as Mipha approached and knelt beside him, so lost was he in his own mind.

“You’re from the world the older Sidon came from, aren’t you,” Mipha said quietly, and Wild shakily raised his head to look at her. “I... doubt he remembered in order to tell you. Zelda theorized they all wouldn’t recall anything from their time here.”

Wild gave a small shake of his head, and Mipha sighed.

“It’s complicated I’m afraid, but we’ve dealt with time travel before,” she explained. “And me and Sidon, we... we talked a little, about things. He said that in his time the champions were slain, and that you nearly were along with us. But you were placed in a sleep for one hundred years in order to heal, and then you saved the princess.”

Wild nodded mutely, and Mipha’s face turned further grieved. She carefully reached forward, and Link couldn’t help his flinch as her cool palm rested on his cheek, right over his scars.

The other Link behind Mipha had gone white, his sword finally lowered. Tyde tugged at his pant leg, and Link wordlessly picked him up, holding him tightly to his chest as he locked gazes with Wild.

Wild could only imagine what was going through his head.

Mipha wiped the tear off Wild’s cheek then withdrew her hand, giving him the same smile that he barely remembered from a hundred years ago. It almost made Wild fully break down, but he choked back his tears. He didn’t want her to feel like she had to comfort him.

“I’ll h-have to hear about this adventure Sidon had,” he said, managing not to make his voice sound too watery. “Sounds like it w-was something.”

“It was,” Mipha said quietly. “He always spoke so highly of you.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but Wild’s double spoke up then, Tyde still nestled up to his chest.

“In your world, we... lost?” he asked in a quiet voice, and Wild swallowed thickly.

“We... did. I failed,” he whispered, not looking at Mipha. “The champions... our weapons turned against us. Overwhelmed us. I only survived because of a Sheikah invention that took a hundred years to work so I could fix my failure. So many died...”

He took in a shuddering breath, and looked at Mipha and his double again, their child still watching him intently.

“But you won here. You did it, you won—”

Wild’s voice choked off, and he barely noticed Tyde tug on his father’s sleeve, trying to get his attention. He did notice when Tyde pointed at Wild though, his brow scrunched up.

“Hurt,” he said with another tug, and for some reason that one small word made Wild lose the rest of his composure.

Suddenly it was too much, the sight of himself holding his and Mipha’s child, Mipha herself sitting beside him, her hand on her husband’s arm. It was a family Wild never had, never would have, and the fact that there was a timeline somewhere where Wild hadn’t failed them, where they had the opportunity to exist, it was just—

A small sob escaped him, and he pulled back, his shaking starting up again. Before he could bolt though, Tyde suddenly squirmed out of his father’s arms and padded over to Wild. Wild froze as he put a tiny hand on his arm, and when Wild looked down at him, he ran his hand up and down for a moment before nodding.

“Better,” he declared, then scampered back to Wild’s double.

Wild could only stare, tears dripping down his cheeks as Tyde climbed back into his father’s arms.

“He’s seen me heal before, he thinks he can too,” Mipha explained with a faint smile. “He does that whenever anyone cries, he thinks they’re hurt.”

A thick laugh burst from Wild’s throat, and he smiled shakily through the tears only running faster down his face. Tyde kept watching him, and Link swallowed back the gigantic lump in his throat in order to speak.

“Thanks,” he managed through his tears, and Tyde gave him a shy smile before hiding his face in Link’s chest.

Wild breathed out shakily, shuddering with a sob he tried not to let escape, and Mipha and his double stayed quiet as they let him cry, Tyde quietly watching them all. Mipha put her hand on his arm at one point, and Wild only cried harder, wishing he could remember her more, wishing she hadn’t died, wishing he didn’t even know what.

He merely cried, and Mipha let him, a different version of himself watching in pale-faced silence.

That was where Wolfie found them barely a quarter hour later, Wild’s eyes red as he quietly explained more about the infected monsters, Mipha and his double asking worried questions about what was going on, Tyde resting against his knee.

And nine Links became ten.

132 notes · View notes

eqt-95 · 1 month ago

Text

day 2 | courage / trust issues

supercorptober / whumptober the master list

There were clues. Hints and moments. Together it made the end more inevitable, but like time, those hints and moments often just seemed like life until cast under hindsight’s guise.

“Are we going to talk about this?” Kara asked, following closely through the apartment door. She tossed her jacket onto the back of the stool-back and watched Lena’s focused expression fixed on the glow of her cell phone’s dim light.

Her thumbs tapped without interruption.

“Lena?”

tap tap tap tap

“Lena.”

Lena dropped her phone onto the kitchen island and reached for her laptop. Kara watched, perplexed, dumbfounded, and with an unhinged jaw as Lena’s attention turned to the brighter, larger screen. It made the apartment seem darker.

“Is this because I ate that tray of potstickers?” Kara continued. Her hands found confidence poised on her hips. “Because I asked the caterers before and they-”

“What?” Lena asked, her focus broken to interrogate Kara standing across from her. “You what?”

Kara rolled her eyes and flipped the lightswitch, earning a small squint of adjustment and nothing more.

“Did I do something wrong?” Kara prompted, the whine barely concealed under the question.

“Are you really-”

The forgotten phone buzzed, lighting up with an incoming call. Lena reached for it, confused expression never leaving Kara as she answered.

“Jess, hi… Yes, yes, please… No, only once we have NCFD’s approval. I don’t want to activate the nanobots until then… Before midnight if possible. Reconstruction will take at least…” tap tap tap “four hours; maybe five. Any wiggle room before rush hour is a luxury we need… Thank you; keep me posted.”

Kara balked. “This is about the overpass accident?”

“Can we do this later?” Lena asked, though it wasn’t a question. Her attention had already returned to the computer. “I’ve never simulated this kind of infrastructural engagement-”

“You’re really picking a freeway over our relationship?”

“A two hour pause in an argument will have far less implications on the trajectory of our lives together when stacked against the risk of a failed structural intervention, so if that’s how you want to frame it, then yes: I’m picking the freeway.”

“So we are fighting,” Kara huffed.

“We are doing nothing until I get these things programmed-”

“It’s a block of concrete, Lena. It can wait.”

Lena hunched forward against the counter. There was exhaustion in the tired way her jaw worked and reworked until the words felt right. “It is not just a block of concrete.”

“Then what is it? Why are we fighting?”

A tired thumb and forefinger squeezed the bridge of Lena’s nose. “You can’t keep choosing me. You can’t…” a slow breath, “eleven people died tonight. Three are in critical condition. Another four dozen sustained injuries-”

“And that’s my fault?” Kara asked instinctively, defensively; with shoulders straightening and eyes narrowing.

“No, Kara, of course it isn’t your fault, but,” Lena sighed. She sighed because this wasn’t the first time; she knew it wouldn’t be the last. She hated that but didn’t know any other way than to persevere; to echo the words of Rita Mae Brown like a broken record. “Countless others were trapped. J’onn and Nia were there, but first responders were overwhelmed.”

“I wasn’t on duty-”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is it?” Kara asked, a familiar impatience rising in her voice.

“You could have helped.”

Kara flushed and clenched her jaw. “I was celebrating my wife’s big night; her accomplishments-”

“I don’t need to be celebrated, Kara,” Lena said with familiar exasperation. “Especially not when it means ignoring people who could be saved.”

“So I’m supposed to put every part of my life on hold and just courageously carry the banner of a tireless hero?” Kara growled. “There will always be people who need saving. There will be people tomorrow and next week and next decade and next century.”

“And that’s what, an excuse for inaction?”

“I can’t be everywhere-”

“That’s not even what I’m asking for.”

“Then what? What do you want from me? You want me to promise I’ll choose nameless strangers over you? That I should stand with one foot out the door, perpetually waiting for something to interrupt a dinner or a movie or a holiday?”

“Kara-”

“Or better yet: should I promise that, given the choice between a bullet barreling toward you and Mrs. Fischer, I’ll pick Mrs. Fischer? Because I’m not doing that.”

“Even if you promised it, I wouldn’t trust it,” Lena shot back.

The moment of honesty slipped free, and Kara pressed her mouth into a tight line to conceal the tremble in her lip.

“I’ve got forever, Lena,” Kara replied, voice gravely with emotion. “So if it’ll make you happy, you can rest assured that the day after you're gone, I'll go back to saving all of those other people first.”

“That’s a heavy burden for a person to carry.”

“I guess it helps that I'm an alien then.”

“Except I'm not.”

- - - - day 3 | dress / set up for failure

#whelp! we've already gone off script #if you squint from a mile away with a blanket over your eyes you can see the prompts clear as day #supercorptober #whumptober #put them together and whaddya get?#superwhumpcorptober #supercorp fic

76 notes · View notes

ohtobeleah · 1 month ago

Text

Day Seven [The Hills Have Eyes]

Summary: Jakes mind plagues him with haunting memories at your funeral. Bradley is forced to come to terms with the fact he'll be Jake Seresins metaphorical punching bag for the rest of his life.

Warnings: Mentions of main character death. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Grief. Loss. Mental health issues. Jake hurting Bradleys feelings RELENTLESSLY.

Word Count: 1.5k

Whumptober Prompt Day Seven: Field medicine, running out of supplies, “Hold on, we’re going to have to improvise.”

Author Note: Please make sure you read the warnings provided. Disclaimer: I do not condone nor endorse the actions that are written about during the month of October. These works of fiction are just that, fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for this year's prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Bruises Masterlist

“Here, this is gonna sting, but we need to clean this up a little,” Some of the world’s top trauma specialists have proven that our brains may forget the traumas we’ve survived. But our bodies, especially our nervous systems, always keep score.

“Y-you have shitty craftsmanship Seresin,” You tried to lighten the incredibly hostile mood as Jake pressed a small bit of his peroxide-soaked Normex suit to your eyebrow. “But at least my eyebrow will match my botched-up thigh,”

“I didn’t inherit any sort of surgical skills from Pops, that’s for sure,” Jake had ripped a small amount of the dirty material from his leg after you’d sustained a rather large gash through your eyebrow from one of the guards. They’d pistol-whipped you just for the fun of it. Through the bars of your cells, Jake offered to do what he could to try and ward off infection with the very limited amount of medical supplies that the two of you had been given in your time in hell. “Hold on, we’re gonna have to improvise here, Hotshot,” Jake sighed as he pressed the soaked material to your eyebrow.

“Ah–!” You hissed as the liquid soaked into the deep wound that sliced through layers of skin and muscle right to the bone. “Fuck, you’d think I’d have a better pain threshold after everything huh?”

“You’re fine,” Jake chuckled back as he looked around to see if he had any sort of suture supplies left over from when he’d been tasked with stitching up your thigh. “When we get outta here I’ll have to make sure I brush up on my first aid and CPR,”

“Jake?” Memories are stored in our shoulders, spines, stomach, and hands, without us ever knowing. We assume a painful backache or shaky hand is harmless and random.

“Yeah?” Jake replied as he pulled the soaked bit of normex away from your eyebrow. He wished more than anything that he was on the same side of the bars as you were.

“I think your CPR skills are just fine,”

“Are you flirting with me right now Hollywood?” Jake smiled as he let the pad of his thumb trail across your cheek, taking shock of just how sunken your eyes had started to become. How tired and drained you really looked.

“Nothing else better to do, is there?” You smiled back, praying that you’d get to know a version of Jake Seresin that wasn’t a prisoner of war.

The pain we feel could always be more than random. It might be our bodies reminding us of what we’ve endured.

And warming us not to let it happen again.

“Y/n always had a way with words,” Jake’s hand shook as he held the piece of paper that held the key to his heart on it. The memories of you plagued his mind like a Rolodex suck in flip mode. No matter the time of day or night, you were on his mind. Jake swore he could feel you. He swore black and blue he could hear your laugh in the wind and see your smile on others. But in the night, in the depths of darkness when Jake’s mind would wander, he could only ever see you in that cell. Broken and bruised.

“Whether they were being yelled or softly spoken, she always had something to say about everything,” It was possibly the hardest address he’d ever had to give. Your Eulogy. “But I know I speak on behalf of everyone here today when I say, no matter what she had to say, everyone here would take the time to listen,”

Trauma doesn't tell time. It can't tell if we're eight or forty-one. If a kid has chicken pox or if you have the biggest, most challenging recovery ahead of you. And when it sneaks up on us, it's easy to think that we're right back at square one.

“Y/n once took the time to coax me back from a platform I never even knew I was ready to jump from,” Jake’s words echoed into the valley below as a crowd of mourners paid their respects to your now-dead self. You could feel their sorrow as you watched from a distance, ready to move on to the next life. But someone was keeping you tethered to the real word. Someone wasn’t ready to let you go.

That someone being Jake Seresin.

“She said to me, one night when the memories of our shared trauma were all too consuming, that on the days when you miss someone the most, as though your memories are sharp enough to slice through skin and bone.” Jake took a moment to pause as a breeze rolled through the valley and carried fall leaves along in its path. He could feel you in every breath he breathed and every tear he cried. “Remember how they loved you. Remember how they loved you and do that for yourself.”

Jake wanted nothing more than to trade places with you right now. He knew that someday soon he’d reunite with you. The time he’d been given with you was a cruel, sick joke that whatever God at the wheel that day decided to play. He couldn’t blame himself, you’d told him time and time again that none of it had ever been his fault. But there was blame, and someone would take the full front of it. That someone was sitting right in the front row, alongside your father. Bradley Bradshaw.

“In their name, in their honour. Love yourself as they loved you. They would like that.” Jake paused as the sun peaked out from behind a collective of clouds that had somewhat shaded the hilltop on which you’d been buried. A non-traditional naval burial as Jake knew your wishes. You wanted to be at rest, at peace with your short time on earth. You had brought him here one afternoon to help him find solace. Jake thought to himself that it would be the perfect spot to spend all of eternity, in this life and the next.

“I never really understood, but standing here today, I realise now that ‘they’ was ‘her’ all along.” Jake again took a moment to collect himself as he took another deep inhale, reminding himself to breathe. “I will always live out the rest of my days in honour of you, my dear,” Jake meant every word he spoke. “Till my dying days,”

The truth is, even when our brain convinces us we're lost, if we try hard enough, our bodies will always remind us that there's a way back. And prepares us for whatever fight lies ahead.

“Jake, buddy, it’s time,” Rooster had known that Jake never left your eternal resting place during the wake. Everyone had paid their respects, everyone had said their final goodbyes. Jake though, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you on that hill all by yourself. What if you got cold? What if it started to rain? What if a storm rolled through, you hated thunder. What if you got lonely? He knew you were afraid of the dark.

So, Jake stayed. He stayed with you for hours, just sitting beside the newly laid dirt that was your grave.

“You can't stay here forever,” Bradley spoke softly as he crouched beside the broken shell of a man who was once Hangman. A confident, promising, highly skilled aviator. Now? Jake was just a broken man who had lost everything, his career, the love of his life, his passion for life.

All because he cared too much.

“You should be under that dirt, Bradshaw,” Jake shot back when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “It should have been you,”

It hadn’t been the first time, and it wasn’t about to be the last time that Jake took his grief out of Rooster. Bradley knew deep down that it couldn’t have been true. But as he sat beside the man who had been through so much pain, turmoil and torture, he thought perhaps there was an element of truth in those words.

“Let’s get you home, Hangman,” Bradley sighed as he heard the clap of thunder rolling in from a distance. Jake heard it too, he didn’t move. “Y/n wouldn’t want you to stay here like this. They win if you can’t bring yourself to stand up,”

Jake didn’t move, he wasn’t going anywhere. He simply stayed kneeling beside your grave with his head hung low in defeat.

“They won the minute we hit the fucking ground, Bradshaw,” Jake sobbed prolifically as he crumbled. Bradley caught the shattered mess of a man who was Jake Seresin, his wingman.

“I got you man,” Rooster sighed as he held Jake’s crying self in his arms. Right beside your grave as the storm rolled in. “I got you,”

“I’d give anything for it to be you!” Jake screamed as he felt Bradley tighten his grip around him, tethering him to the last remaining slither of his own sanity. “It should be you, not her!”

All Rooster did was hold his friend for dear life, silently crying with him. He knew how much grief coursed through his best friend’s veins. He’d felt it all his life. But this? This was something new entirely.

“I’d switch–” Was all Rooster said as Jake cried in his brother’s arms. “I’d switch–” He repeated as the tears Jake cried soaked into the Bradley suit pants. “Without any hesitation man, I’d switch,”

********************************

#ailesswhumptober2024 #ailesswhumptober #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman imagine #bruises // jake seresin #jake seresin whump

81 notes · View notes

jasmines-library · 25 days ago

Note

I think I visit your blog an unhealthy number of times bc it's just my go-to for some good old fashioned hurt/comfort and it's just. You are such an incredible writer 😭❤️!! could I request a batfam fic where the reader undergoes a depressive (or numb) episode/the vibe that comes with a character just falling down wordlessly on the couch and the other character saying "bad day?" and the character nodding and giving them a blanket // if this is too specific absolutely no worries, either :D! any and all characters are alright, thank you so much!! please take your time with the requests and I hope you have an awesome rest of ur day :]!!

Aww anon! That’s so cute! I hope you enjoy and I hope you’re doing okay! :)

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

WHUMPTOBER DAY TWENTY :Prompt: necrosis/wound cleaning.

Warnings: numbness and a depressive episode described.

Word count: 1k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER 2024

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

You had fallen into that pattern again. That dreadful, hateful pattern. It comes and goes in waves; Numbness followed by dark sadness that weighed heavily in the middle of your chest. Suffocating.

You couldn’t help it. You never could. The feeling would just wash over you all of a sudden. Hit you like a ton of bricks. And usually you felt like there was nothing you could do about it except let it play out its course. So, you spent much of your time alone. It didn’t help much. Being alone made you feel worse in many ways. You yearned for normality; Dick’s laughter and Damian’s small unamused grunts as he pretended to be interested in what was going on. You would have given anything to not feel this way again. But right now it was all too much. Even just moving felt like too much of an effort. So you remained numb up in your room, staring blankly at the ceiling.

You were sure you had traced the patterns in the ceiling at least a hundred times in the last day or so. It was that or overthinking. You couldn’t stop the influx of thoughts. They would come all at once all angry and disappointed. And you would ponder on them for far too long before they vanished just as quickly as they arrived, leaving you once again alone.

Your family had noticed your withdrawal. They had seen you in this state before and it broke their hearts to see you in it again, but they weren’t sure what to do. The Waynes aren’t exactly known for their emotional intelligence. They thought the next best thing to do was to give you some space, but to extend a hand if you asked for it. You never asked for it. You didn’t know how. And you didn’t want to be a burden to the rest of your family. So you remained silent.

One night, you had decided to venture out of your room. It was a quiet evening. Late autumn so the sun was already beginning to set despite the early hours of the afternoon. It had taken you a long while to decide that you wanted to move, but nevertheless you stood and moved towards your favourite spot; a place that you often found solace in. The armchair was large and plush and positioned by the window so that it caught the last slivers of golden light as they streamed through the window. You curled up on the plush leather, watching the trees shed their leaves and the sky turn a deep blue. It was a few hours later, when the stars had appeared in the sky, when the door cracked open. The figure was silent, save for their bare feet padding against the wooden flooring.

It was Jason who approached. He had a blanket slung over his shoulder and two steaming mugs of hot cocoa in his hands. He paused, studding you for a moment as you stared numbly out the window. He had seen you here before. It brought him a sense of deja vu that he’d rather not feel again. Taking a step forward, he let out a gentle sigh.

“Hey kiddo….” he started. You glanced up at him. Jason smiled sadly. It was a start. “Brought you your favourite. Thought you might be thirsty.”

He extended a mug towards you. It was topped with cream and marshmallows which were slightly melted. It was just how you liked it. Goddamnit. You took the mug from him and took a sip. The sweet liquid melted on your tongue.

“Thank you…” You said quietly before the two of you fell into silence. Jason watched you as you went back to staring out of the window, trying to gather the words to say. It was clear that he was worried; they all were. He just didn’t know how to make you feel better. If he could even make you feel better at all. He hated seeing you like this; so lost in the darkness of your own mind. He hated it not only because you were hurting, but also because he knew that feeling all too well. He knew how much it hurt. How difficult it was to feel anything but numb and self hatred.

“Bad week again?” he asked gently.

You just nodded. Jason always seemed to understand without pressing you.

“Here…” he handed you the blanket, draping it over your shoulders.You hugged it tight around you, immediately overcome with the sense of familiar comfort.

Jason didn’t say much more after that and you even less. But he took a seat on the armchair across from you before curling up with his book. It was a simple but effective gesture to show that he was there for you without overwhelming you. You glanced at him, taking a sip of your drink. And for the first time in what felt like forever you began to feel again.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

<- DAY NINETEEN⛧ DAY TWENTY ONE->

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

TAGS:

@hearts4robs @kingshitonly @alicedawitchbish @hell-o-kittys @azure-drag0ness @harleycao @thewhispersofthewaves @batfamsstuff @xxrougefangxx @rosecentury @noisymutantherelol @killxz @rhiodes @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @canthavetoomuchchaos

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

#whumptober 2024 #whumptober24 #whumptober2024 #whumptober #whumptober 24 #no.20 #emotional whump #healing wounds #batfam x reader #depression #jason todd x reader #batfamily x reader #jason todd #whump #angst #enemies to friends #dc #numbness #emotional hurt

95 notes · View notes

kybercrystals94 · 20 days ago

Text

Six Weeks (pt. 2)

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 25 - Prompt: Being Monitored

Rated: T | Words: 1047

<<Previous Part || Next Part>>

A/N: I thought this would just be a two part story; however, it looks like there will be at least one more chapter ;-;

When Hunter returns home from the clinic, AZI in tow, he finds that his brothers have moved Omega to the common room. Even though he quite literally watched her grow up, it still feels jarring to see a grown woman where his small child used to be. She is entirely different and wholly the same.

“...that is the most idiotic plan I’ve ever heard,” Crosshair is saying.

Omega is laughing. “No, no, you can’t say that. You forget that I’ve heard about your stupid stunts during the war.”

“Not even all of them!” Wrecker booms.

“Thank you, Wrecker, you’ve made my point!”

AZI whirs around Hunter. “Omega! You are alive!”

Omega smiles at the little droid. “Of course, I am, AZI. Just some bumps and bruises.”

“That is not what Hunter said,” AZI tells her. “He provided me with a list of your injuries.”

“I’m sure he did,” Omega groans good naturedly.

Omega is wearing her shorts and one of Wrecker’s old shirts she’d changed into last night. The bandage Hunter applied to her thigh last night still looks clean and undisturbed at least, although in the full daylight, he can see the ugly discoloration of bruising littering her arms and legs, knicks and cuts on her face. The wounds are so reminiscent of his own and his brothers’ during the war that he glances away before he can think about it too much.

“Omega was just telling us about her TIE Fighter incident,” Crosshair says from his perch on the arm of the couch.

Omega huffs. “Yeah, and now the Empire is down a TIE Fighter and an outpost.”

“Yeah they are!” Wrecker crows, and reaches over to ruffle Omega’s already disheveled hair.

“Don’t encourage her, Wrecker,” Crosshair sighs.

“Why not? She’s fine, isn’t she? You did good, kid!”

“But we’d rather you didn’t do it again,” Hunter puts in.

“It wasn’t the original plan, I had to improvise,” Omega says. “Trust me, I never do anything reckless unless I have no other choice.”

Hunter knows it’s true, but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept, especially when the choice she made could have ended so much worse.

AZI fusses at the bandage, unwinding it to examine the injury for himself. Crosshair and Wrecker watch, but Hunter knows exactly what they’ll see.

Omega said that a piece of the ship’s console had embedded into her leg during the crash. She pulled it out and applied pressure, wrapping a piece of her undershirt around it. Another member of her unit saw the collision and went in to retrieve her. She admitted that she had passed out, lost a lot of blood, and spent several days in medical before Hera cleared her to return to Pabu to finish recovery.

How much of this Omega has told their brothers, Hunter isn’t sure.

Knowing what will be exposed the moment AZI removes the bandage does not ease the twist of awful of revulsion in his gut when he sees it. Suddenly, Omega is that little girl again, freshly rescued from Kamino, so small and helpless…and hurt. Hurt so badly that she could have bled to death had help not been right there.

His chest feels tight, the air thick and unbreathable. His siblings are talking, AZI’s mechanical voice rattling off a treatment plan. But the words are just sounds, syllables meaningless. Hunter feels like a coward when he has to turn and leave the house. He knows Omega isn’t a child anymore, that she has made her own choices, with her own risks.

But his purpose…she has been his purpose for so long. How can he just let her go, let her risk the entire life they built for her? Why does she have to be a hero? Why can’t she just be safe? With them?

“Hunter?” Omega calls after him, the lilt of her accent so familiar it hurts.

He knows he’ll be back. He’ll always come back.

But for now, at this moment, he can’t trust that his emotions will stay in check as he’s carefully arranged them all these years.

Crosshair and Wrecker will keep her safe until he returns and takes the watch.

Omega shifts, trying to turn her body to watch their brother leave. “Hunter?” she calls again.

“He needs a minute,” Crosshair says, not able to tear his own gaze from the ugly, uneven gash on his sister’s leg. It could be worse, probably was worse. But it is bad, no matter how Omega tries to downplay it.

“He saw it last night,” Omega says, “he didn’t react like that at all.”

“It’s different when you’re not the one responsible for fixing it,” Crosshair tells her.

Omega’s lips press thin and she nods. He doesn’t like that she seems to know exactly what he means. She was the one carried out of the wreckage this time, but how many times has it been her pulling a companion from the rubble? He knows she doesn’t tell them everything about her work with the Rebellion. Partially out of obligation to secrecy, and another part a misplaced obligation to protect her brothers from worrying.

As if they’d done anything else since she left Pabu.

“You will be happy to know that the wound is healing as expected,” AZI says, bringing a fresh roll of wrap from his chassis. “Please continue to keep it clean and dry.”

“You got it, boss,” Omega says with a sloppy salute.

The droid blinks at her, yellow eyes flickering. “I am not your boss. I do not know who your boss is.”

Omega laughs. “I’m teasing you, AZI.”

“Oh,” the droid says, beginning to rewrap her leg.

Wrecker, who immediately became more subdued the moment they saw the worst of Omega’s injuries, says, “That’s gonna leave a pretty nasty scar.”

“Eh, that’s okay,” Omega says, shrugging her uninjured shoulder. “All the best people I know have scars.”

“Yeah, we do!” Wrecker laughs, and Crosshair smirks at the sappy grin that stretches across his brother’s face.

Their optimistic little sister strikes again, broken in body but not of spirit. Just like the stubborn kid she was all those years ago on Tantiss, refusing to leave him behind.

Perhaps she’s been carrying companions and brothers out of rubble for a long time.

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @arctrooper69 @groguandthebadbatch @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @dreamsight73 @royallykt @merkitty49 @blackseafoam @illogicaalbraindump

#whumptober2024 #no.25 #being monitored #Star Wars: the Bad Batch #fic #emotional whump #physical whump #angst #hurt/comfort #injury #Rebel Omega #Post Season 3 #TBB Hunter #TBB Crosshair #TBB Wrecker #TBB Omega

52 notes · View notes

ifitmeanslosingyouthenno · 30 days ago

Text

hold on (you must be hurting)

day 15 whumptober prompt: childhood trauma | painful hug | “i did good right?”

david was tired of his kids having to confess their darkest secrets for the entire world to judge and know and scrutinize

first it was the twins during aaron's trial, now it was neil for nathan's

it was fucking unfair to have his kids have to relieve their nightmares for the sake of proving they were only trying to save themselves

at least, with the twins, they had their small and unconventional family, they had nicky, they had their respective partners, they had betsy (andrew had betsy)

david could at least breathe knowing that they had someone to rely on, someone who could hold them up when they felt like falling, someone who could get them back together after it was over

after aaron was declared innocent thank fuck

david can't have the same reassurance about neil

not after his resident danger magnet decided he didn't want anyone with him during the trials up in dc, not even andrew

something that andrew obviously didn't appreciate

but david tried to understand him, even if his motives are stupid, tried to understand how hard it is for him to relieve every one of his father's crimes he remembered, tried to understand how he didn't want them to look at him and see his father, or worse, see his father's son

he was going to be there for the kid when he got back and innevitably broke down, when he forced his exhausted body on the court to get all that stress out until he couldn't go any longer

he was going to make sure both him and andrew were okay and well and safe

at least that was his plan until the redhead himself calls him one night before he's meant to return, voice shaky and smaller than he has sounded in years

"hi coach, i know it's kinda sudden, but can you come to dc tomorrow?"

it brings back harsh memories, of a new years eve turned sour in the form of a beat up neil, of a marked neil against his will

"what time do you want me there kid?"

he says kid out of habit, but neil hasn't ever felt quite as child-like as he does when he sighs out of relief loud enough the phone picks it up

"i have to be at the court at 8"

he doesn't have to say it, david hears the "can you be here before that?"

"text me the address kid"

david just lets matt know he's going to have to act as coach and captain for tomorrow, avoids answering why, just tells matt he'll give him a bottle of whatever he wants when he gets back

he has the decency to let andrew know as well, that he's had an emergency with one of his recruits out of the state that he needs to take care of

david knows that andrew suspects something is going with neil, but is counting on his refusal to ask for things, not to mention his deep respect for neil setting a boundary

he gets two of hours of sleep at most, and leaves just at midnight, making the seven hour drive up to DC with enough coffee in his system he doesn't even feel tiredness pull at him

neil is waiting for him in the lobby of the shitty hotel they stashed him in, a couple of too obvious feds around him, failing to pretend they aren't there to protect him

it makes david's blood boil

neil looks small sitting on a too big chair, picking at his cuticles hard enough that david would bet he's bleeding

at the motion of his entrance, neil looks up, and david's heart clenches in his chest at the sight of his bloodshot eyes and the deep bags under them. he's practically swimming in andrew's oversized jersey, and despite it not making sense, he looks as if he's lost weight in the past 4 days

neil's hands are twitching, and it takes everything in david not to reach for him and hold him close, but instead he thanks his foresight of buying him a breakfast muffin and a fruitcup in a diner he found on his way, and he hands neil the takeout bag

neil takes it with shaky fingers, silent, but his eyes speak enough in his stead

david doesn't push him

"i see the feds still suck at blending in"

that brings the smallest of smiles to neil's face, and he opens the takeout bag, staring at the muffin and the diced fruit with eyes bright and emotional, before taking a deep breath

"tell me what i've missed"

it's the only words neil speaks the entire time they're in that hotel lobby or on the ride over to the court, but david is more than happy to distract him with talks of practice the last 4 days

he makes sure to also let him know about how andrew and his foxes have been doing, about how they've been safe

the next thing he knows, they're entering a courtroom, mood somber and cold and wary

david sees the change in neil, sees the way he doesn't seem like he's there at all, but somewhere else entirely, and he talks over the things he's been and the horrors he's lived through as if they happened to someone else, as if it doesn't affect him still

if nathan wesnisnki and his circle weren't dead, nothing would stop david from going after them himself, not after everything they put neil through, not after they hurt him as bad as they did, not after they tortured him as a literal fucking child

he can't ever imagine being so cruel, being such a fucking piece of trash as a human, that you willingly abuse and torture and almost kill your own fucking child

he wouldn't imagine killing your child's mother in front of them, just for daring to want to get a chance at a better life, away from violence and crime and everything the wesninski and moriyama families did

(even if to david's knowledge, mary hatford was no saint either)

he's shaking with anger once they let neil walk off that stand, looking defeated and half gone and suffering

he wants nothing more than to jump that wooden barrier and get to neil’s side as he sits by the fbi agents protecting him

he has to stop breathing when almost shily, neil looks up and searches for david's gaze, meeting his eyes just enough that his shoulder lower oh so minutely, but it's everything

they go on a break, one where neil silently sits curled up in the corner of the bathroom, one of his guards with his back to the door, and one of david's cigarettes clutched tightly between shaky fingers

david himself aches for one, but he knows neil needs them more than him, even if he doesn't actually smoke them

from then on, neil is only called up to the stand one last time, and he looks so bone deep exhausted david is trembling with rage

how dare they make his kid tell them all of this again? hasn't he been through enough? hasn't he told them enough? what more could they possibly need?

and how dare they demand this from him?

by the time they let him stand, his legs are shaking so bad he stumbles once and has to catch himself on the stand, leaving the judge to stare at him with pity

where was that pity when they were forcing him to retell the worst moments of his life?

the moment the judge announces that nathan wesninski is found guilty of first degree murder of at least 34 people, at least the same amount of kidnappings, torture, fraud, withholding information from a federal investigation, and many other things, david is sprinting towards the flimsy doors separating him from his kid

he has no idea what neil needs right now, but whatever it is, he's going to be by his fucking side, he's not letting these bastards torture him any longer

neil is looking for david too, and it makes something in him break when he looks at those eyes brimming with tears

neil surprises him when he throws himself at david's chest, all but collapsing with his arms around his waist before david can even blink

neil josten is hugging him

neil josten who once upon a time flinched away from him when he moved too fast, neil josten who has the worst things in life associated to men old enough to be his father, neil josten who has never seeked out support this explicitly

the same neil, his neil

it's not until he notices neil's shuddering breaths, that he breaks out of his shock, and pushes past the discomfort, pushes past his own walls, pushes past his hurt, and he throws his arms over neil's shoulders as gently as he can

he feels neil trembling, doesn't know if it's out of grief, or pain, or shock, but he does his best to be what he needs, awkwardly soothing him with gentle movements

it doesn't last more than a minute or two, before neil is pushing away softly, gathering his strength to stand up on his own, breathing steady despite it all

his voice remains soft, softer than david has come to associate with him, closer to a whisper than anything else, and neil can't quite stop the waver in it

"i did good right?"

and david wants to scream, wants to curse the world who has hurt his kid so badly, wants to scream at the fbi for being unable to find proof of everything that bastard ever did before it was this late, wants to scream at them for not protecting neil sooner

he takes a deep breath and doesn't do any of that, doesn't let his expression be true

he places a hand on neil's shoulder, easing some more of that tension off his small frame

"yes you did kid, i'm really proud of you, you know?"

neil doesn't quite smile, but his eyes finally soften, finally ease

david doesn't understand how anyone could never hurt his children

because they were his, even if he didn't dare admit it, even if some were the biggest assholes on the planet, even if some were problematic beyond repair, even if some just couldn't stop themselves from tauting the literal fucking mafia

they were his children, david's, and he would rather chop off his own hands than hurt them

he would give his own life to keep them safe

he would do anything for them

"come on kid, let's go home"

(he would never admit that his bond to neil was different than that with anyone else, not even to himself)

idc if it's ooc for neil to hug wymack, they're father and son to me and neil wants to hug wymack and who am i to stop him, you can pry dadmack from the cold hands of my corpse title from son by palace (hugely recommend it for the purpose of this day's vibes)

#aftg #all for the game #aftg fic #whumptober #whumptober 2024 #aftg hc #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #david wymack

43 notes · View notes

1u11ablues · 1 month ago

Text

1/ Claustrophobia (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)

Prompt: Race against the clock, Search Party, Panic Attack

Warnings: Claustrophobia, bleeding.

“They’re coming,” his voice echoed from somewhere in the near distance, peeping over what space he could find in between the boulders, stacking atop each other in what spells your death sentence.

When you came out to this mission with Ghost, your ex, you didn’t expect to find yourselves sealed within a cave you both thought would shelter you from the onslaught of firefight outside it, smattered around the dense forest.

His breathing laboured. You suspected some broken ribs, even if his figure remained vigilant on the covered entrance to look for a way out of there.

Yours laboured, well, because the absence of light was closing in on you. Breath shaky, your head began to spin.

“There’s not enough air in here,” you choked out, leaning back against the cave wall to force yourself to stay planted to reality.

Ghost dashed to your side and knelt with his mask hanging on his neck.

“Hey, sweetheart, you’re having a panic attack. I need you to breathe. Okay?”

It had been a while since you heard that tone coming out from him. You inhaled.

“Okay, good. Now hold and count to five. And then let go. Again.”

Of course, panicking would be the least useful activity to be doing when air supply is in the low. Hyperventilating is going to use up more air, faster.

There is a reason he was quick to manage that.

“Price saw where we were headed. He knew,” he assured as he finally took a seat beside you. An invisible wall separating you from him, even as the space permitted none.

Your fate hangs on outside forces, that much you know about. What if the only witnesses to your whereabout perished in the fight? What if—after all that Ghost’s reassured you—there were no actual search parties out there looking out for two wayward soldiers?

His cough crackled.

“Ghost, you need to sit back. Were you hit in the chest?”

“The blast launched a rock at me before it sealed the cave.”

Shit.

“Sit tight and don’t move. Your insides could be tumbling loose for all I know.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbled, swatting your fussing hands away from his chest. As stubborn as the day you left him.

But this was no day to plead. The rooms closing in on you and anger is a much more palatable emotion than fear is.

“I’m not going to let you die because your head’s too hard. You’re not going to be a corpse before that entrance blows open, or I’m pissing on your fucking grave.”

He silenced. Well, he was steering to counter-attack your outburst, but thought twice when you shot him an empty glare—like you were almost going to give him up to the grim reaper yourself if his mouth moved an inch more.

“Where else are you hurt?” You asked after the silent battle settled.

Still quiet, he nudged his left leg to your sides. Your eyes scanned.

There, right on the side of his calf, there was a palm-sized cut with his blood already beginning to crust under the torn trousers he wore.

You gave him the choice of peeling off his trousers or you cutting off the section where he was hurt to see better. Surprisingly, he complied and did the former without further backtalk.

The cut wasn’t as bad as you thought it to be. It might require stitching, but no blood actively running down his calf means that it didn’t hit any important arteries.

“How very lucky of you that I carry bandages everywhere I go,” you whispered, hands patting your pockets to retrieve it.

In the back of your mind, the thought that you both might not make it out there alive had been persistent enough that you knew fussing about him was more than friendly concern at that point.

As you wrapped his legs up, your hands trembled.

“You can’t die. You can’t die, Simon.”

“I’m not going to die. Price is going to get us out.”

“Okay.”

“Hey,” he wrapped a hand around your wrist. “We’re getting out of here. Finish up with my leg so I can keep looking for any loose points.”

A/N: Joining Whumptober on my own terms! So I won't be tagging according to the system because I'm just doing this for fun (And it's more me doing prompts than going full whumpy)

#fanfic #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod mw2

34 notes · View notes

pigeonwhumps · 29 days ago

Text

Courtroom

MD-264N masterlist

So um. You may notice this is not my Whumptober story. This is bc my brain decided it would only write this today. But enjoy anyway! At least I'm writing more than a sentence or two again!

Taglist: @wolfeyedwitch @den-of-evil @dustypinetree @cardboardarsonist @skittles-the-whumpee

@whatwhumpcomments @whump-tr0pes @snakebites-and-ink @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds

@a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

An AU of MD-264N based on this prompt by @lumpywhump. Morgan goes on trial.

1.4k

CWs: living weapon whumpee, minor whump (discussed), past minor whump, meltdown, unintentional attempted self-harm (head banging), guns, gunshots

"I do solemnly, sincerely and truly declare and affirm that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

Asha glances across at Morgan worriedly. This is the make-or-break evidence of the trial, she's sure of it, she hasn't seen what Blue has to present but she's seen the medical aftermath of it, and she's seen Blue's reaction (she knows exactly when he cracked the files because that's when he brought her the widened cutlery for them, visibly seething). The problem is that Morgan hasn't visibly reacted to anything so far today, and Asha doesn't think that'll help in the eyes of the judges.

Also, against all medical advice, Morgan is standing for the trial. It's standard. They shouldn't be, not on that ankle, not if they don't want to make the permanent damage worse. They didn't even walk here, but apparently weapons don't get seating if they're being reprimanded, so they won't sit now.

But it's been hours, and Asha is really worried about that ankle.

Blue clears his throat and Asha snaps her attention back to him.

"As you all know, Morgan has been with the Regime's Ministry of Defence since they were eight. Within their file was video and written evidence dating back to then. Your Honours, you have the written reports in your evidence packs, but there's videos that I am going to show you chronologically." He clicks a remote control and the screen changes to the hallway of a normal-seeming family home, books and toys scattered around. The 'play' triangle is superimposed over it. "Morgan's parents were well-documented protesters, though by the time they were eight they'd both stepped back from the movement to raise their child. Morgan had several disabilities and powers, both of which put them in danger. They were known as Lili then, and this video, of their... I suppose you could say recruitment, if you want to follow the government's euphemisms, is the last evidence we have of them having a name rather than a serial number until Rhian Williams named them Morgan upon their arrival here. If I may play the video, Your Honour?"

The head judge nods, and the video starts.

There's a high-pitched giggle off-screen, and then a kid charges into view, holding a battered notebook with sticky bookmarks sticking out of the side.

Asha's breath hitches. This must be Morgan. They don't look eight. They're so small.

"Hey!"

Morgan – Lili? – giggles again. A woman runs in, grabbing Morgan around the middle and lifting them into the air. Their long brown hair flies around them, mixing with her light hair.

"Got you! Now give me my notes back!"

There's a movement in the courtroom and Asha glances over. Morgan's dropped to the floor. At first Asha thinks it's just their ankle, but then they get up, clawing at the thin wooden rail attached to the plexiglass sides. Their eyes are fixed on the screen, and at first they look no more emotional than before, but tears stream down their cheeks, and their hands tremble.

"No!"

The woman smiles and snatches the notebook. "Too late. Let's see what you've given me."

As the woman flips through the pages, Asha notices the subtitles for the first time and her breath catches in her throat. She was focused so much on Morgan she didn't notice the language switch – she's not sure how that happened. But Welsh. Morgan's Welsh. A different part of Wales to herself, it sounds like more of a borders accent to Asha's north Wales, but they're Welsh. Can they still speak it? Would it help them if she did? Make them feel less alone?

The woman's eyes widen. "Baby, you–"

A door latch clicks off-screen. "Honey, I'm home!"

Morgan grins and scrambles off the woman, running for the edge of the screen. "Tad!"

Their dad enters the video, catching Morgan around the waist and spinning them in a circle. "Hey little monster. How was your day?"

"I decorated mam's notebook! And I've been practicing my writing!"

"Here, have a look," says Morgan's mam, passing the notebook over with a smile. Their dad's grin widens.

"You wrote your name? And a whole sentence?"

Morgan nods enthusiastically.

"She did indeed. She also coloured in my notes at the same time, but I'm sure my professor won't mind too much."

Morgan's dad ruffles their hair. "Well, I think this calls for celebratory pancakes. Why don't you go and pick out the mould?"

Morgan nods and charges off-screen. Morgan's dad wilts and he runs a hand through his hair. Their mam kisses him.

"Hard day at work?"

"No kidding. I got the number for that specialist, but we don't have long. If anyone catches wind of Lili..."

"We don't have long. But let's leave today for celebrating Lili. 50p she chooses the Archimedes mould?"

"I'd be a fool to take that bet." He puts an arm around her shoulders and they wander off-screen. There's nothing for a minute, just a blank hallway with no sound. Whatever camera bug this is by the former regime, it's good quality.

"Hey baby, what'd you choose?"

"Archimedes!"

"Your favourite. Come and help me with–"

There's a fast, loud banging on a door. "Ministry of Defence! Open up!"

Someone curses. Morgan yelps.

"Lili, I will always love you. Now run. Just like we practiced."

"Mam? Tad? What's–"

"Go! We'll catch you up."

A running child's footsteps. Morgan's dad strides into the hallway and takes down a framed painting, unlocking the safe beneath it and passing a gun to their mum.

She cocks it. Was it already loaded in there? Who were Morgan's parents?

"I love you."

"And I you."

The door crashes in. The sound of gunshots fills the room, and not just from Morgan's parents. They–

"No!"

The scream is strangled and wet. Asha glances around to see Morgan on their knees, their head in their hands, rocking. They look devastated.

The video doesn't end there, as Morgan's dragged on-screen, kicking and screaming, smacked around the head until she stops, and all of this over her parents' bodies, splayed out on the wood, blood pooling around them.

There's a makeshift height chart just visible in the last shot, the pencil marks on the wallpaper sprayed with blood.

This video ends here, with Morgan's removal, but it's not the only one. Asha doesn't know how Blue can stand there and present these so calmly. There's one very soon after, with Morgan's head newly-shaved, a shock harness and mittens freshly fitted, and they look so cold. They're in shock, they're an orphan, but they're not allowed to grieve, the attitudes of the handlers makes that clear. They don't understand but nobody's giving them a chance to do so.

And so it continues. And so Morgan grows up. Never spoken of as a person, never given an inch, locked into the tiniest room, shocked until they stop moving, stop speaking. Stop resisting. Trained, punished. Taught to kill, punished when they resist, hesitate, react violently to the harsh sounds and movements and actions. Hurt until they stop hesitating, forget that they can, perhaps forget that they were ever anything but a weapon, forged in the fires of pain and desperation, purged of everything they don't actively need in an effort to survive.

But the nightmares never stop. They still haven't, Asha knows. She just didn't have the context until now.

Meanwhile, present-day Morgan is getting worse with every piece of evidence. Scrambling back when certain people come on screen, and freezing, and pleading with the videos when they think they're going to be punished. Their face is blotchy with silent tears, and they keen, rocking back and forth in distress from the latest video (active mission testing).

And then they start trying to bash their head against the plexiglass, and one of their guards has to restrain them. Asha should be there, she's their doctor, but she tries to stand and someone official shakes their head at her. It's not fair, she knows she's part of the trial, but she– she–

"They've survived worse, they'll be okay," whispers Rhian hoarsely. Asha nods, unable to speak. She should still be there.

She aches to go to them. She knew it was bad – only a fool would see a young person wearing an electroshock harness and think it wasn't – but she didn't realise it was this bad.

But she can't. She's not allowed, she can't risk the trial, they won't let her. All she can do is sit here and watch uselessly as Morgan's heart is ripped wide open, all over the very public courtroom floor.

#whump #whump writing #md 264n #morgan the weapon #asha the medic #blue the engineer #living weapon #living weapon whumpee #minor whump #disabled whumpee

30 notes · View notes

katyawriteswhump · 27 days ago

Text

omega found, omega lost #4

Chapter 1 on tumblr Chapter 2 on tumblr Chapter 3 on tumblr On AO3

Title: Omega found, Omega lost; Chapter: 4/5; WC: 2356; Rating: E; Tags: Steddie, Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, nightmares.

for whumptober prompts day 19: blood trail, abandoned cabin, one way out. day 20: emotional angst, and day 22: bleeding through bandages, day 26: nightmares, and day 27: voiceless (yes, whoops, that's a lot of whump!)

Chapter 4: "I have no mouth and I must scream"

Then came the shout: “Alpha—get away from the Omega. Come out now, and if he’s unharmed, we’ll spare you.”

Eddie jumped up, insides wrenching at the small distance between he and Steve, while Steve was so sick. He glanced around, loathing even to rip his eyes from the Omega.

Was there any other way out of the cabin? Could he somehow haul Steve over one shoulder and flee? He’d never wanted to be a clod-headed beefcake kind of Alpha. Right now, it could be helpful. If they could get out. He assessed only the one door and two windows, the closest of which was now shattered and letting in a sleety gale.

An impotent growl escaped him. He grabbed for his damp pants, hoiking them on. He might make it out alone, but he couldn’t leave Steve at the mercy of a baying pack. Even Steve’s own pack. Eddie trusted them less than ever. Was this it… was he gonna die?

All this streaked through his head in a few seconds. He’d not even started to properly lose his shit, before another shout boomed from outside:

“What the heck are you morons doing throwing rocks? What you gonna do next—burn the cabin down?”

Eddie recognised that rumbling voice. Jim Hopper, chief Alpha of the Hawkins pack. Yeah, Wayne always claimed he was a reasonable guy. The idea of handing over Steve to anyone, however trustworthy, gouged like a jackknife in Eddie’s gut. He dashed to the unbroken window, squatted down, and glanced out.

A couple of Alphas—oh, yeah, and Steve’s Beta dad—prowled the thawing snow, carrying rifles and sticks.

Nope. No sneaking out that way.

“You gonna open this door, Alpha, or do I kick it down?” Hopper hammered on the flimsy wood.

“I’m coming.” No choice. No damn choice.

Eddie dragged his shirt on, slunk to the door, pulled the bolt aside. Hopper barged in, and Eddie stood his ground between the larger Alpha and Steve—shoulders squared, fists clenched, his lips peeling back from his gums and his incisor-fangs quickening. He expected the larger Alpha to grab him or go straight for Steve. He wasn’t sure how he was gonna defend the Omega, only that he must.

Should he really make a dash for that shard of glass and slash it at Hopper’s throat?

Hopper’s attention latched straight onto Steve, and he made no sudden move. He closed the door behind, before the rest of the pack could swarm in, which was unexpected: “Christ, tell me he’s alive, Munson.”

Eddie was stunned enough to let Hopper pass.

“Yeah, he’s… he’s alive, okay?” Eddie hurried back to Steve’s side. “I found him caught in a hunter’s trap, and he was bleeding and scared and really, really cold.” Christ, in the minute since he’d unwound his body from Steve’s, the Omega’s lips had turned a worrying shade of blue. “Look, you gotta get him to a hospital. The rest of your pack can…”

Eddie trailed off, mouth hanging open. Stop thinking like a knot-head Alpha and think like Eddie Munson.

He wasn’t gonna beg to be torn to pieces, especially for so little ends. That said, Hopper appeared to have no intention of chewing his head off, at least not literally. Eddie shoulders and spine sagged, and his head drooped: “How many of your goons are out there?”

“There’s a dozen Betas and three more Alphas, all howling for your blood.” Hopper huddled Steve in the blanket and scooped him up into his arms. Eddie bristled at his own helplessness and a tinge of jealousy. “We didn’t even need the blood trail to follow! He’s letting off scent like he’s gone into heat, and we scented you too. Did you knot him?”

“No! I swear on my life.” His sudden fear for Steve proved the most painful stab yet. “You can’t let them punish him, man.”

Hopper effortlessly jostled Steve up a little, so Steve's lolling head rested against his shoulder. “The Omega is the least of your problems, Alpha. If it wasn’t for your uncle, I’d rip your throat out myself, apart from… this is as much my damn fault as yours.” Huh? Eddie hadn’t been expecting that. Nor Hopper’s guilty glance down at Steve. “I should have kept him glued to my side last night. Look, you better get outta here pronto.”

“How?” Eddie flapped his arms around wildly, reverting to the feckless teen he’d been only a couple of years before. “There’s only one way out.”

Hopper chuckled dryly. “Your old man knew different when he hid out here. There’s a panel behind the stove. Took me ages to figure how the crafty old dog gave me the slip. Go. Hide. I’ll draw them away. Make sure nobody torches the place.”

Eddie obeyed, hating it. What choice did he have? While he sensed Hopper had Steve’s best interests at heart, he churned with anger at the whole damn world, and at himself.

Fuck, he was such a terrible Alpha. This proved how unready he was for a soulmate, let alone fatherhood and shit.

He had to let Steve go. Others could take better care of him.

As he hauled aside the stove, he dared not glance over his shoulder, in case he shed an incriminatingly un-Alpha tear.

…

Steve had been sick and hurt. Of that part, he was sure. But he’d been okay.

Eddie’s warm scent and body had enveloped him. The brush of Eddie’s soft lips had comforted him. Then he’d been ripped from that safe cocoon and hurled straight into Hell.

Barbed fangs glinted in an inky blackness, and the beast pounced, fangs piercing deep into Steve’s leg. It lifted him in its jaws and shook him violently, before smashing him into the icy ground, a hunk of dying meat.

He couldn’t hear his own scream after scream after scream. The exposed nerves and tendons in his ankle screamed louder, mocking his silence. The stench of his blood clotted in his nose and clogged up his throat, already shredded by his useless cries and thickened by terror.

Can’t breathe… can’t… can’t…dying… dying… dead? Eddie… Alpha... Please help me… It hurts… Eddieeeeee!

A wall of darkness slammed down. He floated, lost, mercifully senseless. When the dreams kicked off again, they weren’t all so bad. He was in a dingy cellar, chained to a damp brick wall, and… Okay, this was exactly how Tommy H claimed he’d wind up, some rogue Alpha’s plaything.

Steve was fiiiine with it.

Eddie was there, his body slamming Steve’s flush to the bricks. He nuzzled Steve’s throat tenderly, dragging his tongue over Steve’s mating gland. Steve’s every sinew strained toward him, trying to purr and rub into him. He couldn’t glean Eddie’s delicious scent. Violent shudders dragged him back from the cusp of getting slick.

“Eddie?” he whimpered. “Eddie, please? Where are you?”

When Steve finally opened his eyes for real, he squeezed them tight again before daring to peep.

He was in a hospital room. He’d gotten an IV drip attached to his arm, and other scary wires had been attached to his chest, poking out of his hospital gown. His heart lurched, and a green line spiked on a bedside monitor.

How did he get here? Last thing he recalled was Eddie… the cabin… Oh, Christ, what was real and what wasn’t? His head throbbed so hard he feared his skull would crack, and his stomach felt like somebody had punched it.

“Eddie,” he croaked, though nobody was around to hear. “Eddie.”

The next time he stirred, daylight stung his eyes. His mom stood at the door, talking to a doctor, “Mom?” he whispered. She didn’t turn her head. “Mommy?” Okay, that was shameful. “Please… mom? Where’s Eddie?”

His voice couldn’t compete with the penetrating hum of the strip-light.

I’m an Omega, not a pushover.

Yeah. Right.

Holy crap, he couldn’t leave the house alone without screwing up, bigtime, and his voice was little better than that of a ghost’s. Tuning into the doctor’s conversation didn’t exactly help:

“Mrs Harrington, you must understand—your son bled through bundles of fresh bandages after we brought him in, which made little sense. When he was found, he was sick, but his injuries had started to heal. He was never hyperthermic, yet he GOT WORSE. The bleeding has finally stopped, but his vitals have never stabilised.”

“Could he be pregnant, Doctor? Should I book him into an Omega Clinic?”

“It’s hard to tell with Omegas. I wouldn’t want to subject him to any invasive examination, let alone have him moved while he’s so sick.”

“But…”

With pup?

Steve’s blood simmered beneath his clammy cheeks.

And now his mother talked of the Omega clinic. Would she really dump him in that horrible place again, though they’d had to drug him to the eyeballs to survive it? And why, oh why, must he picture Tommy H, cackling in his face?

Did my soulmate fuck me and ditch me? Or was the whole soulmates BS all in my ‘air-brain little head’? Did Eddie knot me and skip town?

Okay, he’d literally been asking for it. He’d begged Eddie for dick and opened his legs to him like a ‘wanton little hussy.’

Was Tommy right about him? Tommy was right! His mom, too?

“I’m no Omega specialist,” the doctor was saying. “However, at this stage, the best remedy may be to find this rogue Alpha your son has been crying out for.”

“Yes. Hunt down that lowlife dog and destroy him for ruining my son.”

Steve’s panic ripped through him like a floodtide. His shallow breaths refused to sooth his clenching lungs, and his skin broke out into a cold sweat. By the time the doctor’s attention slid his way, he was full-on flipping out.

The next few moments passed in a terrifying blur. He fought the suffocating blankets and yanked the wires from his arm and torso, before more than one set of strong hands pinned him down. A sharp prick on his arm was echoed by the cool glide of a needle into his skin. Cool air flowed from the mask placed over his face. He drifted into dreams and that murky basement, wandering it like a spirit.

“Eddie,” he murmured, “Where are you?”

…

Three days.

Three fucking days.

That was how long Eddie had skulked in this dingy brick basement—pacing to keep warm, punching the bricks, wringing his battered hands, and all but ripping his hair out. He’d passed hours squatting in a corner, holding his drooping head.

Christ, he should get the fuck out of Dodge.

Perhaps distance could kill this agony. This crushing misery at knowing Steve was dangerously ill and being unable to see him, let alone do anything about it.

Yet Eddie wasn’t going anywhere, which was lunacy. None of his designs for life included mating a high-class Omega who’d grown up, basically, in a palace. Oh, and Steve’s mom had put a price on his head.

Ten thousand dollars. Dead or Alive. Seriously, where was he living—the Old West? Medieval Europe?

“Why me?” Eddie was muttering, over and over. The soft tap on the basement door set him snarling.

Okay, it was his and Wayne’s secret knock, based on an old Def Leppard guitar riff. Damn, Eddie was skittish as a goddamn Omega. Wayne descended the rickety wooden stairs, and Eddie leaped up, sweeping his heavy unwashed hair from his eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Had a visit from Hop and Steve’s dad.”

“Shit!” Eddie buried all eight fingers in his uncombed tresses. “Did they follow you here?”

“What sorta fool do you take me for, son?” Wayne chuckled, squeezing Eddie’s super-taut bicep. Eddie teetered suddenly on the brink of throwing his arms around his uncle and bawling his eyes out. Anything to release the tension thrumming through his every vein. “Wouldn’t have mattered if they did. Hop talks the talk about ripping your throat out, nothing more. I swear to God, he begged for your help.”

Eddie met Hopper around the back of the hospital, near a delivery entrance for the kitchens. On sighting him, Eddie stopped dead, smacked his boot heel loudly onto the ice-hardened asphalt.

The older Alpha’s lips peeled back, hostile vibes billowing from him. Then Hopper pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned:

“Okay, Munson, stand down.” He hurled some scrubs at Eddie. “Gonna smuggle you in. Apparently, your Omega pepped up no end on learning we were trying to contact you on the sly. Even the docs are bleating on about the soulmate bond—it’s the worst case of rejection sickness in living memory. So, yeah, let’s move. We’ll deal with the nuclear fallout in the morning.”

Eddie pulled on the scrubs and tied back his hair, using a scrunchie he was pretty sure Hop had swiped off his daughter. He followed the Chief through the quiet corridors, struggling to get his head together.

Soulmate bond. Rejection sickness. Some doctor had more or less prescribed Eddie as a cure? He snatched a swift, fortifying breath.

You got this, Munson. Make your Omega well again, and everything else is gonna be child’s play…

…hahaha, seriously? You gonna rob a bank or something?

Screw it. Perhaps he would.

After they’d passed through the dark kitchens, Eddie sensed something off. He’d smelled Steve over a mile off in a snowy forest, and yet… Okay, maybe that was Steve’s musk he detected, heavily interwoven with others,’ and faint beneath the tang of chemicals.

It was way too faint and soured with a bitter tang that set Eddie’s guts flipping.

He shoved past Hopper and sprinted up the corridor. He followed his nose up several flights of stairs. Along a dark corridor, he almost collided with an angry nurse, then he rounded a corner and slammed into Steve’s dad. Eddie braced the Beta and shook him, taken aback by huge, scared hazel-brown eyes, startlingly like Steve’s: “What is it? Is Steve okay?”

“I-I don’t know. He’d been on the mend since I promised to find you. I came over to break the news you were on your way… and he’s gone and discharged himself.”

...

Chapter 5.1 (it's gonna be fine, okay!?!)

Please like and reblog if you’re feeling kind 🥰 it’s so very much appreciated ❤️

tags: @wheneverfeasible @mugloversonly @ellietheasexylibrarian

@strawberryyyenthusiast @stripey82

If anybody else fancies reading more, I would be happy to tag :) Or follow #katya's omega whump

My endless outpourings of Steve whump can be found on AO3 here :)

27 notes · View notes

sholiofic · 1 month ago

Text

Whumptober day 7: Unconventional Weapon (Agent Carter)

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | “It’s us or them.”

With a prompt like this, who could I write about other than Peggy? 400 words, probably between-seasons-ish. Also posted on DW.

***

"Oh God, now what," Jack groaned as Peggy slapped a form down on his desk. He took a quick glance. It was the F-2490 form, Destruction of Property. "Peggy, what did you do."

"My job," Peggy said brightly. "Quite successfully, I might add. So I'll just be going--"

"Oh no, get back here for a minute, Agent Carter." Jack picked up the form and scowled warily at the closely placed, neat handwriting. "Two sacks of fertilizer?"

"It was explosive."

"Twelve drain covers, and 'sewer infrastructure,' unspecified."

"Collateral damage from the explosion."

"I'm sure," Jack muttered, reading on. "One dustbin lorry, and I have no idea what that is but I hope it's not too large or expensive--"

"I suppose you'd call it a garbage truck," Peggy said.

So much for that hope. "Explosion again, I presume?"

"No, " Peggy said. "It was-- er, driven into a warehouse."

She had taken up a pose standing at attention in front of his desk with her hands clasped behind her and back straight as if lecturing in front of a schoolteacher. Her eyes sparkled, however. Jack noticed warily that there was plaster dust incompletely brushed off her hair and clothes.

"I ... see. And I also see the next item is ... one warehouse." He looked up. Peggy was gazing above his shoulder at the wall. "You knocked down a warehouse with a garbage truck?"

"Oh, no, of course not," Peggy said. "That is, not entirely. The lorry came off very much the worse for wear."

"So what did it for the warehouse? Oh. 'One construction crane, fallen' -- Carter --"

She was now looking at the ceiling. Her lips twitched before she said with studied calm, "The warehouse came off the worse for wear in that encounter."

"I'm sure it did," Jack said, also very calm. "'One barge, carrying a load of' -- Carter, did you sink a barge--"

"It was at dock, and some of the warehouse fell on it."

Jack laid down the page. "I don't think I need to read any more of this right now. At least tell me you have the suspect in custody."

"We wrapped up the entire ring," Peggy said brightly. "I'll just be off to write my report now."

"Oh -- well, that's good, seeing as how I have to justify this to New York's taxpayers." His eyes drifted to the page again. "The barge drifted into the -- bridge -- Carter!"

The door slammed behind her in a hasty exit.

#whumptober #whumptober2024 #agent carter #peggy carter #jack thompson #these are going to be increasingly out of order as we go along

26 notes · View notes

skyward-floored · 6 days ago

Text

Whumptober Day 28 - No-holds-barred beatdown, exposure, used as bait

CONTINUATION TO DAY 13 go read that one if you haven’t (or if you need a refresher it’s been so long lol)

Hi I'm still kicking <3 only three left after this, I WILL be finishing these, NO MATTER WHAT RAAAAAH. my goal is to be done before the 15th but we'll see how that goes. I'm going to try 😓

The prompts used aren’t the best, but they were the only ones that even vaguely fit lol. The third one doesn’t even come into effect until the very end. Also this was only going to be one more part. but. they kept talking.

Warnings: violence, injury, a handful of previous warnings from day 13

Day 13

ao3 link

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sky and Warriors woke up at the same time.

Twilight stirred from his spot on the ground, having let his mind wander as he’d waited. His body still ached a bit, and it wasn't helped by his stint on the cold floor, but he sat up anyway as Warriors’ eyelids fluttered, and a squeaky moan came from Time’s back, Sky’s tail flicking. Twilight looked between the two, then went to Sky first, since strangely enough it seemed like he was waking up faster.

Legend sat next to Warriors, saying something to him as he woke, and Time watched the two with slightly narrowed eyes. He looked at Twilight as he walked up, flicking an ear as Warriors let out a disbelieving noise and Legend squawked angrily.

“Here,” Time said, carefully leaning over and sliding Sky off his back. “I’m going to go make sure Legend doesn’t bite him. And that the captain doesn’t stomp our veteran by accident. Or on purpose.”

Twilight nodded, and sat down next to Sky as his blue eyes flickered open.

“Easy Sky,” Twilight woofed as he moved a little, and Sky twitched his nose.

“Ow...” he groaned, and Twilight gave his ear a gentle lick. “...Oh, hey rancher... why’re you so big?” he asked blearily, squinting as he tried to sit up. His paws slipped out from under him though, and Sky stared at them in bewilderment, the expression honestly adorable on his furry face. He wiggled a few toes, and stared at the fur and claws, blinking in shock.

“Rancher?” Sky repeated in more of an alarmed voice. “What’s going on?”

“Short version? We all got turned into animals,” Twilight admitted, giving Sky a little push with his snout in order to help him sit up when he tried again. “We fell down here and all transformed somehow. You’re one of those cat things on your island, a... was it a remake?”

“A remlit,” Sky corrected, sounding a little calmer, but still disturbed. He studied his paws, and tilted his head back, trying to look at his ears and tail. “Huh. Just like Legend that one time. Those... women did this to us?”

“Yep, the creepy voice ones. Or something down here did, we’re not exactly sure. But it’s their fault somehow,” Twilight confirmed, and watched intently as Sky shakily stood up, paws trembling. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m— yeah. This is just... weird,” he admitted. “I... this was dark magic, wasn’t it?”

“We think so, yeah.”

Sky frowned and looked around the dark cave, large ears swiveling, and both he and Twilight jumped as they heard a distressed whinny. Twilight whirled around, and saw Warriors attempting to get to his hooves, his legs wobbling underneath him.

“Easy Captain, don’t move too quickly,” Time warned, and Warriors snorted, tossing his head.

“Don’t ‘easy’ me, I’m not staying like this a moment longer than I have to!” Warriors said, nearly falling over. “Horses are fine, I like horses, but I don’t want to be one!”

“Actually you’re a unicorn,” Legend said helpfully, and Warriors huffed angrily as Time moved to his side, helping to steady him.

“Right. I’m a horse with a big pointy stick on my head. Wonderful.”

“At least you can stab things,” Legend continued, nose twitching in amusement. “You didn’t have a weapon before, and now you do. Besides, I think the horn really compliments your flowing locks.”

“I could almost say the same,” Warriors snorted. “Flowing locks indeed. Finally the mystery of the pink hair is solved. I wouldn’t have guessed a bunny rabbit would be the cause but you—”

“Now see here—”

“All right, that’s enough,” Time said with a sharp look at the both of them. “Captain, are you feeling all right? We all saw how rough that transformation was.”

“I’m fine,” Warriors mumbled, pawing at the floor.

Twilight glanced back at Sky, who was sniffing at the scratches on his side with a wince on his face. He’d managed to stand by himself though, and so Twilight moved over to Warriors, the captain’s legs still wobbling.

“Relax Captain, we’re going to fix this,” Twilight reassured, and Warriors made another annoyed sound, his tail swishing.

“So long as we don’t need opposable thumbs,” he said. Twilight sighed.

“We’ll manage, Captain. I know this isn’t ideal, but we’ll figure it out.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re used to having four legs,” Warriors said in a sharp voice, and Twilight flattened his ears in annoyance.

“I’m stuck like this too, Captain. Just because I’m more used to four legs doesn’t mean I don’t want my regular ones back,” Twilight snapped, his worry and fear at the whole situation abruptly bursting out. “Now if you’re done arguing with Legend we still don’t know where half our group is, so if you’re able to walk without falling over let’s get going.”

Warriors blinked, obviously taken aback, and Twilight turned away from Time’s frown and stuck his nose up in the air to sniff for any more familiar scents.

The faintest hint of one that wasn’t rock or cave smell wafted by his nose, and Twilight turned in a slow circle, trying to pinpoint it. He caught a bigger whiff, and gestured with his head.

“I think I found someone else,” he said, and Time hummed in a growly way.

“Are you guys ready to move?” Legend asked, looking askance at both Sky and Warriors. Sky hesitated, his legs still wobbly, but when he walked around in a small circle he was able to keep his footing. Warriors gave a curt nod, his legs looking steadier, and he didn’t look over at Twilight.

Twilight felt a little sting of shame, but he swallowed it back. He could apologize later.

“This way,” he said, turning into the darkness, and the others followed along behind him, Warriors’ hooves clicking against the stone floor.

They kept the pace slow, in respect for both small and unsteady legs. Twilight felt impatience simmer under his fur, but he knew he couldn’t just run ahead. He was currently one of their few lines of defense, and who knew how many monsters might be around down here?

Sky and Legend walked together beside him, Sky asking questions about being an animal, Legend answering as well as he could. Warriors was obviously listening in as well, and Twilight even noticed Time’s ear swivel back when Legend started in on ways he dealt with fights.

Twilight... probably ought to be giving tips as well, he certainly had plenty of knowledge to draw on. But he was intent on following the scent, keeping a nose out for any others, watching for monsters, and also looking for a way out. Legend could handle the crash course in being an animal.

What a disaster.

Twilight sighed and kept sniffling, trying to identify exactly who’s scent it was he was following. He stepped past a couple large rocks that glowed faintly green, and as the scent grew steadily stronger, Twilight suddenly paused, his stomach sinking. Even with the strange overtone to it, he suddenly knew exactly who’s scent he was following.

He bolted, leaving the others behind, knowing the source of the scent was close. Twilight turned a corner, intently sniffing, and sure enough a few moments later his paw bumped into a small, grey-blue creature.

Twilight froze, and lowered himself to the floor, almost not believing what he was seeing.

“Oh boy... champion?” he asked, nuzzling gently at him. Wild don’t move, unconscious, and Twilight gave his head a small lick. “Hey, wake up for me?”

A chirrupy groan came from Wild’s still form, and his eyelids flickered, blues resting hazily on Twilight’s face.

“Mm... Twi?” he mumbled, ears twitching. “Where... ow... why does my whole body hurt?”

Twilight winced. “Well, it ah... might have to do with the fact that you’re a squirrel.”

Wild blinked slowly, his gaze still bleary. He flicked his ears again, twitched his tail once, then jerked to his feet with a completely flabbergasted expression.

“A WHAT?!” he yelped right as the others all rounded the corner and caught sight of him. Legend took one look at Wild’s bushy tail before his face cracked into a huge grin.

“Champion you’re— you’re a squirrel!” Legend spluttered, then burst into uproarious laughter, looking at Wild with pure glee on his face. “That’s the best thing I’ve seen all day!”

“IT’S NOT FUNNY!” Wild screeched, his fluffy tail sticking straight up. He looked a solid mixture of offended and freaked out. “WHAT’S FUNNY ABOUT TURNING INTO A SQUIRREL?!”

“It’s hilarious, actually,” Legend cackled, wheezing as he fell backwards, nearly tripping Sky. “A squirrel! No wonder you’re such a hoarder!”

Legend burst into another peal of laughter, and Wild stumbled backwards, every bit of him tense. Twilight moved towards him, and Wild let out a panicked little chirp.

“Wild, it’s okay,” Sky said, and Wild twitched his nose as Twilight gently nuzzled his head. He could hear Wild’s tiny heart beating like a drum.

“Are you hurt at all?” Time asked, and Wild shook his head, his tail lowering a little.

“No, I’m fine. I just... no. Don’t like this.”

Wild swiped a paw over his face as his nose twitched again, and Twilight very firmly held back the urge to laugh. Now was not the time, even if Wild being a squirrel was admittedly... rather hilarious. At least on par with Legend being a rabbit.

Maybe Farore has a sense of humor.

“Hey, you’ve just gotta adjust,” Legend said as he gave himself a shake, finally getting ahold of himself. “Just think how it could be worse. You could be a bug or something.”

“But I’m a squirrel!” Wild chittered frantically, his tail whirling all over the place. “I’m tiny! I’m defenseless! I can’t even hold a weapon like this!”

“Wow. What a hardship,” Legend said in a deadpan. “Being a small mostly-defenseless woodland creature.”

Wild opened his mouth to retort, then slowly closed it again, staring at Legend like he hadn’t truly looked at him until now.

“Oh. Uh... you’re... a pink blupee thing?”

“A rabbit. We all got transformed, Wild, calm down. I’m sure we'll be able to fix it,” Twilight reassured, and Wild groaned, pulling his tail over his face.

“I hate this. No thank you. Nope.”

“Join the club,” Warriors sighed, and Twilight sat down beside the little ball that was currently Wild, giving him another lick. Wild uncurled a little, looking at Twilight with thinly-hidden panic in his eyes, and Twilight’s chest tightened. Wild rarely looked so rattled.

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” he asked quietly, and Wild nodded.

“Just sore,” he said quietly. “That transformation was awful. Is... everyone else okay?”

“We don’t know. We haven’t found everyone yet,” Twilight explained with a sigh. “No sign of Hyrule, Wind, or Four.”

“But I’m sure we’ll find them,” Sky said hopefully, his large ears spread wide. “If nothing else I’ll be able to hear them with these big old things.”

Time chuckled, and Wild’s tail flicked around, the champion obviously still distressed. But he took a deep breath and sat up, determination in his eyes. Sky watched Wild’s tail swish around as he studied everybody’s animal forms, Sky’s pupils going wide, and suddenly shot out a paw to bap at it.

Wild jumped, and Sky immediately drew back, spouting apologies.

“Sorry! Sorry It caught my attention and I was just going to watch it but then I... I don’t know why I did that,” he finished in bewilderment.

Time let out a huff from nearby. “Instincts. Never know when they’re going to kick in. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve eaten rocks without thinking.”

Twilight wasn’t the only one who gave him a strange look at that.

Unfortunately none of them got to press the question, since right as Twilight opened his mouth to ask, a loud rumbling sound came from somewhere in the cave, the ground shaking under their feet.

Warriors stumbled, and Sky and Wild both fell over, the cave shaking so violently Twilight wondered if it was about to fall on their heads. He quickly positioned himself over the smallest members of the group, but the shaking abruptly stilled, and the cave went deathly quiet.

Then Twilight growled as a familiar voice suddenly spoke.

“You have all faced the magic and come out unbroken. You have passed the first stage,” the croaking voice echoed through the cave. “The second stage still remains. Survive and we will collect the chosen downstream at the crystal waters.”

“Good luck! I can’t wait for you to finish,” the other voice said excitedly, and Twilight saw Warriors flinch.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Legend growled, and Twilight saw Sky’s claws slide out.

“Return us to our normal bodies!” Warriors shouted, the whinny echoing off the walls.

“I don’t think she can understand you,” Wild pointed out, then raised himself to his hind legs, showing off the sword-shaped patch of white on his belly. “Here— RETURN US TO OUR NORMAL BODIES YOU CULTY FREAKS!”

There was no reply.

“I doubt she liked being called a freak,” Time said dryly.

“Yeah, probably not. But still. Rude,” Legend sniffed. “Guess we’ll just survive phase two then.”

“We need to find the others,” Twilight spoke up, unable to keep the worry from his voice. “Now.“

“She said we all survived the magic though, doesn’t that mean they’re all okay?” Wild spoke up, and Sky’s tail flicked worriedly.

“She didn’t say anything about other dangers, though.”

As if summoned, a monster’s howl rang through the tunnels, and everyone stiffened, heads turning toward the sound.

“Wild, Legend, on Twilight’s back, Sky, you sit on Time, we’ll save the most time,” Warriors said quickly, and Legend helped Wild scramble up onto Twilight’s back, Sky carefully moving to sit on Time’s. “I’d... take one of you, but I don’t know how steady I can keep myself.”

“I’ve got them,” Twilight reassured, noticing the frustration on Warriors’ face. Warriors met his gaze, and Twilight lowered his head, ears flicking down. An apology for earlier.

Warriors looked at him a moment, then nodded back, apologizing as well.

Twilight breathed out, a little of the nauseating emotions rolling around in him easing a bit. He may be tired, cold, hungry, in pain and worried, but that was no excuse to take it out on Warriors.

They needed to work together to get out of this mess.

They all rushed off, Warriors having trouble going at a pace much faster than a walk, but pushing himself anyway. That had been a victorious sort of monster cry, and they didn’t have time to waste. Even if Warriors kept tripping on his hooves and barely catching himself.

“So,” Wild said after a minute, and Twilight flicked an ear to show he was listening. “How come you and the old man are wolves while the rest of us are... everything else?”

“I was wondering that too,” Legend spoke up. “...I still think it’s beyond unfair.”

“I don’t know why,” Twilight admitted. “Your form says something about your person, they reflect your spirit... or it does in my case. Even though the circumstances are weird, I’m guessing it’s the same for the rest of you. I guess mine and Time’s just happen to be similar.”

“And I’m a squirrel,” Wild grumbled, and Twilight sighed.

“Yeah. Squirrels aren’t so bad though. They’re hardy, smart, good at climbing, jumping... besides, we can’t all be unicorns,” Twilight pointed out as he hopped over a rock, and Wild and Legend both let out small huffs of laughter.

“I guess not. Still pretty strange there’s so much variety,” Wild hummed. “I would’ve guessed we’d all be wolves.”

He was quiet for several seconds, and Twilight turned his attention back to navigating through the dark cave.

“...Wait a second, if our animal forms reflect us, and Legend is a bunny—”

“Don’t you dare finish that thought.”

Wild chittered out a laugh.

His amusement faded when another snarl echoed through the caves though, and Twilight exchanged a glance with Time, trotting even faster. If anyone was hurt because they couldn’t get to them in time, Twilight didn’t know what he would do.

The green rocks increased in frequency around them, the darkness of cave a bit less intense. Twilight could hear water now, and regular grumbles and snorts that sounded like monsters. Time caught Warriors when he tripped again, and they all ran down the sloping passageway.

They turned a corner, and Twilight’s eyes went wide.

An underground stream flowed in front of them, wide, but fast, water a crystalline blue so bright it looked unnatural. More of those green rocks were scattered in and around the water, and though Twilight couldn’t see colors the best as a wolf, he could tell the mix of them was rather pretty.

But more important than the water or rocks was the group of moblins on the other side, one dragging a motionless deer behind it, another trying to bat away something running around by its feet.

“Hey!” Wild shouted, and leapt off of Twilight’s back, rushing over to the stream and attempting to hop across the rocks. His paws skidded on the slippery stone, but he managed to hang on and keep going. Twilight barked for Legend to hold on, and jumped into the water, quickly swimming across.

The water was achingly cold, but Twilight ignored it and Legend’s small squeak of dismay, paddling as fast as he could. The current wasn’t too fast for him, and Twilight leapt onto the shore right as a moblin kicked the small figure at its feet, making it squeal in pain.

Whoever it was went flying, and Twilight lunged for the moblin, teeth bared. Legend clung to his fur as he bowled the moblin over, and Twilight heard Time snarl as well, a different monster screeching in pain.

The disgusting tang of monster blood got in his mouth as he snapped at the moblin, but Twilight didn't let go until it let out a dying gurgle and went limp. He raised his head, watching Time struggle with his own moblin, Sky trying to help where he could, and also saw Warriors hurriedly trying to cross the water beside Wild.

Nobody had reached the moblin dragging the deer by the leg though, and Twilight whirled towards it, leaping at the beast with his fangs bared.

It saw him coming, and dodged his lunge to its neck, Twilight’s teeth closing around its arm instead. It snarled in anger as it dropped the deer, then raised a large club above its head, eyes glinting maliciously. Twilight knew he wouldn’t be able to move in time to avoid it, but then Legend leapt off his back, attaching himself to the moblin’s face and scratching and kicking at it furiously.

It screeched, and Twilight bit it on the wrist, making it drop its weapon. The moblin gave its head a violent shake and Legend went flying, but the opening was what Twilight needed to leap forward and finally bury his teeth in its neck.

He heard a splash behind him, fear ratcheting into his throat, but he couldn’t let go until the moblin fell still and it was stubbornly refusing to do so.

Come on, die already! Twilight thought with a snarl, abruptly twisting his head to the side.

A sickening crack rang out, and the moblin finally fell still, its tongue lolling. Twilight felt a lurch in his stomach at the more violent instinct he’d given into, but he swallowed it back and spat blood from his mouth.

He turned back to the water, and felt a quick flicker of relief as he saw Time standing over Legend's limp form, viciously attacking anything that came nearby. There were only three moblins left now, and Warriors was attempting to handle the other two, Wild goading them on and distracting them while Warriors attacked with his hooves and horn.

Which just left the question of where Sky and the other animal had gone.

Twilight whined anxiously, looking around the bloody shore for any sign of them. There was a lot going on, but he was sure that he would’ve noticed one or the both of them being hurt.

Twilight suddenly saw splashing, and he hurried over to the water, ears pricking as he saw a lithe shape struggling towards the shore, Sky’s large ears visible beside it. Twilight leaned way out, prepared to jump in if necessary, and when both heads dipped below the water, Twilight quickly splashed in and gently snatched them both by the scruff.

He dragged them to shore and set them down, then frantically sniffed the both of them, Sky's scratches reopened, the other animal's tail bleeding.

“Are you two okay?” Twilight barked urgently, and the lithe, creamy colored animal nodded shakily as he scooted closer to Sky.

“I’m good,” Wind’s voice chirped tiredly from it, turning his head so that Twilight got a good look at the swirl of blue on his head and back. “Or good enough. This... is so weird.”

“Yeah,” Twilight agreed, then turned his attention to Sky, the poor remlit panting with exhaustion in a soggy heap on the ground. “You good buddy?”

“Give... me... a sec...” Sky coughed, a shiver running through him.

Twilight nodded, and glanced back at the battle just in time to see a moblin charging for them, eyes crazed.

Wind squealed in alarm and Twilight leapt to intercept the monster, snapping at its neck. Somehow it managed to dodge the attack, and abruptly slammed its club into his side, making Twilight yelp in pain.

He was knocked to the ground, but despite the pain he got back up almost instantly. The moblin was running for Sky, and a feral snarl escaped Twilight as he leapt back at the moblin again. This time he managed to knock it off-balance, and Twilight and the moblin went sprawling to the ground, snarls and the snapping of teeth ringing through the cave as they struggled.

Twilight ignored the sharp ache ringing up his side and focused only on taking down the moblin that had been charging for Wind and Sky. It gave as good as it got, and Twilight was already scratched and kicked and sorely aching when the moblin suddenly raked its claws into his muzzle.

A sharp sting ripped across his face, and Twilight yelped in pain as he reeled back, tears welling in his eyes.

“Twilight!”

Something snapped in Twilight, and despite the sharp pain, he lunged back in again, snapping ferociously at the moblin’s neck. He clawed and tore and shook the monster under him, and it wasn’t until something pressed against his side and shouted his name that Twilight realized the moblin had gone still, and it was silent in the cave once more.

Twilight stumbled back, panting as blood dripped from his face and mouth, staring at the ripped-up moblin below him. It was barely recognizable, and bile rose in his throat, shame and disgust slamming into him. Something suddenly butted gently against his side, and Twilight wearily raised his head, seeing Time looking at him with alarm in his eye.

The older hero was gently supporting him, and Twilight wondered why before he suddenly realized his legs were trembling.

“I’m okay,” Twilight said finally, sitting down with a whine at the pain in his side and face. At Time’s incredulous look, Twilight huffed. “Seriously, I am. Nothing’s broken, just bruised, I can tell.”

“Bruised ribs are no joke,” Warriors said as he walked by, but he didn’t stop to bother Twilight about it further. He was making his way over to the deer, who was still lying ominously still on the ground. Legend at least had stirred nearby, but he looked a little dazed, a paw held close to his chest.

Fear lurched through him and Twilight struggled back to his feet, Time still supporting his side, and he walked slowly over to Legend and the deer.

Time didn’t further question his injuries, but Twilight could feel his gaze on him as they made a brief detour for Twilight to wash some of the blood from his mouth.

I get it old man, you’re worried.

Twilight swallowed, the taste of blood still in his mouth.

I am too.

They made it to where Warriors had gone, and Twilight sat down with a huff, the others all gathered around in a loose circle. Twilight looked around at them all, bloody, disturbed, weary and damp, and lowered his head down to rest on his paws.

Are we anywhere close to getting out of here?

Twilight breathed out slowly, and tilted his head to look at the deer, a light brown and with a few speckles of pale green scattered around on his back and face. Warriors knelt beside him, and gave the deer and Legend both as much of a look-over as he could.

Wind scampered past, his feet making little paps on the floor, and he sniffed at the deer, then looked fearfully at Warriors.

“Is Hyrule okay?” he asked, fur still a little damp.

“Yes, Hyrule is okay,” a voice groaned, and Twilight turned to see the deer raise its head, blinking dizzily. “Ow.”

"Traveler!" Legend and Wind said at the same time, both looking relieved.

“Careful,” Warriors warned, but Hyrule shifted around anyway, moving like he was going to stand up.

He immediately toppled over when he tried, his hooves going everywhere, and Wind let out a sympathetic little noise. Hyrule blinked, attempting to correct himself, and when he failed, stared up at the near zoo standing around him.

“Um. So why do I have four feet and feel like I got doused in dark magic?” Hyrule asked, sounding surprisingly unconcerned. “Also... why’s there a unicorn just standing there?”

“That’s me,” Warriors said grumpily, and Hyrule blinked.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Weird cult ladies, we were dumped in a cave, dark magic stuff,” Legend summarized from where he'd moved to sit beside Sky, and Hyrule nodded, accidentally hitting his antlers on a rock.

“Ow. Yeah... I remember now. I thought I heard Wind when we fell, and I got up to go find him, but then I felt all that dark magic and blacked out,” he reported with a scrunch if his nose. “And now I’m a... deer?"

“Looks like it,” Warriors said, and Twilight heard the grim smile in his voice. “Welcome to the hoof club.” Hyrule looked around, then blinked, staring at the eclectic pile of animals gathered near Sky. "...Is that rabbit wearing a vest?"

Warriors snorted out a laugh, and then attempted to give Hyrule a crash course in who was who, and also how to walk with hooves. While they stumbled around, Twilight took the opportunity to look around at everyone else, making sure they were all still accounted for. Time was beside him still, a few scratches on his leg, some blood staining his muzzle. Legend and Wild were huddled beside Sky, trying to warm him up while Legend nursed his injured paw, and Wind and Warriors were cheering Hyrule on as he tried to raise himself up on wobbly legs.

That meant the only one missing now was Four.

Twilight looked at the stream, remembering the croaky voice’s mention of water. The exit must be somewhere near here if they were going to be... collected, but they couldn’t leave without Four.

Where could he be?

“...okay, so I know Twilight and Time are the wolves,” Wind said, and Twilight looked back to see him moving to sit next to Sky as well. “Wild’s... a thing? Furry thing?”

“A squirrel,” Wild sighed. “And Warriors is the unicorn, Sky is the cat thing I forget the name of, Legend is the rabbit,” he said with a snicker, and Legend glared at him. “And you're a... I actually have no idea what you are.”

“He's an otter,” Legend said grumpily, attempting to tie his vest into a sling with one arm. “They swim around and eat clams.”

“What’s a clam?” Wind asked.

“Shellfish.”

“That’s not very nice of him,” Hyrule said as he wobbled over, and Wild and Wind joined in on his laughter while several of the others rolled their eyes.

“Enough goofing off, we still need to find Four,” Twilight spoke up, and everyone turned to look at him. "And any ideas on how we're going to deal with these witches or whatever they are?"

"We head downstream and see what happens I suppose," Time sighed. "Our smithy must have heard that message too, he’ll know where to go."

"He could be hurt though," Wind chirped worriedly, rubbing a paw over his whiskery cheek.

"And what if he was unconscious somewhere and we missed him?" Legend added.

"Twilight or the old man would've smelled him though, wouldn't they?" Warriors pointed out. "Twilight's been looking for scents this whole time, surely he would've gotten some sign of him."

"Wait, what if he got turned into a fish or something?" Wind suddenly gasped, looking at the water. "What if he's down there and—"

"Quiet!" Sky suddenly shouted in a croaky voice, his wide ears held out.

All of them went silent, and Sky swiveled his ears around, looking ruffled, but a little less like a drowned rat as he carefully sat up. Twilight pricked his ears too, and for a moment, all anyone heard was the noise of the stream rushing by, and blood and water dripping softly from wounds.

Then Twilight heard a pained cry so soft he could barely make it out.

"That was Four," Sky gasped, obviously able to make it out better than him. "He... wait."

He pricked his ears, and then his eyes went wide.

"I can hear those women, they have Four!"

Twilight jumped to his feet, biting back a whine of pain as his side sparked angrily. "Then we need to go help him, come on!"

“We can’t just rush in there without a plan,” Warriors whinnied, stomping a hoof. “Rancher you’re injured, Hyrule can barely walk, Sky practically drowned, we need a plan if we’re going to be able to—”

“Then I’m going by myself!” Twilight snarled, and whirled around and took off, ignoring the others’ shouts and cries to come back.

Twilight’s paws pounded against the stone as the others’ voices faded behind him, every step sending a jolt up along his injured side. Blood was drying on his face, sticky and uncomfortable, but Twilight only ran faster, listening for any more signs of Four.

He knew he would need the others’ help. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take them on by himself, and Twilight especially knew he was being incredibly stupid by running off alone.

But he didn’t care.

Every moment could matter for Four.

#sorry to be continued again #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu twilight #lu chain #all the links #lu wolfie #whumptober #whumptober 2024 #no.28 #no holds barred beatdown #used as bait #tw injury #tw violence #fic #writing from the floor #ta daaaaaaah #please enjoy this crazy long thing <3 #next part will be either 30 or 31!

70 notes · View notes

teddy06writes · 26 days ago

Text

Whumptober Day 19 - Diego Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves x gn!reader

Prompt: Scars

Trigger Warnings: Some swearing, mentions of fighting/vigilante stuff, Diego blames his injuries on boxing when he was really out doing hero stuff

Summary: While patching Diego up after a fight, you see his scars for the first time.

"DId you at least hit the other guy?"

The words came tumbling out of your mouth as soon as you opened your apartment door to find Diego, battered and bruised, leaning against the door frame.

He let out a scoff, already pushing past you into the apartment, "Sweetheart that other guy doesn't even know what hit him."

You turned, closing the door behind you, watching as he all but limped over and prepare to throw himself at your sofa, "Is that why you had to drag your sorry ass back here?"

Diego groaned, flopping onto his stomach, "Son of a bitch through a vase at me or some shit."

That caught your attention, pulling you out of your usual routine of gentle ribbing and teasing. It wasn't uncommon for Diego to appear at your apartment after a fight, in fact, despite the inconsistent nature of your on again off again relationship with him, you'd developed a routine.

He would appear, worn and tired after some fight night or another, and you'd ice his bruises, offer him whatever takeout or leftovers you happened to be eating that night, trade teasing and insults, and spend the night lounging with him on the couch, commentating whatever trashy reality show you could find.

Being with Diego, or rather, not not being together while still never becoming anything official, was unlike any relationship you'd ever been in. The two of you had a unique understanding of each other you hadn't found in anyone else, even if his attempts to wine and dine you were inconsistent.

"What the hell do you mean he threw a vase at you?" You moved to stand before the couch, arms crossed, "I'm no expert, but last time I checked that didn't really fly in Al's gym."

"Well maybe I wasn't at Al's," He pushed away your hand before you could even really reach for him, forcing himself up off the couch, "Forget this, I need to go."

"Diego-" You grabbed at his wrist, stopping him in his tracks, "What's going on?"

"I- i-" He took a deep breath, steeling himself before turning to you, "It's nothing. I'm tired, I've got a cut on my shoulder that stings like a bitch and I really can't do the questions tonight."

You nodded, putting up your hands in a sort of surrender, "Okay. That's fine. But let me help you, Diego, jesus."

He didn't say anything, but he didn't move to leave either, which told you everything you needed to know. Without a word you hurried away to find your first aid kit before he had the chance to change his mind.

When you returned to the living room a moment later, he was sitting resolutely on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Alright," You perched on the coffee table in front of him, "Let me see."

Diego sighed, turning and beginning to pull his shirt over his head. As he did so you moved to sit behind him on the couch, leaving the first aid kit on the coffee table.

"Oh Diego..." You whispered, looking over the map of old scars that littered his back.

"It's not..." The words died on his lips, unsure of the right thing to say.

You scooted forward, wrapping your arms around his middle and hugging him gently, almost scared that he might try to run out again. Diego tensed up for a moment, before relaxing into your grip.

"I'm sorry." You whispered.

He sighed, "It's not your fault."

"I know," You pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade, along one particular jagged scar, "I'm sorry anyway."

#teddy06 writes #teddy06 #teddy 06 #teddy06writes #teddy06 attempts a writing event #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x gn!reader #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x gn!reader

23 notes · View notes

ohtobeleah · 1 year ago

Text

My Brothers Keeper // Jake Seresin

Summary: Five seconds faster and Jake Seresin wouldn’t be standing in his bedroom telling the love of his life the biggest lie he’d ever told.

Warnings: Relationship breakdown. Jake Seresin x F!reader.

Word Count: 2k

Author Note: Day Four of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Betrayal. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“You have to stop taking your grief out on me.” There wasn’t an awful lot more Jake Seresin could have done about it. And the only thing he could think of that could fix the situation he found himself in was to go back in time, fly a little faster, and save your brother and what Jake could only describe as your ‘adoptive’ fathers, lives.

But he couldn’t bend the laws of physics anymore than he could bend time. So, he stayed standing in your living room—watching as you folded up the remaining bits of laundry you’d been neglecting to put away.

You hadn’t spoken in three very long, very silent days. The home you shared had become a silent battle ground of unspoken fear, grief and anger. You could cut the tension with a knife it had gotten so bad—but Jake gave you the space you so clearly needed. Until now—

“Leave me alone Jake.”

During those three days all Jake could think about was how he might lose you because he wasn’t a good enough pilot to be able to save Maverick and Rooster. He wasn’t fast enough, he wasn’t prepared enough—

Hell he wasn’t brave enough.

“Okay, I cannot, no matter how much you blame me—no matter how much you ask, no matter how much you criticize, ignore my existence or question me, I cannot bring them back baby.” Jake made his way across the space when you didn’t answer him, he missed the way things used to be before that damned mission. He crouched to his knees across from you—piles of washing kept a little distance. But none of that stopped Jake from tilting your chin up so that you had no choice but to look at him as he spoke. Nothing stopped him from cupping your cheeks in his hands just to run his thumbs across your soft and supple cheeks.

“I’m right here, I’m right in front of you baby—“ You and Jake had been on rocky rounds since he’d called you to inform you that your brother, Bradley Bradshaw and your uncle or, as some would be more comfortable referring to him as your dad, Pete Mitchell had both been killed during a mission. “Please look at me?” Jake continued to guide your gaze to his eyes. He smiled softly when you finally gave him the time of day. “I’m right here, just talk to me.”

He had to be the one who told you.

Jake couldn’t leave that task to anyone else—it was the least he could do, considering he had been the one who’d gone after them.

“I don’t even know who I’m looking at anymore.” There was a sickening feeling that hadn’t left your body since Jake had told you two of the most important people in your life had both died. “I don’t believe you when you say that you, Hangman, did everything you could to try and save them.”

You never called Jake Hangman, you knew deep down how much the meaning behind his callsign kept him up at night. But here you were, throwing it right back in his face.

Jake Seresin thought you loved him, understood who he was to the very bone. Jake thought you trusted him, knew his mind, body and soul. He had a ring tucked away in his bedside table—a Diamond worth more than he could afford. But yet here you were:

Just like all the others who ever came before you.

Jake thought you were different, that you saw him for who he really was. You were Bradley Bradshaw's little sister, the barista who made the world's most perfect oat milk vanilla lattes and just so happened to work at the coffee stand on base while Jake was stationed in Lemoore. Did he know you were Rooster's little sister? Not initially. Did he back down when he’d connected all the dots? No—he still thought you were just the sweetest thing.

But now you were sitting right in front of him, folding laundry that you’d neglected, calling him a liar after he’d told you all that he knew and all that he did.

“I don’t believe you when you say you didn’t hold back, that you did everything you could have to get there in time because I know you—“ Jake had dropped his hand a long time ago at this point. But he still sat there right in front of you and took the metaphorical beating you gave his person, his very being. “And I know that deep down, you and Bradley hated each other with such a passion that as soon as the opportunity came up where you could get rid of him? you took it.”

It was misguided anguish, Jake knew that. But this was getting a little too personal for his ego to handle.

“Is that what you really think?” Jake asked softly as he watched you get up off the ground with a huff. You’d promised you wouldn’t cry anymore, but you should have learnt by now not to make promises you couldn’t keep. “Do you really think I hated your brother so much that I'd just let him die?”

It wasn't just a question of morality, it was a question of character. Just who did you really think Jake was?

“Don’t walk away from me!” Jake hissed as he got up off the living room floor to follow you. Hell three weeks ago he thought he’d follow you anywhere on earth. Now he wasn’t too sure if you’d even let him. “Y/n! Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

“Leave me alone Jake!” You spat back as you made your way down the hallway towards your bedroom. “Before I say something I’ll regret.”

“Oh no honey, let's air out all our grievances now!” It was the condescending tone you didn’t appreciate the most as Jake followed you into your shared bedroom. He slammed the door so hard behind him that it nearly came off its hinges. It made you freeze in your place, the loud obnoxious sound of the door slamming shut rattled in your mind as Jake's footsteps grew heavy as he walked closer and closer to you. “Fucking tell me you don’t mean what you said.” He growled with a disdain in his temperament. “TELL ME!”

You’d never seen your boyfriend so mad before. Usually Jake was pretty content, but it was clear that your suspicions had struck a raw nerve.

“You killed my brother.” Was all you said as the backs of your legs hit the side of your bed. “And you killed the only man who was ever remotely my dad.” Jake could see it in your eyes—you believed every word you spoke with enough conviction that he even questioned what the truth of the matter was. “You're meant to be the best! But yet you weren’t good enough to save the two most important men in my life!?”

“I did everything that I could!” Jake was beginning to lose his damn mind as he pulled at his hair and clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might break. “I love you, I really do but you are taking this too far Y/n—I didn’t kill your family! The enemy did, they were the ones who flew a little faster in better jets with better equipment and they were the ones who fired the missile—NOT ME!”

Jake knew you didn’t believe him, he knew that you’d already left before you had the guts to say it. He could see it written all over your face like a bad breakup song from the nineties. You couldn’t sleep beside the man who you blame with every fiber of your being for the deaths of your father and brother.

But you just couldn’t pull the trigger.

“Is this really how it’s gonna be?” Jake asked as he stepped a little closer, his chest was practically pressed against yours as you held your ground. “You blame me, I deny deny deny until my dying breath and we keep going around in circles like this?” The feeling of Jake's palm against your cheek had your tears welling, his thumb brushed against the apple of your cheek and all those stray hairs were now tucked back behind your ear. “I thought you knew me baby, c’mon, look at me yeah? Do you really think that I didn’t do enough?”

The silence that lingered spoke volumes. Jake knew right then and there that he had to leave, he had to step away. He couldn’t keep doing this—begging you to remember who he was because you were so clouded by your own grief.

Never once had you asked if he was okay. Never once had you asked how he was, if he was going alright after getting there just five seconds too late. You never asked if he laid awake at night playing that scenario over and over in his mind—never. You never asked because you didn’t care. You didn’t believe he was an innocent man in all of this.

“You know what?” But Jake Seresin was good at putting up walls to protect his heart. He was good at playing pretend, playing the part in people’s lives that they needed him to be. It was just easier to be The Hangman than it was to be Jake. Standing before the love of his life realizing that he would always and forever be remembered as the man who killed her brother was a role he never thought he’d play:

But for you he’d do it, and he’d do it well.

“Fine—I admit it.” Jake stepped back to put some distance between the two of you. He knew he’d never be so close to you again. It broke his heart into a million pieces but if this was who you really needed him to be he’d be that person. “I could have done more, but I chose not to.”

“Jake—“ You’d been thinking about it for days, the possibility, the probability that Jake had more involvement than he was leading you to believe. But hearing him actually say it threw everything you thought you knew out the window, along with your relationship.

“All your brother ever did was sit on that fucking perch of his and the one time he needed to get off? He wasn’t nearly capable enough to get himself out of a tough situation.” Jake had never hated Bradley, sure they had their tiffs and differences over the years but never did he ever hate the guy. “And Mav? His arrogance finally caught up with him! You should take some fucking comfort in the fact they’re both with your dead daddy now—it’s one big family fucking reunion because I chose to not take the shot when I so clearly had it!”

It was the biggest betrayal you’d ever experienced.

“Get out!”

“What! You’ve been blaming me for everything since before the funerals and now you wanna stand there and pretend you didn’t see it fucking coming?” Jake scoffed as he made his way across the room to collect a few things he’d need before showing up to Coyote's front door with his tail between his legs.

It was the biggest betrayal Jake had ever experienced.

“Leave! Get out of my house! Get out of my life before you have a chance to take anything else away from me!” You had never felt such a heartbreak, felt such a loss than when you finally heard Jake admit it. He could have saved them, but he chose not to for his own selfish reasons.

But Jake was a good man, he had his morals and his own heart to protect. He’d never forgiven himself for not being just a fraction faster—because when he saw that F-14 explode with two of the most important people in your life inside as his thumb grazed the trigger—he knew he’d lost you too.

“Trust me Bradshaw, you’ve got nothing left to fucking lose.” ***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**~***~

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #Leah’s whumptober Masterlist #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x female!reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman fic

238 notes · View notes