#I know this was supposed to be whumptober

[aprocessionofthoughts]

To succeed is to fail

whumptober2023 day 9- mistaken identity fandom- Danny phantom x Batman TW- nothing summary- The Amity Parkers have the opportunity (they didn't want) to explore Gotham. It's just too bad that Danny looks a lot like adoption bait.

First of all, I’d like to state that I know this is whumptober. But the story disagreed. So now we have whumpcracktober.

ao3 masterlist part 1 of APVG

They were not supposed to be here. They didn't want to be here. They hadn’t even tried to be here. Yet luck had never been on the Amity Parker’s side before, and they should have realized this would be no different.

It was their senior year and things around Amity had calmed down. Or at least everyone was used to Amity’s special brand of crazy.

He had told his parents about Phantom and they had helped hunt down the GIW. Most of Amity was discovered to be liminal and most of the young people had developed some basic abilities. 

And then Mrs. Abernagaby decided that their science final would be a group project. This wasn’t anything new. Every year Casper participated in the Helping Intelligent Minds Be Outstanding competition–better known as the HIMBO competition.

And usually the smartest seniors would be picked to work on a group project to submit. Casper High had never won. So, this year Mrs. Abrnagaby decided that all the seniors could work on it together. Because more heads were better than one!

Obviously she didn’t remember what being part of a group project felt like. And she obviously didn't account for the fact that no one would care.

They weren’t even told what the award was since it varied year to year and was meant to be a surprise.

All they were told was that they had to design a new air filtration system.

So, being seniors who had survived ghost attacks, invasions, their town being pulled into another dimension, dealing with the GIW, and making it through adjusting to Amity shifting to the stranger side as everyone's liminality began to show, they did not try.

Which was how they ended up with this masterpiece.

The challenge was to design a new air filtrator. Which if they had wanted to, would have been easy since air filters that would reduce the amount of ectoplasm in the air had been designed before the residents realized it was too late to do any good, and so they had never been made.

They didn’t even submit a design; it was a paper mache volcano covered in everyone’s failed tests. The accompanying research paper they were supposed to submit had Dash’s and Paulina’s self-insert fanfics with– you guessed it– phantom as the love interest. Danny had tried to make them remove it since it was awkward now that they knew who he was, but they had claimed they wrote it before they knew. Danny knew this was a lie because they were lying liars who lied. 

The paper also included one of Sam’s activist papers, Wes’s conspiracies about Bruce Wayne being Batman’s sugar daddy (now that everyone knew Danny was Phantom Wes didn’t feel the need to include that research (he also believed that Batman was Bruce Wayne but didn’t want to antagonize the furry who could ruin his life)). 

Tucker had included evidence of a Pentagon hack he had done a few years ago, Mikey had drawn some incredible fanart about Green Lantern (he said this would have the greatest effect on Gothamites and Wes agreed saying Batman didn’t like Green Lantern. How he knew this, no one asked.).

And lastly, they attached a file of them doing the Harlem Shake.

Mrs. Abernagaby hadn’t even looked at it before sending it off.

And then of course they had won. And what a grand prize it was! They won a trip to Gotham to explore the various big businesses, as well as a chance to apply at those locations for internships. Yeah… Sam had found out all the other schools had dropped out after finding out the prize. No one wanted to go to Gotham. But the school said it was a learning opportunity! To see what it was like outside Amity! To see what normal was supposed to be like!

So, they were forced to go, but at least they got Mr. Lancer as their supervisor and they wouldn’t even have to take a long bus ride because Amity was friends with Gotham. Apparently there weren’t very many Living Cities and the two liked to talk. They also thought it would be hilarious if the Amity Parkers went to Gotham. So, Amity had temporarily turned the road that left the city into a portal that led to Gotham’s border, and at the end of the week Gotham would return them.

And that was how he had ended up here. In the back of a smelly van with a smelly bag over his head surrounded by smelly men probably heading to a smelly, sketchy location. All because these men were stupid and thought he was some Wayne kid.

Sure, he could have gotten out. But this was honestly more interesting than touring another boring building and having to almost get mugged again.

..........

AN-I plan to continue this but it probably won’t be until after October because I want to focus on completing the challenges I'm participating in.

[smilesrobotlover]

Whumptober day 4- Shock

Ok I did as much research on this as possible and idk if it is actually accurate but I tried. Some of the stuff that is inaccurate can be assumed because they don’t know what they’re doing lol. Anyways, king of the Gerudo stuff! Centered around Orman, Ammon, and Terrako! Important to note that Ammon has a Sheikah prosthetic. Also fair warning, there is an electrical shock. Lofty, you know what’s about to happen….

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Terrako sprinted across the ruins, hopping when he reached a strange looking pedestal on the other side. Orman and Ammon slowly followed the little guardian, cautious of their surroundings. They were investigating ruins found near the castle, and Orman was surprised at how unique the ruins were. He’s seen many Sheikah ruins, and even the legendary Zonai ruins, but they didn’t look anything like this. Inside the ruins, there were strange lights that lit up the place, and even though it was filled with debris, it was surprisingly empty, save for the pedestal Terrako was at.

“What is this place?” Ammon muttered underneath his breath. Orman shrugged and walked over to Terrako, noting an electric circuit near a door.

“What is that?” Ammon asked.

“Dunno. Looks like it keeps the door open.”

“How is it still working after all these years?”

“I don’t know.”

Ammon put his hands on his hips and gave Orman a teasing smile.

“Why don’t you know anything?”

“Because I like to remain blissfully ignorant. Now come on.”

Ammon stared at the door for a moment before catching up to Orman.

“What exactly are we looking for anyways?” He asked when he reached the pedestal.

“Dunno, we need to investigate this place and report back whatever we’ve found, so that’s what we’re doing.”

“Investigate… investigate what?”

“Investigate something, I don’t know. Didn’t you listen to Rhoam during the briefing?”

Ammon scoffed and crossed his arms, looking around for a moment. “Welp, there’s nothing here. We can go home now.”

“Hold on now, we haven’t seen everything.”

Ammon groaned and spun around, staring down the empty room. “It’s just an empty room.”

“An empty room with technology still working! I’m sure that’ll be useful information.” Terrako beeped in response and Orman rubbed his little head. “See? The guardian agrees with me!”

Ammon rolled his eyes. “Just get him to record everything so we can leave.”

“Sure thing,” Orman put his hands on his knees and looked at the little guardian. “Ok Terrako, be a good little guardian and record everything so Ammon doesn’t blow a fuse!”

“Hey!”

Terrako made some beeps that Orman assumed was giggling, and he chuckled while Ammon huffed.

“Just wait until Rhoam hears about this. Harassment while on the job is no joke, you know!”

Orman smiled and rolled his eyes while Terrako looked around at some debris. He himself stared at the pedestal, having to agree with Ammon that there was nothing special of note here. He watched Terrako while Ammon continued to complain, curious at what the guardian was doing. Terrako studied every piece of rubbish and debris left in the ruin, and the little guardian found itself near a wall with a strange mark on it. Orman titled his head and walked over to Terrako, eyeing the symbol.

“What is that?” Ammon asked, not moving from his spot. Orman knelt down and brushed his hand against the symbol.

“You ask a lot of questions, Ammon.” He pulled back his hand to look at the dust on his gloves. Ammon scoffed and turned back around.

“I ask a lot of questions you don’t know the answers to apparently,” he grumbled to himself.

“It’s a mysterious ruin that has stuff we don’t understand, how do you expect me to know everything?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you know?”

“I’ve never seen it before!”

“Sounds like a weakness to me…”

“You’re a weakness to me.”

“No you are!”

Orman burst out laughing and Ammon did the same. Such ridiculous banter, what were they? Children? Terrako made a beep noise and Orman rested his hand on his head.

“What is it, little one?” He asked, and Terrako continued beeping, staring at the symbol on the wall. Orman narrowed his eyes as Terrako’s beeping got strange.

Suddenly, a bright light appeared, and electricity burst out from the symbol, hitting Terrako. Orman yelped and jumped back from the guardian as electricity spewed out of him. The lights in the ruin went out one by one, and all the technology started to spew out electricity and shutting down. Including…

Orman gasped as he spun around and saw Ammon’s prosthetic arm spew out electricity. His whole body convulsed and he collapsed to the ground, his muscles continuing to spazz.

“AMMON!” Orman cried, running to his friend. He grabbed his spear and brought it down on the emergency release button on the prosthetic, releasing it from Ammon’s arm. He ripped Ammon’s sleeve off and threw the prosthetic far away from both of them. “Ammon,” his voice shook as his hand hovered over his friend. His eyes fluttered open, and he stared up at the ceiling, dazed. He wasn’t unconscious, that was good, but it didn’t mean that the injury wasn’t serious. Orman listened closely to his breathing as he checked Ammon’s nub, cringing at the burns on where the skin was in contact with the prosthetic. That looked painful.

“Ok,” he whispered, “what do I do, what do I do?” He stared at the arm for a moment, then reached into his pouch and grabbed a bright bloom seed, smacking it on the ground to light up the area he was in.

“Ammon,” he said as calmly as he could, and Ammon looked over at him. “Are you feeling alright?”

Ammon frowned, taking in a shaky breath. “I—I can't feel my arm…”

Orman stared at him for a moment, then pursed his lips. “Which one? You’re kind of missing one of them.”

Ammon glared at him and Orman looked down.

“I guess you still have some of it…”

Ammon took in another shaky breath. “It feels… numb…”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Just focus on breathing alright? I’ll take care of this.”

Ammon nodded slightly, and Orman listened to his struggled breaths. That wasn’t good that he was struggling to breathe, but he could worry about it when it got concerning. He pulled out his canteen and began pouring it onto his burns. When his water emptied out, he grabbed Ammon’s canteen and emptied that as well. He then grabbed bandages he had in his pouch and gently laid them over his burned nub. He checked Ammon’s breathing again, and it seemed to have evened out.

“Ammon? How are you feeling now?” He asked.

Ammon shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. “Like sh—“

Orman jumped when he heard a loud beep coming from Terrako, and he spun around to see the little guardian beginning to wake up. He sighed, and looked down at Ammon who was beginning to sit up.

“It’s just Terrako,” he muttered, and Ammon nodded.

“Ok… we should get out of here before something like that happens again,” Ammon said, laying back down when he wasn’t strong enough to sit up

Orman looked at the door that they came through and sighed.

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen any time soon.”

“What do you mean?”

Orman stood up and walked over to the door. “The door is shut.”

Ammon groaned. “Are you serious?”

“All the technology here shut down, including the door that you showed no interest in earlier.” He looked over at Terrako who was beeping slowly and barely moving. “I doubt he could open up this door in his state.”

“Wonderful… we’re stuck here…”

Orman walked over to Ammon and watched him carefully. He looked exhausted, and his expression was pinched in pain.

“You alright?”

“No…”

Orman rested his hand on his shoulder. They needed to find a way out, Orman would feel much better if an actual doctor took a look at him. Maybe princess Mipha or Queen Kailani would be able to help him. But he couldn’t do anything while stuck in here. He looked over at Terrako who began to crawl towards them, and he hummed.

“Terrako, do you have enough energy to call for help?”

Terrako beeped and Ammon sighed. “Shouldn’t he… save his energy… to open up the door?”

“It might take too long to do that. If we could call for help on the Sheikah slate, maybe someone can come for us?”

“Will that… even work?”

“I don’t know! Technology is weird, so it might!”

“Ah… well… let’s hope… so…”

Orman looked at Ammon worried as he began to drift off. He panicked for a moment and shook him gently.

“Hey, I don’t know if it’s safe for you to sleep, Ammon.”

Ammon groaned and kept his eyes closed, and Orman shook him again.

“Come on Ammon, please don’t fall asleep. I—I don’t know if I’ll be able to wake you up.”

Ammon opened his blue eyes and gave Orman a blank look. Orman sighed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure you’re tired, but I’m not taking any chances until we can get out…”

Ammon sighed, annoyed and rested his head back, staring at the ceiling. Orman smiled slightly, then looked back at Terrako, who was barely moving. He didn’t know what the right thing to do was. They needed to get out to help out Ammon, but Terrako seemed to have used up all his energy on crawling towards them. Waiting for him to be strong enough to send a signal or to open the door would take too long, but what else was he supposed to do? And which one would be the fastest option? Orman groaned and leaned back against the rock, feeling his mouth drying up. Just great. He used up all of his and Ammon’s water to deal with the burn. They really couldn’t stay for long. Terrako beeped and began crawling to a wall, examining it.

“Hey, don’t send another electric shock through the building,” Orman warned. Terrako beeped again and clawed at the wall, and Orman gasped when some of it crumbled away. He shot up and knelt at the wall, pushing some of the rocks away. He felt a draft from a gap in the rocks and he cheered. “I think I found a way out!” Terrako made an offended beep and Orman chuckled. “Sorry. Terrako found a way out.”

Ammon cheered tiredly as Orman began moving the rocks out of the way, feeling the fresh air hit his face as the wall crumbled away, and soon there was a big enough hole for Orman to crawl through. He jogged over to Ammon who had his eyes closed, and Orman’s heart skipped a beat.

“Hey,” he shook him, a little too aggressively, and Ammon groaned. “I’m sorry, but I need you to stay awake.”

Ammon glared at him, lifting himself up shakily. Orman helped him sit up and he pointed to the hole.

“Do you think you could crawl through that hole?”

“Yeah, yeah I can do that,” Ammon muttered, slowly standing up with Orman’s help. But when he took a step, his knees buckled, and Orman nearly yelped when he caught him.

“Ok, just wait here…” Orman gave Ammon a pat on the shoulder before standing up and grabbing Ammon’s arm. He then took his belt and Ammon’s belt and strapped the exhausted Terrako to his chest. He swung Ammon’s arm over his shoulders and walked over to the hole.

“I’m fine, Orman. I can crawl through on my own,” Ammon said, sounding more sure of himself this time. Orman nodded, figuring Ammon needed to get used to his legs a little more. Orman went in first, sighing with relief when he was outside, and helped Ammon crawl out. He stood up, helping Ammon on his feet and looked at the castle.

“How are we gonna explain this?” Orman muttered to himself, thinking about what they found at the ruins. “The weird electrical shock, the symbol that caused all this… all of it…”

“Just tell Rhoam Terrako did it,” Ammon said, causing Terrako to make an offended beep. “Hey, I’m not technically wrong.”

Orman chuckled at the two and pulled Ammon’s arm slightly.

“Well, we have time to figure it out, come on, you need help.”

Ammon nodded and stuck close to Orman’s side as they began walking towards castle town. Orman kept a close eye on his dear friend, the feeling of worry never really going away even as he walked along the field. But he supposed that there was not much else he could do except to make sure he was well enough to make it to a healer. Until then, all he could do was worry.

[amugoffandoms]

okay so i am really trying to catch up on everything HSBFUFH SO HERE’S DAY FOURTEEN OF MILGRAMTOBER!!

What is the meaning of the Son of Man painting by René Magritte?

It has also been suggested that the piece aims to reflect the anonymity of the modern businessman and having to hide one's true identity in order to conform. The way that the apple obscures the man's face means that he is hiding his true self from the eyes of society.

As Kazui walks out to the balcony for a smoke, he leans against the railing as he exhales smoke. Kazui fiddles with his wedding ring. He takes it off and examines it.

It's supposed to represent a couple's unending love for each other. It means eternal love and commitment.

That's why it's in a circle.

That's what Kazui's been told by everyone he knows. His coworkers, his friends, and the jeweler who gave him this ring.

...

It just feels like it doesn't apply here.

The unending love for each other just... doesn't fit.

Kazui can certainly feel the love from Hinako. He can still remember the look she gave him in the car when they were driving to a suspect's house. The look she gave him when he gave her a bouquet of flowers. The look she gave him when Kazui asked the question. The look Hinako gave him when she said yes.

But, he's been lying to her about if he truly loves her.

Of course, Kazui likes her! It's just... he's not sure if he's in love with her.

You know the thing spouses say when they say their vows, about how their partner feels like their best friend.

That's how Kazui feels about Hinako, except that it's just like Hinako's his friend. Nothing more.

He knows he's supposed to feel more; he married her! You're supposed to love someone more if you marry them!

It just doesn't feel right.

Even so...

They're married and Kazui has to see this marriage through to the end, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do they part.

So, even if he has to lie... lie to make everything feel okay. Lie so that Hinako and he can have a normal, married life together, just like everyone wants from them. Lie to conform and hide his wants and desires. Lie to hide away from the eyes of truth.

Isn't that what marriage is? To come together and love each other and allow yourself to compromise.

So, he makes sacrifices for their love because that's what you're supposed to do.

He'll pretend he doesn't need a drink or need a smoke, even when his urges come and he's itching for a break.

He'll pretend he loves Hinako like a spouse, even when he loves her as a friend, nothing more.

He'll be the perfect man and the perfect spouse. The man his parents want him to be. The man society wants him to be.

Even if that means he'll never be himself. He'll hide behind a mask of his own lies. Continue to be the king of the masquerade. Follow through with the expectations everyone has set for him.

After all, isn't that what he's been doing his entire life?

[appalachianapologies]

🎁🎁🎁

I know you've just started Ted Lasso, so here's a fic snip from that!

“And I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s important, Jamie. You are a key part of this team. All of you- not just those fast legs or cool tricks with the ball that I honestly still can’t wrap my head around—tried it once in the park and I ended up with a bloody nose— you are an integral part of the team. Not a part of you.”

[the-hidden-writer]

Hide and Seek

Whumptober 2024 - Day 1

Guess what I decided to take part in! I'll do my best to complete the month but I'm going to have to write as I go since I only actually remembered it was a thing today. Starting off with an original piece based on my dnd campaign!

Prompt: Search Party / Panic Attack Fandom: Original (dnd campaign) Character(s): Rex Winterfall Words: 1,251 CW: panic attack, implied suicide idealisation, implied death AO3 Link: [Here!]

Hide and Seek

He can’t breathe.

He’s on the ground, wearing a fucking bearskin like a suit, and he can’t breathe.

Attempting to make as little movement as possible, he shifts his posture so that his head pokes out from underneath the skinned animal to allow him to take a shaky lungful of air. He makes a silent prayer that none of the guards (three of them, to his knowledge) noticed the wriggling of the large rug. It didn’t sound like there was anyone else in this room anyway. For now, at least.

A distant, muffled shout reaches his ears. “This room’s clear!”

Then another. “Kitchen is too!”

A third. “He must have moved. Have we checked the master bedroom again?”

“On it!” calls out a very non-distant voice, whose cry is soon followed by steady footsteps. A nearby floorboard creaks dangerously, a sound that feels as if it's reverberating straight through him, too. The guard has entered the room. A fourth. Shit. He must have miscounted.

Despite having just wrestled with a dead bear for air, he takes in one big breath before clenching his windpipe tightly shut and pulling his head further under the fur. As long as he doesn’t move a muscle, he should be fine. Hiding happens to be one of the greatest skills he possesses. He’s had a lifetime of experience. 

He can hear the guard searching the room. The squeak of the wardrobe, the rustle of bedsheets, the clicking of footsteps getting louder-

Oh no.

He squeezes his eyes shut and bites onto his tongue, suppressing a scream when he feels the pressure on his back. A heavy pressure that, thankfully, only lasts a few moments before the guard appears to move on. He feels the tense air leave his lungs like a deflating balloon. That was… painful. But he’s dealt with worse and it seems like they still haven’t discovered him.

“Sorry, Mr Bear,” he hears, and has to suppress a snort.

That’s when the stupidity of the situation hits him. He’s lying on his front under, practically in, a giant bearskin rug in the master bedroom of a stranger’s mansion, being pursued for a crime he didn’t commit. 

Well. A crime he was about to commit as a consequence of having to flee his home because of a crime he didn’t commit. He knows it isn’t his fault, not really. He’s just the victim of a hell of a lot of unfortunate circumstances. So he really doesn’t understand the guilt that he feels bubbling to the surface.

He took this job because he and his family had been displaced. They needed some income and jobs don’t come easily to fugitives. So when he caught wind of a search for someone stealthy for a theft with a hefty reward, he decided to offer his services, being good at hiding and all. What he would give to turn back the clock on that decision now that he knows it was a set-up.

It was a set-up. And he, the former detective, fell for it.

His chest feels tight. Maybe the guard’s foot broke something.

He can’t think of a more laughable position to be in. It’s so pathetic. What kind of example is he setting for his daughter? How could he ever begin to explain to her that her father is both simultaneously guilty and not-guilty, and has spent nearly his whole life on the run, simply because of bad luck? He doesn’t want to imagine the look on her face but the image springs forth anyway. He wants to physically shake it away, but can’t risk the movement.

The bearskin begins to feel very constricting, as if it hadn’t been before. The fur feels rough and prickly against his own clammy skin. It doesn’t tickle, though he does start to feel aware of every strand that brushes against him, like individual needles. It starts to feel painful to be under it. To be in it.

He’s suddenly hyper-aware that he’s lying in a corpse.

Every coherent thought flies out of his brain. He’s hiding in a corpse.

A corpse of an innocent creature.

A corpse.

A corpse. Like his sister. Like their friends. Like his workers, so many workers, all taken out just to get to him. Corpses. Dead.

He can’t breathe, no matter how hard he tries. He’s actively trying, now, to breathe. It doesn’t feel like it’s working. He might be making noise. It’s hard to tell over the sound of his heart thundering in his chest, over the blood rushing in his ears.

He doesn’t care anymore. If he stays like this, he’ll die. He’s sure of it.

He wrestles himself out of the bear, this time with no qualm about the amount of movement or noise it almost definitely makes. He just needs to get out.

He’s left there, panting in the middle of the room, his eyes wide and senses going crazy. He’s alone in here. That’s one blessing at least.

He stares down at the bear as he struggles to reclaim himself. When alive, the beast must have been massive. He can envision it: a predator that was top of the food chain, a master of the natural world, hunted down and reduced to a rug. A decoration for people to step all over. A corpse.

The surge of empathy he feels is alien and concerning.

This whole situation is absurd, he realises once sense starts to return to him. Yes, he’s good at hiding, but he’s never wanted to. It's never been by choice. He’s just been forced to hide by those various unfortunate circumstances. Those circumstances that have never really been his fault. This feels like another one.

What might happen if he doesn’t hide, this time? If he walks out of here with his head held high? Would that be the right thing to do? Would it make his daughter proud?

As the panic of escaping the bear subsides, so does his energy and any adrenaline he’d had. He’s tired. Twenty years he’s spent like this, hiding from something or other. Twenty years too long. He’s so, so tired.

With one last soulful look at the bear by his feet, he drags himself out of the bedroom.

The four guards in the hallway feel like they should be a surprise, but they aren’t. There isn’t really any strength left in him to feel surprised.

“He’s there!”

“Now!”

“Wait- is everyone ready?”

They’re young. They look practically like teenagers. He tuts quietly. If he was their boss, he would never send them out on a dangerous recapture mission at such a young age. That same image of his daughter comes back to mind. It's then that he knows that there's no chance he'll lay a finger against them.

They’re also standing in a line, the guards. The hallway isn’t particularly wide. Nowhere to run if he tried, not counting the enclosed bedroom. The one with the bear he’d just shared a private moment with. There’s already one too many corpses in that room, he thinks glumly.

Then it hits him. He’s not sure if it’s because of the thought of the bear corpse or the sight of gleaming axes in the guards’ hands, but he feels his heart stop all the same.

He’s cornered.

He’s going to die.

“Please.” It’s barely a whisper.

The guards seem to have gathered themselves, each with their axe raised and poised to throw.

“Now?”

“Now!”

He distantly hopes that no-one ever wears his skin.

Thanks for reading!

[toopunkrockforshul]

I think I have another little something for Arabelle/whumptober >:3

[forcebookish]

it's not subtext, it's text

Gilroy is def a gay villain right? He checks out Michaels ass when he gets out of the tub

And Michael even jokes about it "I like you. But as a friend"

[ohtobeleah]

Day Five: [Breathe For Me]

Summary: The love of Jake’s life is plagued with chronic migraines after an unfortunate work place accident. But when a migraine feels wrong? Does Jakes initial response cost him his most priceless wife?

Warnings: Reader Death. Mentions of brain Injury. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Overstimulation. Migraines

Word. Count: 1.1k

Whumptober Prompts Day Five: Overstimulation, migraines, “I can’t take this anymore.”

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

When we’re hurt, our bodies send signals to form blood clots directly at the injury, to help stop any bleeding. It’s our body’s system of checks and balances. It’s a system that’s supposed to save our lives. Or so we hope.

“Jake–” It started as a headache, the throbbing pressure in your temples was only a warning of what was to come. Next, the little black dots in your vision appeared. Again, another warning of the storm that was right around the corner. No amount of pharmaceuticals or home remedies could help aid you in expelling the all-consuming migraine that was inevitably pending inside your mind.

The full body aches, the sinus pressure, the sensitivity to light. The nausea, head spins, and intense head pain which made it feel like your brain was about to explode from your ears, made you want to die.

“I can’t take this anymore,” You groaned out in pain as Jake pressed a warm damp washcloth to your forehead as you hugged your knees in the bath. He sat just behind you, offering you only the comfort you wanted when you needed it the most. “Somethings wrong.”

“Dr. Snowdon said this would be a complication from the surgery honey,” Jake cooed as he felt you shift in the water. He watched and shifted as you let your back fall against his chest as you sat between his legs. Warm, soapy water lapped at your stomach as you stretched out your legs. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”

There had been an accident at work, one that no one saw coming. That’s the very definition of an accident though, isn’t it? Something you don’t see coming. Something that wasn’t intentional. Something that couldn't have been avoided.

You worked admin in the office department at Miramar, a usually safe office environment that makes your situation all the more accidental. Three people lost their lives, two people were injured. You were one of the two who lived to tell the tale of the office fire from hell. The fire that broke out after the old ass printer blew itself up. The office fire that caused an explosion that sent you flying across the building. The office fire that caused you to crack your skull on the corner of the wall you flew into.

The office fire that nearly took the love of Jake Seresin’s life.

“It’s not your fault Jake–” You nearly sobbed as you tried to focus on his gentle touch, instead of the overbearing, all-consuming pain of your head trying to tear itself apart. “It just sucks this is how my life is now.”

Jake pressed the washcloth a little harder against your forehead, hoping if anything, a little counterpressure would help alongside the warmth of the cloth.

“I know it’s not my fault, honey–” Jake cooed as he worked his magic, helping to soothe your pounding head the best he could. “But it’s so hard seeing you like this.”

Sometimes our body’s signals get messed up. And our failsafe goes haywire. Instead of making clots, our body destroys them. And the thing that’s supposed to help us? Only hurts us more.

Which means we start to bleed. And everything shuts down.

“You’re the love of my life Y/n, I hate seeing you in so much pain.” You didn’t respond, you simply laid there in the warm embrace of your husband’s touch. Your guiding light in life, and in the next.

It stayed like this for a while longer, the comfortable silence filled the bathroom as Jake worked to try and bring you some sort of comfort through your pain. He’d been with you every step of the way, so he wasn’t about to leave you now. But what Jake wasn’t expecting was for you to leave him.

“How are you feeling, honey?” Jake asked softly as he dipped the washcloth back into the warm water. At first when you didn’t respond, Jake assumed that you were just sleeping. He thought perhaps you’d found a moment of solace between the throbbing aches. “Y/n?” But when you didn’t respond when he gently tried to wake you? Jake’s heartbeat began to race with pure, unedited panic. “Hey, baby? Come on now you gotta wake up for me.”

When we’re hurt, our bodies send signals to form blood clots directly at the injury, to help stop any bleeding. It’s our body’s system of checks and balances. It’s a system that’s supposed to save our lives. Or so we hope.

“No, no, no, no, no–don’t you dare do this to me!” the poet Octavio Paz once wrote, ‘The Mexican is familiar with death. Jokes about it. Caresses it. Sleeps with it. Celebrates it.’ Jake Seresin was about to relate to those who had walked alongside death and his many unfortunate souls.

“Y/n, Honey open your eyes!” Jake cried as he dragged your lifeless body from the tub. In Jake’s eyes, death wasn't something to be celebrated. It’s avoided at all costs. You couldn’t die on him like this. You weren’t ever supposed to die before him at all. You promised him that. “Come on baby don’t do this, you’re alright,” Jake pleaded as he tried to bring you back, his compressions were hard enough to break your ribs. “No, no, no–I need you here,” Jake didn’t know it at the moment, but it would haunt him for the rest of his life. You had died in his arms, you had told him something was wrong. It would soon come to light that it had been an aneurysm that took you too soon. A complication from your brain injury.

“Wake up honey, please don’t you dare do this to me,” When death comes, it’s clinical, almost routine. But still with all the practice that doctors and nurses alike have under their scrubs, even surgeons are surprised by death. For Jake, he’d known for many years his career could lead him to an early, untimely grave. But he never expected you to be the first to leave. “I need you,” It was a painful, all-consuming cry that escaped Jake as he realised his efforts were futile. He held you close as he cried and mourned your now soulless state. “Y/n, no–no don’t leave me, please–”

Every religion, every country, every culture, death means something different to all of us. We all have different ideas about how to honour the dead. Different ideas on how to greave. Different ways of moving on. Jake Seresin wasn’t an expert by any means, but now he had the unfortunate experience of losing the person he loved the most.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

[jasmines-library]

Necrosis

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

WHUMPTOBER DAY SIXTEEN :Prompt: necrosis/wound cleaning.

Summary: Tim helps you with your wounds.

Warnings: mentions of injury. Necrosis.

Word count: 666

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER 2024

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Tim frowned as he watched you hobble across the room with a noticeable limp. You had been injured a few weeks ago; a nasty hit to the thigh with a knife. The would had been deep and painful and would more than likely leave a scar. You were supposed to be on crutches, but you had abandoned those after the first week and a half and were now resorting to limping through the manor now you weren’t on bed rest. 

“You shouldn’t be walking on that.” Tim chided as he glanced up at you from his computer screen. He had been staring at it for the last three hours, only leaving to go to the bathroom or to refill his coffee. 

“Yeah but I’m sick of staying in bed.” You said, continuing to limp towards the kitchen.  It was strange. After two or so weeks the wound should have healed up somewhat, but it seemed you were still struggling with it. And normally it wouldn’t have been a problem, but Tim often overthought and wanted to be safer than sorry. With a huff, Tim stood, walking over to you. He placed a gentle hand on your back and guided you to sit down. 

“Sit.” He said. It was practically an order as he gave you no choice but to. 

You let out a hiss as you sat, the pain in your leg twinging. Tim gave you a look. 

“How many times have you been told to stay off this leg.” He tutted. “If you want to get better you need to rest.” 

“I was just going to the kitchen.” You argued back. 

“You could have asked one of us” 

“There’s no point in asking one of you when it’s just easier to get there myself.” 

“Clearly you can’t. You’re still limping…..is it still bothering you that much?” 

“A little…” 

“That means yes then.” Tim rephrased. He knew you had a habit of downplaying your pain. He helps you straighten out your leg gently, taking a look at the bandages. “How long ago did you change these?” 

“Uh….two I think. Alfred did them for me.” He had been doing a good job of making sure your wound was clean and free from infection. 

Tim pursed his lips. “You mind if I take a look? They probably need changing anyway” 

“Go ahead.” 

“Alright.” Tim stood before going to get the medical kit. “Don’t move.” He pointed at you. “I mean it.” 

“Yes, Sir.” You mock saluted. 

Tim returned a minute later, and as much as you would have liked to have left you did stay in your place for him. Gingerly he took your leg between his hands and began to unwrap the bandages. There was no sign of blood, which was a good sign. However when he revealed the wound, he let out a hiss though his teeth.

Some of the skin around the wound had began to turn a nasty grey-ish colour. Necrosis. Likely a sign of infection or lack of blood to the cells which has caused them to die. 

“Well shit….. no wonder it’s been bothering you so much, sweetheart.”

“Necrosis?” You swallowed thickly. 

“Looks like it. It’s infected, kid.” 

“Shit.” 

“Hey. Don’t think like that. We’ll get you on some antibiotics and see how that helps and go from there, yeah? I’ll let B know. You’ll be fine, we’ll sort it, kid.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Now let’s get this bandaged for you, hm?” He said, reaching into the medical kit and pulling out a fresh bandage and some sterile wipes. Gently he cleaned the area, his touch gentle so as to not cause you any more harm, before he tossed the wipe away and began to re-wrap the wound. The bandage sat snug but not suffocating around your thigh. “There you go kid. 

 “Thank you.”

“Now get some rest while I go and talk to B.”

“Alright.”

“No walking on that leg.” Tim warned. “I mean it. No wandering off.”

“No promises.”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

<- DAY FIFTEEN ⛧ DAY SEVENTEEN->

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

TAGS:

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

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[topguncortez]

Sunburn - K. Dutton

whumptober masterlist || previous day

prompt: Heatstroke

synopsis: The Montana summers weren't for the weak. You and Kayce have unspoken history.

warnings: heatstroke, passing out, vomiting, mentions of abuse, mentions of drug usage, mentions of running away, Monica and Tate don't exist.

word count: 2.1k

There was something about Montana summers. 

The valley in which the Yellowstone ranch laid, had its fair share of weather changes. The winters were brutal, feet of snow coating the land, the wind bitter against the skin making it hard to want to get up in the morning and do chores. Spring usually brought inches upon inches of rain, damn near flooding the place and making it a muddy mess trying to move cattle in preparation for breeding season. Fall was a vibrant display of changing leaves, and the scent of fields being harvested in time before the first frost. 

But the summers, the summers were something else. Blame global warming, or whatever you wanted, but the summers in Montana were hot and steamy. The sun was unforgiving most days, beating down on you and your horse as you worked from sunup till sundown, training and cleaning horse stalls, helping move cattle from pasture to pasture, and carrying out the daily maintenance of the ranch. Most of the cowboys didn’t have an issue, but you on the other hand, never quite got along with the heat. 

It was supposed to be an “easy day”, Rip had barked at all of you as you shuffled into the barn to get tack up your horses, but the sun was already blaring its god awful rays down on the earth. Your skin felt sticky from the humidity and your hair was already sticking to your forehead underneath your hat. You left your water jug in the bunkhouse, choosing to fuel your body with the dark roast coffee Loyd had made instead. 

“You think the Devil just walked up here and decided to fuck with the temperature,” Ryan said, sitting on top of the fence, watching you and Colby rake it out. 

“Don’t know,” Colby grunted, “Think you could quit fucking complaining and help?” 

“I don’t want to melt,” Ryan chirped back and you rolled your eyes. The two of them fought like an old married couple most days.

Colby and Ryan were the first two to make you feel welcome in the bunkhouse. It was hard walking into a house full of men, no one knowing who you are or what you had shown up at the ranch for. Everyone knew bits and pieces of your story, you had known Kayce when you were younger, highschool sweethearts or something of the sort. He was the one who got away, or so you had said. While he was thriving in the military, you were left behind, struggling and doing anything you could to make a buck. You had shown up on his doorstep, soaking wet in the rain and begging for a job, begging to finally leave behind the life you had created for yourself. Kayce barely gave you the time of day, telling you to walk back down the road, take a left, and keep going until you reach the bunkhouse, that there would be someone there to help you. Since then, you and Kayce had been walking on eggshells around each other. 

“Okay, Princess,” You rolled your eyes, lifting your hat slightly off your head, and wiping away the sweat, “It’s fucking hot.” You stared at the heat waves rippling off of the earth for a moment, as the familiar sound of cowboy boots crunching on the gravel drew close. 

“What up, boss man,” Kolby greeted Kayce with a nod of his head, “Come to sweat with the worst of us?” 

“No, I need the girl,” Kayce said gruffly, and you turned to look at him, “We’re moving cattle. Let’s go,” He turned and walked back the direction he came without another word. You scoffed, throwing the pitchfork down. 

“What a fucking douche,” You grumbled, but went and followed after him to where the horses were enjoying the cool air of the barn. Kayce’s horse, of course, was already saddled up. You weren’t about to ask him for help as you grabbed your saddle from the wall, and walked down to your horse’s stall. You could feel his impatient tension like an extra cloud of heat in the air. 

“Ready?” Kayce asked as you walked your horse down the barn alley, and you nodded, silently following him outside. 

The two of you rode in silence for most of the journey, slowly but surely pushing cattle from one pasture into another. You weren’t sure why you, of all the people on the Yellowstone Ranch, had to be the one out here, sweating with Kayce. Normally, you wouldn’t have minded the silent rides through the rolling fields, but it wasn’t just the heat making you not want to be out here. 

Kayce thought that asking you to come out here with him would be the perfect chance to tell you how he felt. He, just as much as you, was tired of the awkward dance that you had been doing since you showed up. He didn’t need to ask too many questions that night when you came knocking on his door, soaked to the bone, nothing more than skin and bones. When he left for the Navy, a mere days after graduation and breaking your heart, he had asked Beth to keep an eye out for you. Begrudgingly, she did so, and told him about the shift in your life. You had always dreamed of getting out of Montana, but you never made it that far. 

Every time Kayce thought of saying something, of apologizing or even just asking how you have been, his mouth went dry and his mind blank. Instead, he thought that maybe even getting you near would break some of the tension, but he was so wrong. It seemed as if the tension had picked up a notch as the two of you rode next to each other. 

“Fuck, is it hotter out here, or is it just me,” You mumbled as you sat on top of your horse. The body heat from the animal was soaking into you, paired with the brutal beatdown from the sun, your skin felt like it was physically burning. 

“Complainin’ ain’t gonna make the sun go away,” Kayce said back and you rolled your eyes. The last thing you needed was the sass from him. Your skin felt dry and your head was pounding. All you wanted was to feel the cold stream of water in the bunkhouse shower. 

— — — 

You had never felt so happy to have your feet back on the ground. Three hours sitting up on a horse in the sun, slowly moving cattle into a new pasture. You knew that your shoulders were horribly sunburnt, and the sweat stains in between your thighs from sitting on the saddle made it look like you wet yourself. 

Kayce felt happy too, to be back on solid ground. He would be lying if he said the heat hadn’t gotten to him either. He was used to being in hot temp areas, but he would take being in full kit in Afghanistan versus sitting on a horse waiting for cattle to hurry up and move. Kayce had taken his horse back to the barn, carefully taking the tack off of him and hanging it up. He told Loyd to give the animal a good wash down, wanting to make sure his horse was cooled down before being put away for the night. 

Kayce slowly made his way down the alley of the barn, stopping just right outside of your horse’s stall. He had been thinking of what he was going to say to you since the moment he got you alone out in the field. The two of you had yet to have “the talk” since you arrived months ago, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without it. Every time he saw you, the words that he wanted to say were right at the tip of his tongue, but the second you looked at him, they all seemed to go blank. But now, it was as good a time as any. 

“Y/N,” Kayce said, stepping into the horse stall. You stood by your horse, your hand on its belly, back facing Kayce, “We need to talk.” 

You blinked a couple of times, trying to stop the black spots floating in your vision, and trying to keep yourself up right. You felt like your knees could give out at any moment. 

“Y/N?” Kayce called out. He reached out to touch your shoulder, as you doubled over and vomited into the hay sheddings, “Holy shit,” Kayce moved quickly, rushing to you as your legs gave out and you collapsed in his arms. He was alarmed by the flush color of your skin, and your chapped lips. Your eyes looked glossed over as you looked up at Kayce. 

“I-I don’t feel,” Your words were slurred as Kayce hoisted you up in his arms. 

“I know, we gotta cool you down,” Kayce said to you, and you weakly nodded your head. 

Kayce moved you quickly to the bunkhouse, the first flash of cool air made you instantly shiver. He walked you to the bathroom, and you were thankful that the house seemed to be quiet, not wanting any of the other cowboys to see you like this. It was hard enough being one of the only females here, you didn’t need this to be held over your head. Kayce gently sets you down on the shower tile, reaching above you and barely turning the water on. The second the cold water hit your skin, you gasped.

“No! No!” You cried. 

“It’s okay,” Kayce cooed, “I have to cool you down.” 

“Please,” Tears were welling in your vision, and you weren’t really sure why you were crying. You summed it up to your body being in such shock, you didn’t have control over your emotions. 

“It’s okay,” Kayce said again, running a hand up and down your back as you leaned into him, feeling your body grow weak again, “You’re going to be okay. It’ll be okay.” You let out a whine as your body had shifted temperature, but welcomed the cool water against your warm skin. 

— — — 

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep or maybe you passed out, but you woke up in an unfamiliar bed, with a box fan pointed right at you. It took you a moment, your head pounding as you looked around the room, noticing the various country-esq landscape paintings and the giant deer head on the wall. It was nearing night time, or so you had guessed by the last remnants of the sunset peaking through the wooden blinds. You tried to sit up, but let out a groan instead, your head starting to swim and black spots filling your vision. 

“Y/N?” You froze as you heard Kayce’s voice from the other side of the door, “Can I come in?” 

‘Holy shit’ You cursed to yourself, ‘I’m in Kayce’s room.’ 

“Yeah,” Your voice was raspy, and you could still feel the sting of bile. 

Ever so gently, Kayce pushed the door to his bedroom open, sticking his head in first before coming all the way in, “Hey,” You nodded your head as he walked towards you, a glass of water in his hand and some tylenol, “Drink this and take these. It’ll help the headache and muscle cramps.” 

“How do you know?” You asked, taking the water and medicine. Now that he mentioned it, your legs felt heavier than normal with a slight ache to them. 

“They train you on the basics of heat stroke in the Navy,” Kayce said, “Seen one too many guys fall over.” You felt your cheeks pink up in embarrassment, “No one saw, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“Am I that transparent?” You said barely above a whisper, “You didn’t have to bring me here. They would’ve taken care of me at the bunkhouse.” 

“I know,” Kayce swallowed thickly. He wasn’t all too sure why he had picked you up and put you in his truck, driving back to his house for you to rest somewhere quiet and comfortable. But he did, and he didn’t regret it. He knew that he would’ve been a nervous wreck leaving you in the bunkhouse, “I needed to make sure you were going to be okay. . . You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” You squeaked out. 

“Don’t apologize, Y/N,” Kayce said, shifting closer to you on the bed, “One of my first summer's running cattle with my dad, I did the same thing. We’d been out all day and came back, and the second I climbed off my hose I hit the ground. Face first in shit shavings,” You couldn’t help but chuckle, “At least you picked a clean stall to upchuck and pass out in.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Thanks for catching me.” 

“Always,” Kayce said, grabbing your hand. You glanced down between your hands and back up at Kayce, who had a slight blush on his face. He went to pull his hand away but you squeezed it and then laced your fingers with his.

[desired-misery]

"Despite trying to brace himself, Leon hears his breathing rate increase and go ragged in anticipation for more pain."

-- Leon, not having a good time with the (redacted whumptober prompt) in a 6k wip that is not complete yet

so... how excited are we for whumptober? And lots of Leon S. Kennedy????

[teddy06writes]

Whumptober Day 23 - Darry Curtis

Darry Curtis x gn!reader

Prompt: Exhaustion

Trigger Warnings: None

Summary: Darry has been working himself to the utter bone. You take it upon yourself to make him rest.

The Curtis house was shockingly quiet when you arrived, most off the gang either being out for the night, or not having made it home from work yet. Ponyboy and Johnny sat quietly at the kitchen table, working through their homework.

There was another abandoned place at Darry's usual spot at the table, and just by glancing at the mess of papers you knew he'd picked up more accounting work, as if he wasn't already spreading himself too thin.

"Heya (y/n)." Ponyboy said, glancing up from his work.

"Hey Pony," You tugged off your jacket, "How was school?"

"Not too bad. I got an A on that paper you read the other day."

"I told you you had nothing to worry about," You crossed the room, ruffling his hair as you passed, "What about you Johnnycakes?"

He shrugged, "Nothin to complain about."

You nodded, leaning down to glance at Darry's abandoned paperwork for a moment before straightening up, "Well, I suppose that's good too."

"Darry's in the laundry room." Pony said, glancing up at you again.

You shared a look with him before heading off in that direction. You found Darry in the middle of hefting a load of clothes from the washer to the dryer. You stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching him.

He looked dead on his feet, dark purple circles sitting heavily under his eyes. His shoulders were tight with tension, and he moved slowly, as if his tiredness was holding him back.

"Hey, Dar." You moved across the room, hugging him from behind.

"Hey, hun," He hummed, relaxing into your touch and leaning back against you, "How're you?"

You pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, "I'm alright. You seem tired."

He hummed again.

"I saw you picked up more accounting work."

Darry sighed, starting to pull away from you, "Yeah, comin up on needing an oil change and I don't want Steve sneaking anything out from under Mr. Cole's nose. Lord knows he does it enough already."

As he turned around, you watched his face, all the exhaustion etched into every inch of his features. "You should take a break, Darry."

"I ain't got time for that. Need to finish those accounts, get started on dinner, and look over Ponyboy's algebra, fold the laundry-"

You knew he'd carry on, so you cut him off, "Listen, love, you're exhausted. Go lay down, I'll take care of all that, alright?"

"Sweetheart, you don't have to-"

"I mean it, Darrel Curtis," You put your hands on your hips, fiening seriousness for a moment, before reaching forward to grab his hands, "Please, Dar, let me do this for you."

He sighed, tipping forward to lean his head against your shoulder for a long moment, before nodding, gratefully, "Thank you, honey."

"Go on and get to bed then. I'll come get you when dinners ready."

An hour and a half later, after finishing the laundry, making dinner, looking over Pony's homework the best you could, and packing away a few portions of what you made for whenever Soda decided to come home, you slipped into the bedroom.

Darry stirred slightly as you rubbed a hand over his shoulder, whispering, "Dinners ready, love."

He hummed, grabbing your hand sleepily and tugging at it. Smiling, you allowed yourself to be pulled into bed by a halfwake Darry who was mumbling something about eating later.

Darry wrapped his arms tightly around you, practically piling himself on top of you as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, sighing contentedly.

You chuckled to yourself, beginning to run a hand through his hair, and pressing a kiss to his forehead, "Rest well, love."

[captainreecejames]

Captainreecejames' F1 Whumptober Extraveganza Masterlist

Been craving some hurt/angst for Formula 1 Drivers? Then you've come to the right place! Here we have many stories featuring different drivers and scenarios all with different levels of hurt and angst (and of course comfort!) for you the reader to enjoy.

UPDATE: I know the stories aren't out but don't worry I do plan on posting them!

Notes from the Author: Below the cut will be the masterlist for my whumptober project. There are still 3 spots open for drivers, but no more requests for Lando, Max or Oscar please.

This will be updated with links and warnings when each post comes out, and I plan on the works being around 2000 words, but we will see how the stories write themselves.

☆ October 1st ☆ Concussion featuring Lewis Hamilton "You really need to be more careful babe, your head is too precious to be injured."

☆ October 3rd ☆ Broken Ankle featuring Oscar Piastri "No, I can't stand up and walk, please stop asking me."

☆ October 5th ☆ Broken Wrist featuring Carlos Sainz "Don't fall, don't fall, don't fall. Fuck."

☆ October 7th ☆ Depression and Anxiety featuring Lando Norris "Everything is too much for me right now, and I can't keep up anymore."

☆ October 9th ☆ Car Crash featuring Charles Leclerc "It's fine really, don't come rushing home for me."

☆ October 11th ☆ Car Crash featuring Max Verstappen "The only reason you think it's her fault is because you think women can't drive, and let me tell you that you're shit."

☆ October 13th ☆ Exhaustion featuring Lewis Hamilton "If you keep moving at this pace you're going to fall apart when I can't help pick up the pieces."

☆ October 15th ☆ Nightmares featuring Max Verstappen "God it's you're fault! Learn to fucking drive!"

☆ October 17th ☆ Amnesia featuring Lando Norris "I'm sorry, am I supposed to know you?"

☆ October 19th ☆ Job Loss featuring ... "I can't believe that they just got rid of my position like that."

☆ October 21st ☆ Who hurt you? featuring Max Verstappen "Tell me who did this, I'll ruin their life."

☆ October 23rd ☆ Mysterious Illness featuring ... "Everything is fine here, seriously, I'm not coughing up blood or anything."

☆ October 25th ☆ Cheating featuring Oscar Piastri "Please, I'm begging you, just let me explain myself."

☆ October 27th ☆ Paranoia featuring ... "I swear something is following me."

☆ October 29th ☆ Medieval AU featuring Oscar Piastri "I have every right to fight for the King, doesn't matter that I'm a woman."

☆ October 31st ☆ Mafia AU featuring Lando Norris "No one's seen her in a few hours, won't even answer her phone."

[adrift-in-thyme]

Anyone up for an angsty little fic? XD

I wrote this for whumptober but never could find a prompt that fit it. So I’m publishing it now instead!

CW for blood and injury, referenced torture, and burn wounds

———————————————————

The world is blinding and it burns.

Time grits his teeth, turns from it in an effort to escape the light. Endless and crackling, reaching out, snapping back, a whip seeking an unsuspecting back.

Someone is screaming. He knows it is not him.

“What-what…no!” A foot clad in crimson stomps once, twice, a masked face bobbing in time with it. “No, no, no! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

Fools. Time thinks. Fools and cowards.

The Yiga have brought this upon themselves.

Days, perhaps weeks of torture and experimentation have led to this. He only wishes he could have stopped it. Not for their sake. No, never for theirs. For all he cares, they can writhe beneath lightning’s brutal claws, screech, and scramble like insects trying to escape a boot.

Not for their sake does guilt pierce his soul. For Sky’s.

He lies in the center of the room, the sun in the center of a universe of destruction. Trembling with power, choking on fear, his cries ring in the hero’s ears like the bells in the Temple of Time.

The Yiga are running – the surviving ones, at least. Time can smell the smoke of their stealthy escapes. It hardly manages to permeate the heavy scent of electric death.

He breathes in, exhale hitching as he tries to move. His wounds ache and blood clings to him, dripping from the shreds of his tunic. He must get up though, he must get free.

He has to reach Sky before this power tears him apart.

The ropes around his wrists are frayed, bristling with the relentless aggression of his struggles. Day after day the Yiga had yanked him back, sliced at the fingers trying to pull at the hulking knots, aimed kicks at his stomach, his head, his back – anything to get him to cease trying to escape.

Cease trying to reach Sky.

His throat aches from shouting his name. His head pounds from sobbing.

Time contorts throbbing hands in a half-circle his wrists shriek against, pawing desperately at the same bonds that have held fast all this time.

Their strength had not been their own. This moment, they crumple beneath his force. This moment, they fall.

He is up in an instant, scrambling, gritting his teeth against the way everything shouts and screams and erupts into dazzling bursts of light and color, color and light that all take on the shade of red.

He coughs. Something damp and clammy hits the ground.

“Sky!”

One of his feet isn’t moving right. It feels like someone has wrenched it off, screwed it back on backwards. It doesn’t matter. What won’t move, will be dragged.

“Sky!”

“Time!”

The eyes that turn, tear-filled and pleading to him, match the tongues of lightning that lash out at his unarmored form. They are like the shooting stars he and Malon used to watch as they blazed across the Hyrulean sky.

Sky inhales and the force of it is nails scraping against metal, calloused fingers against a blade.

“Help me!”

The scream is a collection of shattered glass, raining down upon the room in terrible, glinting projectiles. Time winces with the pain of it.

“I’m coming.”

He chokes it out more than speaks it.

“I’m coming, Sky, just…”

He coughs again, stumbles, catches himself on the wall. It is wet with a substance he would rather not contemplate the existence of. He pushes off of it and keeps going.

The lightning reaches for him, tantalizing, hypnotic. Determined, he fights to reach it.

“Just hold on. Hold on!”

The first of them snaps back, connects with vicious precision with his thigh. He cries out, nearly crumples, and trips right into another. It sends a jolt through his side, snaking rapidly in and out of bones he didn’t even register having.

What will you do once you reach him? His mind hisses, doubtful, pessimistic. What will you do when, bloodied and broken, you fall beside him? Will you touch his shoulder? Draw him into your arms?

What good will comfort do?

He reaches for an answer. He has none. Only his mission and his determination to accomplish it.

Time grits his teeth and he presses on.

Sky screams his name again. Lightning strikes again. It is all around him now, a hurricane whose eye he is swimming towards. A hurricane that is tearing him apart.

They devour like ravenous wolfos. Streaking through muscle and sinew, razing them like fields of sun-warmed wheat; splintering bones, boiling blood. He is breathing the life-giving liquid, tasting it, smelling it. It pours from his mouth and eyes and nose, peppers the ground like a morbid artwork. It mixes with the pungent wetness of his tears and tears, melds with sickly yellow bile he cannot keep down.

“Sky…” He tries to call. He is close to him now, so close. If he just extends his arm…

His next inhale is hardly enough to be called one. At some point walking became impossible. He can’t recall when. But now he pulls himself along like a newborn babe.

Even that is too much for his body.

It smells like death. It smells like burning bodies.

He will not give up, though, not now. Sky needs him.

A trembling hand goes up, goes out, seeking its destination. An exhausted body exerts the last of its strength to lunge.

Time won’t allow himself to scream. But as he brings Sky into his arms, he can’t keep back a cry.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I so, so sorry,” sobs the shattered boy who has collapsed into him. “I can’t stop it. I can’t stop it!”

It hurts. Darkness is beginning to join the endless light.

The world is blinding and it burns. Oh, it burns. Worse than the magma of Death Mountain, worse than the clawing grasp of a deadhand, the sting of a skulltula.

It doesn’t matter.

“You can,” he croaks and pulls Sky closer. “I believe that you can.”

Time has not thought of himself as naive in a very, very long time. But for a split second, drenched in guilt, he wonders if, perhaps, he is being so now.

He shoves the thought away, drowns it beneath the battle of staying awake and staying alive.

Sky lets loose a cry like a warrior who has lost a great battle. A sound that is dazzling in its ferocity, terrifying in its grief.

“Please, please just leave.” He lifts his face, blood and soot and snot made stark against a backdrop of silvery white. “I’m gonna hurt you more than I already have! Leave!”

He tries to shove away, but it is a weak attempt. Time holds him closer.

“I won’t leave you.”

Talking is a struggle, breathing is a struggle. How long can he keep doing both?

As long as it takes.

“I am used to storms.” He smiles and that hurts as well. The expression tears at fragile flesh. “I have never run from one.

“And I refuse to do so now.”

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumptober Day 5

Sunburn - Healing Salve - Heatstroke - "Of my Pain Will Stretch that Far" (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

"Please master, can I have a second", Whumpee pleaded through gasps of breath.

They had been crawling behind Whumper for an hour now. Whumper liked taking these walks on the empty roads surrounding their off grid vacation home. This area allowed them to truly have Whumpee play pet. Whumpee was fully naked, only dressed in a collar and leash.

"Hmm, having a hard time keeping up with me pet?", Whumper turned, "we just have another mile before we're home. You can make it."

"Yes Master, but please may I have a second?", Whumpee pleaded, "I think I just found a piece of glass."

Whumper frowned as they saw blood oozing from Whumpee's hand.

"Hmm I suppose you did", Whumper sighed as they knelt to get a better look, "I don't have any first aid so I guess I'll allow you to walk like a person until we get your hand cleaned and bandaged."

"Thankyou master", Whumpee whispered.

Whumper stood, and helped Whumpee stand.

"Your knees look about tore up to", Whumper sighed, "I guess we won't take this path again."

Whumpee stumbled to the side a little, "I-I don't know if I-I'll make it master."

Whumper frowned as they saw how red Whumpee's skin was.

Whumper pulled out their water bottle and dumped the rest on Whumpee.

"Hmm", Whumpee whimpered.

"Okay let's go", Whumper lifted Whumpee onto his back and started to walk quickly.

"Master.... yo-your carrying me?", Whumpee moaned.

"Yep, I don't need you to have a heatstroke out here. I guess I didn't realize how bad the sun was", Whumper sighed, "I think you are dangerously close."

"Hmm", Whumpee moaned again.

"Whumpee, I know I don't tell you to do this often, but keep talking to me", Whumper said worringly. They were nowhere near a hospital if Whumpee did have a heatstroke, "I can't have you passing out on me."

"Wh-what sh...ould I-I talk abo-ut", Whumpee labored.

"Anything you want, just keep talking", Whumper groaned under Whumpee's almost dead weight.

"My favorite treats?", Whumpee perked up for a second.

"That's fine", Whumper nodded, "what are your favorites?"

"I like when you get those chocolate cookies with the cream in the center", Whumpee whispered.

"Uh-huh", Whumper sighed, trying to get Whumpee to keep going, "how about the granola bars from this morning?"

Whumpee paused for a moment to think, "I uh, didn't really like those "

"Oh I thought you did", Whumper huffed, "man you are heavier than you look."

"Mm, sorry Master... mm, really tired", Whumpee's head bobbed to the side.

"Whumpee, you really need to stay awake. Keep telling me about treats", Whumper quickened their pace.

Whumpee's head swayed as they lifted it.

"My, uhm... mm head hurts", Whumpee slurred, "and mm hand."

"We'll get bandaged up once we get home", Whumper could see the house in site, "just stay with me a little longer. I'll get a fan on you. Get you nice and cool."

Whumpee didn't answer.

"Whumpee?", Whumper questioned again. Concern in their voice.

"Hmm", Whumpee hummed as their head fell again.

"We're home", Whumper rounded the corner and hurried to get inside.

Whumpee was spread out on the cold tile floor, and a fan was not blowing on them.

Whumper made a few ice pack towels, and placed them in certain spots on Whumpee.

Whumpee continued to breath uncomfortably.

"I think I'm going to need to get you into the tub", Whumper frowned, "I can't believe I was this careless. I normally pay attention, but you were definitely having a hard time. I'm so sorry."

Whumpee woke up and looked around. They moved around a little and caused some water to splash up.

"Hum", Whumpee looked at the tub full of water with concern, "what's happening?"

"Woe easy there Whumpee", Whumper came in after hearing the movement, "don't move too much. You were just unconscious."

"Wh-what happened?", Whumpee looked up at them, "am-am I okay?"

"I think you are now. I'm still a little worried about you", Whumper reached down and pulled up a cup, "I've been trying to get you to drink some of this while you were unconscious. It's electrolyte water. Lets get the rest of this in you."

Whumper helped hold the cup while they drank.

"You have quite the sunburn my pet, I'm afraid you'll be uncomfortable for a few days", Whumper sighed at themself for not taking better care of their pet, "let's get you dried off and comfortable. I have some ointment to put on you to help take away the sting."

Whumpee nodded, "I feel a little better now."

"That's good", Whumper stood, "you can soak for a few more minutes while I look for that salve ointment."

Whumpee sighed in relief when Whumper had finished putting the medicine on them.

"Sounds like you feel better already", Whumper grinned as they reached for a pillow to put under Whumpee's head.

"Yes Master", Whumpee laid their head down, "thankyou."

"You're welcome, now go ahead and get some rest. I'll wake you for dinner", Whumper patted Whumpee's head a little before standing.

Whumpee let their eyes blink open and shut. They grew slower and slower.... heavier and heavier.

They could hear Whumper humming in the kitchen. The gentle notes soothed them even more.

"I'm so happy to have Master", Whumpee whispered to themself, "what would I do without them taking care of me?"

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @ragin-cajun-fangirl

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@deafeninglittlecrown