#Magic with a Cost

[jasmines-library]

Costly Gift

WHUMPTOBER DAY 7: prompt: Magic with a cost/only for emergencies

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Word count: 1.1k

warnings: Blood and injuries

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER 2024

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

One of the many things that made you special was your powers. There was no doubt about that. Your special ability that made you unique. The ability to heal others. It was a lifesaver when it came to your line of work. Being a vigilante was no easy task. Even a small job would leave the people involved battered and bruised, scraped and scarred. And you could heal them with a touch of a hand. 

But it came with a cost. 

Every time you healed a bruise, or made scarred skin smooth, you would absorb the injury yourself. And you would heal quicker. Sure. But they still hurt nonetheless. Sometimes you would end up with four or five times as many injuries compared to everyone else because you had swapped their pain out for yours. They didn’t know about this of course. You didn’t tell them because you didn’t want to seem weak. Because you knew that they would have shut you down the moment they realised that you were hurting yourself in order to help them. You didn't tell them because you wanted to do something useful. 

The night was busy. You were darting to and from your team, healing their wounds before darting off to help the next one. Your body would slowly heal itself as you moved, so the minor bruises would be gone within ten minutes or so. It wasn’t such gruelling work, and the wounds were only small. A cut here or a nasty sprain there. That was until you heard the shrill cry from across the rooftop and were dashing across it as fast as your feet could carry you. 

Damian was slumped awkwardly in Tim’s arms as he stumbled, blood pouring from the wound in his leg. He was struggling to stand, or put any weight on his injured leg at all so Tim had taken to awkwardly trying to support him. To their left lay the offending criminal, bloody knife still clutched in his hand from where he was sprawled out on the floor. Damian groaned in pain as his wound continued to seep with sticky blood. Tim pulled him away from the fighting, easing him to the ground. You skidded to your knees beside him and Tim looked at you worried. 

“He needs you.” He said desperately. You wasted no time taking his injured leg between your hands and channel your magic, feeling it sizzle through your veins and tingle in your fingertips before it began to stitch his skin closed. You felt the sting of the wound opening on your thigh almost instantly, but you did well to mask your pain. As soon as it was done, Damian thanked you and rushed off with Tim ready to continue the fight. When you stood, you took a moment to gain your bearings before taking an experimental step forwards. The wound was deep and hurt like a bitch. But you would have to make do. 

You gained a couple more nasty injuries during the fight. It was certainly one of the most brutal patrols you had seen in a while. You had gained a large cut that you had taken away from Dick which ran across your ribs, and a nastily sprained ankle from Tim. You had a definite limp that you struggled to hide as you made your way back to the cave. You felt faint, likely from the blood loss that was making your suit sticky. Your body was healing itself slowly, but the sheer amount of injuries just seemed like too much for your body to handle at once.

You stumbled on your feet as you clambered out of the batmobile, moving as quickly as you could so that you could get away from your team. You couldn't wait to just collapse on your bed. You were so exhausted and all of your energy was being focused on hiding your secret. But your suffering didn’t go unnoticed by your team. Tim frowned as he watched you hobble away. He had keen, observant eyes and he noticed your limp almost instantly. 

“You alright?” He asked, catching up to you quickly. “You’re limping.”

“Oh….yeah.” You lied quickly, trying to hide the strain in your voice. “There's a stone in my shoe.”

“Bullshit” Tim said, calling you out though he was clearly very worried about you. He was watching the way sweat broke out on your forehead, and it seemed like you were struggling to remember how to put one foot in front of the other. “I think you need to sit down….”

“I’m fine.” you choked out. But your legs failed you, and you wavered on your feet. 

Tim placed a hand on your arm to steady you. “Woah. Woah–” he lead you over to the chairs, worried that you were going to pass out.

“What’s going on?” Jason, who had rushed over, asked. 

“Something is wrong.” Tim said. But you hardly heard him. You were too focused on not passing out. 

There was a tap on the side of your face. “Hey. did you hear me?”

You blinked. “Hm…?

“I said, are you hurt?” Jason repeated his question.

“I don’t get hurt.” You mumbled. You didn’t know it, but there was a slight slur to your words. The two boys shared a glance. 

“Where is it?” Jason questioned you, giving you a close once over before he found the blood seeping into your suit. He cut the fabric away quickly, revealing the cut on your leg. Tim frowned. It looked awfully familiar….

“Is that…..is that Damian’s wound…?” He said, looking at the healing flesh. 

Jason then found the one on your ribs. “Dick was hurt here too….” he muttered. 

You made some sort of noise of acknowledgement. And then Tim clocked it…

“Kid….when you heal our wounds…..do they transfer to you instead.”

You had answered before you even realised you were telling them something you had told yourself you wouldn't. “mmhm…yeah .”

The four of them were instantly hit with a sense of guilt and fear. How many times had they hurt you?

“All of them….?” Damian swallowed

“...uh-huh…it's okay though…”you said, watching your skin knit itself back together “i heal fast…”

“Oh sweetheart….its not okay. You’ve been hurting yourself to help us and we had no idea. We’ve been asking you to heal all sorts…..”

“I don’t mind….. Im being useful. Helping. Its the only thing that makes me useful to the team.”

Dick frowned deeply at that, smoothing a hand over your hair. “Oh sweetness, you're a valued part of the team. Powers or not we need you.”

“You do?”

“Of course we do, kid. You’re one of the best fighters we've got.”

You smiled a little, a warm sense of validation swelled inside you. “Oh…”

“Now how about we see about getting that patched up, hm? And I don’t want any of that ‘i can heal on my own’ crap, okay?  Let us heal you for once.”

<- DAY SIX ⛤ DAY EIGHT ->

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

TAGS:

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

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[khoirkid]

Better than I know myself - IsArt sketches in collaboration with @amethystfairy1

[whumpypepsigal]

Whumptober 2024 | Day 7

Magic With A Cost

The Crow (2024): “With this black blood, you will move between worlds, just like them.”

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 7: Only for emergencies, magic with a cost

Legend again! Legend angst lovers rejoice! And also Time because I love him and Legend as a duo and I’ve barely hurt him so far this year.

Warnings: violence, blood, magic exhaustion.

Ao3 link

——————————————————————————

They always took a lot out of him. Legend’s medallions.

He never said it outright, but Time could tell after the rare occasions that he used them he was always a little more worn out, a little faster to sit down, hands shaking around his sword. The pure magic they used drained him nearly dry, and you didn’t have to be able to sense magic to see the obvious drain on Legend’s energy.

It was a lot like when Hyrule went too far with his own magic. Exhaustion, dizziness, a green potion or two, and a need for a good night’s sleep all obvious markers. Time was glad that Legend rarely resorted to using the medallions, but when he did he trusted the veteran to know his limits.

He shouldn’t have. So far Legend had used all three of them in this fight.

Time slammed his blade into a moblin, and watched in concern as Legend stumbled against a wall, using it for leverage as he stabbed a bokoblin. His face was as pale as the skin of the beasts they were fighting, and Time could see his legs shaking from here.

Trapped in a cave system by a portal spewing endless monsters, they were both exhausted. Magic whispered to Time from inside of his bag, but he ignored it for now, separating a stalfos’s head from its shoulders.

Not yet.

Only if things got really bad.

Time continued to work his way towards Legend, cutting past monsters with both normal blood and black. The majority weren’t infected, but enough of them were that it made the fight a lot harder. A clatter rang through the cave, and Time saw Legend’s sword go flying, torn from his hand by a swing from a poe’s lantern.

Legend stumbled, barely throwing his shield up in time to dodge a slice that would have taken his head off, and Time fought his way towards him even faster. He grit his teeth as he spun through a small cloud of keese, stabbed through a poe of some kind, and then ran forward just in time to block a slice that Legend wouldn’t have been able to dodge.

“Thanks,” Legend gasped, and Time nodded, quickly scanning the veteran before going back to the fray.

Legend was paler than ever, and his hands shook as he grabbed another weapon from his pouch. Time’s eye itched, but he ignored it as he viciously defended the veteran, refusing to think about it. Not unless there’s no other choice.

A roar shook the cave, and Time and Legend both faltered as two lynels ran into view, nostrils flaring. They weren’t Wild’s version of the beasts thankfully, but lynels were tough no matter the breed.

Legend’s eyebrows narrowed, and Time cursed under his breath at the look in his eyes.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said sternly, stabbing two blins at once.

Legend stumbled back against the wall again, and didn’t look at him as he began patting at his tunic.

“No, gotta... use it again,” Legend panted, hands fumbling as he tried to grab the cord around his neck. “Gotta...”

“Legend you can’t,” Time said sternly, throwing up his shield to block a swing. “There’s no way you have enough magic left to use that.” I’d rather use the mask—

“Too many,” Legend shot back, finally pulling the medallion from under his tunic. “Keep coming, gotta clear... clear p-path. Those lynels...”

Time had to look away to slash at some monster he didn’t recognize. “Legend we’ll figure out another way, do not—”

A wolfos lunged for Time’s face and he cried out as it threw him to the ground, fangs snapping at his nose. It bit down on his arm and he yelled, kicking up at it until he knocked it off. Time snatched his sword and stabbed it, breathing hard as the beast fell dead.

Magic prickled in the air, and Time whirled around. His eye caught on the medallion clenched in Legend’s hand, his teeth gritted and eyes screwed closed.

“Legend!”

Lightning crashed into the cave, monsters shrieking as electricity coursed through them. Most of them fell dead to the ground, but Time’s attention wasn’t focused on them.

He was too busy catching Legend as he collapsed.

The veteran crashed into his arms, completely limp, and Time scrambled to pick him up while the monsters that were still standing were stunned.

Blood trickled from Legend’s nose, his arms shaking where he still clutched at his necklace. Time had no idea if he was conscious or not, but he didn’t have time to check right now.

“Legend you fool,” he muttered worriedly, holding Legend tight to his chest, then bolted, leaping past stunned monsters. Legend’s actions had given them a window, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

The strongest monsters were already shaking off the hit, howling in anger as they realized their prey was escaping. One of the lynels had gone down, but the other was already getting to its feet, eyes blazing as they zeroed in on Time.

It bolted, and Time pushed himself to run even faster, stretching past his exhaustion, ignoring the stinging lines on his cheek begging him to give in. He was nearly past the portal, he just had to get outside the cave and find the others, come back with backup—

A different sort of roar came from behind him, and Time whirled, grabbing his shield and deflecting the fireball that burst out of the lynel’s mouth.

He didn’t stick around to see what it hit, but another roar rang through the cave as he bolted away. Legend was still motionless in his arms, and Time held him tight as he leapt sideways from a blade, twisting around another one.

Nearly all the monsters that had survived were chasing him now, and Time dodged and sliced, stabbed and lurched out of the way, all while Legend lay halfway slung over his shoulder.

Then something slammed into him, Time lost his grip, and before he knew what was happening he was on the ground, Legend gone from his arms.

“Vet!” he shouted the moment he realized, and scrambled to his feet, frantically casting his gaze around. And felt his heart stop as he saw Legend.

The veteran was lying motionless on the ground, the lynel’s hoof on his chest.

Time ran, ignoring his aching body, yelling as he sliced past endless monsters. They seemed to swarm to block him, and fear hit Time like a bolt of lightning as the lynel held out a blade, raising it above its head.

It was about to plunge it through Legend’s neck, Time was too far away, there were too many beasts, too fast too thick too many—

His pouch sang with urgency as Time’s eye burned and he didn’t even think as he pulled the mask out and slammed it onto his face.

His world narrowed, power rushed through his limbs. Someone screamed, a monster roared, a blade swung outward.

A spray of black.

Another scream.

Pain.

Then nothing.

(...)

Link floated.

He had a vague sense of moving, of muscles being used, his sword swinging in wide arcs. Muffled sounds reached him, but nothing distinct. Nothing clear penetrated the strange whiteness he was swaddled in, and so Link drifted, exhaustion keeping him under.

“...an...”

He stirred.

The whiteness pulled at him, cottony and safe, but Link pulled away a bit, listening.

“...ol...m...”

That sounded familiar.

The deep white pulled more insistently as he tried to listen more, sticking to his limbs, crooning and urging him to just sit back, let go, rest for a bit longer. But Link was waking up more by the second, and he began to struggle, pulling against the magic he could feel clinging to him now.

“...ime...”

Link had a vague awareness of his limbs now that he didn’t have before, one gripping something tight, his eyes staring at something. There was a greyish figure, too indistinct too make out, but the shape looked familiar.

The sight of it made something in Link’s chest pound, and he felt suddenly aware of the mask on his face, pressed tightly to his skin, meshing seamlessly with the markings on his cheek.

“Link...com...ack...”

Link raised a hand, the cottony magic turning sharp, wailing at him, begging him to stay down, stay safe, sink back into the protection he could offer, but Link fought past it.

“Almos...ere”

He raised his hand higher, ignoring the siren song of the magic coursing through him, vision still indistinct and washed out, then caught his fingers on his chin.

Then Time fell to the floor, the world snapping back in a wash of color, the clatter of a mask hitting the ground like thunder in his ears.

Time could only lie there for a moment, breathing harshly as his vision wavered. He felt exhausted and drained like he always did after giving in, and looked over at the mask, grimacing as pain streaked across the scar on his face.

Every time it was harder to let go.

“T...Time?”

Time turned his head the other direction, and saw Legend lying a few feet away, eyes half-lidded and full of worry. It was then Time realized that the cave was eerily quiet, and he slowly blinked, trying to get his vision to focus.

“They’re... gone?” Time croaked, and Legend nodded, dried blood coating his upper lip.

“All gone,” Legend breathed, his eyes sliding closed.

He coughed weakly, and Time dragged himself across the floor with shaking limbs, his eye burning. It took him a long time, but he finally managed to lean himself against the wall, and pull Legend’s head onto his lap, the veteran nearly limp as he moved him.

His vision was swimming enough that he couldn’t get a good look at Legend, but he was alive, and not suffering from any grievous wounds as far as he could tell.

It had been worth it.

Time closed his eyes, trembling with exhaustion as his breath wheezed. There was a sharp feeling in his ribs, his leg— he could smell blood, both monster and not, and he was sure he was coated in it. But he was alive. Legend was alive.

They’d made it.

“Hyp... hypocrite,” Legend whispered, and Time cracked an eye open, looking at him.

“Hm?”

“Hypocrite,” Legend repeated, giving him an exhausted glare. “You... chewing me out for... magic, then... using that m-mask.”

Time breathed out a laugh, and let his eye slide closed again, resting a hand on Legend’s head.

“You’re right,” he admitted, voice fading. “But... I don’t regret it.”

“Me neither,” Legend murmured.

Time ran a trembling hand through Legend’s hair, and the veteran didn’t resist, further relaxing into his lap with a sigh.

It wasn’t long after that that the both of them passed out, Time’s one hand in Legend’s hair, the other still holding tight to his sword.

[brucewaynehater101]

WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPT #7

Only for emergencies, unconventional weapon, magic with a cost, "It's us or them"

Brief synopsis: Tim has a plan that Bruce can't find out about

Bruce would rather die than kill. It's his ironclad belief and a boundary he seemingly will never cross.

This is why he and Jason scream themselves hoarse or pummel each other on Gotham's rooftops. The younger man claims this is why so many of the Bats have died. Bruce's unwillingness to accept murder by his own hands or those of his children is ultimately their downfall.

This is one of the several reasons why Tim has contingencies Bruce is unaware of. That, and the man's consistent effort to shape Tim’s paranoia even against their family.

During a month-long JL space mission where Batman's presence is necessary, the other Bats stay behind to cover Gotham. Their relationships to each other and Bruce are wobbly, but at a higher point. They even have the occasional hangout and casual interactions.

Tim will initiate individual or small group gatherings, but he's never tried to jam all of the batkids into one room together. Not before this, anyhow.

Due to this reason as well as their current friendliness with each other, all of them agree to meet at Tim's Nest. He prepared a meeting table, chairs, snacks, pizza, drinks, and a projector in his version of the batcave.

He spends three hours lecturing them on several plans that Bruce is never to hear about. He starts off soft with stuff like safehouses, vehicles, and weapons Bruce doesn't know about. He then goes into truth serums, media strategies, and extreme force measures.

He ends the meeting with the one procedure he was nervous about.

“I could have kept this from you. In fact, you should be aware that I have contingencies some or none of you are aware of. Plans I hope to never initiate.”

He sighs as his eyes flicker back to the slide. “This would be the absolute worst case scenario with no other options. I would expect each of us to exhaust all methods before we try this.”

He glances at each of the batkids despondently. “I don’t care if you'd rather sacrifice yourselves. I can't lose you. I won't. Not again.” His eyes linger on Dick, Steph, Cass, Jason, and Damian specifically, but he tries to nonverbally communicate his unwillingness to lose Duke or Barbara either.

The others may not agree or be happy with the plan, but they allow Tim to have it. They accept their role in it as well. Given their work, all they can do is hope the need never arises.

~~~

Of course, the time occurs like they all feared it would.

Their father, Bruce Wayne, stares at his kids with open fear. He can't see a way out of this and he's already envisioning his children dead and dying. The World's Greatest Detective can't find a way out of this.

He would willingly sacrifice his life for his kids, but even that is not an option. His death would afford them mere minutes.

He’s watched all of his children, officially or not, throw themselves at the issue again and again. Each came up with more erratic and desperate plans. All of the plans failed or wouldn't work.

He also notices when each member finally gives up, as they, one by one, turn to Tim. Red frantically shakes his head and types faster, eyes flying over multiple computer screens as he tries to find any other answer.

“Red Robin.”

The vigilante refuses to acknowledge Nightwing. There must be another way. He will not utilize that spell, the one that will obliterate thousands of lives, unless he's absolutely sure there are no other avenues. They are running out of time, but surely there's another way.

“Tim-”

“No! I can find a way. I can!” He's not even looking at Dick as his eyes scour over the multiple computer screens. If he can just figure this out, he will soothe the dejected lines in Dick's face as well.

A hand settles on Tim's shoulder. “We're going to die.”

Finally, Red’s hands pause. He's frozen as the weight of the words and their hidden meaning cause his shoulders to slump in defeat. “Fuck.”

The others in the room refuse to make eye contact as they come to terms with their decision. Bruce's eyes dart between his kids with a puzzled frown. He's analyzing the situation but doesn't have all of the clues.

With the grave expressions on all of his children's faces, he is not expecting Red Robin to pull a pink rubber duck from his belt. Tim approaches Bruce with pressed lips and a guilty gleam to his eyes.

“This will help us stop the invasion.”

Although Batman doesn't move an inch, Tim nods at the man's incredulity.

“It's completely harmless to humans but lethal to their species.”

And now Bruce understands the guilty and hesitant stances around him. Batman can not and will not approve of murder, even to save the ones he loves.

Considering that all of the other Gotham vigilantes have deemed this the only road, Bruce will need to find a non-lethal option by his lonesome. He will need to secure the weapon and fight his way out.

Batman quickly performs a nerve strike on Tim's arm and swoops up the tiny pink duck. Only once it's in his grasp does he realize his mistake.

No one moved to stop him.

Batman's lens covered eyes glare into Red Robin's.

Red's stare bears down on him as Batman's knees give out.

“I'm sorry, Bruce. If I have to choose between the ones I love and an enemy, I will always choose my family. No matter the cost. I don't expect you to forgive me.”

As the sedative drags him under, Bruce falls asleep knowing his kids will be safe covered in the blood of their enemies.

[amethystfairy1]

"This is a very bumpy mountain..." - Scar, while trying to sleep, probably.

Todays Whumptober fic is up! With gorgeous art from @khoirkid! Please check it out!

And also happy late anniversary to Traveling Thieves! It would've been yesterday, October 6th, when I posted "I see the danger, it's written there in your eyes" which is the first fic of the series! So much has happened and changed since then, and the AU has just grown and grown, so thank you all so much for continuing to read and support it for an entire year, and I hope you will continue to stick with me as I keep building out this dark fantasy world! ☺️

[ladtheove]

AU where Jason holds inside the most powerful energy weapon, forged through his own life force. One that eats at his years of life every time is used.

But in a place such as Gotham, how can he stay back when the danger to innocents is too great and there’s no other way? When those moments come, the one he trusts to wield his heart is no other but Tim.

His beloved.

(Inspired by the manga Utena)

Sad I don’t have the time for more, love this sketch. Might come back to it, once Whumptober ends, for painting.

[bumblingdragon]

Whumptober day 7 - Magic With a Cost

reopening wounds, an occupational hazard of blood magic

[cyberwhumper]

His nose is bleeding.

That’s the first sign of burnout, Victory had warned him. Magic lives in the blood. And when it gets to be too much, it will leave by any means necessary. He had rested his jeweled fingertips over Rex’s heart, then, warm scales glittering like stars. So if your nose ever starts bleeding, you stop and you wait for me, yeah? You wait for me.

But he can’t wait for his dragon right now. Their enemies are too close, too numerous, and the comforting thrum of his and Victory’s tangled pact-brand is all but imperceptible under the thunder of horse-hooves, the cacophony of clashing steel, and the riot of his own racing pulse.

He automatically swipes his gauntleted hand across his lips, succeeding only in smearing the rotten blood across his face. It smells foul, like rust and mildew, and tastes even worse. He grimaces, but the battle is far from won. He keeps casting.

His blue-white lightning arcs through the blade of his massive zweihänder, allowing it to slice through armor and gristle and bone as easily as butter. Men crumple in front of him, bodies writhing with static even once the life’s bled out of them. The power is, admittedly, intoxicating. It’s easy to force himself to keep going, to draw on Victory’s massive pool of power, like drinking deep from a mug of ale without stopping to breathe, even as it begins to turn his stomach.

The mind-numbing clamor of combat is interrupted, suddenly, by a spike of pain in his thigh, in the gap between cuisse and tasset. It takes Rex a moment to understand what he’s seeing, as addled as he is by magic and exhaustion, but once he does, he curses. An arrow, annoyingly well-crafted, with a glossy shaft thick as his finger and—judging by the bone-scraping agony that quickly makes his knee buckle—barbs along the steel head. He feels a distant flare of panic from Victory across their pact. He doesn’t know where his dragon is; he can’t be too far, and he’s alive, clearly, because Rex still is, but he’s not here, and the attackers have opened fire. And Rex’s nose is bleeding.

He plants his blade in the clay and hauls himself upright, lightning burning fractal paths into the ground from the point of impact as arrows continue to rain around him. But then a second bolt buries itself above his clavicle, under the lip of his gorget, and another punches straight through his cuirass, nicking a rib, and Rex falters. The flow of his cast chokes down to a trickle, then stops, but the sick-smelling blood dripping from his nose intensifies. He goes to wipe it again, automatic, but the motion makes arrowheads grate against bone, and his whole body shudders. He growls, half pain, half wolfish rage, but the blood doesn’t stop spilling over his lips, brackish, soaking his cape and making his grip slacken.

You wait for me, Victory’s voice says in his memory.

He wants to. His body is crying out for his dragon, for power, for the healing salve of his scales and the comfort of proximity, if he could just stop the bleeding, hold on a little longer, wait.

Shame. Rex has never been very good at waiting.

[Fic by the exceptionally talented @bxtterflystxtches , who I have the honor of collaborating with for this event. Please show him some love!]

[OC INDEX]

COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

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[friendship-ditch]

Whumptober Day 7 - Magic with a Cost

Galadriel x Fem!Reader ✼

Summary: Galadriel is weakened after Dol Guldur and you're charged with keeping her safe.

Warnings/Notes: None. Gotta admit I always wondered wtf happened after this scene so here's my rushed take on it.

Word Count: 1527

  Every being must at least once tamper with darkness. Even you had, dancing with the shadows in late nights where it seemed that was the only option left. But you didn’t expect the Lady of Lorien to turn so… terrifying.

  If there was anybody that could banish Sauron back to where he had come from, it would be her, but it didn’t go down how you would have imagined.

  Galadriel was already weakened from reviving Gandalf, her pale body draped loosely across the cold floor of Dol Guldur. But when the evil being began to reform in front of your very eyes, she was suddenly back upon her feet with a new strength.

  Instead of a warm light radiating from her body, it was dark, almost evil. Her hair flew behind her in murky blue strands as if she’d fallen down a well and reemerged soaked to the bone. Her face was dark, eyes wide and wild. You’d never heard a voice as deep and booming as hers as she banished Sauron from this realm with such a power you were almost cowering in fear.

  Though, the second the evil vanished, so did her power.

  Galadriel’s legs stood for only a second longer before she collapsed backwards with a cry. She would’ve fallen onto the ground had you not been there to catch her, slowly lowering her down so she was on the stone once more, her head against your shoulder and your arm around her back. She was shaking as violently as a feather in the wind, trying to catch her breath between weak gasps.

  “I’ve got you…” You whispered, maneuvering the weakened elf so her head could rest easy against your chest. Then you looked up at the others; Elrond and Saruman. “We were deceived.”

  Her shuddering breath tickled your neck, still trembling as the last remnants of her strength filtered from her body. “Sauron… his spirit endured…” She rasped in an airy tone. “We… we must..”

  Galadriel tried to stand but the sudden dizziness that swept her body dragged her back down. Her eyes fluttered shut and a weary moan escaped her lips as she sunk back into you. The idea of standing caused a sickening feeling to spread through her stomach. Oh, she was cold… so cold.

  “Stay still, my Lady…” You murmured into her hair, rubbing your thumb in soft circles over her back in a weak attempt to provide comfort.

  The other two continued their discussion about Sauron, but you could hardly hear them over Galadriel’s heavy but useless breaths. 

  “Y/n.” Elrond suddenly spoke, snapping you out of it. At once you tried to stand, but Galadriel grabbed your arm, leaving you half bent at the knee as she held onto you to keep herself from fully collapsing. “You need to take Lady Galadriel back to Lothlorien.”

  “Me?” You frowned, confused. Though you were Galadriel’s servant, yes, you were still nobody of importance. You’d come along because she asked you to, but the idea of trying to get her home in this state, alone, was terrifying. 

  Galadriel’s hand slipped from your arm but you caught it in hers, squeezing it tight. Her skin was usually quite cool to the touch, but now it was near freezing. 

  “I will help you get her there, but you must care for her after.” Elrond restated his words. His eyes flicked from yours to Galadriel’s as the ancient white being’s head fell onto your leg, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. “She needs healing, her strength has been all but destroyed.”

  You moved your hand to rest on Galadriel’s back, fingers trailing loosely through her hair. She could not stay here any longer, that was for sure, even if it seemed impossible to move her. But what other choice did you have? This was your lady, your boss, your friend… If the others trusted you enough to care for her in such a weekend state then so be it.

  “Okay.” 

  It turns out Elrond had predicted something of this manner would happen as he brought an extra horse. The two of you loaded Galadriel’s exhausted body onto the horse and you sat behind her, keeping her on the steed as you raced across the plains and through the forests.

  Lothlorien was only a day away, and with elven horses blessed by Rivendell, you arrived at a little less than that. 

  The healers whisked around you immediately once you arrived, practically carrying Galadriel away for healing. You were not allowed to see her until much later when she had been returned to her chambers.

  You peeked your head into her room, fingers clenched around the doorway. Your eyes fell upon the white shape in bed, asleep.

  With the quietness of a mouse, you snuck further into her room. You placed a tray down on her bedside table, pouring a glass of healing water and setting it aside for her inevitable waking. The healers had done well in changing her into a more comfortable gown but they left her other one folded horribly on the floor.

  You kneeled down to pick up the white fabric, shaking it out. You folded it back up and hummed to yourself. Then you placed the gown on her dresser when you heard her shifting.

  Galadriel’s face was still as pale as snow, though the softest hints of color were returning to her cheeks. She groaned softly in her sleep, eyes fluttering

  When you’d first arrived and spoke to one of the healers you had learned Galadriel had only ever exhausted herself this badly once, though they would not tell you why or how. They reassured you that she just needed rest. Lots and lots of rest. Using all of the power she did had drained her almost to the point of a magic-induced coma, but she was strong enough to fight the tendrils wanting to drag her down. 

  As far as you were concerned, Galadriel’s health and rest was the most important thing. After gazing at her slackened face you decided to have the cooks create her favorite meal so it would be ready when she woke up.

  But as you turned to leave you heard a soft voice.

  “Y/n…?”

  Galadriel’s eyes were hardly open, tiny slits of the ancient blue gazing at your blurry figure. Her soft cry was hardly more than a whimper. She tried to reach for your hand but fell short halfway through.

  You kneeled at her bedside and took her hand into yours. It was still chilly but not as icy as it had been before. A small smile spread across your lips as you looked at her. She really was healing.

  “I’m here…” You whispered. “I’m right here.”

  “I…” Galadriel was too weak to form any words but you sensed her need. You gently lifted her head as you held the glass of water to her lips, letting her drink until the glass was emptied.

  When you laid her head back down, her eyelids sank closed once more, but the corners of her lips were ever so slightly raised.

  “Stay…” She croaked.

  You moved one hand to gently touch the side of her face, fingers feather light across her skin. After you kissed her forehead, you nodded. “I will.”

  You stayed at her side the remainder of the day and even well into the night. Galadriel’s only fear at the moment was being alone, and you weren’t fond of the idea either, so you stayed with her as long as you could.

  By the time the next day rolled around she began to regain some of her strength though she was still bedridden and shaky.

  “Would you be able to stomach some soup?” You entered her room once more with another tray, a warm bowl of soup atop the metal platter. 

  Galadriel blinked a few times, lifting her head. A soft groan escaped her lips from the movement but once her eyes fell upon you and the soup, she smiled weakly.

  “Please.”

  You sat beside her once more, sort of propping her body up against yours. She was far too shaky to hold the spoon herself without spilling the hot liquid so you did it for her, feeding her until she was finished.

  Galadriel was not a fan of being unable to sustain herself but at your side she felt no need to protest. You were a safe presence for her, one she knew she could trust and be weak around. Plus… she secretly enjoyed the way you babied her, though she would never admit it.

  The soup seemed to do her some good as she could sit up on her own now but the idea of standing made her queasy so she stayed beside you in bed. Her body was still struggling to warm itself so at her request you cuddled with her, her head on your chest as your fingers ran gently through her golden hair, keeping her body and heart warm.

  You could certainly get used to a few more days of this. And so could she as the two of you drifted off in each others arms once more.

[whumpshots]

Whumptober #7

Trope of the day: magic with a cost

_

Whumpee always promised Caretaker to never use their powers unless things are looking bad. And now it happened.

Things are looking bad.

Really bad.

Whumper is far too powerful, they won't be able to survive if they don't do anything. Fast.

Their heart is racing against their chest, Caretaker calls over to them to hide, but Whumpee has already decided to act. Rushing out catch Whumper's eye, they try staying calm.

The team depends on them, they have to do it. They have to do it now.

Taking a deep breath, Whumpee casts their spell, feeling the power building up inside their body. The spell is mighty, they all know it. Whumper tries to evade it, but it is too late.

Whumpee doesn't even see the effect of their spell as their knees buckle underneath them, collapsing to the ground. The taste of blood is on their tongue as everything turns dark around them, but Whumpee manages to stay awake, coughing as Caretaker rushes to their side.

"That was... impressive," Caretaker mutters as they get a piece of cloth to wipe away the blood that runs out of Whumpee's nose. Their body trembles, everything hurts. "You did it, kid. It's over."

A small smile pulls at their lips, another cough shaking their body.

It's over. It's finally over.

[friendlylocalwhumper]

i’ve always wanted to see more of lux being hurt while strapped down on a table. it’s a kind of restraint that he isn’t used to- wrists, ankles, neck all tied down which makes him unable to twist away from the pain (even if it doesn’t really help anyways) and with how much he HATES being restrained and HATES doctors/hospitals, make it a medical contraption of some kind that he’s strapped into and he’d be begging before the pain even started 😭😭😭

i know this isn't quite what you asked for, but you did inspire this, so here you go. hope that it is close enough!

Cold. Cold here. His hands are quaking, fingers knocking together like blocks of ice. He can’t feel them. He can’t feel much.

Lux ducks his head away from the concerned hand that comes to cup his cheek.

“Used too much…” He hears, although the words swim far from him. The sounds dance along the peripheries of the room. Every breath pierces his lungs, unwelcome in how badly it stings.

“...-ear us? Lux?”

He can hear them, just barely. Someone takes his chin and lifts it, and he allows it. His curls are brushed aside, and that, too, he lets happen. The tears on his eyelashes make them damp, and heavier, and he can feel that he is blinking. But there is nothing before him, just darkness.

“He can’t see,” Someone says somberly. Fingertips touch his cheekbones and wander up pensively to his eyes, and Lux flinches back, blinking rapidly.

“Sorry. Sorry, Lux. Come here.”

A cool washcloth presses to his ribs, and he hisses, brows knotting up in distress. He is already shivering where he sits on the edge of the bed that he was deposited on.

“C-co-cold,” He chatters, and cringes from his own voice. It sounds small. Frightened. He wishes he could do any better. “Co-old, please.”

Hands are on his shoulders, keeping him gently in place. Lux shrinks down but doesn’t try to escape them. “Lux, we have to clean it up. There’s blood all over you, you’re hurt…”

Indignation, tiny and brief, flashes hot behind his lungs. “I know I’m hurt,” He croaks miserably. “I - I know - I kno-ow that. Please… please, slo-ow down, I don’t, I don’t know, I - I don’t…”

Maybe there is some injury on him that is so severe, treatment can’t wait. Maybe someone was just informed of an approaching danger via whisper, and this has to be done urgently. Or maybe his stuttering, flinching hesitation finally broke their patience. Lux feels the hands on his shoulders tighten, squeezing a whimper out of him with simple pressure on the aching joints. He is pushed back until his shoulder blades press to the mattress, held down with a hand on his sternum, and Lux is instantly put in his place. His lip disappears into his mouth to chew on it nervously.

The washcloth returns, and his shivers worsen. Cold rivulets slide down his sides and soak into the bed. He was bad, he was bad, he could’ve been less annoying and then this wouldn’t be happening.

Fingers wrap around his wrists. So warm. A sob catches painfully in his throat as his arms are lifted. It stretches his ribcage, and then the congestion of blood in his lungs gets easier to breathe around - but it makes his shoulders ache so much worse, and it scares him. Doesn’t that matter? He tries to explain, tries to beg for it to stop, but the words don’t come out. His teeth feel air on them and his throat is sore, but he can’t hear any words coming out.

Someone presses down on his wrists to keep them in place. His chest is touched by something rubbery - a gloved hand - and someone else grabs his leg, the throbbing one. Lux thinks he screams, but apparently not, because everything remains quiet.

The grip on his leg tightens. Someone seems to decide not to leave it to chance whether he’ll get noisy, and presses a hand over his mouth.

Shouldn’t have used his magic in the first place. Shouldn’t have spoken up, caught anyone’s attention. This is his fault, all his fault - even if he is being helped right now, being patched up, it is worse. Worse than going cold outside, forgotten on the side of the road, struggling to breathe. Lux tries for one more sound - a whimper, would’ve been muffled against that hand, but no sound leaves him - and then he gives up, falling limp with a shudder.

[chaotic-orphan]

Whumptober No.7

Only for Emergencies

Unconventional weapon // magic with a cost // "It's us or them."

*~*~*~*~*

“Leader,” Medic cried, the usually stoic man so flustered as he half dragged a semi-conscious Rogue through the streets and into cover. “We’re not going to outrun them. Not like this and they’re gaining on us.”

Second strayed to the alleyway across from Medic and Leader, firing shards of ice like a canon at the enemies, crafting a thick wall of ice and making some cover. Even Leader could see they were tiring too, and their eyes, despite themselves turned to Whumpee.

Whumpee, sensing the weight of Leader’s gaze, raised their head. “No,” they said, shaking their head. “No, Leader, you promised.”

“I promised it would only be for emergencies, Whumpee. This is an emergency.”

“We can still—”

“We can’t do shit!” Medic cut in, growling. “I am at my limit. So is Second, Rogue is barely conscious and the enemy don’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.”

Whumpee stepped back away from them, as if slapped. The betrayal that crossed their expression pulled at Leader’s heartstrings, but they couldn’t disagree with Medic. He was right. They were at their limit. They didn’t expect Villain to come to the exchange with an entire army.

“This is Villain we’re talking about,” Whumpee whispered, tears pricking their eyes. “If I— If I…”

“If you don’t then we’re as good as dead,” Medic snapped.

Leader, always the gentle touch, walked over to Whumpee, taking their hands in theirs and getting on their knees. Whumpee stiffened as Leader looked up at them with tears in their eyes.

“It’s us or them, Whumpee,” Leader whispered. “Villain chose their side. They chose to betray us and they chose to lie to us about this exchange and their numbers. They don’t care if we live or die!”

They care if I live or die, Whumpee thought, and the guilt speared their heart. They couldn’t hold their life above the lives of their team, above Rogue and Medic and Second and Leader. Then they’d be no better than Villain.

But still… Villain loved Whumpee, they would never ask this of them.

Whumpee pulled their hand from Leader’s. Leader closed their eyes, their chin dropping to their chest defeated.

“You know what it will do to me,” Whumpee whispered, but they felt like they were screaming, every breath was an effort. Leader slowly rose to their feet. They dragged their gaze up to Whumpee’s, apologetic and guilty.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Whumpee swallowed the lump in their throat.

They were… they really were just going to let Villain win, out of their own pathetic selfishness but— if Whumpee unleashed their ability it wouldn’t just be Villain and their army in danger, it would be their team too, the world if they didn’t stop Whumpee in time, and Leader knew that.

Medic held his head in his hands, fisting his hair and yelled a long, low guttural: “FUCK!”

Leader placed a hand on Whumpee’s shoulder and Whumpee met their yellow gaze. Whumpee recoiled, jolting back but it was too late. They were under Leader’s command now, and their body wasn’t their own.

“Whumpee… I need you to use your power so we can escape,” Leader said. Whumpee’s expression bled blank until they were just staring like a zombie at Leader.

Medic raised his head, eyes wide. “Leader? Leader! What did you do?!”

Whumpee walked past Leader, past Medic and Rogue and out into the open as the ice wall broke, a green, ghoulish hue overtaking their body. Leader set their jaw.

“What I had to. Now, let’s go.”

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober: Day 7

ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES unconventional weapon | magic with a cost / Hoodie Weather

Yuu felt like screaming, but they didn't want to waste their breath.

The inky black monsters that were overrunning the island were relentless. They slid along the rocky terrain with startling speed, resembling more vicious ocean waves than the malicious creeping spirits that possessed them.

With this many, it was difficult to tell them each apart. That made it twice as difficult to dodge their attacks, and strike back at them.

Yuu had never felt more useless or pathetic in this one fight, which was impressive, because this basically happened every fight. Still, there was absolutely no way to fight the monsters through any non-magical means.

A pang of longing went through them. They wished their friends were around. At least it wouldn't have been so bad, if they were all suffering together.

But they were gone. Their friend group had been together when the monsters had struck, and, all of them being lower-level mages, had been unable to effectively counter the sheer number of blot monsters.

Now, Yuu just had Grim, and for once, he wasn't fighting them on who was the real dorm head of Ramshackle.

Speaking of Grim, Yuu was clutching him as they ran to higher ground. They'd tried the roof of Ramshackle, but when it threatened to collapse under the relentless attacks of the monsters, they fled.

Grim was beating back the monsters that got too close as Yuu scrambled up a tall tree. They frantically pulled their phone out of their pocket, hiding themselves in their hoodie to try and heat up a bit.

The air was chilly, and it suited Yuu's resentful mood. As they opened up the groupchat to get an update, they saw everyone's preparations.

Because of the warning that their group had been able to provide, the other dorms had been able to get prepared. A number of them had promised help, but none had arrived before most of their group had been struck down.

Yuu had to admit, they were dealing with a bit of a complex here at Night Raven. It was hard to be so lackluster all the time, and they often felt like they got overlooked whenever something dangerous was happening.

At the same time, it was hard to ask for help. Everyone always gave them a hard time over it, chuckling patronizingly and reminding them, for all their bluster, they were just a "normal human".

Yuu felt like they were being set up to fail, but by who?

"Hey," said Grim, tugging on their sleeve. "Look."

Yuu followed his outstretched paw to see the inky blot monsters down below. To their surprise, they saw the blot monsters struggling against the tree's bark, looking like they were trying to climb up only to slide down.

"Huh," huffed Yuu "The angle's too sharp for them."

The two of them smiled at each other and starting laughing, feeling they'd finally gotten their first big break of the night.

Which is, of course, when something went wrong.

The blot monsters hadn't been able to climb very well, but they had knocked themselves hard enough into the trunk that it had caused the thin branch Grim was on to fail.

"Grim!" Yuu dove as fast as they could to grab him, and while they were able to snatch him out of the air, they also managed to punch his wand out of his grip.

It fell into the writhing mass of ink below, and quickly fell out of Yuu's vision.

The blot monsters were too smart for Yuu, because, upon recognizing their newly-found success, rammed themselves into the tree again.

Yuu grabbed onto the tree, trying to find their balance in the slippery bark.

"What are we gonna do?" yowled Grim.

Yuu knew one thing they could do.

When they'd presented the idea to Malleus, he'd immediately been hostile.

"No, Yuu," he said. "That is not a solution. Your idea is going to get you, as well as a number of others, killed."

"Well, what are your suggestions!?" Yuu had exclaimed. "You're so negative- any idea of mine, you attack!"

"Call me," he'd replied, taking their hands into his, emerald eyes boring into theirs. "No matter what. I'll always hear you."

But Yuu had called and called, and had made a fool out of themselves as their friends fell, one by one, while Malleus was nowhere to be seen.

Yuu didn't know what had really happened to their friends. They didn't know if they were even still recoverable at this point. But Yuu knew that they'd sacrificed themselves for Yuu, and now it was time to make their own sacrifice.

Without letting themselves think about it for another moment, Yuu shrugged off their backpack and scrambled for the little package at the bottom.

They ripped it open and popped it in their mouth, the inky flavor exploding in their mouth, Yuu struggled not to spit it out.

"Yuu!" exclaimed Grim, and they realized they didn't even know if overblotting would work on a magicless human.

They looked up, and as the drops of black ink overtook their vision, they thought they saw a figure standing in the distance, a few paces behind the last blot monsters.

The last thing they saw was Malleus, mouthing "Yuu," before it all went black.

[aprocessionofthoughts]

The Cost

whumptober24 day 7- only for emergencies, magic with a cost fandom- Danny phantom tw- Danny dies, but when does he not summary- the GIW are never going to stop

masterlist ao3

They wouldn’t stop. They were never going to stop. His parents would never get it. The GIW would never get it. It didn’t matter that the evidence was all around them. That ghosts aren't evil. That every second that they kept the portal open more and more ectoplasmic radiation leaked through and contaminated more citizens. They wouldn't shut the portal off. Why would they? It was key to their research. Without the portal where would they get the ghosts to study?

It didn’t matter that people were becoming contaminated to the point where they were developing abilities. That just meant more test subjects. After all, if you were ecto-contaminated then you fit under the Anti-Ecto Acts, and by this point, all of Amity was contaminated. Especially the children.

Danny was doing as much as he could. Sam and Tucker and Valerie were helping. But it wasn’t enough. People were disappearing, children were disappearing. And even though more and more people were turning against the GIW, it didn’t matter. 

The GIW were the ones with the weapons. The ones with the power.

Danny needed to end this. End the GIW. If he didn’t, then everyone would suffer and the contamination would just keep spreading.

He had been the one to turn the portal on, the one to start all of this. He had to be the one to end it.

And Danny was a halfa, born as the fabric between realities was torn. He was powerful, and he would be even more powerful one day. But they didn’t have time to wait.

Everything a ghost was and ever would be, was stored in their core. Which meant that all that power that Danny would one day have, was stored in his core. He just had to find a way to let it out.

He didn’t tell his friends. He knew they wouldn’t like the idea.

But if the portal had given him his powers, who was to say that it wouldn’t unlock the rest?

And so here he was. He had unplugged the portal before walking inside and flipping the safety switch to off. That’s what it had been. A safety switch his parents had stupidly put on the inside of the portal. Then he had plugged the portal back in and walked inside.

Now he was standing in front of the switch, the same thing that had killed him. Was he really doing this? He wasn’t even really sure it would work.

But… there were people suffering right now, people he could save if he was just a little stronger, a little better.

He clenched his jaw and opened his eyes. Then, he slammed his hand on the button and felt the energy tear through him.

He screamed.

—-

No one was really sure what had happened. The GIW had been getting worse and worse, carting people off to their base on the edge of the city. Everyone had been terrified they would be next.

But then…

A creature had appeared in the sky. Something that hurt to look at with too many limbs and too many wings and too many eyes and horns and teeth. It was the color of shifting galaxies, of stars being born before exploding into supernovas before collapsing into black holes only for new stars to take their place. No one could look at it for more than a moment.

But it tore through the GIW base, through the town. There were screams and the sounds of firing ecto-weapons. People bunkered down and prayed for the newest threat to soon be over.

And when silence finally fell and people stepped out of their houses, they saw that the only thing that had been destroyed was the GIW base. And as families and friends gathered they saw that everyone was there, even those who had been captured by the GIW. 

Only the GIW had disappeared, along with the Fenton parents who had recently joined their ranks.

And in the midst of the celebration, there were only four figures who no one noticed running to the Fenton household. They were the first to see that the portal had been destroyed along with the lab.

And while everyone else rejoiced in the coming weeks, happy to see that not only were the GIW not a threat, but that ghosts had also stopped invading, there were only three children along with the older Fenton girl who grieved for the youngest Fenton.

It was only those four who knew what had happened, what had been sacrificed for their freedom, for their salvation.

[foreverchangingfandomsao3]

te nuhaatyc a kyramla besbe’trayc (the invisible but deadly weapon) (2,377 words) by foreverchangingfandoms

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Stitch (212th medic OC)

Additional Tags: Whumptober 2024, Whump, Obi-Wan Kenobi Whump, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, That's Not How The Force Works (Star Wars), All Magic Comes With a Price, Well the Force comes with a price, Protective Obi-Wan Kenobi, POV CC-2224 | Cody, Worried CC-2224 | Cody, Worried Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets a Break, Well he gets a coma I guess so same thing, Hopeful Ending

Series: Part 7 of Whumptober 2024

Summary:

The Separatists have a new weapon, one that kills everything in its path and Obi-Wan protects his men from it the only way he knows how.

My fill for whumptober day 7 - Only for emergencies (unconventional weapon | magic with a cost | “it’s us or them”)