#Whumptober 2024 complete!

[dr-abitat-blog]

Day 31: "You need to get out of here!"

@ailesswhumptober

T/W: Nightmare, panic attack, PTSD, trauma recovery

A shadow hovers over me, staring down at me. The bright lights from above my head beam down on me, bathing my entire body in cold white light. Something heavy holds me down, pinning me in place. A rhythmic loud beeping — just like those machines. I try to open my mouth,  but no words come out. Nothing. Only a strangled gasping for breath as I start to kick out and struggle—

N-no!

Hands brush against me. I immediately jerk away, kicking and struggling to avoid them. A muffled voice sounds in the background. I can barely hear it over the pounding in my chest, or the beeping in my ears. At this point I can’t even think — I just act out on instinct. My body lashes out, squirming to get away from—

“Ash!” The hands pull me up into a sitting position. The world lurches around me in a disorientating haze. My hands smack out, colliding with the nurse trying to pin me down. A strangled cry of panic leaves my lips as I try to shuffle backwards to escape them, to escape the pain — but there’s nowhere to go. My back brushes against the wall — I’m trapped.

No escape.

My chest tightens. Getting any air in becomes a challenge. Panic flares even more.

Can’t breathe—

My breathing picks up even faster. I slam a hand to my chest, closing my eyes. My fingers prickle and burn as I keep panting and gasping.

C-can’t breathe—

They’re coming for me. They’re coming for me—

“Ash!” I hear another voice, louder. Familiar. My struggles temporarily stop. I see them in front of me, their figure slowly shifting. Blonde chin length hair. Floral perfume scent. Wide brown eyes—

“Kri–is?” Their name comes out in a choked gasp.

“Y-yeah, I’m right here. It’s okay, I’m—” “N-no, not — get –out — you — need to — get—!” “A-Ash, I’m fine. We’re safe. We’re not—” “No — don’t let — catch you — no — d-don’t—!” My hands grab at them desperately. I’m barely aware of the tears crawling down my cheeks as my fingers continue to burn. I hear them give a faint hiss of pain.

Can’t let them — get hurt — not Kris — not —-

“Ash—Ash! Look at me!”

One of their hands wraps tightly around my own. The other reaches up to brush against my cheek, applying tactile pressure as they stroke their hand down my face. “L-look at me. I’m okay, see? I’m not hurt. You’re not hurt. W-we’re okay.”

It takes…a long time to finally realise that fact, but when I do, I see Krissy’s face in front of me, their eyes shining with tears. “We’re safe.”

“S-Sa—fe?”

“Safe,” they repeat firmly, “Come on — stand up, feel the carpet against your feet, okay?”

They gently tug me to my feet. Soft fibres tickle my bare soles. “How does that feel?” “Nngh…”

I try to focus on that one thing, on the soft feeling of the carpet. Not cold hard metal, not—

“S-soft…” “Good — right uh, Nick’s exercises. Five things you can see.”

It’s an immense effort to concentrate enough to pick out five things, but for their sake, I try.

“B-bed — d-drawer — door — TV — y-you — table.”

“Uhuh — what colour shirt am I wearing?” I squint through the haze to get a better look.

“I-I…b-blue?”

“Exactly — now four things you can touch. Carpet is one. Three more.”

Slowly, they guide my shaking hands over the textures of the nearest items. 

“Smooth wood — c-cold glass — f-fuzzy blanket—”

“Good. Three things you can hear.” “U-um…”

Slowly, we work through the exercises. With every new question, I’m forced to concentrate on my surroundings a little more. Gradually, it grounds me back to reality. The tightness in my chest eases. My breathing slows down. I can finally string words together again. By the time we finish two things I can smell and one thing I can taste — the leftover dregs of my orange juice — I’m mostly orientated. Exhaustion hits me. The tears roll down my cheeks.

“There.”

Their hand strokes through my hair, blinking back at me with worry. “Feel better?”

“K-Kris…y-you need to get out of here.”

When they just stare back at me helplessly, I shake my head even harder, raising my voice. “You need to get out of here! B-before they—”

“We’re not there, Ash. We’re at home. Home.”

They hold my hand, squeezing it gently, uncaring about the pain from the burning essence. “See? We’re in our bedroom. Y-you just had a nightmare — and then that triggered a panic attack. Y-you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

They grasp my other hand as we move to sit on the edge of the bed. “Let’s…breathe together, okay? In…out. Mind. Over. The. Matter.”

“M-mind. Over. The. Matter…”

I repeat the process silently, taking deep breaths in and out in the typical box breathing pattern that I’d become very familiar with. With each breath, a part of me returns. Krissy leans against me as we breathe together. Then, after that final cycle, I begin to settle down.

“S-safe,” I murmur, “Home. Our bedroom. W-we’re safe.”

“Exactly, Ashy.”

Their voice is soft as they peer back at me, peering into my eyes. “C-can I…hold you?”

The fact that they ask, that they respect my boundaries, means so much to me. I silently nod and they open their arms, gently wrapping them around my waist. After a few seconds, I copy the gesture, moving my arms around them, leaning forward so that our foreheads touch. I hear their own rapid heartbeat in their chest. Their blonde strands tickle my cheeks. I don’t flinch. I don’t move. Neither of us utters a word. We don’t have to. All we need to do is sit there and hold each other. To know that we’re there. Here. Together. 

Safe.

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

Whumptober - 8

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

Content warnings: self sleep deprivation, discussion of nightmares, discussion of intimate whumper

“What are you setting alarms for? There’s no need to be up early.”

Whumpee froze, setting their phone down. “Oh. …You know.”

“Sorry.” Caretaker bit the inside of their cheek. “It’s none of my business. You don’t need to tell me.”

“It’s not… I mean, it’s fine if you want to know. I just don’t think you’ll like it very much, and I don’t want to upset you.”

They didn’t think that Caretaker would like it that much. They didn’t want to upset them.

“Okay, Whumpee,” Caretaker agreed, as if this was an okay thing. “Yeah. Um. You know you can tell me whatever you want? It’s your decision. Tell me if you want to say it, not based on how you think I’ll take it.” And if Whumpee thought it’d upset them, then they were probably right, but it didn’t really matter whether or not it upset Caretaker. After what happened to Whumpee, this was the least they could do to try to help.

“I get nightmares sometimes,” Whumpee whispered slowly. “But I’ve told you that part already.”

“I thought they stopped?”

“I mean… yeah? Technically, they did stop. When I started setting alarms for myself. They wake me up every two hours, and I leave the light on. My brain can’t fall asleep deeply enough for me to get nightmares anymore.”

Caretaker exhaled slowly. “Jesus, Whumpee.”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“That’s not what I meant,” they sighed. “I’m just not sure if this is a good idea.”

“I can stop if you want.”

Caretaker blanched. This reaction made sense, and not just because of Whumpee’s desire to please. No, this made sense because Whumper had fucking liked nightmares. It had given them some cruel sense of gratification to know that Whumpee could not escape them, even in unconsciousness. It was one of the first things Whumpee had confessed to Caretaker, back when they’d hated speaking about anything that'd happened.

So which was the greater evil? To stand by and watch as Whumpee ran themself into the ground? Or to betray their trust and make another decision for them, knowing that they would not refuse a request from Caretaker?

“Of course I don’t like it,” Caretaker managed. “But that shouldn’t convince you to stop doing it.”

“What other reason would I have?” Whumpee asked, and Caretaker winced.

“For yourself, sweetheart. If you’re going to sleep the whole night through, do it for yourself, not me.”

“I don’t think it would be very helpful to myself if I was having nightmares the whole night, Caretaker.”

No. Probably not. That was fair. “Maybe we could try some different things to help you relax.”

“Like what?” It broke Caretaker’s heart to hear how tired their friend sounded. They wouldn’t have resorted to alarms if they’d thought something else could work better. “I would take medication if you asked me to, but I don’t- I don’t want to. If that matters.”

“Of course it matters,” Caretaker whispered. “Of course it matters, Whumpee. I wouldn’t jump straight to medication, anyway. Things like drinking a relaxing tea before bed, or taking a bubble bath. Or if you think having the light on helps, we could get you some light that wouldn’t be so harsh. Fairy lights, maybe.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, Whumpee. Whatever you want. We’ve figured everything else out, we’ll figure this out too.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

[blackseafoam]

Healed Wrong

Part 1 of 4

next

WC: 2349

Warnings: Character death, near-drowning, self-harm (kinda)

Summary: Clone Troopers Flinch, Sway and Ash are freshly deployed on the swamp planet of Dokmur to guard a republic base. Things are uneventful, but danger lurks in the nearby flooded forest.

Heeere's my clone OC, Flinch's (CT-8424) backstory! Probably what he was retelling to ulvi in this comic. Takes place toward the very end of the war, weeks before order 66 and the fall of the Jedi.

Whumptober 2024. Day 06 l not realizing they're injured l unhealthy coping mechanisms l healed wrong l "it's not my blood"

The battlefield was a swamp, and forces on both sides struggled to maneuver. The battles were hell, the boots were constantly filled with water, and the insects bit through every gap in the armor.

Flinch, Ash, and Sway were as shiny as shiny could get, assigned as warm bodies protecting the perimeter of a base hardly anyone was using.

“I think the Sergeant has lost his mind.” Sway huffed as he scanned the tree lines

“What makes you say that?” Ash stood at his right. 

“He’s got us running around all over the place, checking the weak points in the wall. Shouldn’t we just be patrolling around the whole perimeter in a circle? We’d end up wasting way less time that way.” 

Ash Shrugged. “Maybe we should ask him why?”

“Hell no, questioning a superior officer? Are you serious?”

Ash shrugged again. “Maybe if you frame it like a suggestion? Or curiosity?” 

“Not with Sergeant Kip, he’d have us court martialed for tying our shoes wrong.” 

“Our boots don’t have laces…” Ash‘s comment trailed off as another figure started running toward them from the sentry threshold in the force field which surrounded the base. 

“Late again?” Ash chided, Flinch didn’t need to see his face to know there was a cocky smirk beneath that helmet.

Flinch slowed to a jog as he closed the distance. “I left my bucket in the refresher right before someone went in and took FOREVER to finish up!” He complained with a huff.

Sway and Ash laughed

“You’re a mess.” Sway punched at Flinch in the arm. 

“OW! Dammit Sway it’s still healing!” Flinch reflexively grabbed his right bicep where his fresh fist print tattoo was marinating under a bacta patch. 

“What’s the point of getting a tattoo no one will see?” Ash tilted his head, the middle of his flame tattoo that led from behind his ear to his collarbone just barely visible. 

“At least mine isn’t a boat.”  Flinch's defensive glare was so potent it shot through his visor.

“What’s wrong with a boat?” Sway scoffed.

“Why do you even like them? They’re useless.”

“They’re efficient… and poetic.”

The patrol went on as usual, boring. The three took turns, rotating one person at the post and two roving, none of them ever out of sight of each other. 

Flinch and Sway walked their route, their conversation dwindling as they grew hungrier through their long shift. They slowed at the treeline. 

“Our relief must be overdue.” Sway complained.

Flinch glanced at the sky. “Nah, we’ve still got an hour and a half.”

“How do you know that?”

“The moons, see? That larger one hasn’t crossed the path of the smaller one yet, they follow the same path every day.”

“How is it you have the concentration to know where the celestial bodies are at all times, but no focus when it comes to keeping your kit together?”

Flinch shrugged, looking into the woods. The stagnant water rippling between the mangrove trees that stood like sentinels in the swamp. “What is that?”

Sway followed his gaze. The still water had begun to ripple. “Probably a fish or something, let’s stay focused Flinch.” He lightly cuffed Flinch’s left, untattooed arm. The pair kept walking the treeline. The pair cast a cautious glance toward Ash, a hundred yards away now, dutifully watching his patrolling brothers with his rifle at the ready. 

Flinch and Sway were at the edge of their assigned area, about to turn back the way they came. Flinch looked up into the tree that marked their border, its base was submerged in the water here at the edge of the swamp.The branches were tall and spindly with myriads of tiny leaves all reaching toward the sky. Vines and bromeliadae hung from the trunk and branches like draped sinew. He spun on his heel and turned toward the base.  

Before the two knew what was happening, arms appeared from behind a tree and snatched both of them. They gasped in sync as the forceful tugs of two assassin droids wrapped around their waists set them off balance and plunging into the thick black water. 

Flinch panicked as he felt the full weight of the droid now on top of him, he could barely see through the opaque surface of the water. Even though the seal of his helmet kept the water out, he already felt the lack of oxygen through the filter in front of his mouth.

“FLINCH! SWAY!” The helmet comm rang out, Ash had seen the attack but was still far away, and he was met with no response. Flinch found himself hoping Ash would stay away. Brave as he was, he was no match for a force like this. 

 The droid’s dead-eyed stare floated right over the surface, watching him struggle. His vision began to go black at the edges. NO. He steeled himself. This is not how I go out. He saw a third droid appear from above his head, upside-down in his vision. It held some kind of strange weapon, a blaster with a noise suppressing muzzle. The droid pointed it at Flinch’s head. 

With his last ounce of strength and at the end of his consciousness, Flinch ripped out one final burst of energy. Twisting suddenly, and violently. The soft mud helped him roll out from underneath the droid. Miraculously, he kept a grip on his blaster through the maneuver. His head spun as he hopped to his feet, his reaction time was not slowed as he put a laser bolt through the droid that had been straddling him. Followed quickly by dropping the second assassin droid on top of Sway.

He leveled his blaster at the third droid, with the modified pistol, and clipped his metal leg as the machine sprung up into the treetops with impressive ease. Flinch lost sight of it.

“I’ve got backup, we’re on our way!” Ash commed in as Flinch rushed to Sway.

“Copy.” Flinch coughed, ripping his helmet off as he caught his breath and grabbed Sway by the neck hole in his chest opening. Dragging his brother to the edge of the water, Flinch rolled Sway onto his side and removed his helmet as quickly as he could.

Sway was terrifyingly still for five agonizing seconds, Flinch’s chest seized with horror, then his brother let out a cough that sounded like it should’ve sent a lung flying across the mud where he lay. He gasped for air, and Flinch leaned forward and wrapped an arm over his side. “You’re okay, you stupid sailor.” He huffed, also out of breath. 

Sway would’ve said something snarky back, but was busy coughing out, gasping in. His whole body shuddered under Flinch’s hold. Flinch sat back up, and looked up at the treetops where the droid had disappeared to. The vines swayed, but now that his helmet was off he felt no wind.

Ash was still sprinting toward them, three other troopers at his flank, probably the next sentries on shift. Flinch struggled to bring his oxygen depleted mind back to focus, he looked back up to the trees. Something felt wrong. 

As much as he didn’t want to breathe the stale air of his helmet again, after almost taking his last breath inside it, he slammed the bucket back on. “Bogeys, tree bogeys.” He whispered into the comm, turning his gaze at the approaching figures again. 

Ash gave one single quick nod, and slowed to a jog, his reinforcements following suit. They were still a good distance away. Please, stay there, out of range. Flinch prayed. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do, boys.” Ash spoke steadily into the comm. His voice was calm and strong, a commander’s voice. He sounded different, not at all like the  young rookie he was. “The droids are using Flinch and Sway as bait, we can’t let them know that we know that. Let’s put on a good show, follow my lead.”

Ash turned off the comm and removed his helmet, his jog now slowing to a march as he neared earshot. “You boys okay? What happened?” 

Sway was attempting to get up now, still coughing and not able to speak. Flinch helped him up and supported his weight as he leaned wearily on his brother. “We’re okay, assassin droids jumped us from behind that tree, there was a third one but… I think it got away.” Flinch gestured toward the mangroves behind him, and slowly began walking himself and his brother toward their reinforcements. Ash held out a hand and made a small motion for them to slow down, casting the quickest glance possible toward the trees, his open palm became a fist, the signal to halt. Flinch obeyed the sign. 

Ash and the three other troopers closed the distance, he reached out and grabbed Flinch’s hand with both of his. “I’m glad you’re okay, brother.” His hands turned Flinch’s hand palm down, he had deposited a round object into his palm. Flinch couldn’t help but smirk. Ash stepped back. “Let’s head back, we’re going to need to activate some protocols.” Flinch caught the signal, flicking the button on the object in his hand. He noticed the other troopers subtly doing the same thing. Ash had always been the tactician. “And from there we’ll have to send our reports straight up to the TOP!” He screamed the last word and all five of them flung their droid poppers into the treetops with all their might. “GO GO GO GO GO!” Ash cried out while grabbing at Sway, who was still coughing but able to keep up with Ash and Flinch pulling at him as they followed the other three patrol troopers who were sprinting back toward the perimeter. The telltale burst of energy sounded as the poppers found their marks, the trio could hear several droid bodies hit the mud below. Then the shots rang out, and they tore across the field with their lives. 

All six troopers made it back to the sentry tower, gasping. As soon as the door closed behind them, Sway collapsed against Flinch. Flinch held his brother up, shocked relief written across his face, a smile hinting through his open mouth as he also caught his breath. The two fell to their knees on the metal floor, their white armor absolutely filthy with black mud.

“I got you brother, let’s get you both cleaned up.” Ash reached down to lift up Sway, who was, in fact, swaying on his knees and beginning to lean forward. Sway accepted the help and got to his feet, a hand on Ash’s shoulder for support. Flinch pushed himself up off his knees and followed, leaving black footprints behind himself. As they exited the tower, several officers rushed up to them asking questions about the incident. Flinch looked up at the moons, studying their position again. Hardly any time. Hardly any time had gone by. That whole ordeal had been mere minutes, he had lived a lifetime and all the emotions in between in those few minutes. 

“No, I don’t think any of us are hurt.” Ash reassured one of the officers as they walked.

“There’s blood on the ground.” The non-clone officer pointed out.

At the comment everyone looked at the ground behind Flinch, who walked right behind Sway. Someone’s bootprint was leaving red tracks in the mossy ground. 

“I don’t think that’s mine...” Flinch’s face tightened, and he looked up at Sway and Ash. Sway was pale. Flinch looked down at his feet, blood cascaded out of the gap between his shin guard and his boot, the black mud that had been therewas replaced by bright red. 

Flinch has a hard time recalling the minutes that followed. Quite unlike the slowed-down time of his adrenaline-induced altercation with the droids, he only remembers the next part in flashes. 

Sway went down, Flinch would not leave his side, Sway’s pale face, and the shaking. Shock. They had learned all about shock as cadets. They made it back, they were supposed to be safe. They had won, that was supposed to be the end of it.

No one had noticed the second assassin droid had a vibroknife, somehow it had found the gap in the armor on Sway’s thigh.

Sway’s last moments were spent frightened, looking up at Flinch. Flinch grabbed the side of his face below the ear, thumb leaving prints of blood over the glyphic boat tattoo on his jaw. He wished he had the mind to say something, anything, any words to comfort Sway as the light left his eyes. The medics didn’t make it in time. Too much time in the rancid water, too much time running while bleeding out, not enough time to get help. Not enough time to say goodbye.

-

Flinch lay in his bunk that night staring at the bottom of the mattress above him. Ash had commandeered the bunk beside his, the previous owner not making any fuss about trading for this night. 

“They said they want to check you for fluid in your lungs again tomorrow morning.” Ash reported, sitting on the very edge of the thin mattress, leaning his elbows on his knees. He looked at Flinch, but tears stung his eyes, he looked down at the floor instead. 

“Water didn’t even get in my mouth.” Flinch said, deadpan.

Ash shrugged. “I told them that, they didn’t care. They just wanted me to tell you. Don’t shoot the messenger.” He gave a weak attempt at a light-hearted tone.

Flinch closed his eyes and sighed, turning over in the bed away from Ash. He felt Ash’s weight sit next to him, setting hand on his shoulder. Ash said nothing, just breathed for a while. “I’ll be right here.” He patted Flinch as he stood and moved to his borrowed bunk just a few feet away. 

Flinch’s left hand found the neck of his black underarmor, he pulled at it, then his hand went inside the shirt to his right bicep. His fresh tattoo. It had begun to itch like mad ever since a few hours ago. As he scratched at it the sensation brought quick relief, he didn’t slow down as it turned into a burning bright pain. He didn’t remember stopping, he didn’t remember falling asleep either. 

[chosen-hero-inari]

Whumptober Day 13: Family Curses

A/n: Yoka Tono is @yumizurueleonora and my name for Arata's mom, we've written her a ton of times.

Hereditary

Oh, Arata thinks, I’m actually going to die.

He’s thought that before, when Souma had to leave to go the hospital first and foremost, but now he actually feels it.

Like something has a vice grip on his heart and the rest of him is wasting away. It hurts. It hurts so much.

Taiga was right, he was just avoiding the pain. This pain. And now that he knows he can't surpass RAD WEEKEND, it's going to kill him.

-

When Akito hears a knock at his door, he assumes it’s Ena and after the thrashing they just got from Taiga he doesn’t want to deal with her.

The knocking doesn’t go away after ignoring it, so finally Akito rolls off his bed.

“Go away shithead, I don’t–” the insult dies in his mouth when Akito sees his dad looking at him grimly.

“Akito, I need to talk to you,” Shinei says and hoo boy whatever Akito thought Ena was going to bug him about, he wants this even less.

“Ok?” Akito says, sitting at his desk while his father sits on his bed.

“So, Akito, I won’t ask for the details about whatever happened tonight,” Shinei starts and oh thank Miku for that. “But I’m going to guess something happened at your show, it went poorly, and you’re feeling very dejected right now.”

Understatement of the fucking century.

“But,” Shinei continues. “It’s probably good that this happened now and not when you’re older so you know how to deal with it. And Akito, no matter what happened or how bad you feel, you cannot give up on singing.”

Akito blinks. “What?”

“You cannot under any circumstances give up your creative passions after you turn 20.”

“Who are you and what did you do with my dad?” Akito asks. 

“Akito I’m being very serious right now.”

“Isn’t this like the exact opposite of what you told Ena?” Akito says. “Something about art being super lonely?”

“Ena isn’t cursed.”

“Excuse me?” 

Shinei is deathly serious. “The firstborn sons of the Shinonome family are cursed to die if they lose their drive to be creative after they turn 20.”

“What?”

“We all naturally have a passion for doing something creative, and if that drive is ever lost it will kill us,” Shinei says.

“If this is a joke, it REALLY isn’t funny.”

“Akito have I ever told a joke in your life?”

“Oh shit,” Akito says. Then his brain catches up with everything his dad says and he grabs his phone and starts texting

He sees a news alert before he can get the message out though.

Unidentified male, seemingly in his 20s, found collapsed…

“Crap,” Akito says. “Get in the car we have to go to the hospital.”

“What?” Shinei asks. “Why?”

“Because I’m not your firstborn son

-

Souma has to beg the nurses to let him see Arata. 

The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with him, but they’re doing everything they can to keep him alive.

It was Akito who texted Toya, and since Toya knew Arata was at the hospital a lot, asked if one of Souma’s nurses could confirm his identity.

After that they were reluctant to let Souma see him because of what was going on, but eventually they relented.

Dying.

How could Arata be dying? Souma was supposed to die first, probably should have in the initial car crash.

Arata has a perfect bill of health; he can’t just collapse with some unknown condition!

But there he is, lying on a hospital bed, with vitals Souma knows too well means things are bad, impossibly pale.

He grasps Arata’s hand in his good one and doesn’t let go, even as Yoka arrives and starts crying, and Toya, An, and Kohane show up to comfort him.

An looks like she’s already been crying today, but Souma doesn’t ask. 

Finally, Akito arrives with a man who does kind of look like Arata.

“Hello,” the man with Akito says. “I’m Shinei Shinonome, I believe this is my fault?”

Yoka spins around and slaps him, and Shinei nods.

“I probably deserved that. I’m so sorry Yuma, I didn’t know you were pregnant.”

“It’s Yoka.”

“Oh,” Shinei says. “Just slap me again if you want.”

“What I want is to know what’s going on with my son.”

“Right. Ok so, the firstborn sons of the Shinonome family are afflicted with a curse that hits when they become 20. After that point if they lose their creative drive, they die.”

“Arata… lost his creative drive?” Souma gasps.

“Him, along with everyone else in our group,” Kohane mutters. “Taiga decided to challenge us to show us we couldn’t surpass RAD WEEKEND.”

Souma winces “It went that badly?”

“Yeah,” An says. “Aunt Nagi’s dead.”

“She died at your show?!”

“No, she’s been dead for three years and everyone in town knew except us.”

“What about Arata?” Souma says instead of processing that. “Even if Taiga was tough and Nagi was dead he wouldn’t just give up–”

“Taiga told him he’d never be able to surpass RAD WEEKEND because he didn’t really care about it.” Toya says, “because really all he cared about was keeping his promise to you.”

Taiga… used Souma to hurt Arata? Lead him to almost die (albeit unintentionally on Taiga’s part)?!

Souma takes a deep breath and turns back to Arata. “Hey, partner, I know you can hear me. I’m sorry about what Taiga said to you. He’s a bastard. Anyway, apparently you need to keep being creative or you’ll die, and I know this is selfish, but I need you to live for me, partner. Don’t keep being a singer if you don’t want to, write, or draw, or do anything. I don’t care, but I love you partner and I need you to live!”

Souma repeats “I need you to live” like it’s a prayer, and soon he feels movement in his hand. He jerks his head up. “Arata?!”

“Hey, partner,” Arata says weakly. “What happened?” Arata takes a look around the room and his smile drops. “What the hell are the rest of you doing here?”

“Glad you’re ok,” Akito says. “Anyway, it turns out you inherited a curse from our dad.”

“Oh of fucking course,” Arata says. “God, anything else I need to know about?”

“Please tell me you don’t have a second family curse,” Yoka says.

“No,” Shinei says. “We used to think there was another one, but when I was a kid we figured out that autism was just really common in my family so other than those, that should be everything.”

“What about the allergy to penicillin?” Akito asks.

“That’s your mother’s side of the family.”

“Great well if you haven’t given me any more troubles can you get out? I’m having a moment with my partner here. The rest of you leave too.”

“Excuse me?” Yoka says. “You just nearly died, I don’t care how much you love Souma, you’re not kicking me out.”

“Ok fine, everyone except my mom and my partner get the hell out.”

“Glad you’re not dead, by the way,” An says. “You know the worst day of my life would be even worse if that happened. Still doing shit otherwise, thanks for asking.”

“Oh my god, we’ll deal with that later.”

“I want to point out that I’m the one who realized you might die and rushed over here,” Akito says.

“Thank you, now get out.”

Everyone except Yoka leaves, and Arata smiles the prettiest smile in the world.

“I guess we’ll have to stay partners,” Arata says. “Or else I’ll die. How could I possibly have any creative drive without you?”

“Oh no, how terrible,” Souma says, and he doesn’t hesitate. He leans in to kiss Arata for the first time in far too long.

[the-sand-guardian]

Whumptober Day 4: Hallucinations

Cellbit was pacing again. He paced a lot, these days, Roier had noted. Even Richas had commented on it after a long afternoon of constant footsteps. “Your pai paces when he’s nervous,” he’d explained, though he wasn’t sure that was necessarily always the case. 

He’d asked Cellbit what the problem was, of course; what kind of husband would he be if he hadn’t? Each time he’d asked, Cell would just shrug and murmur something in a mess of Portuguese and English. It almost made Roier’s hair stand on end when his husband had begun to stare intently at empty corners or into dark rooms. He’d initially noticed it when he’d gotten up to turn out their lights before bed one night. Cellbit had kissed Roier’s cheek and gotten up, only to freeze in place and stare out of their door into the hall. Roier had to shut the door for him. 

This seemed bad enough, until he began peeking over his shoulders too. Every few seconds, he turned to check over his shoulder. It was almost as though he’d pissed off someone and knew they’d be getting revenge, but Roier knew better than to think of his husband like that. Besides, if someone were truly after them, Roier would know, wouldn’t he? Cellbit would have told him, right? Cellbit may have acted scared, but he hardly ever looked it. In fact, Roier found himself unable to read him anymore. Cell was oftentimes a little flat or would forget how to express an emotion, but this was different. Those fond looks Roier had loved since day one were fading more and more into the vacant eyes he was so often met with now. 

Then came their date night. Around a month before the oddities of Cellbit had begun, both husbands had found an empty day in their schedule to have a nice date in town. They’d had several of these dates before, and both had always seemed to enjoy them, hence their repetition. However, when the time came to get ready, Cellbit was nowhere to be seen. Roier searched most of the castle before finally finding him almost entirely across it from their room. 

The mid-afternoon sun glowed through the handcrafted windows and danced across Cellbit’s features where he sat. Roier thought he was beautiful, but a bit of him ached knowing just how magnificent he would be if it weren’t for the state his lover was in. Now, he could see what had been transpiring over the last few weeks wearing on Cellbit, too. His eyes were bloodshot and still wide, though now noticeably with fear. His shirt, which he must have been in for days, was stained and hanging off of him awkwardly. His beard had grown out a bit and was visibly as unkempt as the rest of him, and his eyebags looked ready to move across the world in one go. In his sweaty hands, he held his pocket knife. 

“Gatinho, amor, what’s the matter?” Roier asked, tears almost pricking his eyes as he looked him over. 

Cellbit shook his head and rocked just slightly, bringing his empty hand up to hold his other bicep. 

“You can talk to me, amor, you know that. I’m not going to hurt you, and I won’t let anybody know unless you want me too, but something is bothering you,” 

Cellbit’s breath caught a second as he looked up at him. His fingers tightened around the knife again before relaxing. 

“Will you pass me your knife? Just for a second?” Roier slowly lowered himself to the other’s level and reached out his palm to him, though still letting the other have the choice for now. 

Cellbit was quiet for a second and looked out the window again. “You won’t let them in, will you?” 

Roier frowned at his words and shook his head. “No, I won’t, amor.” While he wasn’t entirely sure who ‘they’ could be, something in the back of his mind told him it was just what the other needed to hear at the moment. 

Cell looked down at the knife, then to Roier, and then repeated the loop once more before slowly placing the handle in Roier’s hand. The blade had a few drops of fresh blood on it still. A few small marks on Cellbit’s palm told Roier he’d been gripping it from the wrong end all this time. 

“What’s got you so scared, gatinho?” 

“What’s got you so calm, guapito?” 

“I asked you first, I’ll answer you second” 

Cellbit nodded. “Touché.” 

Roier carefully moved the knife out of his husband’s immediate reach and gave him a nod to continue. 

“You don’t..? You don’t already know..?” 

“No, Cellbit, I don’t” Roier shook his head a little and kept his tone gentle and understanding. 

“But- They’ve been here for weeks, amor, you’ve seen them!” 

“I haven’t seen anything. What have you been seeing?” 

“Will you believe me if I tell you?” Cellbit looked up at him and wet his lips. 

“Of course I will, gatinho- I trust you.” 

“The bear.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

Thank you for reading! I've also posted this to Ao3, where I'll be cataloguing all of my works for this month! I also have 3 other WIP fics, so if you enjoy my works please go show some love over there or feel free to shoot me an ask!

[theshadowsonthewall]

My Completed Detroit: Become Human Whumptober Series (2024)

Over 71k words of prompts:

[f1-disaster-bi]

do you know if you’ll be doing whumptober this year ? (no pressure) <3

If I could find a good whumptober list I absolutely could be talked into doing it again......even though I've failed to complete it both years I tried it! I probably could have finished it last year if I hadn't had the funerals and family things 😅

I really enjoy doing it, and I love writing whump. I think I've lost some of my Whump Queen title with the soft prompts lately!

What I might do this year is maybe write/post them here, and later post them to Ao3.

If I do it, I might do it like I did last year where I take suggestions from you guys about which au/pairing should go with what prompt 👀

[jasmines-library]

Unnoticed

WHUMPTOBER DAY 6: prompt: Not realising their injured

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Word count: 1K

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER 2024

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

The whole thing had happened in a blur. One minute you were relaxing at home, enjoying your night off from patrol, and the next you were suited up, hurrying through the city. The emergency alarm came suddenly, blaring loudly through the manor. The second you heard it you were up on you feet, wasting no time before you flicked on your coms. Tim and Damian had infiltrated the Penguin’s drug den to find that they were extremely outnumbered and needed immediate back up. So, your plans for the evening were out of the window as you and Dick suited up and dashed through the city to meet the rest of your team.

You could hear the sound of gunfire from blocks away. It made you press harder. Made you slam the soles of your boots against the concrete harder to propel you towards them faster. As you neared, you could also make out the clang of Damian’s katana as he sliced his way through the Penguin’s goons, and the thwack of Tim’s bo-staff as he did the same. With a crackle, Dick’s escrima sticks flickered with blue energy as you also readied your weapon. The two of you attacked head on. Dick used the wall to gain advantage over the goon closest to him, then using his stick he took him down quickly. You slid along the ground, taking your target out from below. 

The fighting seemed to escalate after you and Nightwing had joined. It was that, or you were just in the centre of it now. It was hard to make sense of anything with the fast moving pace of the fight. There was gunfire, followed by yelling and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. You kept seeing flashes of red out of the corner of your eye, likely Jason who darted from roof to roof as the Red Hood, firing an onslaught of bullets down on the enemy lines. But other than that it was sort of a blur. You were completely honed in on the action, every ounce of your focus desiccated to the weapon in your hand. Once it was finally over, and the last of the goons had hit the ground, you took a moment to catch your breath. You were feeling unusually tired compared to how you usually were after a fight, but you figured it was because you were thrown into it so suddenly. After collecting yourself for a moment, you wandered over to the boys who had all gathered into the centre of the chaos after overseeing the arrest of the Penguin. 

As you wandered over, Jason frowned a little, giving you this oddly concerned look from under his mask. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” You frowned. “...why?”

“You’re covered in blood. Are you hurt?!” Jason spouted rapidfire questions. 

“It’s not mine. I’m fi…..” you started, but your voice trailed off as you glanced down. “......oh…”

You instantly paled. A knife protruded from your side, buried almost all the way up to the chin. You hadn’t even felt it happen– .

The second you realised it was like your black and white world had become colourised. The agony hit you quickly and you let out a breathy gasp, stumbling on your feet. Quick on his feet, Damian gripped your arm to steady you. 

“Woah. woah. Careful.”

You stared at the offending weapon, eyes wide and fixated on the cruel silver.

“Hey. Hey.” Dick’s hands came to your shoulders. “Eyes up here. Don’t look at it. Look at me. You’re okay.” He said, trying desperately to stop you from fixating on it, and to try and reassure you when he knew in reality you were far from fine. The wound was clearly deep and you were losing a lot of blood, they could see it seeping into your suit. And to make it worse, the knife was still stuck in there. 

“Lets get you sitting down, alright.” Damian said gently, helping to ease you to the ground. He grimaced at the pained noise you made. “Easy… you’re okay….” he said. He knew that having you on the ground would be safest, just in case you passed out. 

As soon as you were on the ground, Dick’s hands were moving to try and stem the wound. Your vision doubled. 

“Hey. Stay with me.” Dick said as he thought quickly of a plan. They needed to get you medical attention asap, but they couldn’t just leave the knife in. Usually that would be the best thing to do, but you were losing too much blood far too quickly and the cave was too far away. They needed to pack the wound before they moved you. “Alright. Here’s what’s going to happen.” Dick started. “Tim, you need to signal to the cave. Let them know what's happening so we can get her help ASAP. Damian, you and I are going to keep her still. Jay you need to pull out the knife so I can pack it. As soon as I've done that you need to bandage it, okay?”

Jason swallowed thickly, but moved into position, his hands hovered anxiously over the blade. 

“I’m sorry kiddo…but we have to get this out.” He wrapped one hand around the blade. “It’ll be over soon, I promise.” He said before yanking out the knife. 

You screamed, body flailing as you fought against the pain and the two vigilante’s trying to keep you still. Once it was out, Dick began to pack your wound. You cried out causing him to grimace. 

“I know. I know. We’re sorry. Almost done” he said as he used gauze to try and stop the blood flow. It was stained crimson alarmingly fast. Then his hands were flying away, replaced quickly by Jason's as he wrapped the bandage tightly around your torso, trying to secure it. As soon as it was done he stepped back, taking your hand and giving it a tight squeeze. Your eyes drooped as you struggled to stay awake. Dick noticed this and tapped the side of your face gently. 

“Hey, come on. Eyes open for just a little longer….”

You tried. But everything began to grow quiet as you faded in and out…..

“Tim…….” fading in and out….. “Status!?”

Whoever was talking sounded worried. You couldn’t make out who it was. 

A squeeze of your hand. Fading in and out…..

The squeal of tires……

Someone was touching you. Talking to you……and then silence.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

TAGS:

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

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

<- DAY FIVE ⛤ DAY SEVEN ->

[whumptober]

Badges, Completionists and Feedback

Beloved whumpers, as October 31st draws to a close we wanted to say a huge thank you for everyone who took in Whumptober 2024 - the seventh year running! We've had a wonderful second year as mods, and we hope everyone has had a great time too!

Without further ado we would love for you all to now have the long-awaited badges to commemorate your completion/participation...

...as well as this years secret achievement!

After the positive reception for the badge last year, we're continuing with the secret achievement badge!

So, if you are a creator who chose to use five or more of the location prompts on this years list, this badge is for you!

Locations: Amusement Park, Isolation Chamber, Convenience Store, Underground Caverns, Swamp, Abandoned Cabin, Collapsed Building, Breakfast Table, Laboratory and Labyrinth!

Below you will also find two new badges for first time completionists/participants! Welcome!

Call for Completionists and Feedback:

Now, before you right click+save image on your badges, if you were a completionist (i.e. filled 31 prompts), please let us know via the form below so we can tag you in the coming completionist posts!

There is also a second form that you can fill out if you wish to provide some feedback on the event this year! If you have any suggestions on ways we can improve the event, or opinions on what you enjoy about the event, then please let us know!

Completionists Form [Closes November 4th]

Feedback Survey

(The prompts list can be found HERE)

[sweetbunpura]

Time for a much needed update to my blog!

Hi, Hi! I'm Pura! I'm a fanfic writer for a bunch of fandoms! Some fics are published, some aren't-and shall remain unpublished.

I'm Black, 29, Pansexual, She/her, has ADHD (which explains so many of these little ideas I have that show up and disappear into the night)

Link to my fics: AO3

TWST Writings:

Beehive: Someone in NRC tries blackmailing Yuu to get her to date him, she says no and pictures of her get spread around the school. AO3 and Tumblr - Complete, due for a rewrite

Symbiotic Relationship: Eels and Shrimps have a Symbiotic Relationship. Jade and Floyd have that with Yuu, she treats them as friends and not enemies, in return for her friendship, they protect her. So, when Yuu gets badly injured, Jade and Floyd protect what is theirs. AO3 - Complete

Charmed by the Sea: If Yuu had a madol for being in the middle of someone's family nonsense by accident, she'd have three madol, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it's happened three times. Of course, it would've been nice if Jade and Floyd had warned her first about their parents visiting. Sequel to "Symbiotic Relationship". AO3 - In progress.

Stolen Jackets: Yuu somehow manages to gain a collection of stolen jackets from the NRC boys that they had left at Ramshackle. She decides to wear them around the campus, much to the dismay of some of the owners of the jackets. AO3 and Tumblr - Currently writing, infrequent updates. Next up: Leona (Clubwear)

Whumptober 2024 - First time doing Whumptober! So pray for me and let's see how this goes! AO3 and Tumblr

Rescue from RSA - Yuu's been kidnapped by RSA! Now Rollo and the rest of NRC has to rescue her!

Links to my more notable tags:

Twst Rambles: Where I ramble about random ideas I've had that refuse to leave my head, some of which may become fics.

TWST fanchild - Welcome the Fankids for some of the NRC boys~

Dorm Outfit Wars - What started as Leona being his petty self has now spiraled into all the dorms getting Yuu to wear their modified dorm style outfits

TWST x PKMN - Potion mishap causes Pokemon to be brought into the TWST world

Return to Wonderland AU - An AU of Yuu where they were taken from TWST into a different world, only to return to TWST during the entrance ceremony. Now they have to renavigate a world that was lost to them with magic. Oh, and they may have a sibling or a parent just chilling at NRC, no big deal. (Also might be a sibling to NBC and RSA). If you like this idea, feel free to just make up a Yuu for this, anything is welcomed! (Moved over to @return-to-twisted-wonderland)

Sanctuary - Haha, what's this? A joke I made about Yuu and Rollo unintentionally dating has now spurned into a tag and gained a mind of it's own. It's an AU of sorts, since that would mean Rollo got kicked out of NBC and now attends NRC.

Upendi - A sort of AU where Leona and Yuu are dating. Help, I have made my Yuu multishippable and these are the results

Welcome to Ramshackle - The residents of Ramshackle: Yuu, Grim, Rollo, Fellow, and Gidel! It's becoming a proper dorm with the only outlier being they have to live within close proximity to each other! Ties in to being it's own stand alone AU or part of Sanctuary.

Twisted Wonderland OC's

Yuuki “Yuu” Homura (Yuusona)/ Bio/ Chart

-Yuu is so multishippable, I've done this to myself.

J.J. Tulgey/ Bio

Alexander Ramos/ Bio

Rouge Willow/ Bio

Jet Mordus / Bio

Rascal Gallucci/ Bio

Goliath Gallucci/ Bio

Aster Nightingale/ Bio

Xavier Soria/ Bio

Kabir Trak / Bio

Fatun Axebi / Bio

Evan Montgomery/ Bio

Lancaster Stevens/ Bio

Ignatius Bolt / Bio

Obsidian Woodsdale/ Bio

Night Alexander (Retired, became Obsidian Woodsdale)

Atlas Lakia / Bio

Staff

Howard Chestnut

RSA

Dorm leaders and Vices

Current Ship names:

Yuu x Leona: Upendi

Yuu x Rollo: Sanctuary

Yuu x Floyd: Shrimp and Noodles

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Whumptober 2024 No. 22- Bleeding Through Bandages | Reopening Wounds | "Oh, That's Not Good"

Hero put a hand up against the brick of the alleyway wall for balance, their other hand clutching their bleeding side. Their wound must have re-opened during the fight. They lifted their suit up, and sure enough, red seeped through hastily-applied bandages.

It would take them a while to get home and re-dress their injury. Hero was just about to turn and head that way when they felt a sharp prick in their neck. Instinctively, they reached up and felt around, pulling out a purple-banded dart.

“Oh, that's not good,” Hero mumbled.

They dropped straight to the ground with a thud, and then it was lights out.

…

Hero stirred to the distant sound of humming. They groaned and let their eyes flutter open. A dimly lit basement came into view. They felt a light pressure on their side. Hero looked down and saw-

“Vil’n?” Hero slurred.

“Mhm,” the criminal replied, then going back to their humming.

“What're you doing?”

“Putting my punching bag back together,” Villain answered, “because it obviously doesn’t know how wound tending works.”

As Villain spoke, they weaved surgical thread in and out of Hero's skin, pulling their injury shut. It had been cleaned, and they must have given Hero some sort of painkillers beforehand, because Hero could barely feel the needle sliding in and out, in and out.

“There,” Villain said, finishing.

Hero went to touch the spot, but their hand was stuck fast behind them. They went to move their other hand, but that one wouldn't budge either. In fact, now that they got a look at themselves, Hero realized they had been heavily tied to a chair.

“Didn’t want you squirming,” Villain explained, noting Hero's alarmed expression, “and I wouldn't be much of a villain if I didn’t take advantage of the situation a little bit.”

“So you’re not going to let me go after this?”

“Ha! Let you go? Hardly. You have no clue how to take care of yourself, I'm amazed you've lived this long. No, you'll be staying here until this heals. Properly.”

“You can’t just keep me in your basement for… how long do gashes take to heal?”

Villain gave them an incredulous look that screamed, “you're proving my point for me".

“For your information, I won't be keeping you in my basement for the duration of your stay. I've made arrangements for you in the guest bedroom. Try anything though, and these ropes will look like child's play compared to what I restrain you with.”

Hero gulped. They knew Villain meant it.

“But what about my job?” they asked timidly.

“Oh come now, Hero! The city isn’t going to fall to wrack and ruin just because you're not running around in costume for a little while!”

Villain produced a knife and began to cut Hero free. Once that was done, they escorted Hero upstairs to their guest bedroom. It would be a while before their wound healed completely, and Villain was prepared to do anything to keep Hero resting until then.

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Tags:

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

@electrons2006 @just-a-space-rabbit

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2024 No.5

Prompt: Heatstroke

Warnings: Symptoms of illness

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

gif not mine - google

“His blood pressure is much lower than I’m comfortable with.” Hershel laid the stethoscope across the back of his neck. “More water please. We need to cool him off.” Maggie nodded and disappeared from the cell.

“Why was he out there digging alone?” You asked, dabbing the cool cloth across Daryl’s flushed chest, the quick rise and fall of the firm plane unnerving you to your core. When you had gone to check on him, it had been nothing more than a leg cramp—one he had shaken off and gone back to work, digging the graves of those you had lost.

The next time you had seen him was when you found him lying prone inside the very grave he had been excavating. He had been, unresponsive, panting, skin sun-hot but without perspiration, his eyes rolling behind lids that appeared almost bruised. It was a sight you wouldn’t soon forget.

Now he was in your cell, naked as the day he was born, with a towel protecting his modesty while his scars were on full display. You’d need to help him work through that later. For now, the priority was cooling him down.

When no one responded to your inquiry, you asked again, sternly, “why was he alone? There are plenty of able bodies here! Why was Daryl digging graves alone?” The people in the room avoided your gaze. You were all at fault. Yes, even you. When you were peeling potatoes in the kitchen, you could have been sharing the burden outside. Glenn was recovering, as were many others but someone should have been outside with Daryl.

“The hell happened?”

Leaning over him, you smiled down at the bleary blue eyes peering back at you. “You’re awake! Oh, thank god!” Hershel didn’t have the chance to give the order before you were scrambling for a bottle of water and practically pouring it over Daryl’s face in an attempt to get some of it into his mouth.

Coughing and sputtering, he languidly batted away the bottle, likely still too woozy to completely understand your intent.

“Y’tryin’a drown me?!” He snapped while wrestling up onto his elbows.

“You need to drink, son. And lots of rest.” Hershel advised, patting Daryl on the shoulder as he stood and hobbled out of the room on his crutches. “No more digging today. I’ll be back later to check on him.” Carol, Beth, Rick, and now Maggie stood around the doorway, each sporting a relieved smile.

“Did I miss somethin’?”

“I’ll explain after I shoo everyone out of here.” You made a dismissive gesture as you got to your feet and pulled the curtain across your cell door.

“Uh, Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Why m’I naked?”

[amethystfairy1]

"These guys are a wreck..." -Gem, probably.

We did folks! The last Whumptober prompt is up, and that means that I've completed Whumptober 2024, and this is the FIRST TIME I've ever completed a month long writing event on time! I'm so happy! And of course thank you to @khoirkid for the motivation and gorgeous illustrations to accompany the works! I hope you enjoy this last piece for the collection!

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Seeing Clear

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 24. Relapse

Fandom: DC, Batman, Batfam, Superman, Wayne!reader, f!reader

Word Count: 4625

Summary: Now that you are back from the dead, you wonder how Clark is handling what happened. However, when Dick tells you no one knows where he is, you decide to track him down and show him you have returned.

TW: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Broken Hand, Depression, Hurt Feelings, Misunderstanding, Aftermath of Resurrection

Notes: Part of @ailesswhumptober's whumptober event

Part 3 of Seeing Colors

The first night back in the manor you sleep for almost 48 hours straight. When you finally open your eyes, you find Tim curled up on your right side and Damian snuggled up on your left. You just smile as you wrap an arm around each of them, pulling them in tighter to you as you drift off to sleep again.

The next time you wake up, your father is sitting by your bed watching you. Neither of you speaks, but as your eyes meet, he reaches out and takes your hand. You aren’t sure how long he continues to hold it once sleep takes you once more. 

Finally, after nearly 72 hours in bed, you emerge from your room to find your family halfway through dinner. When they see you leaning against the doorway, everyone pauses eating. Alfred instantly appears at your side, offering to help you to your seat. You smile as you see a plate already loaded with food placed at your usual spot at the table. As always, Alfred maintains his professional demeanor, yet when you pull him into a hug, he returns it so tightly that you struggle to breathe. When he finally leads you to your seat and you begin devouring your food like a rabid animal—barely pausing long enough to use utensils—your family stares at you for a long moment before your father laughs. As he starts sharing stories of how much of a messy eater you were as a child, the tension in the room breaks and everyone begins joining in on telling their favorite embarrassing stories about you.

You just roll your eyes, but can’t help but feel like you are finally truly home.

After that first meal together, you try to return to your life as if nothing had happened. Unfortunately, it is easier said than done. To not raise any suspicions or connections to your secret identity, it was decided you couldn’t just be declared dead a day or two after one of the Bat’s was seen killed by Superman, especially because it would mean turning over your body and no one wanted to try and explain the gaping hole in your chest. However, it would cause a societal buzz of unwanted attention if one of the “true-blood” Wayne children just disappeared off the face of the Earth with no explanation. So, a few days after the incident, Bruce filed a missing person’s report claiming you had left the night before on a trip to Metropolis and he couldn’t get in contact with you. A few of your bloody clothes and belongings placed in a dark alleyway were more than enough for the police to draw the conclusions your father had counted on. 

However, it now means you have to come up with a new cover story for how you have returned. Once you are feeling up for it, your family dresses you in some filthy, bloody clothes and you stumble into the Gotham Police Station barefoot and barely coherent. As a swarm of officers surround you, you collapse in exhaustion, landing perfectly in Commissioner Gordon’s arms. And as you hear them calling for an ambulance and to “get goddam Bruce Wayne on the phone”, you struggle to hide your grin. Jason and Damian better never criticize your acting abilities ever again.

After several days in the hospital where you claim you don’t remember what happened after some guys grabbed you in an alley, it is determined there are traces of drugs in your system that would cause this memory loss and confusion. Luckily, the pit magic hasn’t completely left your system yet so while you could be injected with the drugs so they’d show up on your bloodwork, it doesn’t actually affect you so you can keep your wits about you to play the part you are trying to sell. You have a teary public reunion with your father and brothers with plenty of cameras flashing in the background to capture it all. Normally, that would have infuriated you. However, given in this instance you wanted the world to learn of your return, you grinned and bore it. 

Yet even once you are finally allowed to leave the hospital, things still don’t return to the way they were. It seems like everywhere you go around the manor, one or more of your family members are there, offering to help with whatever you are doing or asking if you need anything. As the oldest of the Bat kids, it feels strange to be the one being doted on instead of being the one doing the doting. 

However, you understand why they are doing it. To you, you haven’t really even been apart. But for them, you have been gone for over two months. They were there when you took your final breath and there when you took your first one again. So, while their clinginess and overprotectiveness are a little much, you don’t try to discourage them from it.

Besides your family behaving differently, your body is still struggling to return to normal after being dead for so long. Sometimes you feel fine, and other times you feel like you are dying all over again. At one point, even just breathing suddenly becomes difficult as it feels like someone dropped a car on your chest. Every breath is a battle as the magic of the Pit begins to drain from your system and your lungs struggle to relearn how to work without it. Luckily, Jason is there to talk you through all of it. 

In these moments, he holds you against his chest and speaks soothing words of encouragement as he coaches you through the worst of it. Normally, he wouldn’t be this soft and gentle, but you know he had gone through the exact same thing without having someone there to help him. He understands how terrifying and painful it is, so he’s making sure you never feel alone. 

You also still get flashes of pain occasionally as a memory returns to you, but these begin happening less and less frequently and with less and less intensity as you regain most of what you had lost. However, there is one memory that you wish had never returned to you. You try to push it out of your mind, but it’s not always possible. 

Nights are the worst. After the initial exhaustion wore off and your sleep patterns returned to normal, you are plagued with dreams reliving that memory. Over and over, you feel Clark’s fist driving into your chest. See the darkness creeping in once again as you struggle to catch your breath. The pain feels as real and intense as it did in that moment. And every night, you wake up sobbing just as the darkness overtakes you.

No one has mentioned Clark since you returned so you have no idea how the Kryptonian was dealing with your death. Like you told him on the day you died, you didn’t blame him for what happened in the slightest. He was being manipulated by the red kryptonite and had no control over his actions. As someone who had been dosed by Scarecrow’s fear toxin or Ivy’s love potion enough times over the years, you understood how these substances worked and you knew deep down that Clark would never do anything that would hurt you when he was in his right mind. And that was good enough for you.

However, you can gather that not everyone else in the family feels the same way.

Dick was the only one who looked sad, not angry when you tried to bring it up. So one day, you finally manage to corner him alone.

“Dick! Can I talk to you for a second?”

He turns, flashing a bright smile. “Sure, sis, what’s up?”

“I want to talk about Clark.”

Dick’s smile drops as he looks around nervously making sure no one else is around. Then he grabs your arm and pulls you into the nearby study. Once he is sure you’re alone, he sighs and asks, “What do you want to know?”

“What the hell happened while I was gone? I get everyone was upset about what happened, but no one will even mention him. I’m back! It doesn’t matter anymore. We should be able to work through this, not ban his name from ever being mentioned around here again.”

Dick shakes his head. “It’s not that simple. What he did was bad enough, but what happened after just made it worse.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “How could it have possibly been worse than killing me?”

“He showed up unannounced and uninvited to your memorial service.”

“Oh.” Yep. That would do it. 

While they couldn’t bury your body since you were technically considered missing to the public at large, someone had mentioned that they placed a headstone for you in the family plot behind the manor. They held a memorial service in your honor a month after your “disappearance”, with only a handful of the mourners knowing the truth of what happened. 

Sighing and lowering yourself into one of the study chairs, you say, “Yeah, I can see where that might not have gone over well.”

“No, it did not,” Dick says bluntly. “Jason launched himself at Clark the moment he arrived, but luckily Bruce and I were able to restrain him.”

“That is lucky. It wouldn’t be fun trying to explain how someone as tough as Jason could break his hand punching someone like Clark Kent in the jaw.” You can’t even imagine how your family must have felt at your service—only for Clark then to arrive and force everyone to relive that moment all over again. Losing Jason had nearly killed you years ago, and that had been at the hands of The Joker. If someone you cared about had been responsible…

You shudder. “What happened next?”

“Bruce did that whisper thing where he mutters so low no one but Clark can hear him. I still don’t know what he said but whatever it was, it almost brought Clark to his knees. He turned and left immediately.”

“Oh god…,” you say, burying your face in your hands. “It wasn’t his fault.”

You had told your father Clark wasn’t to blame for what happened to you. If they had been mad at anyone, they should have been mad at Luthor for dosing Clark with red kryptonite in the first place. 

Lowering your hands and looking back at Dick, you asked, “How’s he been since then?”

Dick shifts uncomfortably in place. “We…don’t know. Actually, no one does. No one’s seen him since he left here that day.”

“What!” you cry as you jump to your feet. “You mean that he has been missing for two months and no one thought to mention that to me? What about Lois? Hasn’t she seen him?”

Dick shakes his head. “No, and she’s been looking. She’s called Bruce a few times begging him to help her find him, but he stopped taking her calls.”

“What the hell, Dick!” You shove your little brother’s shoulder. “That’s horrible! Even if you think that Clark is to blame for what happened—which I for one don’t—Lois is completely innocent in this! How can you all just ignore her when she needs help?”

“You know Lois. Once Bruce refused to help the first few times, she sort of blew up at him. Made some comments that she really shouldn’t have and that’s when Bruce cut all contact.”

“What could she have possibly said that was so bad?”

Dick drops his eyes to the ground and bites his lip. For a moment, you don’t think he’s going to tell you. But then he whispers, “She said that Clark wasn’t in control of his mind or actions and that Bruce was more responsible for Jason’s death than Clark was for yours.”

You inhale sharply. Lois could get a little fiery when she got annoyed or upset, but you never imagined she would go for such a low blow. Even though Jason had returned and had (eventually) mended his relationships with the rest of the Bats, you know not a day goes by that your father doesn’t regret what happened or that he wasn’t able to save Jay. For Lois to throw that in his face was something nearly unforgivable.

However, regardless of what she said, it still didn’t mean that Clark didn’t need or deserve your help. 

Thinking for a long moment, you nod and walk past Dick heading towards your room. “I know where he is.”

“What? H-how?” Dick turns and races after you.

“He showed it to me once. Things were going bad for him and he wanted someone to know about it in case anything happened to him. He said he knew he could trust me. It’s a secret hideout—his ‘batcave’ if you will—and it’s where he will be.”

“Do you remember how to find it?”

You smile, as you reach your door. “Yeah, it’s kind of hard to miss. But I have to go alone.” You enter your room and start digging through your closet looking for your warmest jacket and thickest socks.

“No. That’s not happening.” Dick shakes his head. “There’s no telling where his head will be after this long or how he’ll react to seeing you. He could kill you all over again and there would be no one there to stop him.”

“Like you all did such a great job of stopping him last time?” You immediately regret the joke as a look of pain flashes across Dick’s face. Dropping your clothes, you wrap him in a hug which he quickly returns. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. But Clark didn’t mean what he did either and he deserves to know I’m okay. Maybe it’ll be enough to bring him home.”

“What do I tell Bruce?” Dick asks, his voice muffled where his face is snuggled into the top of your head.

“Tell him I took his jet for a joyride and I’ll be back soon. And if I’m not…then tell him I love him and I’m sorry. But I needed to try to fix this mess that I started.”

“You have to come back,” Dick mutters.

“I’ll try my best.” You pull away and use your knuckle to knock on Dick’s chin. “And, hey, if I don’t, tell Damian to start looking for another Pit.”

After the boys hijacked your father’s private jet, you figured you’d have to find a way around layers of security. Yet, surprisingly, you were pretty much allowed to just walk right on. The only moment of hesitation came when you said you needed to go to the Arctic, but even that only took reminding the pilot of who you were to get him to agree.

Now you are standing before an enormous ice-like structure you had only seen once before. It was beautiful in design; huge clear pillars crisscrossing every witch way reminding you of the crystals you saw in the mineral section of the Gotham Museum. Now, if only this place had a central heating unit, you could see yourself really enjoying a vacation up here. 

But you didn’t come all this way to admire the architecture, so you step up to the front of the fortress. Suddenly, a red beam shoots out and begins to scan you. Closing your eyes, you wait and really hope Clark didn’t remove your DNA access that he had installed when he originally brought you here. After a moment, you hear a beep and the wall in front of you slides back, allowing you entrance. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, you step into the building only for the door to slide closed behind you. Hopefully, you do actually find Clark because he never showed you how to exit the fortress. But that’s a problem for later. 

You continue deeper into the structure until you reach the central room. The huge, cavernous space is brightly lit by the clear glowing crystals all around the room and you have to shield your eyes for a moment until they adjust. But when you do, you realize you are completely alone.

As you begin walking around the room, you call out, “Come on, Clark. I know you can hear me, whether you’re actually here or somewhere else. You showed me how this place works and I know you’re connected to it. Me, Lois, my dad, Metropolis…We need you, so please come back. I do understand why you left and I’m sorry, but it’s alright now. I’m fine. And it wasn’t your fault in the first place.”

The echoes from your voice die down and you are left in total silence once again. Sighing, you try a slightly different approach. “Lisen, I know my dad and brothers can be real dicks sometimes—well, I guess one of them is always a Dick—but you didn’t deserve how they treated you or what they might have said. I told you what happened wasn’t your fault, but even as I said it, I knew you would still blame yourself. But you shouldn’t! I know you would never hurt me and I still believe that. So, please, show yourself!”

Suddenly, there is a loud thud behind you that shakes the entire fortress, and a voice growls, “Who the hell are you? How did you get into this place?”

Relief floods through you at the sound and you release the breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding. There was never a guarantee this plan would work but now that it has, you smirk. “You gave me a key.” 

Then you turn to face him.

Both you and Clark gasp simultaneously, equally shocked by the visage of the person before you. The man standing looking back at you is not the Clark you remember. He's wearing a dirty T-shirt and jeans. His eyes are bloodshot and surrounded by large, dark shadows. His cheeks are sunken beneath a rough beard you didn’t even know he could grow. He is an utter shell of the man that you knew and loved. 

“Clark…” you breathe as you take a step toward him, but he steps back as you do.

“What are you?” he whispers, his eyes wide as they scan over you, looking for any clue as to how you are here.

You scoff softly, trying to ease some of the stifling tension that had filled the room. “Wow, thanks. It’s good to see you too.”

But Clark shakes his head. “This isn’t possible. I killed you. I felt your heart stop while my hand was still buried in your chest.”

You shiver slightly and this time not because of the cold. Remembering what happened always sent a phantom pain through your chest and left you momentarily breathless. However, you try to ignore it and push on. “Yeah, well, since when has death ever stopped us? Damian called in some favors with his grandfather and Ra’s allowed them to use one of the Lazarus Pits. It was a far from pleasurable experience but I’m back.”

For a moment, you see just a glimpse of hope in his eyes, but then it is extinguished as he shakes his head again. “No. You can’t be real. If you were, you’d hate me as much as the rest of your family does for what I did.” He looks down at his hands and whispers, “You’d hate me as much as I hate myself.”

“No, Clark…” You take a step towards him but his eyes flash red so you hold up your hands as you freeze in place. 

When his eyes dim and return to their usual blue, you take a deep breath and close your eyes. “I know what it’s like to hurt someone you love while you’re not in your right mind. When I came out of the Pit…I didn’t remember anything. What had happened, where I was, not even who I was. I just needed to get away from the pain I was in. My brothers tried to stop me and my hand ended up around Tim’s throat. They got me off of him before it was too late and I quickly came back to my senses, but for the next week or so, I had to stare at the reminder of what I did around his neck. He told me over and over again it was fine, that he knew it wasn’t really me, but it didn’t make it any easier. I still remember the feeling of his throat in my hands, how he struggled and pleaded with me though I didn’t comprehend his words until later, and how he gasped and coughed for air when they finally pried me off of him. I did that to my brother. And even though he’s fine, I have to live with that for the rest of my life. So I can only imagine how you must feel looking at me.” You open your eyes and stare at him. “But it’s me, Clark. It’s really me.”

He stares back at you, your eyes locked. Then, slowly, he walks across the room until he is standing about a foot in front of you. In a trembling voice, he asks, “How do I know you’re real? That what you said is the truth and you’re not just an android or hologram or something?”

“Hmm… good point. I guess this might convince you.” You pause for a beat then, as hard as you can, you drive your fist into Clark’s jaw.

His head doesn’t budge. Instead, you feel all the bones in your hand shatter and you drop to your knees with a howl of pain. Clark is kneeling next to you in an instant carefully trying to examine your injury. 

“What the hell was that?” he mutters as he gently eases your arm away from your chest. 

Panting through the pain, you grimace, “I forgot how much that hurts. You’re worse than punching a brick wall.”

“Why did you do it?” He is staring at your hand in such a way you can tell he is using his X-ray vision on it. Though he doesn’t need to. Your skin is split open at the knuckles and you can visibly see the white of your bones poking through all blood and gore. 

But then your hand begins to tingle and go numb as you look up at Clark. “Because of this.”

A faint green glow spreads across your injuries and you inhale sharply as a new sort of pain tears through your hand. Yet, in seconds, it fades and your hand is left looking as good as new.

Stretching the muscles and wiggling your fingers, you smile up at Clark. “The Pit magic’s been fading out of me since I woke up, but until it’s completely gone, I’m pretty invincible.” He runs his fingers over the newly smooth skin as you ask, “Believe me now?”

Clark raises his head until he's staring directly into your eyes. Reaching out, his fingers brush across your cheekbone as he whispers, “It’s really you.”

You nod, placing your hand on his wrist. “Yeah, it’s really me.”

“And…what I did?” His eyes drop to your chest, where there was once a hole shaped like his fist.

You try to suppress a shiver. “It’s healed. It's all just a terrible memory now.”

“Can you ever forgive me?” he whispers, tears filling his eyes.

“Clark, how many times do I have to tell you, there's nothing to forgive. It wasn’t your fault.” Taking his hand in yours, you squeezed it tightly. “But if you want to do something to make it up to me—”

“Anything.”

“Then forgive yourself,” you plead. “Come back home and let's learn to move on. Please.”

Clark gives you a sad smile. “You might not blame me, but your family does.”

“Fuck them.” Clark blinks in surprise but you continue. “I'm the only one who has the right to be upset about what happened and since I'm not, they aren't allowed to be either. So if they can't move past it now that there's nothing to be upset about, then fuck them.”

A weary smile stretches across Clark’s face. “If your dad heard you talking like that…”

“He'd give me his disappointed glare.” You do an impression of your father's death stare, one you know you have inherited and used on your brothers hundreds of times.

Clark chuckles as the first glint of happiness sparkles in his eyes. Grabbing your hand, he pulls you into a tight hug. You know he is holding back yet even at a fraction of his strength, you feel your bones creaking under the pressure. But you don’t say anything. You just hug him back.

You aren't sure how long you stand there but, eventually, you begin to struggle to breathe so you pat Clark’s back. “Ok, big guy. Time to clean yourself up and take me home.”

He releases you but still seems uncertain. “I don't know. Maybe we should wait for things to cool off a little more.”

“Nonsense. The sooner we rip the bandaid off, the better. Besides, I need a lift. I told my pilot to head back to Gotham because I had another way home.”

You winked at him and he shook his head with a smile. “Of course you did.”

“So, hurry up. It’s freezing up here and I’d like to get home so Alfred can make me some hot chocolate. And if you want, I can see if he’ll make a second glass for you.” 

You both know that it won’t be as easy as Clark walking through the front doors of Wayne Manor with you to smooth things over. A lot of hateful and regrettable things have been said on both sides. But seeing as it’s impossible to be mad while drinking a cup of Alfred’s hot chocolate, it’ll be a good place to start. 

Giving Clark one last smile, you say, “I'll wait for you outside.” Then you turn and leave the room.

Luckily, exiting the Fortress is a lot easier than you had feared and you are soon standing in the icy tundra as snow whips around you. A tightness in your chest that you hadn’t even realized was there has eased and for the first time since your death, you feel truly at peace once more. 

As you’ve said from the start, Clark would never hurt you when he’s seeing clearly and not affected by red kryptonite. Outside of your direct family, there is no one in this world or any other that you trust more. Everything that had happened these last few months had been a terrible tragedy but things are finally righting themselves and getting back to normal. 

As you hear footsteps approaching, you turn and your heart swells as you see the man walking across the ice towards you. 

Clean-shaven, smiling, and dressed in his famous red-and-blue uniform, Clark looks every bit the Superman you have known and loved like family since you were a young child. 

Wrapping him in a hug, you say, “It’s good to have you back, Clark.”

“It’s good to be back.” He returns the hug and then whispers, “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“You’ve never given up on me once my entire life so why would I do any less?”

Smiling, he lifts you into his arms and says, “Let’s go home.” Then with you firmly in his grasp, he blasts into the sky.

The last time this happened, it ended with your death. Yet as Clark holds you against his chest as he flies towards Gotham, you’ve never felt safer. 

Tag List: @zebralover, @the-sound-of-her-wings, @mildvalue506, @theclassicvinyldragon, @xxrougefangxx

[woso-fan13]

2024 Whumptober: 17

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO

Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

It didn’t even take a minute for things to change completely. Your team is in possession of the ball and you’re not far from the opponent's goal. 

And then a pass’s intercepted. 

In less than a minute, the ball is at your opponents feet in front of your goal. In less than a minute, the ball is hurtling towards your goal and slamming into the back of the net. 

In one minute, you go from confident to completely defeated. 

In one minute, you go from a World Cup contender to a team that didn’t even make it past the first round. 

No one knows what to do, no one knows how to react. Because, in less than a minute, everything changed. 

You plop onto the ground, seemingly emotionless. In actuality, you have so many feelings that you can’t process them, let alone express them. 

Another body sits beside you, a more controlled descent in comparison to your fall. Kelley’s sitting beside you, giving you a sad smile before wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

“We were so close,” you whisper. 

Kelley nods, silent for a moment before speaking, “we had a good run, buddy.”

[mj-iza-writer]

My note to the whump community.

Alright.... *takes deep breath*

31 original stories..... I am so tired.

Whumptober 2024 has been completed. I had an ot of fun writing for this event. It's also nostalgic for me. Whumptober 2023 was my first event. I was completely new to Tumblr. I had just joined in September of 2023 after Pinterest kept giving me issues. I wanted to be able to fully immerse myself into the whump community. Pinterest is where I first learned about it and only wrote in the comment sections of pinned post. These posts normally where screenshots from here. Prompts, small stories... I wanted to be with my whump heroes on this app.

I've been on Tumblr for over a year now. I've met so many amazing people. People that have pushed me to become a better writer. People who have allowed me to write freely, and when I had writers block, I always seem to get asks that help pull me out.

I have been able to see some goals met. I know the biggest one was fan art. It was my dream to see characters that I've written in an art form and see how others saw them. None of my goals have to be met. It's just something I enjoy setting for myself. But, when I was randomly scrolling on here one day, I hadn't even looked at my notifications yet. I looked at someone's art, and thought that it was cool how it resembled a character I had written, then to scroll and find out it truly was from my story. I tell you, I still think of that first one. @anonwithwhumperflies has also sent me art that I cherish so much.

I love the whump community so much. It is filled with the most amazing people. I don't think I've ever known a fandom to be so filled with people like the whump community. The nicest, sweetest people.

I know I have a few requests that people have been waiting for. I am so thankful for everyone's patience. I am going to take a one day break on posting a story, but I will get those requests out.

Thankyou to everyone on here, and thankyou to the whump community. - Mj-iza-Writer.