#alt Prompt

[callaeidae3]

Febuwhump2025 Day 9: Emergency surgery (Alt prompt)

In the careful hands of the field surgeon, in recovery

[whumpypepsigal]

@whumpgifathon | Day 19 (alt. prompt): “Protective”

Tyler Owens in Twisters (2024)

[jasmines-library]

It's A Trap

⛤⋅•���⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

WHUMPTOBER DAY THIRTEEN : ALT Prompt: Used As Bait

Summary: In order to capture one of Gotham's infamous criminals, you are used as bait.

Warnings: Kinda creepy man, fake kidnapping.

Word count: 812

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER 2024

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“This is a terrible idea” Jason repeated for the umpteenth time as he finished fastening the ropes around your wrists, binding you to the chair. The binds were loose enough that you could slip out of them easily but tight enough that they looked real and effective enough. 

“Well, it's the only option we’ve got.” You retorted back, giving the ropes an experimental tug. 

You were currently trying to hunt down one of Gotham’s most troublesome criminals. He was a rather unusual guy, who was rather fixated on you. But he was sly and there seemed to be only one way to catch him. Under an alias, Tim began to befriend your target. He claimed that he knew you; that he could kidnap you and leave you at a rendezvous spot for him. For a price, of course. It had to seem realistic. So now, you were setting up your own trap for him. They had tied you up in the middle of the room, where they would hide in the shadows waiting for him to arrive before surrounding him and finally taking him to jail. It seemed to be a fail-proof plan, but none of your team were particularly keen on the idea of leaving you out as bait. 

“Still. Doesn't mean we like it.”

“Well tough.” You retorted. “Because this is what we’re going with. Any news?”

Tim glanced down at his burner phone that he had been using to message the target.  “He’s about 10 minutes out.”

“Alright.” You nodded as everyone took their place. Tim and Jason took their spots in the rafters above, and Dick and Damian took their places in the dark corners of the room as they waited anxiously for him to arrive.

When you heard the sound of the metal doors clanging shut a few minutes later, you took that as your que to lay on the tears. To begin the distressed civilian facade. Because right now you weren’t a vigilante. You were the daughter of Bruce Wayne who had just been kidnapped. You faked the tears, thrashing around as you pretended to try and break free from the binds. It was quite distressing for your brothers to watch; seeing you tied up and struggling, even if they knew it was all just an act. And then the figure stepped into the room.

He was a tall, lanky figure who wore a crooked smile on his face that only seemed to grow when he saw you struggling in fear at the sight of him. He stepped closer, pinching your chin between his fingers.

“Aren’t you a pretty thing….” He cooed, studding your body closely. 

You pretended to cower, trying to pull away from you. 

“I knew you would be even prettier in person….” he said turning your head to the side “and to think…..someone else did all the dirty work for me. How does that feel, Princess?”

“Please don’t hurt me–”

The man raised his eyebrows. “Hurt you? On no, Princess. You are going to make me a lot of money…how much do you think Daddy will pay to get you back unharmed…..” 

“Please—“ you begged, screaming for help. 

The man just laughed. “No one’s here to save you, princess. No Batman or any of his little birdies. It’s just me and you~” 

“Are you sure about that?” Jason asked, dropping down from the roof, his gun cocked in an intimidating matter. 

The man wasn’t scared however. He just scoffed. “Red hood. How nice of you to join us. Did the Batman send you?” 

“No.” Tim stepped out from the shadows, tossing the man the burner phone and revealing his identity. This time the criminal's face dropped. “I did.” 

“You—“ the man seethed. 

As the conversation unfurled, you began to work on the ropes, making quick work out of the loose knots. 

“You’re in a lot of trouble.” Tim took another step forwards. “And we have all of the evidence against you.” 

“It seems you’re not going to get your money after all.” You said. 

The man tried to flee, but Dick took a step towards to block the exit. He was trapped. 

“No. No—“ the criminal cursed, trying to find a way out. 

“There is no escape.”  Damian said. “The GCPD are already on their way. You’re going to jail for a long time.” 

“I’ll get you for this.” He spat. 

“I’m sure.” Dick said and he placed the cuffs around him. 

Jason had moved over to you. He place an anxious hand on your arm. “Are you alright.” 

“Yeah. Fine”

“You sure?” He frowned. Jason was a worrier. 

“I promise.” 

“Good……I’m never letting you do that again. Just so you know.”

“Why not? It worked didn’t it? And I’m fine. Really.” 

“I know. But I don’t like seeing you like that.” 

“I know, jay. I’m sorry. But I’m fine. I promise.” 

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<- DAY TWELVE ⛧DAY FOURTEEN ->

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

TAGS:

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

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[lostwhump]

@whumpgifathon | Day #1: ALT PROMPT "Stay With Me" Upgrade (2018)

[crimsonwolf715]

Used as Bait

Jason and Tim, who have been goofing off since getting out of the Batcave, finally arrived at the GCPD building thirty minutes after they were supposed to be there. 

“Got anything for us, Gordon?” Jason asks. 

Gordon looks up from his file, then looks back down. 

“What is he doing?” Jason asks. 

“Ignoring us for the mandatory five minutes because we wasted his time,” Tim answers. “He put it in place when B got into the habit of making a meeting and then being late for it.” 

“And B hates having his time wasted.” 

“Yup. And to be fair, we’re like thirty minutes late. Gordon does usually have some grace if we’re not too late.” 

Jason takes his helmet off and starts messing with his hair. 

“Is something wrong?” Tim asks. 

“Nope,” Jason answers. “We’re just gonna be seeing Maria before patrol’s over.” 

“You have got to be kidding me.” 

“No, of course not. You’re the only one that will let me.” 

“You have to do something for me.” 

“Fine.” 

Gordon offers the file to Tim, so he takes it. 

“Maria your girlfriend?” Gordon asks. 

“Nah, she’s just a friend of mine. But she lives and works in a bad part of town, so I like to try to walk her home,” Jason answers. “She can handle herself, but I literally take out bad guys at least twice a week.” 

“That didn’t work with Barbara,” Gordon says. 

“Yeah, your fiercely independent daughter didn’t want your protection. Maria isn’t a fan of me feeling obligated to walk her home, but she likes that I like to walk her home. We get to talk.” 

“Huh.” 

“We’ve got a possible meeting of gangs?” Tim asks. 

“That’s the thought. We have two officers over there you can meet,” Gordon says. “I want this dealt with tonight if you two can.” 

“Will do, boss. I’ve got something to do at midnight,” Jason replies, “and Red’s got a date with Spoiler.” 

“I already said that I’m not dating Spoiler,” Tim says. “You’re just telling people to get a rise out of me.” 

“Maybe. We’ll come back when we’ve got something for you.” 

“Just call,” Gordon replies. “I’m gonna be in a meeting and then two briefings for the rest of the night. If you really need anything from me, just call.” 

“We will,” Tim says, then the two of them head towards the location in the file. 

They get to the location and there’s an undercover cop car there, just like Gordon said there would be. Tim’s phone rings, so he looks at it. 

“I need to take this. Can you get the info from the officers?” Tim asks. 

“Yeah, of course,” Jason answers, “but it’ll cost you five dollars.” 

“Shut up and go over there.” 

“Whatever.” 

Jason walks over and knocks on the window. He looks inside and nobody’s in the car. 

“Weird,” Jason mutters. “Where did they go?” 

“Red Hood?” 

Jason turns and there’s an officer standing with two cups of coffee. 

“Gordon sent me and Red Robin to help you guys with the incident,” Jason says. “Where’s the other officer?” 

“He’s not in there?” 

Jason shakes his head. 

The officer quickly strides over and looks in the window. “Oh shit, where could he have gone?” 

Jason shrugs, then turns in the direction to check on Tim. Tim’s not standing where he was a minute ago. Jason goes to look around when he feels a needle in the back of his neck. 

“Nighty night.” 

Jason swings his elbow and manages to hit the guy in the face with it before he passes out. 

Tim wakes up to complete blackness. 

“You’ve failed me,” Batman’s voice says.

“What?” Tim asks. 

The scene around him turns from black to a full color image of the city in flames. 

“What happened?” Tim asks. 

“You failed, and we all paid for it.” 

He sees his entire family, bleeding out while the villains are close by celebrating. 

“No, no,” Tim says, shaking his head. “This can’t be real. I… we hold each other up. I can’t be the reason they’re dead.” 

“The most pressure on you to succeed,” Cass says. 

“The most pressure to get everything right,” Dick adds. 

“It’s your fault we failed. Your plan went south and we paid the price for it,” Damian says. 

Tim tries to calm himself down so he doesn’t hyperventilate, but the scene changes to the manor and Tim sees Jason sitting on the couch, reading a book. His blood is still pumping from the stress and anxiety, but he feels a small amount of comfort in the sight of his brother. Tim runs over. 

“Jason!” 

Jason doesn’t look up or acknowledge him. 

“Jason?” 

“I don’t want to be around you,” Jason says. 

“Why?” 

“Because who would want to? You’re annoying, uninteresting, and unable to hold a conversation.” Tim opens his mouth to argue, but Jason continues. “The only reason that Bruce took pity on you was because he was a basket case. If I hadn’t died, you wouldn’t be around. Not even Dick likes being around you, and he likes being around everyone.” 

Tim can’t help the rage that floods him at that moment, especially hearing it from Jason. He was the only one around to help when everything was going up in flames, and any of them feel like they have the right to complain? 

“You’re utterly useless, Drake,” Damian says, appearing out of thin air before Tim can get any farther in his thought process. 

The world goes back to black as Tim tries to figure out what’s going on. 

“Time for you to sleep now.” 

Tim recognizes the voice and he searches for Mad Hatter. He feels himself starting to lose consciousness, but starts thrashing around when he feels something with a similar feeling to a mask being pulled over his face. He passes out without succeeding in getting the mask off. 

Jason wakes up to complete darkness. He hears a familiar laugh that sends a chill up his spine. Jason struggles against the restraints, starting to hyperventilate. Joker comes into view with a bloody crowbar. 

“Ready for round two, little bird?” 

Jason breaks the restraints and throws a punch at Joker. It goes right through him and he starts laughing again. 

“Batman’s favorite toy, how does it feel? You almost caused the downfall of Batman with your death. It must feel fantastic to know that you almost succeeded in your goal solely by getting your head bashed in and then inhaling a little smoke,” Joker says. 

Jason throws another punch at him and it goes through him again. Jason gets his feet untied in enough time for the scene to disappear. Something knocks Jason off balance and he lands on his back. He blinks and when he opens his eyes, he’s lying down in a wooden box. Jason starts trying to bust the box but no matter how much force he uses, it doesn’t break. 

He can feel the oxygen getting thinner. He’s panicking too much and while he knows it, he can’t seem to get his breathing to slow down. He can’t seem to stop panicking. No matter how hard he tries, he’s stuck in this coffin of dread. He squeezes his eyes closed. 

“Dad!” he cries out, hoping that Bruce is right outside to save him. 

“No father to save you. There never was,” Joker’s voice says. “You really think that Batsy ever loved a little screw-up like you? No, he only pretended to. His savior complex made him take pity on you.” 

Jason shakes his head, refusing to believe it again. 

“My dad loves me!” 

Joker laughs, taunting and mocking Jason. 

“Time for you to sleep now.” 

Jason doesn’t recognize the voice and he searches for the person attached to it. He passes out as it feels something go over his face, like a mask. 

Dick’s watching TV, waiting for Damian to call him to discuss the details of Damian spending the weekend with him. Currently he’s watching a rerun of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but he’s only half-watching it. The screen goes black, drawing Dick’s full attention back to it. The screen glitches, then shows a close-up of Scarecrow’s face. Dick sits up. The camera backs away from Scarecrow’s face enough that you can see more of him. 

“Hello, Gotham,” Scarecrow says. “This isn’t for many of you, so feel free to ignore. Batman, on the other hand, we have your little birds.” 

The camera moves to show Jason and Tim in full uniform, clearly in distress. They’re fighting hard against the restraints, but in a wild and restless way that Tim would never normally attempt to get out in. Dick gets and starts searching his coffee table for his phone. Right on cue, it rings. 

He answers. “Hey, Dami. Are you watching right now?” 

“I’m watching,” Damian answers. “Barbara’s trying to figure out where the signal’s coming from and Father’s getting suited up. I’m already suited up before you ask.” 

“I’ll be there as fast as I can.” 

“Thank you. Father’s panicking.” 

“Yeah, I figured.” 

Dick grabs his keys and rushes out of his apartment. He heads to his safehouse to change into costume then gets on his bike and makes a beeline for Wayne Manor. Once he hits city limits, his comm crackles. 

“Grayson will be here when he gets here,” Damian says. “Nothing we’re going to say is gonna make him get here faster.” 

“Hey, I’m at city limits,” Dick says. 

“Hey, Nightwing,” Barbara replies. “I’m sending the location to your bike now.” 

“Thanks, Oracle. How’s Batman?” 

“I’m fine,” Bruce says gruffly. “I’m heading to the warehouse now. How long will it take for you to get there?” 

Dick checks the location. “Five minutes. It’s closer to the city limit than I thought it would be.” 

“We’ll meet you there. I’m here with Orphan and Robin. Spoiler’s out of town.” 

“Alright.” 

He gets there at the same time they do and runs over. 

“Hey, what did the scan of the building indicate?” Dick asks. 

“Four heat signatures and their trackers are still transmitting from inside,” Bruce answers. “Alright, remember that our top priority is getting them out. If one of them gets away, we can deal with it at a later point.” 

Cass and Damian both nod. Dick notices Mad Hatter and Scarecrow leaving the building. Cass notices them too and looks towards Bruce for instructions. Tim and Jason jump down onto the roof and ready their weapons. Bruce nods at Cass, and she goes after Scarecrow and Mad Hatter while Jason and Tim attack the rest of the Bats. Tim viciously attacks Damian with his bo staff and Damian barely dodges. 

“What the hell?” Damian asks. 

“The masks belong to Mad Hatter,” Dick says, trying to grab Tim so he can get the mask off. “He’s probably controlling both Hood and Red.” 

Tim grabs Dick’s wrist and flips him onto his back. Tim jams a batarang into Dick’s arm, pinning him to the roof in the process. Dick hisses and tries to figure out how to take it out without hurting himself worse. After watching Jason beating Bruce and Tim beating Damian for several minutes while trying to think, he finally just pulls it out as fast as he can and runs at Tim. Bruce can hold his own a little longer. Tim drives a hard kick to Dick’s shoulder, which was slightly injured in a battle earlier that week. 

“Shit,” Dick mutters, grabbing his shoulder. “That hurt, bud.” 

Tim swings his staff at him again and Dick grabs the other end. He uses the momentum to throw Tim on his back. Damian grabs the mask and rips it off. 

Damian checks his pulse. “He’s alive. You should probably go help Father with Hood before he makes him cry.” 

Dick looks up and the two are sparring. 

“I knew that Hood could reasonably fight Batman but seeing it is something else,” Dick mutters, “but I’m gonna go help Batman.” 

Damian nods and starts checking for injuries on Tim. Dick flips over to Jason and kicks him hard in the side of the head. Bruce rips the mask off and stomps on it repeatedly. Dick checks Jason’s pulse while Bruce finishes destroying the mask. 

“His pulse is there. Little weak, but steady.” 

“Good,” Bruce says. “Let’s get them home.” 

Bruce watches his kids as they rest and recuperate. Cass is patching up Damian’s injuries while Dick is patching himself up. Bruce notices that Tim starts shaking. Before he has a chance to get up and get him another blanket, Tim wakes up and sits up, looking concerned. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re home,” Bruce says. 

Tim’s facial expression is flat and hard to read. Bruce notices that he seems concerned, but can’t tell about what exactly. He sees everybody and seems to ease a little, but still gets up. 

“You should be resting,” Cass says. 

“I’m gonna go rest in my room. I don’t… I don’t want to be here right now.” 

“Hey, Tim,” Bruce says. 

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Dad,” Tim says, rushing through the words, then hurriedly heads up back to the manor. 

Jason wakes up not long after. He looks around but his fear and anger are completely visible to Bruce. He gets up to walk over and Jason seems to calm down a little, the anger seeming to disappear. 

“Are you alright?” Bruce asks. 

Jason opens his mouth, then closes it again. He thinks for a moment, then shrugs. 

“I don’t want to talk about it… right now. I’ll talk to you when I feel up to it,” Jason says. “Does that work, Dad?” 

Bruce puts a hand on Jason’s shoulder and nods. “Of course it does.” 

Jason nods. “I’m gonna head upstairs and try to sleep off this migraine that’s hitting me.” 

“Make sure to take something.” 

“I will.” 

Jason heads upstairs as Damian walks over to Bruce. 

“How are you feeling, Damian?” Bruce asks. 

“I’m fine,” Damian answers. “Cassandra stitched up my injury. I’m going to speak to Timothy if you don’t need anything else.” 

“Go ahead.” Damian heads upstairs. 

At least someone can get Tim to talk. If Damian can’t, I think I’ll talk Dick into trying.  

Dick walks up. “Hey, you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” Bruce says. “You?” 

Dick sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t like fighting my siblings in such a setting. It hits the edge of that line I swore I’d never cross again. I’m physically fine, but they could have not been. Mad Hatter had them pushing us full strength. The strain that would have put on their brains…” 

“I know. Don’t worry about that right now. Full brain scans show no signs of damage and we’re gonna keep up with scans until we’re completely in the clear. I won’t let anything happen to them without doing everything that I can to stop it,” Bruce promises. 

Dick nods, then hugs Bruce. Bruce hugs him back and they stay like that until Dick’s phone starts ringing. Dick looks at it, then smiles. 

“Hey, babe. What can I do for ya?” A pause. “I’m gonna take this outside, then probably head home.” 

“Goodnight, Dick,” Bruce says. 

“ ‘Night, Dad,” Dick replies, waving as he walks upstairs with his jacket. 

Bruce heads upstairs after a little while and goes to his room. He leaves his door open a crack, a sign that the kids can come in if they need something, then gets in bed to get some much needed sleep.

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumptober Day 19

Blood Trail - Abandoned Cabin - One way Out - "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

Alternative: Shivering

Whumper could smell breakfast cooking as they made their way into the kitchen.

Whumpee huddled close to the gas stove as they flipped the eggs.

Whumper studied them for a few seconds before Whumpee looked at them.

"Please tell me you're not sick", Whumper sighed, knowing they had just gotten over a cold last week.

"I don't think so... just really cold", Whumper held their hand close to the flame, "I hope you're okay with a hot breakfast."

"Sounds good to me", Whumper nodded.

Whumper was handed a cup of coffee.

"Let me feel your hands again", Whumper frowned when they felt Whumpee's knuckle brush against them.

"You're ice cold", Whumper squeezed Whumpee's hand.

Whumpee shivered a little, "yes Master, I know."

"Go ahead and get some warmer clothes on" Whumper looked over them, "no wonder your cold, walking around in a short sleeve shirt and shorts. You're not even wearing socks."

Whumpee nodded. They didn't want to tell Whumper that they had already checked earlier. They didn't have anything.

After breakfast was served, Whumpee went up to the closet that Whumper set aside for them to stay in. The house was a one bedroom, so that was the best Whumper could do.

"It's a walk-in, so you should have plenty of space, and a mattress fits in here", Whumper sighed when they explained the situation to their newly kidnapped slave, "I figure you would like a little privacy."

Whumpee thought back to those early days. They didn't fight to get away from their kidnapper. They were a little too scared to be defiant. Whumper was fairly kind to them. The rules were easy to follow, and punishments were possible but rarely came.

"Taking a long time to find warmer clothing", Whumper leaned into the closet and saw Whumpee pulling things out of the tote their clothes were stored in.

"I uhm, don't have any.... warmer... clothes", Whumpee looked up at them nervously.

Whumper frowned, "you don't?"

"No Master, I think they were thrown away.", Whumpee looked longingly at their blanket, "I have a hoodie", Whumpee held up the item.

"That will not keep you warm though", Whumper looked at it and saw the holes, "I think I remember throwing away some things this past summer because of how old they were. I guess you are getting some new clothes."

"Wait really?", Whumpee looked at them questioningly.

Whumper nodded, "after breakfast we'll go through and see what else you need. Do you at least have socks?"

"I do, but a lot of them have holes", Whumpee lifted their feet to show.

"I have a feeling this will be an expensive trip", Whumper frowned at the holes on the bottom of Whumpee's feet, "I guess that's what I get for keeping you here. You deserve some new clothes though."

"Thankyou Master", Whumpee smiled weakly.

Whumpee followed Whumper around the clothing section.

Whumper read through their list.

"You needed everything.... even underwear", Whumper frowned, "I can't believe I've been so neglectful of you while you've done so good to take care of me."

Whumpee felt a little overwhelmed at the selections. They held on tightly to the cart.

"We will, of course, get the essentials. If you see something you like, we can get a few pieces you pick", Whumper continued without noticing Whumpee.

Whumpee took a deep breath before nodding.

"You doing alright?", Whumper noticed the silence finally.

"There is a lot here. Lots of colors and people", Whumpee whispered.

"I'm sorry, you haven't been out for a while. It's probably a bit overwhelming", Whumper led them to a corner, "let's start here. You can get acclimated in a smaller space. When you feel comfortable we can move on."

Whumpee nodded again.

A few things were now in the cart... all picked by Whumper.

"Are you going to pick anything out", Whumper eyed Whumpee as they went to another part of the clothing department.

"I picked out the pants" Whumpee whispered.

"You picked the color. I already knew you wanted the black pair, but I was trying to get you to answer", Whumper looked at a sweater for themself.

"I'm sorry, I forgot how busy stores were", Whumpee fidgetted with their fingers.

Whumper nodded, "I guess you need to get out more."

Whumper led Whumpee to a section of the store for groceries. They wanted to give Whumpee a little break from the clothes.

Whumpee stumbled a little beside the cart when they stared at something for too long.

"Careful Whumpee", Whumper grinned at some passer bys.

"Sorry", Whumpee sighed.

Whumpee glanced back a few times before they rounded a corner.

Whumpee was a little more helpful in the groceries. Dinners were planned so Whumpee could grab the ingredients needed.

Whumper led them back to the clothes after a few snacks were grabbed.

They walked past the spot Whumpee had been staring at earlier.

Whumper saw it this time. Whumpee had a small grin on their face.

"You see something you like", Whumper chuckled, "finally."

"No Master", Whumpee shook their head nervously.

Whumper looked around, "Shh, don't call me that here", they whispered. "I know that face. You made the same one when I said you could get your chips. What did you see?"

Whumpee blushed.

"Come on, show me", Whumper pressed.

Whumpee turned and awkwardly shuffled back to what they were looking at.

Whumper followed curiously.

Whumpee looked down and pointed at a rack full of slippers.

"Oh, you want some slippers. That's fine. Which ones?", Whumper smiled.

"Uhm, these ones... mas... uh", Whumpee looked at them nervously.

Whumper took a closer look at what Whumpee was embarrassed about. A giant smirk now on their face.

"Oh, I see", Whumper chuckled.

Whumpee had chosen slippers that looked like bear paws. Complete with leathery claws.

"Yes, those will be cute. This is the only thing you've actually picked out today for clothes, so that tells me that you really like them", Whumper took one from the hook, "you can get them."

"Really?", Whumpee looked at them questioningly.

"Yes", Whumper nodded, "let's find your size."

Whumper laughed when they glanced over at Whumpee as they drove home.

Whumpee sat in the passenger seat and cuddled the bag that held the slippers.

Whumpee looked at Whumper nervously.

"You're okay, just being adorable", Whumper grinned.

"Thankyou for the slippers master... I'm really excited to wear them", Whumpee smiled.

Whumper nodded, "we're almost home, so you won't have to wait much longer."

Whumper had a few tasks to do before dinner, so Whumpee went through the clothes on their own and was in the middle of washing the laundry.

Whumper peaked into the laundry room and watched Whumpee as they clicked their slippers together excitedly.

They turned and nervously backed away when they saw Whumper.

"Sorry Master, just doing my chores. I got a little sidetracked", Whumpee whispered, "I really like these."

"I'm glad you are enjoying them. You are washing everything now?", Whumper looked past Whumpee at a pile.

"Yes Master, I decided to do all of the laundry so it would get done", Whumpee sighed, "you shouldn't have bought all of these things for me though. I didn't deserve it all. Even... even these slippers master. I shouldn't have shown a want like that."

"Whumpee", Whumper straightened, "you do a lot around here. You put up with a lot around here too. Since when have I said anything against you having wants and desires", Whumper stepped closer to Whumpee, "you wanted the slippers right? They make you happy?"

"Y-yes master", Whumpee nodded.

"Are they keeping you warm? This morning I found huddled against the stove to get warm. You did indeed need these warmer clothes. You might be my slave, but I do want to take care of you."

Whumpee quickly wiped away a tear, "thankyou master."

"You're welcome", Whumper grinned, "alright I'm in my bedroom if you need me", Whumper started to leave, "I want to see you wearing your new clothes once they're washed as well."

"Yes master", Whumpee smiled and looked down at their slippers again.

They giggled as they wiggled their toes, causing the slippers to wiggle.

"So comfy", Whumpee whispered.

P.s. I do actually have a pair of these slippers. Best things I've bought.

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

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @ragin-cajun-fangirl

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@deafeninglittlecrown @jumpywhumpywriter

@blackbirdsinatrenchcoat

[khoirkid]

Heavyweight Heartbreaker - IsArt Sketches in collaboration with @Amethystfairy1

Go check out the fic over on her blog!

[whumpamous]

@whumpgifathon | Day 15 (alt. prompt): “Stay With Me”

Hugh Jackman as The Drover in Faraway Downs 1x06

[just-here-for-the-whump]

@whumpgifathon | Day 31 Alt prompt: Electrocution

Mutant X 2x2 Power Play

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumpuary Day 17-18

Prompt: Headache (alt)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

You had not been home long when Daryl came shuffling through the door. He had gone on a run, leaving at the ass-crack of dawn but they were back by early afternoon with two boxes of medical supplies as fruits of their labor. Then he had been helping to move the solar panels and work on the battery hookup with Eugene. You were certain he was thrilled about that. 

You knew he hadn’t stopped; hadn’t told anyone he needed a break. It’s just who he was. Help until the job was done. It was a given that he’d be exhausted. You’d let him relax, maybe shower, while you made a quick dinner. 

Except… he stumbled after closing the door, the tips of the fingers on his left hand pressed against his temple. He didn’t so much as wave before depositing himself face first onto the couch, long legs hanging over the edge of the cushions. If it wasn’t so out of character for him, you’d find it comical. 

“Uh, hi.” You leaned into the room before actually entering. “Rough day?” There was a muffled mhm. “Hungry?” Another muted answer, but this one was mm-mm. God, you wanted to laugh, but that would need to wait until you found out a little more about why your boyfriend came home and immediately attempted to suffocate himself on the living room furniture. 

You knelt slowly, rubbing your hand over the warm leather on his back. You were pretty sure the next noise was a sigh. 

“Are you okay?” You ventured, probing a little more while leaving space in between questions so as not to irritate the archer. You thought he might have said super and was a bit dry, but it was hard to tell with the thick fabric pressed against his face. 

You shifted to properly sit on the floor, moving your hand in random patterns over his back. Maybe if you were patient, he would decide air was a good thing and sit up to enjoy it. You didn’t have anywhere else to be. It took about five minutes for him to very slowly roll his head toward you, expression drawn and eyes squinted. Uh oh. Your Dixon sense was tingling. 

“What’s wrong?”

He visibly attempted a scowl but gave up after only a brief effort. “Head.”

Oh, the jokes you could make. Not the time, Y/N. 

“Headache.” It wasn’t a question. It was blatantly obvious after he’d given you a clue. Judging from his flushed skin and the tension nearly vibrating over his form, it was a bad one. “Okay, just a second.” Daryl didn’t normally get headaches, so you were unsure how to treat one in a man that never complained and despised feeling weak or vulnerable. As you pulled the shades and closed the curtains, you glanced back at him. 

Weak was a fitting word. If a herd plowed through right now, he’d probably thank them when they started to eat him. 

With the room sufficiently darkened, you crouched in front of him, brushing his hair away from his eyes with a barely there swipe of your fingertips. “I’m going to go get a few things for you. Just relax here until I get back.”

“S’okay.” He mumbled, his arm falling away from where it had been tucked at his side. He let his hand hit the floor with little care. “Don’ need ta go outta yer way. M’good.”

A tilt of your head and tender smile should have been enough of a response, but just in case it wasn’t. “You know better than that. Sit tight.” You backed away from him in case he was about to offer any other objections but he surrendered and turned his hand with a thumbs up. 

You made a list in your head as you shuffled around the house. Pain killers. Tylenol would be okay but you were hoping for one of the stronger ones he’d been given when he’d broken his ribs. He was just as stubborn then so there were probably at least a couple left. 

While on your search, you were passing by other things you needed. Washcloths. The small basin that you reserved for cleaning him up when he came home bloody. And eureka! Pills! 

You contemplated getting him some comfortable clothes but the less he moved right then, the better. As an afterthought, you toed off your boots, quieting your steps significantly when you descended the stairs. If he noticed you bypassing him to disappear into the kitchen, he didn’t voice it. He’d need a glass of water to take the pills though you were certain he wasn’t beyond swallowing them dry. You filled the basin with cool water as well and strategically balanced your burden while padding back into the living room. 

Placing the items on the end table, you leaned down to press the most gentle kiss to the crown of his head. His eyes were closed but you were almost certain he wasn’t asleep.

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to move around for just a minute and then you can stay still as long as you want. Deal?” 

“Don’ wanna.” He groaned, reminding you very much of a grumpy toddler. Your hands drifted to his shoulders, pulling up as gingerly as you could to motivate him. 

“Come on.” His eyes were squeezed shut, jaw clenched against the throbbing in his skull. Those things were counterproductive when dealing with a headache but if you could get him to take the pills and lie down more comfortably, maybe he’d relax a little. “I got the leftover strong ones so this should start helping pretty quickly.”

“Okay.” He was so quiet and looked so small at that moment. You wanted to wrap him up and hold onto him forever. He held out his palm and you handed over the medication, barely getting the glass in front of him in time for him to swallow with the water. 

“Okay, now you get pampered.” You crawled to the far end of the couch next to your supplies and sat, patting your thighs. “Your pillow awaits, handsome.” You were barely able to stifle the giggle when he rolled his eyes before promptly pressing his palm against his forehead with a drawn out whine of ow. 

He stayed silent while stretching out on his back, his head resting on your lap. You smiled down at him while one hand dipped cloth into the water and squeezed out the excess. 

“You don’t have to do anything. I’ve got you.” You were gentle and careful when lifting his head slightly to place the cool cloth over the back of his neck. He winced at the movement regardless, making you frown. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay.” He murmured, but you still felt a pang of guilt. 

The second cloth now wrung out, you folded it and placed it over his eyes. When he melted deeper into the couch with a sigh, you grinned triumphantly. That part out of the way, you pressed two fingers, gently but firmly, against each of his temples and began massaging the area. You could feel the pulsing there, so too much would not be beneficial. You began to alternate between that and carefully scratching your fingernails over his scalp to stimulate blood flow. 

After no more than five minutes, before you even needed to rewet the cloths, he was softly snoring on your lap. Still, you continued, determined to make sure the headache was gone before stopping. 

An hour later, you had removed the cloths and stopped massaging. Your fingers carded idly through his hair as he slept. He had turned onto his side and pressed his face into your stomach, not a single line of pain left showing. 

Daryl so seldom got to relax that seeing him like that and just being able to take it all in was something you found you wanted to do over and over again. Maybe you’d start being more appreciative of the time you could spend watching him sleep in the moonlight from the bedroom window. You knew that was going to be your new favorite bedtime ritual. 

A deep breath drew you from your thoughts and back to him, his eyes fluttering but barely opening. 

“Thanks, sunshine.” He whispered against your shirt, back asleep before you could reply. 

“Anytime, love. Anytime.”

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #24

A/N: This contains (fairly vague?) spoilers for season 4

xxx alternate prompt: no-holds-barred beatdown

River doesn't enjoy grocery shopping, especially not at the big chains. There are too many options and too many people, and they always play the same shit songs over the tinny speakers. He's recently gotten the urge to cook a proper meal, though – something he hasn't felt the desire to do since he made the decision to move the OB to the nursing home. Cooking was something he usually did at his granddad's house, for the two of them, and it feels weird to go through the trouble of shopping for and cooking a meal that only he's going to eat. But the last few weeks have been...difficult, and he thinks maybe this'll be good for him. And if it isn't, he can go back to eating takeaway.

He's browsing the pasta aisle when he hears someone shout, "Bertrand!" He glances up from the box of pappardelle he's holding and catches a glimpse of a man stalking down the same aisle he's in. He's huge and he looks pissed. Whoever Bertrand is, River feels bad for the poor bastard. And then he glances up again and realizes that the giant angry man is coming toward him.

"Oh, shit," River says, shoving the pappardelle back onto the shelf right as a fist flies into his face. It connects with his nose with a loud crunch and stars burst across his vision as the back of his head smacks against the shelf behind him. Blood gushes from his nose and his eyes are watering like crazy and he blinks rapidly, raising his hands as the man winds up again.

"Wait-" he begins, but it's like asking a tornado to stop and expecting it to listen.

The next blow is right to the solar plexus. It forces the air out of his lungs and paralyzes his diaphragm. Knowing what's happening, and that it's temporary, doesn't help the panic that comes with being unable to breathe. River's too focused on trying to inhale to offer any resistance when the man grabs him by the arms hard enough to bruise and throws him to the ground. People are starting to take notice, if the noises around him (gasps and murmurs and a loud shriek) are anything to go by.

The man doesn't seem to give a flying fuck.

He's on River in a second, straddling him, so that even when River's body remembers how to breathe again he can't draw a proper breath because of the weight on his torso. He throws his arms up in an attempt to protect his face, but the man grabs River's left arm and shoves it down, pinning it to the ground with his knee. There's a constant stream of angry words coming from the man's mouth, and it takes River a moment to recognize it as profanity-laden French.

French.

Bertrand.

His mind flashes back to the angry mob in Lavande. The men had wanted to kill him – or, had wanted to kill Bertrand, anyway. And now one of those men is here, in a Tesco in London, because of course he is.

Fuck.

River's been punched before, a lot. His balls still ache at the memory of the beating he'd taken at the hands of Duffy and Hobbs. But even in that instance, they'd practiced some restraint.

This man doesn't.

Blow after blow comes. He feels a gash open across his cheekbone, and immediate swelling. His teeth cut the inside of his cheek, filling his mouth with blood. He doesn't want to swallow it so he chokes on it instead, coughs and lets it spill from the corners of his mouth. I'm not him he wants to shout, but he can't. The man won't give him the chance. There's shouting now, and he hears words like stop and police and you're killing him repeated over and over by different voices.

Oh, god.

This man, whoever he is, is killing him.

River going to be beat to death by a Frenchman in the rice and pasta aisle of a Tesco.

And then, a familiar voice.

"What on earth are you doing?!"

The man stops, panting, and looks up at Catherine Standish. No one else has been brave enough to do anything but shout at him from afar, but now here she is, this older woman standing right in front of them in simple floral dress and sensible shoes and looking for all the world like a guardian angel.

"Pardon me, madam," the man says, breathing heavily, "but you do not know what this salaud has done to me. To my family."

"Who, River?"

The man frowns. He blinks. "Who is River?"

"Well, he is!" Catherine says, gesturing at River with the shopping basket in her hand. The man looks down at River, the frown deepening.

"I did try to tell you." The words are garbled by blood, and River forces his head to turn to one side so he can spit some of it out. Even that small movement is dizzying and he closes his eyes with a groan.

"But--" the Frenchman sputters.

"Bertrand is dead," River rasps. "You're welcome."

"Merde," the man swears. He runs his bloody-knuckled hands through his hair and climbs off of River, sitting back heavily. "I thought you were – I'm so sorry. Je suis désolée. I-I can help."

He reaches toward River and River can't help but flinch, wincing as the action sends little bursts of agony stabbing through his head.

"I think it'd be best if you left him alone," Catherine says, kneeling next to River, who has never felt more grateful and more embarrassed to see someone in his life. "There's an ambulance on the way, River."

River doesn't want to attempt a nod, so he lets out a small grunt of acknowledgment. "What're you doing here?" His words are starting to run together, and they come out slow and clumsy.

"I was buying some coffee for the office."

All River can think to say is, "Oh."

The office. God, Lamb is going to have a field day with this when he finds out. Roddy, too, and maybe even Shirley as well. Getting his arse kicked was bad enough, but having it saved by Catherine...He sighs, forcing his eyes (eye – the left one is swollen shut) open.

"Thank you, Catherine."

"Hm? Oh, that's alright. No need to thank me, River."

"I mean it," he slurs, and he feels a hand on his own.

"Don't try and speak," Catherine says, patting the back of his hand gently. "Just rest until the paramedics get here. It'll be alright."

The tenderness is almost enough to bring tears to River's eyes.

xxx

[blackrosesandwhump]

Whumpril Day 30: You're Pathetic

CW: werewolf whumpee, captivity, poison whump, torture

Please, make it stop…it hurts…it hurts so much, and I can’t move…

The werewolf, curled up in the corner of his prison, can barely raise his head as whumper enters and shuts the door behind him. That grin. The way whumper looks down at him, gloating, so pleased that he has a werewolf in his possession. Whumpee wants to shred him. But the dagger wound in his left side burns with agony. And it’s not healing. Which can only mean—

I’ve been poisoned. The dagger…must’ve been laced with wolfsbane…

Whumper crouches down next to whumpee, clicking his tongue. “Dear me, you look pathetic. And I assume you’ve discovered my little secret by now, given that that nasty cut isn’t healing.”

“Wolf—wolfsbane,” whumpee stutters, fighting for breath between waves of fiery pain. “You tricked me.”

“No, no,” whumper scolds, standing up. “I didn’t trick you. I merely did what I had to do.” His boot lands on whumpee’s side and grinds down.

Through the haze of torture, whumpee hears himself scream. Then another scream, and another. They burst from his parched throat in quick succession as whumper presses his heel into the poisoned gash.

Please, just kill me already…I can’t take any more…

Whumper removes his foot and steps back, and whumpee gasps for air, his chest heaving. Darkness crowds into his already blurry vision. And in the midst of it, whumper, standing over the werewolf’s wretched body, the grin gone from his face.

“Don’t you understand, whumpee? This is only what you deserve. An agonizing death, after what you did to me.”

[whumpypepsigal]

@whumpgifathon | Day 29 (alt. prompt): “Bedside Vigil”

Fox Mulder in The X Files 2x25

[jasmines-library]

Survivors Guilt

WHUMPTOBER DAY 9: ALT prompt: Survivors Guilt

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Summary: When jason dies after taking your place, you experience survivor's guilt.

Word count: 1k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER 2024

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

You should have died that day. His screams will forever be ingrained in your consciousness; whispering away in the back of your mind. Weaving their way through the cracks like a stubborn weed. You should have died that day, but Jason’s pleading to take your place was enough to satisfy the sadistic man before you. The way his eyes twinkled with a sadistic gleam made you feel sick. You have tried. Tried impossibly hard to get the Joker to leave Jason alone. Tried to tell them that you would take the torture as you were supposed to. But Jay was far too caring for his own good and his pleas to spare you amused the Joker more than you did. Your shreeks of terror and your desperate cries; the ones that ricocheted off of the walls satisfied the Joker. But they would never bring more of a grin to his face than watching the light leave Jason’s eyes. 

By the time Bruce arrived it was already too late. Jason’s heart had long stopped beating. But once they had untied you, they had to drag you away from his body to tend to your injuries. 

You didn’t sleep for weeks after that. You would often wake up in the night screaming for him. You couldn't so much as close your eyes without seeing him. It was like he was haunting you. A ghostly reminder that he died to save you. Because of you. That it should have been you. The guilt hung heavily over your head, weighing you down. And you began to change. It eventually got to the point where you practically refused to sleep. Or rather couldn’t. It was much easier to force yourself to stay awake than to Soon you became more withdrawn. You stopped making appearances at breakfast and dinner and it grew increasingly harder for anyone to find you anywhere other than inside your bedroom. Slowly, you began to lose interest in the things you were so interested in before. You didn’t have the energy to even think about doing them.

The other members of the family noticed of course. At first they had decided to give you some space, offering support when they thought you needed it. They knew they were grieving. They were grieving too. But as the weeks passed they slowly began to notice your withdrawn nature. They missed your lively presence and just seeing your face. 

Late one afternoon, there was a knock on your bedroom door. You tried to ignore it first. Hoping that you could pretend to be asleep and that whoever it was would go away. But then the knock came again followed by your name. 

You could tell that it was Dick on the other side of the door and from his tone of voice you knew he was worried. Of course he was worried. And there was just something about the way he said your name that forced you to get up out of bed and crack open the door. 

Dick seemed rather startled when you opened the door. Truthfully, he hadn't expected you to. But he wasn’t alone. Tim and Damian were with him. 

“Hey….” he said gently. “Do you mind if we come in?”

You hesitated for a moment but let them in reluctantly before shuffling onto your bed.

“Where you been, princess?” Tim asked you “We’ve not seen you. You doing okay?”

“Yeah…” you responded quietly. “Just been…….busy.”

It was a complete lie. You hadn’t been doing much of anything, you couldn’t bring yourself to. Tim frowned a little, but didn’t comment on the matter, instead he placed a hand on your knee, rubbing over the skin gently with the pad of his thumb. 

“You've been sleeping okay?” Damian asked you. The bags under your eyes were far from subtle. 

“...better.” You just answered shortly. That guilt still hung heavy above your head. 

“Good.” a sliver of a smile appeared on Dick’s face before it morphed into a sad look. “We’re worried about you, kid.”

“I’m fine.” You tried to dismiss them. 

Tim tilted his head at you. “You don’t have to keep it bottled up, sweetheart. Talk to us.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but your words failed you. You were scared to open up.

Dick squeezed your hand. “It's alright. Tell us how you’re feeling. We’re listening.”

“I…..it should have been me.” Your words cut through the silence. Honest. And brutal. Raw and real. “He begged him to leave me alone. And he–”

“Shh…” Dick tried to soothe you. “It’s alright. You're okay.”

“Its not okay! he died because of me!”

Damian shook his head. “No. Don’t think like that. Jason died because the Joker is sick.”

“He took my place!” You said. You were on the verge of crying. You could feel the tears prickling at the back of your eyes. They could see the guilt you were experiencing. 

“What happened was not your fault. You hear me?”

“I should have tried harder.”

“No. No sweetheart….” Dick shushed you. “You couldn’t have done anything. The Joker had his mind made up. No one could have done anything to have stopped him. But Jay did what he did because he loved you. Not because you didn’t try hard enough to stop him.”

That was what pushed you over the edge. The tears began to flow. Dick pulled you close to his chest, wrapping you up tightly in his arms as you wept. Tim ran his fingers gently through your hair as Damian laced your fingers with his and traced gentle, soft circles on the back of your hand. 

“Shh…we’ve got you…. It's okay ....”

The three boys held you close, reassuring you and letting you cry. 

“We’re here for you sweetheart.” Tim said. “We’re always gonna be here for you.

“We’re gonna work through this together, okay? It might take us a little while but that’s okay.” Dick explained to you gently. “We’re here for you, kid. Always and forever”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

<- DAY EIGHT ⛤ DAY TEN ->

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

TAGS:

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

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 21 - Alt Prompt - Survivors Guilt

Warnings: child trafficking, red room (start of black widow)

Word Count: 2k (gif not mine)

Summary: Natasha and Yelena are split up. Clint and Natasha talk about their siblings.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

Yelena’s body is warm against her, Natasha can feel her body shaking, tears still running down her face.

They’re dirty, and tired and the smell in the shipping container makes her feel nauseous.

They can all hear the commotion outside, the container stationary.

Natasha can hear the whimpers and sobs of the other girls, everyone is so afraid. She is so afraid.

If they send her back there…

She feels tears on her own face as she hugs Yelena tighter.

They hang onto each other, Yelena’s little fingers pieces into her skin, but Natasha doesn’t care. She wants to go back to when they were at the house, back to her room.. Back to before.

She feels like she’s drowning.

The commotions outside, boots against the road, car doors slamming, screams of other girls; heightens everyone.

Their door opens.

No one can contain their fear.

One of the younger girls scream.

It’s piercing.

Natasha feels Yelena look up, the fear overrides them both.

Screaming, Natasha feels the fear take over.

Her whole body feels like she can’t take it.

She screams as they get hauled out, pushed against the wall of the container.

“Stand straight,” the order comes.

None of the smaller girls move.

One of them is hit, then pushed to the side.

Natasha stands in front of Yelena, trying to obscure her from view.

Flashlights and bright lights.

It’s chaos.

Girls sobbing.

Harsh voices.

The sound of a butt of a gun hitting flesh.

She seems him.

She knows the voice that haunts her dream.

Natasha tries to shove Yelena to the side.

It’s not too late for her to run, maybe hide.

The line of girls are pushed aside.

Pushed apart.

An arm grabs Yelena.

The scream of shock and pain makes Natasha hold on tighter.

Their screams add to the cacophony of sounds, but for Natasha all she can hear is Yelena.

The men in helmets pull her away, and Natasha screams in anguish. Yelena cries, she tries and fights.

Natasha feels her own body being dragged away.

She remembers how to fight.

Breaking free of his grip, she makes her way to her sister.

“Take this!”

Yelena stops fighting for a minute, as she pushes the pictures into her hands

“Take it!”

Yelena looks terrified.

They’re pulled apart and Natasha’s last view of her sister is her fighting against a soldier's arms surrounding her being pushed into a car.

She stops fighting then.

Feels all emotions bleed out of her onto the floor, until she feels empty.

She couldn’t save her.

She hears his voice.

He stands in front of her, smiling, grasping her face.

“The Red Room is your home now,” he tells her.

Forever, is the unspoken word.

She’s theirs forever.

“Put her in my car,” she hears him say.

Natasha feels herself get pushed, picked up and stuck into a car.

It starts to move and she looks around desperately for one last look at Yelena.

She keeps looking, until the world goes dark.

.

“I had a sister once,” she starts.

Clint perks up, the words the first thing she’s said in hours.

She’s speaking in Russian. The words are soft, and he has to think, he’s not sure what she’s saying.

Russian isn’t his most fluent language.

“Hey,” he says, voice as low as hers, trying to meet her where she’s at.

“I had a sister once,” she says again.

This time he understands.

He doesn’t say anything else, wondering what she’s looking for.

He wants to reassure her, help break her out of this catatonia-like state.

Clint looks at her face, hoping for some recognition of him.

The morning had broken with rain and a thunderstorm; Clint’s favourite weather, so he’d opened the door, and let the smell of petrichor in.

Her eyes close and a tear rolls down her cheek.

“What was her name?”

He could ask in Russian, but he opts for English.

Finally, Natasha’s eyes focus on him.

“Yelena.”

Clint is unsure whether to keep asking questions or just let her come out of whatever this is by herself.

He doesn’t know her well enough to know.

Instead, he sits next to her and just waits.

It seems to be the right move.

“She liked the stars, and balloons,” she starts, her voice thick, and accented.

The sound of rain beats down on the cabin and they both watch it in silence until Natasha speaks again.

“They took her. I never saw her again.”

The horror of Natasha’s past never seems to end, the trauma of her life continuous.

Even he’s added to it.

“I had a brother,” he offers.

She turns towards him, the tear tracks wiped away, and her attention on his words.

“What was his name?” she asks.

He takes a minute to interpret it.

“Barney,” he replies.

Natasha looks to the rain.

“He ran away with the circus, I chased him there and to then to the army.”

If he surprises her with his words, she doesn’t make comment. Maybe joining the circus and the army doesn’t mean anything to someone who made it out of the Red Room alive.

“Do you miss her?” Clint asks, feeling the familiar pang of grief.

She doesn’t answer straight away; he thinks perhaps she’s never allowed herself to think of the answer.

“Yes,” she replies, swiping at her eyes.

“I miss him too,” he admits.

“He was annoying and loud and always ordered me around, but I miss him, even after all these years.”

Natasha nods.

“I wish she made it rather than me.”

“I wish I ran away when I still could.”

“I wish I took her with me.”

“I wish…”

She stops herself. Clint can see she wants to keep going, her glassy eyes full of she’d tears at things she stops herself from saying.

He wishes he understood more.

“I wish a lot of things,” she finishes.

The clouds seem to get darker, and Clint glances at his watch.

“Me too.”

He pulls the water bottle from his backpack and offers it to her.

“Here.”

Scabbed hands take it, and Clint nods.

“We have to go,” he sighs.

.

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 10: Aftermath of failure

Continuation to day 4! (...finally. This is so late)

Soooo this was actually originally split into two days, and it kinda shows. But I didn’t want to have to keep stretching this out, and decided putting them together was okay, even if they don’t fit together perfectly.

Enjoy your extra angst hehe—

Day 4

Read on ao3

Warnings: blood, mentions of injuries, a panic attack, and brief mention of vomit.

————————————————————

Legend was asleep.

Warriors repeated it to himself like a mantra, watching as Hyrule crouched over the veteran and finished bandaging his middle. He knew Legend was asleep because Hyrule wasn’t acting panicked at all, and he could see his chest going up and down even from here.

He was breathing. He was asleep.

Something buzzed in his ear, same as it had on and off for a while now, but Warriors couldn’t make it out. He was pretty sure it was Sky trying to talk to him, the same as he’d been for a while, but he couldn’t focus on what he was saying, couldn’t take his eyes off of where Legend was laying in the grass.

His chest was still going up and down. He was asleep, unconscious maybe, due to shock. But he was breathing, eyes closed, face twisted slightly in pain with his bangs falling over his face. Hyrule was still bandaging his middle, and he’d pulled his bloodstained tunic out of the—

Warriors’ breath stuttered, and his gaze flicked to the blood coating his hands.

Legend’s blood.

Legend’s blood that he’d spilled.

Legend’s blood that his sword had ripped out of him after he’d plunged it into his chest, all because he wasn’t strong enough to resist whatever magic had attacked him, and made him think Legend had betrayed them all.

“Please, I’m not your enemy!”

Warriors felt his breath catch again, swallowing thickly. The memories were still blurry of what exactly he’d done, but he remembered in stark detail Legend’s chest under his foot, his eyes blown wide with an unusual fear as he’d practically begged him to wake up, his scream when he’d stabbed—

“Link, hey.”

Hands clutched at his wrists, trying to get a reaction out of him, the skin cold against his own. Warriors stared at them blankly, palms streaked with faint burns and cuts, and watched as some of Legend’s blood dripped off his fingers and onto his tunic, joining the crimson that was already coated all over his front.

He lurched over and retched.

The hands let go of his wrists, and gently grabbed his shoulder instead, waiting until he was finished. An overwhelming swell of horror and regret swamped over him as he stopped, and Warriors could barely breath, his scarf feeling like it was constricting him.

He’d almost killed Legend. He’d almost killed a fellow hero, a brother, all because of a spell he was too weak to resist.

“Captain, take a deep breath, please.”

Warriors tried, managing a shaking gasp, and what he finally recognized as Sky’s voice tried to get him to take in another. A sting of embarrassment leaked through the horror as Sky gently spoke, and Warriors felt his fingernails bite into his palm as he clenched his fist.

He needed to calm down. He was better than this, he knew how to be calm in situations like this, he’d been trained how to calm down, he needed to remember his training—

Your training that nearly killed Legend.

Warriors heaved in another breath, frantically trying to get himself to calm down. He couldn’t think about it. He just needed to focus on something else.

The hand was still on his shoulder, and Warriors focused only on that, on the small circles it was rubbing, the gentle motions of the fingers going back and forth. He kept his mind firmly from anything else that had or was happening, and eventually managed to pull his breathing under control, taking slower breaths as he calmed his heart.

After a long time, he slowly raised his head and looked at Sky’s face.

The other knight’s face was pale, making the usual eye bags he had stick out even more sharply under his eyes. A bit of blood was drying in his hair, and his lip was split, blood trickling down his chin, but more obvious than any injury was the haunted look in his eyes.

But somehow he still managed to dredge up a smile to send at Warriors.

“Hey Captain,” he said in a soft voice, and Warriors stared at him blankly. “You back with me?”

Warriors’ breath hitched again.

“I almost killed him,” he rasped, the horror starting to trickle back through the temporary wall he’d put up.

Sky’s smile faded, and Warriors swallowed, his throat stinging with bile. He hadn’t meant to say that.

Sky hesitated, and looked like he was trying to think of something to say, and Warriors felt another overwhelming swell of panic and horror overwhelm him, crashing over him like a tsunami.

“Gods Sky,” he choked out, his breath catching in his lungs, “I nearly killed him, I stabbed Legend Sky, he’s only a kid I—”

Sky clutched at his hands again, and Warriors looked at Legend’s blood still drying on his palms.

“You— we, weren’t ourselves,” Sky said in a voice only slightly more steady than Warriors’, sounding like he was forcing his voice not to break. “It was the wizzrobe. We can’t... we can’t take the blame here Wars, it’ll... it’ll tear us apart.”

Warriors let out a truly bitter laugh, and didn’t reply. It already is.

“Link,” Sky continued, his voice agonized. “Don’t—”

“I thought he was one of them Sky,” Warriors interrupted, voice shaking. “A traitor. Someone who’d gone against everything I stand for, kidnapped Zelda or— or something, I can’t even remember, but I thought he was one of them Sky, I—”

His voice cracked, and he closed his eyes, shaking his head.

I’m the traitor.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

Sky stayed silent, and Warriors felt bile rise in his throat again as his eyes flicked to the bloodstained grass Legend was lying in, but he swallowed it back, staring down at his hands. Sky’s own were still clasped at his wrists, and Warriors realized his were the ones with the burns and cuts on them, red and painful looking.

“You’re hurt,” he said numbly, and Sky shrugged a little, turning his hands so the burns were harder to see.

“Not too badly. Fi was only helping, and Wind’s a better brawler than I am.” He rubbed his jaw, a softer expression crossing his face. “He can sure hit hard for having such small fists.”

Warriors felt a flicker of pride towards Wind, but the warmth from the emotion didn’t last long. The others really had fought their hardest to keep them all away from Legend.

Look how that turned out.

He breathed out heavily, feeling less panicked and more wrung out all of a sudden, and Warriors raised his head and looked around at their group.

Wind was sitting next to Four and helping him wrap a bandage around his side, the smithy’s tunic bloody and torn. Wind himself had a black eye, and a small cut on his cheek, with half-dried blood staining his chin as well. He was holding a bottle and trying to get Four to take it, but the smithy kept shaking his head and pushing it back towards him.

Hyrule had finished with Legend, and was talking to Time, though Hyrule was pointedly positioned between the downed veteran and the older hero. Both of them were sporting multiple injuries, but before Warriors could study them further, a choked noise made him startle.

He and Sky both turned to look, and saw Wild curled in on himself at the base of a nearby tree, his head in his hands and his forearm bleeding. Twilight was kneeled next to him, talking in quiet tones, and Wild muffled a keening noise in his hands, curling up tighter.

Warriors looked away from Wild, but found himself scanning all of Twilight’s injuries, remembering in an almost detached way that he’d been the one to inflict most of them.

“Keep them away from Legend!”

His gaze went back to the veteran against his will, and he stared in silence at his chest, bandages going steadily up and down, the same as earlier. His face was pale, but Hyrule must have cleaned the blood from it as it was clean, and Legend’s expression had eased a little further.

Warriors swallowed, watching him. Legend looked so small from over here, pale and bloodstained. He may have claimed the title of veteran, but he truly was still a kid, younger then when Warriors had joined the army.

How old was he when he had started saving people?

Warriors jumped at a sudden hand in his face, and he almost fell backwards before he realized it was Sky, holding a cloth in his hand.

“You’re still bleeding,” he apologized quietly, and Warriors hesitated, then nodded, closing his eyes as Sky began to clean the blood off his forehead and cheek. He normally disliked anyone touching his face, but Sky was gentle, and Warriors stayed still as he worked, blinking his eyes against the sudden sting in them.

“Wars wake up! You’d never hurt any of us!”

“It wasn’t you, Captain. It wasn’t your fault,” Sky whispered as he continued, and Warriors couldn’t look him in the eye.

Maybe he was right. Maybe not.

But either way, Legend’s screams wouldn’t be fading from his mind anytime soon.

And he would never forgive himself for hurting him that way.

Warriors looked down at his hands one more time, the smell of blood still sharp in his nose, and Sky continued to clean off his face, hand faintly trembling.

If blood didn’t end up being the only liquid that was wiped from his cheek, then Sky didn’t comment on it.

(...)

It was dark when Legend finally woke up.

He blinked his eyes open, lids feeling unusually heavy as he stared up at the night sky, but he found himself having trouble remembering what had happened before he fell asleep. He felt tired, and heavy, and for some reason there was a heavy feeling of wrongness settled around him. But...

Legend frowned, and turned his head to look around camp.

It was mostly dark and quiet, a campfire providing a bit of warmth and light. Legend blinked his eyes open a little further, and looked around at the others, the sense of wrongness only growing stronger.

Hyrule was tucked beside him, dead asleep with his arm resting on top of Legend’s. He looked exhausted, and his face held a deep frown, his other hand held near his sword. Wind was next to him, and Four stretched out nearby, the smithy sporting several bandages at his side.

On the opposite side of the clearing, Wild was curled into a tight ball under his blanket, barely visible, and Sky was next to him, his face tightly pinched in his sleep. Wolfie sat close by, but was surprisingly far away from Wild, and seemed rather on edge.

Time sat closest to the fire, and Legend couldn’t help but stare at how the older hero was holding Warriors’ shoulders, their foreheads nearly touching as he talked to him in a low voice.

He couldn’t make out the words, but they sounded urgent.

Legend blinked, feeling dizzy and a bit cold, and he tried to sit up, gasping in surprise as the pain he hadn’t even noticed in his middle spiked. Memories came flooding back as he looked down at his bandaged chest, and his breath hitched as Warriors and Time both turned and looked at him, their eyes shining in the firelight.

For a moment, all he could see was armor glinting in the sun, blank eyes focused on him in a glare, a sword raised to stab him through—

You killed the wizzrobe, he reminded himself as his breath caught, they’re not your enemies, they won’t turn on you, they won’t...

Twilight seemed to notice his distress, and he quickly hopped up and padded to his side, using his big head to gently push him back to lying down.

“I’m fine you big lug,” Legend said in a voice that ended up more shaky then he would have preferred, but Twilight ignored him, twitching his tail once, then settled himself on the opposite side of him from where Hyrule was.

Legend exhaled, and ran a hand through the wolf’s thick fur, unable to stop himself from still watching Time and Warriors. Looking at them without their armor on made it easier to separate them from the memories he had of them from earlier, but...

“Traitor to the crown!”

Not entirely.

Time noticed him staring, and met his eyes, looking at him with something that Legend wasn’t sure how to decipher. The older hero turned and said something to Warriors, but the captain looked away, and Time slowly got to his feet, approaching Legend.

He felt himself tense as Time drew near, but Twilight stayed firmly by his side, and the presence of the large wolf helped greatly with keeping him steady. Twilight won’t let him attack.

...not that he will, because the spell is broken, remember?

“How are you doing, Veteran?” Time asked softly as he reached him, sitting far enough away to not make Legend too uncomfortable.

“Fine.”

Time raised an eyebrow at the response, but didn’t push, offering him a water skin. Legend realized then he was rather parched, and slowly sat up again, reaching out to take it. He winced as a flicker of pain struck through his middle, but at Time’s worried look, firmly took the water skin as if daring him to argue.

“I’m alright,” Legend repeated, and took a long draught of water. It was cold as it went down his throat, but the relief was worth it. “How’s everyone else?”

Time sighed, heavy and tired. “About as well as you’d expect. Four was the worst off besides yourself, and Warriors and Twilight were both hurt more then they realized. But nobody’s in danger.”

Legend swallowed. Are they though?

It was silent between them for a minute while Legend finished drinking, shivering slightly as he finished. He could tell he had lost a lot of blood. That was something even Hyrule couldn’t fix, and he would have to just rest and regain it naturally.

Pretty annoying though, he grumbled, tugging his blanket tighter around his shoulders. He hated how cold he always felt after losing a bunch of blood.

The memory of being stabbed flickered in his memory, and his eyes slid over to Warriors, the captain staring blankly at the fire. He wondered how much he remembered of what had happened. The captain had seemed dazed after... everything, and while he’d obviously realized what he’d done, that didn’t really mean he truly remembered.

I hope he doesn’t remember a thing.

“Legend... do you know what that wizzrobe did?” Time asked quietly, and Legend felt a chill go up his spine. “Hyrule mentioned you freezing up, has this... spell, happened before?”

Do we need to be prepared for it to happen again? was the unspoken question.

Legend bit his lip. Hyrule knew why he had frozen up— he’d told him one time after finding a wanted sign with Legend’s face on it— but he’d obviously not elaborated on why to the others.

“I think... it reactivated an old spell through me somehow,” Legend murmured, drawing his blanket closer. “On... on my first quest, there was a sorcerer, a servant of Ganon, who took over the castle. He brainwashed all the soldiers and knights, and they thought I was the enemy for a long time.”

He swallowed.

“But I... I guess the wizzrobe hit me first, and it affected you all, because... you’re knights.”

Understanding dawned on Time’s face, and he leaned back, putting a hand on his chin. “My knighthood is only a title, I haven’t done much to deserve it,” he murmured, brows lowered. “But the spell didn’t differentiate regardless...”

He met Legend’s gaze again, and the veteran startled at the remorse all over his face.

“I’m so sorry Veteran.”

Legend shook his head, and looked down at the bandages covering most of his chest.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered. “The wizzrobe did it. It was infected... that must have granted it extra magic ability.”

Twilight shifted a little closer to him, and Legend ran his hand through his fur again, calming himself down with the motions. Time was silent for a while, watching his hand card along, then sighed, and got to his feet.

Legend flinched in spite of himself.

“I think the captain needs to hear that,” Time finally replied, his voice quiet. “Is it okay if he comes over here?”

No, no it’s not, his mind immediately screamed, glaring eyes and cold words flashing through his mind, a blade stabbing deep through his chest as he choked on his own blood and Warriors’ horrified gaze as he stared at his hands—

“Yeah,” he said in a voice that was much too casual.

Time and Twilight both gave him a look, but didn’t do anything further then that, and Time nodded and moved away.

Legend didn’t watch him reach Warriors, or talk to try and convince him to come over to where Legend was sitting, keeping his eyes firmly on his lap, or Wolfie’s soft fur. Not until a set of footsteps approached again did Legend flick his eyes up, and he felt his heart freeze as Warriors looked down at him.

Suddenly it was earlier again, and Warriors’ face had become a smooth glare, his sword plunging downwards into his chest, and Legend couldn’t breathe through the blood, his vision going dark—

“This— this was a bad idea,” Warriors said, stumbling over his words as Legend tried to get ahold of himself. “I don’t—”

“Stay,” Legend finally managed to get out, determined to beat this. And despite his instincts begging him to just leave, to run, to get away, he looked up and met Warriors’ eyes. “Please.”

Warriors swallowed, and Time’s hand landed on his shoulder, nearly pushing the captain down to sit next to Legend. He was a bit closer than Legend would have preferred, but he swallowed back the fear and distrust that were still trying to choke him, and stayed where he was.

Time looked between them, then left, far away enough to give them privacy, but close enough to help if there was a problem.

Which Warriors was obviously afraid there would be.

Twilight stayed where he was, silent and still, and Legend kept running his hand through his fur, wondering a bit at the fact that he was letting him pet him so much. But mostly he was just glad for the grounding feel of the fur between his fingers.

The silence between him and Warriors stretched on, and Legend avoided looking at him, still staring at his lap. He was afraid he would see those same blank eyes again if he looked up, and he didn’t move, didn’t say anything.

“Legend, I...” Warriors finally began, but his voice cracked, and he shook his head, staring at the ground.

The silence came back with a vengeance, and Legend hesitated, his stomach hurting with more than just his injury. He firmly gathered his courage, and finally looked over at Warriors, and was shocked to see a tear slip down his cheek.

Twilight quietly whined, and Warriors let out a laugh that was really more of a sob.

“I betrayed you, Legend,” he managed to continue, voice more broken then Legend had ever heard it. “I shouldn’t even be over here in case— in case it happens again. I can’t be trusted, I... I nearly killed you, and there aren’t enough words in the world to convey how sorry—”

Legend swallowed, and before he could scare himself out of doing it, leaned forward and pressed his head against Warriors’ chest.

The captain made a choked noise, and Legend squeezed his eyes shut.

“It wasn’t you,” he said, not bothering to hide the tremble in his voice. “It was the wizzrobe Captain, it was a spell, an infected one, I know— I know you would never hurt any of us.”

Horribly enough, Legend felt his eyes begin to sting, but he forced the tears back, and stayed with his head pressed to Warriors’ chest, listening to him try not to cry either.

“Nobody could have resisted that,” Legend choked out, firmly blaming the sudden crash of emotions on his exhausted physical state. “Nobody. So don’t— don't. Don’t blame y-yourself.”

Something shakily rested on his back after a minute, and Legend realized it was Warriors’ arm, eventually joined by the other. Part of him wanted to break away from the contact, his mind screaming that he couldn’t trust the arms encircling him. But the part that was fighting so hard to pound it into Warriors’ head that it wasn’t his fault hung on, and enjoyed the contact, as awkward and messy as it was.

He knew it was just as hard for Warriors to be this close to him as it was for Legend to be near him, and he firmly ignored every memory of blood and swords and screaming, and focused on breathing, his brother’s arms around him.

Not threatening. Not wielding a sword.

Safe.

Twilight moved himself a little closer to the both of them, so that his fur wasn’t just pressed to Legend’s side, and Warriors let out another unsteady breath, trembling slightly.

It would take more time then this to patch back what had fractured, for all of them, but this...

Legend fought back a sob, and felt Warriors’ grip hesitate, then tighten.

This was a good start.