#augusnippets day 24

[whumplump]

Day 24 of @augusnippets

Prompt used: medical complications (bonus prompt)

CW: medical whump, sickfic, mentioned lung injury, mentioned intubation

Although it dawned and dusk every day, that strong white light in the hospital seemed like it was always daytime. Whumpee woke up but immediately closed their eyes shut, uncomfortable with the brightness. Caretaker's hand holding theirs made them feel a little calmer.

Caretaker could hear the distant sound of the mask helping Whumpee breathe. They squeezed their hand to get their attention.

“The doctor said your lungs are really bruised, Whumpee." They came closer to whisper the last part, being careful with Whumpee's sensitive ears to loud sounds. "They said they might have to intubate you."

Whumpee's eyes brimmed with tiredness. They weren't listening properly because of their deplorable state. If they were, they would certainly be panicking.

Caretaker reached out to stroke their sick friend's hair.

"It's going to be okay... It's going to be like taking a long nap…”

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Augusnippets day 24: Bear Trap

cw: blood, injury

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 326

=~=~=

The pain was sudden and thunderous and searing, throwing the mer from curiosity to panic in a violent burst. It was their first time out of the waters, their first time adventuring to the world above, but every bit of wonder at the new experience vanished in an instant.

What had them?

They could hardly even think through the sudden surging fear. Were there predators here too? Ones that swam up through the ground to bite? A hurried glance at their split fin---leg, those who'd walked the dry realm before called them legs---showed them shining teeth, buried into the flesh, blood pooling at the wounds, pulled downwards by the weight of the air.

Something had them in its jaws, but what?

It didn't move, didn't jerk their body around or pull them deep under the crunching leaves. It just stayed there, teeth clamped around their throbbing leg.

After a moment frozen in terror, the mer dared to glance at the creature once more. Was it dead? They knew little about the things that walked the ground or swam in the air; even the most experienced wanderers hadn't seen everything, but everything they knew told them if this thing wanted to tear them to pieces, it would've by now.

Mustering courage through clenched teeth, they curled their body in, reaching for the clamping mouth with shaking hands, half certain it would attack if they touched it at all. To their relief, it didn't move. It was cold to the touch, its surface alternating between smooth and black and bumpy and brown.

Was it dead? Had it ever been alive to begin with?

On closer inspection, it looked human-made, like the heavy things that sank to the sea floor. Not trying to kill them, but still very much holding them captive.

Why was it here? Who would set up a big metal mouth to bite hapless wanderers?

The mer didn't know.

But they hoped they didn't find out.

[jamiesfootball]

Augusnippets Day 24

Alternate Prompt: flashbacks

cw: implied/referenced child abuse, referenced past choking/strangulation, flashbacks, panic attacks

Summary:

He shakes his head and swears warmly, the way he must’ve done a million times before– “I should fucking strangle you.”

Sequel to this

Here on AO3

It’s a fucking joke. Roy doesn’t really mean it.

It’s the third time that morning that Jamie tries to steal a sip from Roy’s water bottle, despite the fact that his own bottle remains halfway full. He’s spent all morning doing his best to rile Roy up – jogging faster than Roy can keep pace, singing the same four lines from that annoying pop song on repeat, running backwards ahead of him despite Roy’s repeated shouts that he’s going to trip and fall and then Roy’s going to make him crawl home.

Jamie grins at that. His bright orange water bottle sloshes as he tosses it back and forth between his hands, and he smarts back that that’s the only way Roy could beat him in a race. Then without pausing, he asks if Roy’s planning on using last night’s chicken to make chicken salad for lunch, because that’d be mint.

It’s a normal fucking day.

So when Jamie ducks into Roy’s space again, grinning wildly and unabashedly pleased with himself, it’s second nature for Roy’s arm to raise up to fend him off.

Also second nature: the low growl it elicits when Jamie dances out of reach. Roy doesn’t even consciously think about moving; his reflexes have him taking a step forward to catch his would-be water poacher by the nape. His hand cups around the back of Jamie’s neck. He gives it a short squeeze, and something irritatingly, blisteringly fond digs fingers into his ribs. He shakes his head and swears warmly, the way he must’ve done a million times before–

“I should fucking strangle you.”

Jamie, bouncy and restless and maddeningly cheerful, goes completely still. The skin under Roy’s palm goes cold, chilled like he’s been doused by a bucket of ice water. The light in his eyes flicks off, all traces of emotion blinking out of existence between one second and the next, replaced with a horribly blank nothingness. Like Roy’s accidentally gone and found the button that finally turns him off.

The neon-bright water bottle, with its stickers and spare headband wrapped around the lid, slips out of lifeless hands to fall dead on the grass. The cap spills open. Water sloshes everywhere. Jamie takes a quick step back. Then he wobbles, then his legs give out, and Roy barely manages to grab him by the shoulders. He guides him shakily to the ground.

“Hey. Hey. That’s it, easy. Down, that’s a good lad, that’s good. Come on, now, breathe for me..”

Jamie pulls his legs up to his chest, his forehead digging into his knees. He’s gasping now, his breaths turned into sharp, whistling hitches. One of his hands fists into his joggers; the other curls into his shirt, pulling the neckline away from his throat as he struggles to breathe.

Roy crouches beside him, running his hand along his back in rhythmic, steady circles, the way he would if it were Phoebe or Keeley or any of the people he was somewhat qualified to console.

After what feels like a million aching years, the panting begins to subside. The tension in his back unwinds. His hands uncurl, his fingers white with how painfully tightly they’d been twisted up. The front of his shirt is stretched beyond ruin, and his hand trembles as he tries to flatten it back down.

Jamie finally reappears, warily peeking up. He’s still pale-faced and blank, but there’s an alertness behind his red-rimmed eyes that wasn’t there before. Confused, he takes in the park and the grass and the old ladies in the distance and the parents with their prams and picnics before his attention finally lands on the person kneeling in front of him.

He croaks out a hoarse, “What?”

“Here,” says Roy. He holds out the water bottle that started this mess. “Drink this.”

He waits anxiously as Jamie unscrews the cap. He doesn’t take more than a sip, and even that small amount makes him sputter, coughing weakly into his shoulder.

After an elastic stretch of silence, Roy dares to ask, “Has that happened before?”

Jamie chokes on a laugh. It’s a scornful, cutting noise that Roy never wants to hear again. “Yeah. Yeah, you can say that.”

Roy frowns. “More than once?” He’d fucking hoped it was a one-off.

Jamie spins the bottle absently between his palms, watching the liquid swish around. With feigned indifference drawn around him like a shield, he shrugs. “A few times I guess.”

“Ok.” Roy nods woodenly. “All right.”

He settles his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. Jamie jumps a bit at the contact, but he doesn’t pull away, and Roy considers that a victory. He doesn’t know what the fuck else he’s supposed to be doing here. After witnessing something like that, it feels like he should have something to say, but he doesn’t. He should’ve asked Ted more questions. He should’ve joined the Diamond Dogs years ago, if only for the practice. He should’ve started therapy when he was nine.

After going in circles over whether or not it’s a stupid question, Roy takes the risk and asks, “Is there something specific that triggers it or some shit?”

Is there anything I can avoid to make sure that never fucking happens again.

The hastily drawn bravado trembles like a mirage. Jamie cocks his head, confused. A vulnerable shadow flickers across his expression. “What?”

“Is it you know-,” Roy spins his hand in the air, “-is it brought on by anything?”

They stare at each other blankly, two hamsters spinning on different wheels. Jamie’s speedy little rodent gets there a half second sooner. He shrinks back, his shoulders bunching up protectively around his ears. “Oh. Oh. You thought I meant-“

“What did you think I was talking about–“

It clicks.

Roy hates that it clicks.

He sits down on the grass; his sister can come pick him up later if he has trouble standing up. This is too important.

“Thought for a moment there that you were gonna choke me,” Jamie spells it out. Simple, ugly words that bruise to hear. “Knew you wouldn’t, but–“

“It’s happened before,” Roy finishes.

Jamie drops his head back onto his knees with a sharp exhale. Nods.

“I never knew when it was going to happen,” Jamie confesses. “I mean, I could usually tell when he was in a bad mood. Whether it was a bad day or whether it was something I had done. But I could never tell if it was gonna be… that.”

It isn’t news that his dad’s a piece of shit; it’s just the breadth of it that’s staggering.

Roy doesn’t think he’ll ever get to the point where hearing the details doesn’t make him want to put his fist through a wall — or better yet, James Tartt’s face. Honestly, he never wants to; he never wants to get to the point where he takes these harsh glimpses being shared with him for granted.

More important than all of that is the hunched figure sitting beside him, tearing grass from the earth in tense clumps as he waits for Roy’s verdict.

“Shit,” Roy says under his breath. “Jamie. That’s fucked up.”

Jamie freezes. Slowly, he unclenches his fist. Blades of grass trickle out of it, blown free by the wind. With a note of hope in his voice, he says, “Yeah?”

It’s such an earnest question it breaks Roy’s fucking heart.

“Yes,” Roy insists. “Fuck. Christ, Jamie. You didn’t deserve that shit.”

“Might’ve. You don’t know.”

“The fuck I don’t,” Roy snaps. “No one deserves that shit.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t always tell that, could I?” Jamie bites back. His shoulders rise defensively. “You know what they say: the pot doesn’t fall far from the kettle.”

Jamie flops back in the grass, arms folded petulantly across his chest like he’s won the argument. The neon orange bottle lays empty at his feet, and Roy’s plain black one sits next to it like a menacing shadow.

Roy inhales sharply between his teeth. He’s trying not to be the shadow.

“That’s not what they say.”

“I’m pretty sure it is. You know, how once a table’s been flipped over, they can tell where it was standing before because everything sort of falls in the same direction?”

“That’s not–,” Roy cuts himself short. He takes in Jamie, the way he’s splayed out like a frog ready for autopsy: pinned open and vulnerable to poking. He is, Roy’s beginning to realise, eerily good at pretending his trauma isn’t on display, and even better at getting Roy to fall for the act.

Like there's a chance Roy might go home and forget he ever said anything.

Roy shakes his head. “Actually that makes some sense.”

“See? Told ya.”

“But it’s just a metaphor. That doesn’t make it true,” he adds forcefully. “If anything, your dad isn’t the kettle in that situation; he’s the man flipping the table.”

Jamie blinks up at the sky. His eyes shine. “Yeah. Maybe.”

After a brief moment’s hesitation, Roy lies down next to him. He’ll regret it when he tries to stand up again, but for now that doesn't matter.

The sky is stupidly blue. A brisk wind slides in from the north. Families and old ladies and loud teenages and sloppy, happy dogs circulate around the park, lives continuing on their merry way with no concern for the two resting figures in the grass.

“Do you ever wish you were a frog?” asks Jamie, already moving on, lacing up his boots, and preparing to leave the moment in the wind.

Roy lets him. It’s the least he can do. That, and brace himself for the day it all catches up. Roy doesn’t need to win the race; he just needs to be waiting at the finish line.

Until then, it’s a normal fucking day.

[shyday-ao3]

@augusnippets Day 24. Prompt land mines. Peaky Blinders fandom, set early in the series. S2 maybe?

It’s late, the long line of petitioners for Shelby beneficence finally thinning out. Arthur’s gone to grab another bottle, and really Tommy should have gone with him. He should have known better. Left alone for the moment in the Garrison’s private room, he certainly hadn’t meant to close his eyes. Sleep claims him quickly, ever eager to get her hands on such a recalcitrant son.

He’s returned as always to France, to the mud and the piss and the gore. Land mines explode in every direction above them as they dig, tearing bodies asunder and rattling the dirt from the crumbling walls they build. His arms shake from exhaustion and his legs from fear; impossible to breathe down here, and yet they must. Every shovelful of dirt gets them closer to their objective. Every shovelful of dirt gets them closer to death.

Somehow, down here, he can still hear them screaming as the mines above rip them apart. It rings like the pick in his ears.

He wakes before the usual cave-in, before the nightly accidental detonation, before the skeletal hands of his dead friends erupt from the dirt to paw at him and drag him under. A hard grip on his arm, Arthur’s face close and voice saying his name. His breath coming stuttered and shallow, heart thundering in his ears. Echoes of explosions scatter his thoughts about the small room. There’s a stunningly blank moment before he remembers where he is.

His brain fires danger and he’s on his feet; too fast, and he has to brace himself with a hand on the wall as the room greys out around him. Arthur’s yapping when it returns, muttered words that take Tommy’s muddled brain time to decode. A picture painted of him shouting at no one, a one-sided argument with Morpheus loud enough to be heard out in the bar proper. His brother had thought him to be under attack. Still hasn’t calmed down.

Tommy lights a cigarette, rubs at his gritty eyes with a knuckle. His pulse continues to drum its marching beat through his skull. Arthur pours them both a drink, and he follows its burn down his throat to where it pools in his empty stomach. He doesn’t want to sit back down. Fatigue’s fingers curl tightly around his bones, lying in wait until he slips up and relaxes again.

“Still a few more out there. You want to talk to them, or should I tell them to piss off?”

He wants to sleep without land mines. It doesn’t matter what he wants. “Send them in.”

Tommy sits. He holds court for another two hours. 

[scratchandplaster]

Bunny Call

CW: ace boy seduces his girl with some facts about rodents

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Elliot had begged her to come over again, so naturally, Amber waxed every inch of her body raw. All her hopes, all the lace poking into her sore skin, all the hints she threw into the void over and over still went unnoticed.

Now, she kneeled on the carpet of his spare bedroom, carefully handling a yogurt drop to catch Ginkgo's interest. The whole room seemed dedicated to these critters: hay, chopped straw and buckets of fodder stacked neatly next to each other. A shame, Amber thought, a few tweaks and the space would make an unbelievable lounge. 

Daisy, the tiny rabbit with scarlet eyes, started nibbling on her shorts.

"It wants to bite me," Amber whined and turned towards her boyfriend. Fortuitously, her hand slipped over his thigh and further up inwards. Yet Elliot, who hadn't spared a single glance at her, just picked the mangy thing up and pressed a kiss on its tousled head.

Quite tactless, for a trained professional.

"Look," he explained gently and pushed Daisy into her arms, "she just wants to say hi!"

The feeling of rough nails against her arms made Amber squeal: "As long as it doesn't pee on me..."

"They are housebroken, actually."

"Liar." She cocked her head to the side, something like amazement laced her voice. 

"I trained them," Elliot insisted, "Daisy even cleans up her toys every evening."

Before his boasting could charm his girlfriend further, Ginkgo cued in with an angry stomp. Another one let the thin floor groan.

"Oh, somebody's getting jealous," Elliot laughed and put her fuzzy wife back on the ground, "Sorry. That happens more often than you'd think."

One or two yogurt drops for the rabbit later, and one for him too, as Amber witnessed in horror, the atmosphere shifted. She finally knew what she was here for; certainly not the kind of fun she had expected since the last few visits. Why did he still play hard-to-get?

"So, did you think about my offer?" Elliot sounded very earnest out of the blue.

"What about it?" she asked while picking hay off her top.

"They are busy as always, but my parents can't wait to finally meet you. I'm sure we'll find a date that fits, if you like."

Her boyfriend didn't know her as well as he thought, either. For the moment, Amber would rather stick to the rabbits.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Prompt: animal attack/bear trap/land mine

@augusnippets Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername, @canislycaon24

[evilwriter37]

Nadder Spine

Augusnippets Day 24

Animal Attack

Rated: mature

Warnings: blood

------

Everyone was shocked when Fishlegs returned to the clubhouse with a Nadder spine sticking out of his right arm. He was slumped over Meatlug, holding his arm, face tight in a grimace. Blood ran down into his hand where it dripped off his fingers.

“Fishlegs, what happened?!” Astrid was the quickest to rise and get to him. Hiccup came over next, and together, the two helped him off of Meatlug.

“Accidentally provoked a Deadly Nadder while trying to study her,” Fishlegs said. He felt more embarrassed now rather than in pain. “I didn’t mean it. She was—”

“Fishlegs, it’s okay,” Hiccup cut him off. “Let’s just take care of this, all right?”

Fishlegs looked at his arm, at all the blood, and nodded. He was surprised by how calm he felt. Sure, he was in a lot of pain, and there was a lot of blood that belonged to him, but he knew what to do in this kind of situation. Hopefully his friends did too.

“Well, first thing’s first,” Astrid said. “We have to pull that spine out.”

“Let’s get you sitting down for that,” Hiccup said. He put a hand on Fishlegs’ shoulder and guided him over to the table. Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and Snotlout had cleared up lunch and were now lining the table with medical supplies. Fishlegs was proud of them for that. 

“Fishlegs, you’re kind of a badass,” Tuffnut said. “Like, look at that thing!” He pointed at the Nadder spine. “You’re not even flinching!”

“Um, uh, looks like I will be soon,” Fishlegs said as Hiccup wrapped a hand around the end of the spine. Astrid hovered nearby with a towel.

“You ready?” Hiccup asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Fishlegs told him. He knew he should try to relax, but instead everything in him was bracing itself for the pain.

“Okay. Gonna pull it out on three.”

Fishlegs nodded, now starting to feel a little woozy. He turned his head away.

“One… Two… Three!”

With a grunt, Hiccup removed the spine, and Fishlegs, well, he screamed. He screamed again when Astrid quickly pressed the towel to the now gushing wound. He was feeling faint, probably going white in the face.

Fishlegs leaned his good arm on the table and put his head in his hand, breathing hard.

Hiccup patted him on the back. “You’re still a badass, Fishlegs.” 

Fishlegs liked that compliment, but at the moment, all he could do was nod. 

Hiccup gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Now, let’s get working on that wound.” 

[ronanziriano]

Augusnippets Day 24 - Bear Trap

A day late because I was sick yesterday. Wish me luck in getting Day 25 out too before the day is over.

Content warning: mild gore

~~~~~~~

Whumpee stumbled through the trees and brambles, trying his damnedest to forge a path in the darkness. Half past midnight was not the best time for a hike, but the only opportunity for escape came when Whumper was asleep. He had managed to sneak out of Whumper’s home—an isolated, derelict little house deep in the countryside—and now all that stood between him and freedom was the dense forest.

One misstep, though, was all it took to stop him in his tracks. A sudden snap, a flash of blinding pain as something clamped down on his leg, hard and unyielding. Whumpee bit down on his lip, swallowing back a scream as his body buckled. He hit the ground with a thud, hands instinctively grabbing for his leg. His fingers met cold steel and sharp, serrated edges that bit deep into flesh.

A bear trap. Of fucking course Whumper had traps set up around here.

His heartbeat thudded, drowning out the throbbing agony in his leg as he tried to examine the injury. The trap’s teeth were buried in his flesh, the pressure so intense he could barely think. He tried to pull his leg free, but the trap held fast, and his hands became gradually slicker with blood and sweat the longer he fumbled blindly in search of a release mechanism. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain shooting up his leg. He let the tears flow openly, but he couldn’t scream. He couldn’t make a sound. Whumper was only a few hundred yards away, asleep in his home. If Whumpee made too much noise, it would all be over.

But the pain—it was like fire, spreading from the point of impact, searing his nerves until he was shaking with the effort of keeping silent, his lower lip starting to drip blood from how hard he was biting it.

Eventually, he gave up his efforts to remove the trap. It was no use. He couldn’t see, couldn’t feel anything but the cold  metal and the warm, sticky wetness of his own blood dribbling down his leg. The trap was chained to a nearby tree, and the heavy links rattled softly as he tried to move. There was no dragging it away, no running. The trap had done its job well.

He had two choices, he realized—neither of them good. He could wait until dawn, hoping the light would allow him to see the trap clearly enough to free himself. But that would mean hours of bleeding, hours of pain, and even then, there was no guarantee he’d be able to release the trap. Not to mention that his leg might already be too damaged for him to run any further.

Or he could call out. He could scream, wake Whumper up, and trade his freedom for the slim chance of survival. Whumper would come, angry, vengeful, but he might release him, might patch up the wound enough to keep him alive. It would mean going back. It would mean facing the consequences.

Whumpee clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears of frustration and fear. For a few precious moments he’d been free, and now, it was clear that no matter what he did from here on out, there was no escape without a cost.

@augusnippets

[angelic-writer]

Blue Moon - The Night Erin Died

Day 24 of @augusnippets

Prompts: Animal attack/bear trap/land mine

Fandom: Blue Moon by @moonlightsmasquerade

CW: Blood, animal attack, gore, lady whump, (Temporary) character death

Erin was on top of the world. She finally had a chance to talk to her old high school crush again and reconnect with her. She thought she would never see her again after she rejected Anna's offer to go to college with her. She never realized just how much she missed her.

Anna... I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise.

She started to bop her head to the tune of Be My Baby when it started playing on her iPod, even singing along to the lyrics. It was the best night she could ever ask for. She couldn't wait to gush about her run-in with Anna to Mitchell when she comes to work again.

She had just entered the forest when she thought she heard something rustling in the bushes. She pulled one of her earbuds out, looking in the direction of the noise. "Hello?" She called out.

Nothing. She was just about to walk away when the rustling came again. This time, it was much more clearer. Erin wasn't sure whether to run or check out what's inside the bush. She has her phone on her. If something happens, she could just call the police. She picked up a branch and slowly advanced towards the bush. "Hello...? Anyone there...?"

Silence.

"Mitch? Is that you...?"

The bush moved more violently now. Just as she was about to swing the branch down, something jumped at her. It looked like a wolf, but it was much bigger. It had silver fur, golden eyes and teeth so sharp it can break through bone. Erin screamed and tried to hit the creature with the stick, but the wolf-like being clamped its maw down onto her arm, tearing through her clothes and skin.

It felt like her vocal cords were about to be torn apart as she screamed louder. Blood seeped down her arm as she tried to wriggle herself out. The wolf let go of her arm, giving Erin the opportunity to try and crawl away. However, the wolf was much bigger than her as it pounced on her, pinning her to the ground. It looked into her scared, amber eyes and growled "God, you're really annoying."

It raised its paw up and dug its nails into her chest, cutting deep lacerations into her skin. Something metallic bubbled up inside her mouth as her screams were reduced to gurgles. The crimson liquid poured out of her in large quantities, more than Erin had ever seen before. Before she could register what just happened, the wolf jumped off her and ran into the woods.

Erin laid there, the grass beneath her being stained red with her own blood. She tried to breathe, but it came out in a rattle. This... This couldn't be happening. She just patched things up with Anna. She was finally able to tell her how she really felt. She had so many things she wanted to do, things she wanted to say to Anna. And now... she won't be able to do them because she's going to die alone in a forest. Her phone was laying a few feet away from her, out of reach. She had no strength to even try to reach it. Her vision was clouding around the edges.

No... I don't want to die... I want... to live with the people I love...

She thought she heard something in the distance. It was a voice, but she couldn't figure out who it belonged to. Her question was quickly answered when a familiar face came into her view.

Mitchell... I'm sorry. I look like a complete mess right now.

They were saying something to her, but she couldn't hear the words. Something pressed onto her chest in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. She belatedly realized it was their own jacket and it was already soaked. Man, I really need to buy them a new jacket. She tried to move her mouth, but all that came out was something between a wheeze and a cough.

"H-Hold on, Erin. I'll call an ambulance. Just keep your eyes open!"

But... I feel so tired. I'm getting... so sleepy...

Mitchell had pulled their phone out and just dialed 911 when they noticed that Erin had stopped moving. "Erin?! Erin, no no no no no you're not doing this to me! You're not dying on me!" They shook her, trying to wake her up, but she didn't stir. Her head only lulled to the side. Pressing their fingers to her neck, they froze when they felt nothing.

Erin stared into the night sky, her eyes, once lively and bright, were now dull, the full moon reflecting off of them being the only light.

That night, Erin Hudson died.

That night, a monster was born.

[just-a-silly-little-whumper]

Bear Trap

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

Archer belongs to @that-one-thespian! For @augusnippets Day 24

Contains: Bear trap, minor blood, hurt/comfort

~~~

The peaceful walk was interrupted by the sound of metal screeching shut.

Altair was immediately at Archer’s side as he let out a ragged yell and doubled over. He cursed under his breath; Archer had said they should stick to the trail, but Altair had insisted that it would be fine since he knew his way around. Apparently that wasn’t enough, and now Archer was paying the price.

“Hold on, I think I can get it open,” Altair murmured, kneeling down. Archer’s ankle oozed blood around the teeth of the bear trap, but it didn’t look as bad as it could. “This is gonna hurt; want me to count you down?”

“I’m okay, just do it.” Archer’s voice came out strained but clear, his entire body rigid with tension.

Altair took a deep breath as he got his fingers into the trap. No time to waste. On the exhale he pulled, not paying any mind to how the trap fought him, only focused on getting his partner free.

Archer let out a ragged groan as the teeth of the trap pulled apart, the sound pulling at Altair’s heart, but less than a minute later he was able to pull his leg free. Altair was immediately up again, catching him before he stumbled and collapsed onto the ground.

“Hey, easy, I gotcha,” he murmured, soft and worried. “I’m so sorry, Archer.”

Archer looked up to meet his gaze with a slightly pained grin. “Good thing I brought a first aid kit, huh?”

Altair chuckled, even though the situation wasn’t that funny. “Yeah. Let’s get your ankle bandaged so I can carry you home.”

“I can walk-”

“Let me carry you, dear,” Altair said, pressing a kiss to Archer’s forehead before turning to find a place to get him patched up. Luckily, they were together, and Altair could carry him home, and Elze’ith could heal him when they arrived. He still felt guilty, but it was an easy guilt to assuage knowing that there were simple fixes for this hurt.

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Augusnippets Day 24

Path of Whumperless Whump Prompt; "Animal Attack"

Day 24 of @augusnippets August 2024 Whump writing challenge! (Augusnippets Masterlist)

Characters;

- POV: Lancelot - The Weeping Monk

- Unnamed Fey of various Clans

(Character Masterlist)

(Ao3 Link)

Wordcount; 499

TWs; referenced animal attack/s, hunter turned prey

Lancelot narrowed his eyes, examining the tracks before them. Large and wolf-like, they belonged to some massive creature that had been killing lone Fey hunters and stealing livestock.

They were to bring back it's head, the hunting party had been told. There were three Fey hunters and two other warriors all of varying clans, and as the best tracker the Fey had, Lancelot had been tasked to accompany them. None made any effort to talk to him, muttering in Old Fey between themselves; they'd outright insulted him three times in the last hour alone but he'd not deigned to inform them he both understood- and spoke- the language.

Silently he had lead them thus far, yet something was niggling in the back of his mind. Something... off.

The trail had been relatively easy to follow, a good ten miles into the encroaching woodland, but within the last mile or so the prints had become become... cryptic in their movements.

The patten was now strange and weaving, drawing them deeper and deeper into the forest. The pawprints darted nearly methodically to the left, ducked into the undergrowth, then veered right and did the same on the other side, repeating over and over.

At a guess they weren't too far behind it now, perhaps half a mile, given that Lancelot could not hear nor smell the telltale signs they were close. Not yet.

Lancelot crouched down, fingertips brushing into the impression of the pawpad that had caught his eye, drawing his hand back. Blood. This pawpad had a speckle of blood- as if the beast had trodden on a thorn...

He splayed his hand next to the mark, which spread several hand lengths, glancing back at the previous tracks that wove into the bushes this one had come from...

"Shit..." He whispered, doubling back, and sure enough, he confirmed his hunch.

The tracks wove between the undergrowth with such subtle differences between them that he hadn't noticed before, but now that he had it was glaringly obvious. Only one in every four or so of these individual paths carried a speck of blood on the front right paw...

Which meant this was not one beast... It was a pack. One smart enough to hide their numbers...

And these creatures had lead them out here on purpose.

"Draw your swords! We've been ambushed!" Lancelot barked, standing quickly.

At the same moment as steel scraped against scabbard did a low, rumbling growl sound from the undergrowth.

A pair of slitted amber eyes locked onto Lancelot's, it's long, curved teeth bared in a vast maw. It stepped forth into the dappled light above, a paw several times bigger than his face pressing into the dirt, laced with blood.

Flanking their left and right came the rustling of others, more yellow eyes fixed upon the group, snarling, hungry, ready to devour.

Lancelot faced the first, raising his chin in defiance towards the beast.

With a flash of black and brown fur it lept upon him...

I had fun with this one but oh BOY editing it down was difficult. I cut out an entire 400 word section describing all the undergrowth and the trees, and another several hundered words of the group finding an animal carcass... stupidly, I thought I had copied it into my forgot "Fridge Your Darlings" file, but alas I had not. Definitely think I'll rewrite this without that soft word limit for the main fic, and continue it!

Thanks for reading as always, onto the next!

[wyvchard]

Augusnippets Day 24

Prompts for today: animal attack/bear trap/land mine

Prompt/s used: Animal Attack

Content Warnings: Animal scratch aftermath, blood, injection mention, rabies mention

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

"And what did we learn today?" My mother took a deep sigh as she helped me wash my hand as the sting faded.

"... Don't play with the cat when my hand is wet." I averted my eyes as I looked at the deep red line. "Or when her claws are longer than usual."

There was an awkward silence filled the room as the tap was finally closed.

"You're going to get a vaccine."

"... But she's not a dog."

"I'm not risking it. She's a stray and we haven't gotten the time to get her a vaccine for rabies yet. It's just to be sure."

I refused to say a word while she bandaged the wound.

"... I'm sorry."

"Just listen to me next time. Some places may not worry about this but we're in a place where we should."

[oliversrarebooks]

Augusnippets Day 24: Animal Attack

Augusnippets Masterlist

tw: spider, paralytic, restraints

Acorn flew as fast as her wings would take her, bits of leaves and petals raining from her as she strained them to their limits. She couldn't believe she'd been this careless -- her invisibility magic wearing off right when she was in the middle of the enemy pixie clan. Now there was an entire group hot on her heels, carrying nets and ropes. Her spying had given her a good idea of what they might do to her if they caught her, and that knowledge helped her speed along faster than she ever had, skimming the top of the grass, dodging the bulky stems of sunflowers, darting through gaps in the leaves --

Her flight came to an unexpected halt in midair. Something sticky and iridescent had stopped her as surely as a tree trunk, and the more she struggled against it, the more entangled she became.

A spider's web! Just her stupid luck. She really should have watched where she was going -- but that hadn't been high on her list of priorities while fleeing the angry mob.

The angry mob had also come to a stop, hovering around just below the web. She heard one of them laugh roughly, then another, then another.

"It's not funny!" one protested. "What're we gonna do now?"

"We're gonna leave her for the spiders, unless you wanna end up caught too. We can come back with better tools for dealing with it."

The mob slowly dispersed as Acorn scowled and tried harder to pull herself free. Maybe it was a bit of luck after all. She'd rather deal with a sticky spider web than whatever her enemies had planned for her.

The web sagged and shook, and Acorn found herself looking into a pair of shiny, beady black eyes, topping eight thick, hairy legs. This spider was nearly as large as she was, and maybe being caught by the enemy wouldn't have been so bad after all.

"Hi," she said nervously. "I really didn't mean to disturb your web. It was an accident. If you'll just let me get free, I'll leave you alone."

The spider twitched up and down, giving no indication of whether it understood Acorn.

"I'm not the sort of thing you'd like to eat anyway, so if you'll just --"

Pain exploded from her shoulder as the spider sank its fangs into her flesh. Acorn howled in agony, not caring that the whole forest could probably hear her. "What was that for? I told you it… was…"

Her body was all too rapidly going numb and heavy. Her jaw hung open, slack, as she lost feeling in her face. Her fruitless struggles against the web slowed and then stopped completely.

A paralytic agent, she thought weakly. Her breathing felt more labored, and she could only hope that the venom wouldn't be enough to actually kill her before she was discovered. Ideally, she would be discovered by someone more friendly than the mob that was chasing her.

Her hopes grew more dim as the spider approached her, and she couldn't flinch away or even properly feel it as its hairy legs brushed against her bare arms. It began to wrap her tightly in a silken cocoon of its web. Acorn hoped that meant it expected the paralytic to wear off with her still alive.

But by now she was struggling to keep her eyes open. Darkness engulfed her before the spider silk covered her face.

Augusnippets Masterlist

@augusnippets

[gremlinwithapen]

Augusnippets Day #24: Animal Attack

tw: blinding, suffocation, blood, nearly dying, animal death

You know, it wasn't every day that Monsoon learned something new.

Really, who knew that this specific species of alien fauna could spit motherfucking acid? Not him, certainly, and nobody in the crowd of screaming onlookers had bothered to clue him in.

Gods, they fucking hated surprises.

A pained roar tore from his lungs as he stumbled back, losing his grip on the serpentine creature. He clutched his face as his eyes burned agonizingly, blinded by the substance sizzling against his scales. Whether it was permanent or not was the least of his worries as he felt scale-covered coils begin to circle and entangle him.

"Let me go, you cheating bastard!" They snarled as they managed to shake off the pain long enough to lash out at their opponent, all four of their front talons trying to find purchase in its flesh. The occasional wet, tearing sound and the feelings of bloody meat under their claws clued them into their handful of successes, but it still wasn't enough as the snake kept on tightening its hold, unfettered by their blind thrashing.

Soon enough his arms were pinned beneath pounds of coiled scales, his legs kicking uselessly as he was lifted off the ground. He hissed as more droplets of venom hit the top of his head, and he could practically sense the serpent's jaws poised above him, fangs bared and ready to strike.

Or maybe that was just from the lack of oxygen currently getting to their brain as their lungs were constricted along with the rest of them. They gasped and choked, knowing that their vision would be swimming if they still had it at the moment.

He was quickly losing strength, his head sagging and eyelids drooping. Even the roar of the crowd seemed to be getting further away, the world finally going quiet. It was almost tempting to just let himself fall asleep, to end things once and for all. It would save him a good bit of pain, even if he ended up where he probably deserved to be. It would be so easy to just... drift off...

And then their back talons hit the ground, and they exploded into action.

His eyes snapped open as he shot upwards, finally able to make out the blurry outline of his opponent's body above him. His heart pounded with adrenaline, his jaws opening in a deafening roar.

When they snapped shut again, the snake's neck snapped with them.

The muscles holding them in place went lip, and they nearly collapsed alongside them. They hacked and coughed, feeling a nasty pain in their ribs that didn't paint the best picture of their insides. The rest of their body wasn't much better, their eyes still stinging harshly even as their vision slowly trickled back in.

He wanted nothing more than to lie down right then and there, not moving until somebody made him. But that wouldn't make for a very good show, would it, dearest? So he turned to face what he hoped was the direction of the main box and took a bow, hoping that would be enough.

Even though it probably wouldn't be, they were too exhausted to care. They simply just turned around and limped back out through the opening gate that was their exit.

He hated surprises, but he couldn't help but imagine that his boss might just surprise him with some half-decent medical attention, for once. Surely, after nearly dying for her profit and entertainment yet again, she would treat him with the bare minimum of respect and kindness?

Yeah, right. They would just have to stagger off to their quarters to heal the old fashioned way. Hooray.

@augusnippets

[didasgomas]

Don't walk around at night in here

Day 24 of @augusnippets

Prompts: Animal attack/Bear trap/Land mine

Content warnings : Brief descriptions of murdered cadavers, consanguineous relationship, referenced infidelity, unearthly animal attack

Small part of "In Mortality", an au of Cut Down The Altar (creator will be in the tags)

Author's note: Sander's Vale -> imagined city in Diane County

April 18th, 1998

Matthew Hall and his little brother Devon had gone to the edge of the woods to pick up flowers to gift to their step-sister Jasmine, who had fallen ill just a few days ago.

Normally they wouldn't dare delve deeper into the forest, no still sane person in Nox did, for everyone knew all too well that the violent, unprovoked beast attacks were far more frequent in such isolated and wild areas.

But something caught Devon's attention just as they were about to leave, and he urged Matthew to take a look. It was a woman's dead body, so horrendously disembowelled that it couldn't have been the doing of another human being.

Devon was handling the sight better than Matthew imagined, not looking like he'd throw up despite still visibly scared and shaking. Matthew noticed that there was something else, someone else in the nearby clearing. A man, possibly the woman's husband, with his body mangled beyond recognition, and with so many exposed innards that he needed to cover his little brother's eyes before he could land an eye on the mutilated corpse.

They rushed back home and informed their step-father, and fortunately the police officer on the other hand believed their story. They didn't know what the authorities did with the cadavers, but they could only hope those two had been given a proper burial.

---- April 17th, 1998

It was 10 P.M when an old and clearly overused jeep made an abrupt stop on the road near a woodland.

Cousins Tabitha and Virgil McKeon had once again stolen their now gone grandfather's car to escape from their family all the way back in the farmlands of Diane, just far away enough that they could carry on their secret affair.

They had escaped to Hemera for the first few months, but as people began to recognize them, the fear that the truth would reach their family struck and they had to change plans.

They would have never stopped around Nox, save for if a gas station was needed, instead, they simply intended to use the county's empty roads to have an easier access to Muscatine. But luck hadn't been on their side this night. The car died in the middle of the road, and Virgil couldn't find the reason for it, already setting off Tabitha's bad mood.

Against better judgement, Virgil decided that a small romantic escapade inside the woods wouldn't hurt.

"Let's just enjoy the romantic moment, Tabby, the forest isn't so bad"

"Sure, very romantic. We're as good as lost in this dead county, while your poor sweet Jessica is fast asleep all the way back in Sander's Vale, completely unaware that her handsome Gigi is cheating on her"

"Oh come on, honey, I already told you: my parents set us up and she never meant anything to me. You're so much more beautiful than-"

A sudden loud noise cut Virgil off. It sounded like a twig being crushed, but also like bones fracturing outside of a person's body.

The secret couple stayed silent and still for many seconds that felt like hours, preparing for if they needed to run for their lives. Nothing happened after that.

Finally, Tabitha found her voice again. "Do you think it's a bear?" She whispered, terrified and pale as snow.

Virgil didn't answer and instead started slowly approaching the spot he believed had been where the noise had come from. Shaking slightly, he looked down behind the tall bushes.

Just a pigeon skeleton. 'It must have fallen down a tree or something', he thought to himself.

With his fear now gone, he turned around back to Tabitha with his usual confidence back, like nothing had happened at all.

"Don't worry, baby, it's nothing to worry about-"

Something jumped on top of him, something that almost looked like a wolf, but so large it couldn't have been one. Its growls sounded like three car motors all at the same time, being only drowned out by Virgil's pained and horrified screams as the creature tried to bite into him.

Tabitha couldn't help but let a large scream escape her throat at the sight, and she ran as fast as her legs could handle, but she didn't get very far after the creature realized it didn't actually want any witnesses.

The police contacted their family, who in shame, didn't even bother to pay for gravestones, leaving the two to rot in shallow graves inside the cemetery.

[missr3n3]

Augusnippets Day 24

animal attack/bear trap/land mine

fandom: guild wars 2 TW: blood and injury, non-human whumpee word count: 342 @augusnippets

“Hazel!”

“I-It's okay Will!” Hazel gasped, attempting to wave his shaking hand dismissively. “I can- Ah, damn!”

Maybe Hazel should've listened to his twin's warning about traps taking up more space than one would expect. He could've also listened to her warning about not forgetting them after placing them down.

Curse this damn muscle memory, Hazel thought as he tried to remember how to release the bear trap digging into the bark of his calf, amber blood oozing around each metal tooth. It's not my fault I'm used to my “traps” exploding before I get anywhere near them.

Luckily, Willow was a speedy girl. She was by her brother's side, swiftly deactivating the bear trap before he so much as sat up straight.

“What was that you said?” Willow asked following the loud click of the metal jaws releasing.

“Damn?” Willow nodded as Hazel answered. “I-It's something the humans say. Heard Lord Faren say it when he stubbed his toe a couple weeks ago.” Hazel couldn't help but find a sense of relief in the way Willow rolled her eyes following his weak laughter.

“You and your fascination with humans,” Willow muttered. Her lavender eyes fell closed as she held a gloved hand above the bleeding leg, a blue glow gradually growing more intense in her palm.

“Will, I can handle i-” Hazel's protests were silenced by Willow holding her other hand up. A few seconds later, water was soaking into the legs of his pants, while flowers bloomed around the leg. Blood followed the flow of the water, returning to the injured, yet healing limb.

“I'm the one who should've done a better job teaching you how to avoid these things,” Willow muttered, eyes slowly opening, yet remaining fixed on the overgrowing ground. “So I'm the one who should fix this.” Hazel could only sigh. He knew better then to repeat the same argument they'd been having since they became commanders.

You have nothing to atone for, Willow. If only you could see how much good you bring to the world…

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 24 @augusnippets - prompt : land mine

How 83 lost their first pairing (80's death)

CW: living weapon, character death, land mine.

Asset 84 Master List

On The Run Master List

The mission was supposed to be straightforward - get in, neutralise the target, and extract without being seen. It was a job tailored for 83, whose entire existence was shaped around stealth and precision. 80 was there as muscle, trained for combat, to take on anything that brute force could solve. Together, they made an unstoppable pair—until now.

They moved through the underbrush in synchrony, the target had been neutralised without a hitch, no one had even known they had been there. 83 felt a flutter of something unidentifiable in their chest, their handler was going to be pleased. All that was leaded was to get to the extraction point.

They had just cleared a small ridge when it happened.

There was no warning. No time to react.

A click. A sound so small, it could have been mistaken for a twig snapping underfoot. But 83 knew better.

“80—”

It was too late. The explosion tore through the night with a deafening roar. The ground shuddered, leaves and dirt flying into the air in a chaotic burst. 83 was thrown backward, the shockwave ripping through their body, but they barely registered it. All they could focus on was 80, the sight of their partner being engulfed by flames, the smell of burning flesh, the gut-wrenching knowledge that they were gone.

Silence returned, but it was a different kind of silence now. It was the absence of life, of breath, of everything that had been 80.

83’s ears rang, vision swimming as they struggled to their feet. The place where 80 had been standing was a crater now, a dark stain in the centre marking where their pairing had been reduced to nothing. 83’s chest tightened, a strange sensation clawing at their throat. Not grief—they weren’t built for grief. Not panic either. 83 was supposed to be unflinching, cold, just like the facility had trained them. But as they stared at the empty space where 80 had been, something broke inside them.

They staggered forward, dropping to their knees beside the scorched earth. Their hands trembled as they reached out, fingers hovering over the remnants. 83 was built for stealth, but what good was stealth when the one who shielded them was gone? They were the ghost, and 80 had been their shadow, and without that shadow, they were exposed, vulnerable.

But it was more than that.

A muffled sound escaped 83, halfway between a gasp and a sob. They clamped their mouth shut, pushing it back down. Emotions were a weakness. They had been taught that from day one. But the emptiness gnawed at them, deep and unforgiving.

83 stayed there for a long moment, crouched in the darkness, surrounded by the silence of a world that had taken everything. Their mission was complete, the target exterminated, they just need to return to the extraction point, but 83 couldn’t bring themselves to move. They felt numb, a hollow shell. What was the point? They were a weapon, but without 80, they were incomplete—broken.