#hunting gear

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Whumptober 2024 No. 14- Left for Dead | Hunting Gear

Caretaker slung their crossbow over their shoulder. Not much luck this evening. The forest hummed with evening sounds, but no sign of any deer. So much for a hearty dinner.

They were just about to head back when they heard a whimper. They turned. That didn’t sound like anything edible… it sounded human. Another whimper. Caretaker followed the sound until they came to the base of a tree. What they saw halted them in their tracks.

Loop after loop of coarse, thick rope held someone snug against the wide trunk. A cut on their head dribbled with blood, and their half-closed eyes barely widened at Caretaker’s presence. This person was barely conscious at all.

Caretaker came to their senses and dropped to their knees, pulling out their hunting knife and cutting through the stranger’s bindings. There were more wounds across their torso that the rope had previously concealed.

“Can you hear me?” Caretaker asked, their breath coming out in a little cloud.

The stranger merely groaned in response.

“How long have you been out here?” Caretaker asked.

They weren’t really expecting an answer. Without warning, they lifted the stranger into their arms. They were so tiny in their hold, and even lighter than they looked. The poor thing’s head lolled against Caretaker’s warm chest, shivering the entire time.

“Who would do such a thing?” Caretaker asked, again to themselves.

Caretaker headed back to their cottage near the edge of the forest, leaves crunching under their boots as they walked. They hadn’t caught any deer tonight, but they still had some leftover stew at home. There should be enough to feed their guest and themselves.

…

Whumpee stirred to the snap and crackle of a fire. They shifted under something soft and warm. They opened their eyes and saw a great shadowy figure looming over them. Whumpee cried out, though their voice wasn’t very strong, and scuttled back against the arm of the sofa they had been laid on.

“Easy, easy!” the figure held up their calloused hands in a placating gesture, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Whumpee gulped, sucking in gasps of air.

“You’re awake now, you need to eat something,” the stranger said, “can I help you sit up?”

Whumpee stared with frightened eyes, mulling over the stranger’s words. They nodded hesitantly. The stranger put a hand behind their back and shifted them into a sitting position. Whumpee saw that bandages had been wrapped around their middle.

“I did have to undress you a bit,” the stranger said sheepishly, “I didn’t do anything frisky, but your wounds needed treatment.”

Whumpee gathered up the blanket over their chest, suddenly aware of the fact that more bandages were the only things covering it.

The stranger picked up a bowl of stew that had been sitting by the fire. They held a spoon up to Whumpee’s mouth. Their lips parted to let the warm broth in. The stew was well-made, and it chased off the chill that had long since settled in their bones.

“My name is Caretaker,” the stranger said, “if I can ask, and you needn’t answer yet if you don’t want to, what might you be called? And how ever did you end up tied to a tree?”

“I-I’m…Whumpee… bandits raided my village and took me with them. When I became too much of a burden, they… um… they…”

Whumpee paused, a lump forming in their throat.

“They left you to die,” Caretaker finished gently.

Whumpee nodded.

“Wicked scum,” Caretaker spat, “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Rest assured you’ll be safe here. I’ll make sure you’re protected.”

Whumpee stared at Caretaker as though they had just promised them the entire realm. Caretaker smiled.

“Why don’t we get the rest of this stew in you,” they said, “then I can help you to bed.”

…

Caretaker tucked Whumpee in their bed, dressed in some of Caretaker’s spare sleepwear. They practically drowned Whumpee, but they were warm and comfortable, and that was what was important.

Caretaker went back to the living room to sharpen their hunting knives and arrows. If anyone dared to hurt the little creature sleeping upstairs, they would sorely regret it.

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

@electrons2006

@just-a-space-rabbit

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober: Day 14

LEFT FOR DEAD hunting gear / Fantasy AU/Mundane AU

TW: Graphic violence and suicide.

Continued from day 6.

The pounding rhythm of the hunt should have been familiar by now, but Tsunotaro knew he’d never get used to this feeling.

No matter how many times he was hunted down, though, he knew he would never stop running.

Running with the wind under his wings was better than being nailed down to a specimen board, body decomposing under hot, bright lights for all of eternity.

The pit that opened up in his stomach at such a cruel fate was quickly pushed away as he heard the sound of snapping branches and teleported away.

There was some sort of dampening on the first that was preventing him from using up a lot of his magic at once. He did not recognize the clearing, but the dampening felt natural.

They'd lured him here. He couldn't remember why anymore, as he teleported away once more.

Appearing at his destination, Tsunotaro reached out to steady himself against a tree, clutching his head.

Sparks flew behind his eyelids as he was hit with a wave of dizziness, the scenery around him spinning into a mishmash of color.

Something was sucking and leeching his magic. The disruption field had to be more complicated than he was giving it credit for.

He felt lightheaded, and it was impacting his ability to think. Tsunotaro tried to shake off the fog as fast as possible, knowing he needed his mind clear if he wanted to escape.

A cough, and a spark. He didn't know how much he had, but Tsunotaro could sense he had enough firepower to scare off at least as small handful of suppression soldiers.

Leaning against the tree, Tsunotaro sank a bit.

He was tired of running. He'd done so seemingly his whole life, but the last few years had reached a peak that were driving Tsunotaro to a breaking point.

Through blurred vision, he looked down at his hands. Would it be... better if he just finished things himself?

What kind of life was this?

He didn't get the chance to ponder this a moment more. A whoosh of air, and a dull thud in his back told him he'd been struck by an arrow.

Tsunotaro teleported away, adrenaline and instinct kicking in, and he lunged at a soldier holding a bow.

The solider whirled around and tried to fire, but the arrow didn't have the strength to make it far before Tsunotaro knocked her to the ground before she could scream.

Her teeth were gritted in a snarl against him, but Tsunotaro didn't question her bravery as he dented her armor with a punch to the chest.

He raised his fist again, but was stopped by someone knocking into him, sending him to the ground next to the soldier.

Now it was his turn to snarl, as his head was shoved down and his arms pinned behind his back.

Tsunotaro tried to raise his head, desperate to see what was coming, but someone seemed to be exerting a lot of force to keep his head down.

The rattling of chains sent his heart into overdrive, and it seemed the soldiers could sense that, because one of them got on his back.

"That's right," one of them hissed. "Can you hear that, little mutt?"

Tsunotaro shoved the ground with every muscle he had, and successfully flipped himself around, knocking the guard off.

His little speech had been his downfall.

But the victory Tsunotaro had won was short-lived. They threw the ropes of iron over his skin, and a sensation of burning began to spread across his skin, as through he were a woodland in the throes of fall being ravaged by an all-consuming wildfire.

He felt his air being suddenly and harshly cut off as someone crushed his throat.

"Tell me what the other side looks life," said the soldier who was on his throat, knife raised in the air. "And I'll go a bit easier on you later."

He felt a breath of air forced out of him as the knife entered his left side, a hand below his shoulder.

A shimmer of light burst through Tsunotaro's vision in that same instant, fast enough that the solider was still holding onto the knife.

He fell over, partially dislodging the blade from Tsunotaro's chest.

There were a few hurried sounds of clanging and clashing, and then a familiar figure appeared.

"Goddamnit," they said, and Tsunotaro would know that voice from anywhere, even in the dead of night.

Which was similar to what he was able to see right now- pitch black, right before he passed out.

--

A familiar sight awaited Tsunotaro, and he was happy to awaken to the sound of cooking- pots and pans, the noises of nourishment.

On his chest was Yuu, the mage of his dreams and savior of his nightmares. They worked so hard, and were so peaceful in sleep, Tsunotaro couldn't help but stroke their head as it lay against their chest.

They were too light a sleeper for their own good, though, and Yuu woke up at the touch.

Yuu inhaled, blinking away sleep. "There you are," they said as if he'd been lost, exhaustion in their voice as they pushed off of Tsunotaro's chest. "You're awake."

"You need to go back to sleep," said Tsunotaro, pushing on their head. "I'll follow."

"No, no," said Yuu, standing up on their knees as they tried to maneuver off of Tsunotaro's sickbed without elbowing him. "You sleep."

"I feel well-rested," he insisted, noting that the ache in his head was gone, and the soreness in his muscles was dulled.

Yuu scoffed. "Shut up. Close your eyes."

"Really," he said, sly smile on his face. "I-"

Yuu threw down a pot and marched abck over to his bed. "I'm not asking! Sit down, and go to bed!"

They said it with such venom that Tsunotaro was surprised back into his bed, wide-eyed. He hadn't realized they weren't just playing a game.

Yuu glared at him for a few more uncomfortable moments, and all of the sarcastic and flippant playfulness left his body.

Their jaw twitched, but Yuu said nothing more as they returned to the kitchen.

Something about this wasn't right. Yuu was tense with anger in a way Tsunotaro had rarely seen.

He knew he could be a bit reckless, but Yuu knew that as well. They'd been working on it together, and Yuu had identified some sort of issue in how he perceived pain, as opposed to how people normally felt it.

But they'd had to leave, and Tsunotaro had been more upset by that for reasons he couldn't identify. It had rankled the mood of their final meeting, and he had been able to tell that Yuu was bothered, too.

In the present, Yuu was muttering something.

"Goddamn stupid," he could make out.

Tsunotaro wasn't sure what to do, and debated whether or not it was best to leave Yuu alone or reassure them of... something.

Yuu glanced over and Tsunotaro's gaze caught ther eye. They seemed a bi embarrassed to be caught, but just bit their lip sourly and stalked off.

"I'm sorry," said Tsunotaro to Yuu's back.

They paused for a moment, but resumed their fiddling with the magic pots.

"You were right," he said.

At taht, Yuu's body finally stilled. They stood there for a while, not making a sound, before marching back over, ducking their head so Tsunotaro couldn't see their face, and climbing into bed ith him, back into the position they;d been in before.

Against his body, Tsunotaro could feel the soft sobs warcking their body.

"You're mean," said Yuu, tears thick in their voice.

"I'm sorry," said Tsunotaro, unable to say anything more.

[uuuhshiny]

Vladimir Verevochkin in Let me out (Выпусти меня)

[psychologeek]

Whumptober #14:

LEFT FOR DEAD | Hunting Gear | Blackmail

full fic on AO3

~

part 1 (Day 4)

It’s been a long night.

Crane is out, and even though he isn't the Joker, his toxins are more than enough reason to keep Robin far away. 

(Not like he can stop Robin—)

It's been a long night, but this is about to end. 

Maybe he got hit with some gas. But it doesn't matter. He can work through it.

(And if there's a noise of gunshots and broken pearls flickering in and out of sight,  gleaming in the corner of his eye—If there's a bleeding child by his side, asking “why didn't you save me?”

A bloody figure, always blaming: “I called you, but you never came”.

If he refuses to stop, to let go of those haunting him?

Well.

That’s between him, his mind, and the too many ghosts of his presence.)

Batman watches over his city. 

(Bruce stares towards the cemetery)

Batman is a frightening creature. A terrifying shade to his enemies.

There are gunshots in the distance, and he doesn't sigh in relief - but it is a near thing. 

There are guns, which means work that needs to be done. Which means Batman is needed, and can finally pause in hunting his ghosts.

There's a gunfight, and Batman stops it easily. But a misfired grenade still hits a car, and all of a sudden there's a ball of fire and-

(The warehouse is falling apart)

There are alarms from nearby stores and parked  cars and-

(His ears are ringing and his breath is heavy and for a few last, precious moments he still has a son).

There's a sudden weight on his side, and he instinctively adjusts his stance. “I told you to stay in, Robin.”

(“Robin! Robin, where are you?” oh god no god no please god—)

There's a weight of a child, holding him, hiding under his cape. Bruce can feel his warmth. He can hear the soft sobs, as a child who had to be too brave can finally trust. Soft hair on his neck that almost feels like fluffy curls.

(There's a phantom, the weight of a child in his hands. Wrapped in the same cape he used to find safety under. And he is stiff, and cold, and too little and too quiet and the only reason Bruce keeps walking is because he needs to go home. He needs to be Home. Alfred is going to fix it. He must.)

He adjusts his stance, as he did countless times before.

(He adjusts his grip, holding a lifeless body, too heavy for his mass.)

Then he calls the Batmobile. Keeps the child in his arms as he let the auto-driver take over.

(He calls the Batjet. He holds the body in his arms as the autopilot takes over.)

The cave is quiet when he enters, Agent A already gone to sleep.

(Alfred is waiting there, he can't remember what –)

“Are you hurt, Robin?” He asks the kid still shivering under his cape.

(“He's just asleep, Alfred. You can fix him. You can fix it. Right?”)

“B-Bruce,” the child on the gurney whispers, “Bruce”.

(The child on the gurney doesn't speak. He'll never speak again.)

There's a Robin suit on the table, right where it was left last night. The child on the gurney wears a black three-piece tailored suit.

(The child on the gurney wears a Robin suit, and his legs are visible. Every cut and burn and bruise on them. His left Fibula and half metacarpals are shattered. His fingernails are–)

“Oh,” says Bruce softly, as he realises. “You aren't real, are you?”

But the child on the gurney doesn't care that he's a ghost. And Bruce can never say no to his son.

So as a hand is raised (unbroken, though the nails  are still missing) he does what he wishes he could have: 

He washes the bloody fingers and wraps the places where the Clown-

He softly kisses every tortured finger. Every unbroken, bloody, painful nail bed. He numbs every wound, and wraps it clean.

There are clothes he keeps in the cave. He brings them.

(Even if it's not real, he won't let his ghost rest uneasily.)

He sits his son down and take off his burial clothes. Slips off the jacket. He unbottuns the white shirt, as one hand always holds his arm. 

(The T-shirt is too big for his child, making him look even more vulnerable.)

“Dad,” his son says.

That's all he says. Dad.

(Bruce wasn't Dad for eight months and fourteen days and-)

He covers his son with the boy’s favourite blanket. 

“Dad,” his dead son repeats. And doesn't let go.

(An ashamed part inside already plots how to get more of that drug.)

He undoes the batsuit quicker than he ever thought possible.

“I'm here, Jaylad,” he says softly. “I'm here, son”.

(Should he blackmail Crane for more as Wayne or as the Dark Knight?)

Bruce stays in the Batcave. He doesn't go to sleep. There's a warm body in his arms and soft snores and he can't bring himself to leave this fantasy.

He'll do anything to keep this fantasy alive, in his arms.

Bruce doesn't sleep that night. His tears are warm, and won't stop falling.

He doesn't sleep that night.

Yet, a scream wakes him after an unknown amount of time

“WHAT THE-”

Poll about the name

[moonlight0934]

Left For Dead

Sam keeps his eyes on the gun he’s cleaning as John yells in the other room. Dean is sitting next to him, also trying to ignore it. Neither of them acknowledge that their dad is throwing a tantrum in the other room over not being able to find one specific knife. They both know it’s only a matter of time before he comes into the room with them, and blames them for doing something with it, but Sam hopes that he finds it before it comes to that.

No such luck though, and it’s only a few minutes before John comes in, red in the face. He starts screaming immediately. Sam doesn’t really listen, because he doesn’t know where the knife is, but he knows how badly this is going to impact their hunt tonight regardless. Going on a hunt with their dad is stressful enough, but when he’s mad, it’s horrible. He makes things as hard as possible, and leaves Sam and Dean to clean everything up.

Dean is obviously trying to placate John even though he has no idea where the stupid thing is either. John eventually turns to Sam.

“And why aren’t you saying anything, you smartass?”

“I don’t know where your knife is, Dad.”

“Well get your sorry ass up, and look for it! You’re the scatterbrained one that always misplaces everything.”

Sam stands up, puts the gun back together, then places it gently on the bed. He goes into the other room, and starts digging around for the knife. After a few minutes, he knicks his finger on the knife, which was under the bed.

“Ow, shit.”

He grabs the first aid kit before heading back into the other room. He offers the knife to John, who frowns at him.

“You did know where it was! That’s the only way you could have found it that fast. You are in so much trouble.”

Sam ignores him, sitting down to clean his finger, and get a bandaid on it.

“Samuel Winchester, you listen to me.”

“I am listening, Dad. I just don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Apologize for messing with me.”

“No, I didn’t do anything with your knife. I just looked in the places where you lose things the most.”

John glares at him, but storms back into the other room.

“You should have just agreed with him,” Dean says softly, looking up at Sam.

“Why? I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t have to go find his shit for him, but I did. Then he yelled at me. I didn’t hide his knife.”

“I know you didn’t, but it makes him easier to deal with.”

“Yeah, then I can be Dad’s pet.”

Dean sighs and looks back down, done fighting already. Sam’s quietly relieved, not really wanting to fight either. They don’t talk again until it’s time to get ready for the hunt.

“So, what are we actually going out to find?” Sam asks.

“I think it’s just a regular poltergeist.”

Sam hums, stuffing his gun into his bag.

“Dad wants you to be the lookout again. It’s a cabin in the woods, so he’s going to drop you off about a mile before we get there so you can watch for the cops.”

Sam nods. That’s all John ever trusts him to do anyway, so he’s not surprised. The ride is quiet and tense too. John is obviously still angry though Sam is trying to ignore him. Sam gets dropped off a mile away from the cabin into the dark, quiet woods.

He leans against a tree, staring at the road from his spot just far enough away that no one would be able to see him if they drove past. Not that anyone should be driving down this secluded road anyway. The only reason they’re out there is because stupid kids kept daring each other to go to the haunted cabin.

Thirty minutes pass before Sam starts to wonder what’s taking Dean and John so long. He starts nervously checking his gun, fidgeting with the knife strapped to his hip. Then he hears gunshots going off. They sound closer than they should, so he stays light on his feet.

Questions are swirling in his mind. What could have possibly gone wrong? Why are they still gone? I hope Dean is ok.

His eyes scan the treeline, looking for anyone, but it’s too dark to see. He can’t hear any leaves crunching, or branches snapping, so he looks back to the road. Sam hears another gunshot, but this one sounds a little bit closer. He can hear people shouting, but it’s definitely not Dean, or John. Sam doesn’t recognize the voice, so he ducks closer to the road.

More shots ring out, and Sam strains his ears to hear exactly what’s going on to no avail. Flashing red and blue lights turn the bend, and Sam runs towards the cabin.

I have to tell Dean and Dad that the police are here.

He’s getting closer to the gunshots, but not close enough to see anything when he feels something hit his abdomen. He looks down, surprised.

A stray shot hit me?

Blood flows down his shirt, and his legs go out from under him. He hits a tree on the way down, pain lighting up his side as he scrapes the bark. His head is spinning, and he throws up. The gunshots are dying down, and he can hear the policemen yelling something. He’s too far gone to tell what they’re saying, so he just lets it go.

Dean ducks behind a tree.

“How did we not realize that the police were here when we got here? I can’t believe we fired weapons with cops nearby,” he hisses as John reloads his gun.

“Yeah, well, I still want to try to get the ghost.”

“If we try to go back right now, we’re going to get shot.”

“No we won’t. Just come on.”

They don’t even make it to the cabin before they’re spotted again. Shots are fired immediately, and they end up going back the way they came from.

“We’ll go down this way, then loop back around to the car once we get them off our tails,” John whispers, and Dean nods while John’s still looking at him.

It takes a while to shake off their police tails, but when they do, they loop back around to the car.

“Ok, now we just have to pick up Sam, and get back to the hotel,” Dean says, tossing his gun in the back.

“Yep.”

John drives back to where they left Sam, but he’s nowhere in sight. John barely stops to look before starting the car again.

“Where are you going?”

“He’s not where we left him, and we can’t risk getting out to look for him. Worst case scenario is the police find him, and we have to bail him out. He deserves this, Dean. He didn’t tell us that the cops were coming. He didn’t even tell us when their reinforcements showed up.”

“I still think they were at the cabin when we got there, Dad. That’s not his fault. We have to turn around.”

“No, we don’t. Think of it like this, sitting in jail for a few hours is going to be his punishment for not letting us know that reinforcements showed up.”

Dean looks unhappy, but nods.

“I guess if you really don’t think it’s safe for us to go find him.”

“It’s not. If we go find him, and they find us, they might shoot him too. Since he hasn’t been with us, he shouldn’t have any issues.”

“Ok, Dad. Are we going to the police station tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, since they didn’t see our faces, we’re going to report him missing, and say that he ran off with some of his friends. Teenagers do that. Then they’ll think that all of them were there goofing off. As serious as having a firearm is, we should be able to get him out.”

Dean nods, though he still looks a little unsure. They drive back to the hotel, and make sure that all of their weapons are hidden before settling down for the night.

[thomothysdoodles]

Not so cocky when you can’t write, are you.

14: LEFT FOR DEAD

hunting gear | blackmail | “cause i want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

[amongussexgif]

HUNTING SIDE OF TUMBLR

MY DADS HUNTING GLOVES ARE GETTING OLD AND WORN DOWN AND I WANT TO GET HIM NEW ONES. DO YOU RECOMMEND ANY BRANDS OR SPECIFIC PAIRS

THANKS IN ADVANCE TO HUNTING SIDE OF TUMBLR

[ramsaybaggins]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Our Flag Means Death (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet Characters: Stede Bonnet, Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Edward Bonnet | Stede Bonnet's Father Additional Tags: Whumptober 2024, Stede Bonnet Whump, HEAVY WHUMP, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Shooting, Hunting, parental violence, Blood, Injury, First Meetings, Getting Together, Left for Dead, Blackmail, Rescuer Edward Teach, Mention of Roach, Happy Ending Series: Part 14 of Whumptober 2024 Summary:

Louis was five now. Stede cringed at the thought that in a few short years, he would be expected to come out on the Annual Bonnet Men's Hunting Trip. Stede's least favourite day of the year. In fact, he dreaded it for a solid six months every single time.

Whumptober 2024 day 14: LEFT FOR DEAD | Hunting gear | Blackmail | "Cause I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted"

[whats-in-a-sentence]

And next moment they all came tumbling out of a wardrobe door into the empty room, and they were no longer Kings and Queens in their hunting array but just Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy in their old clothes.

"The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" - C. S. Lewis

[the-graves-family]

No. 14: Hunting Gear

Aaron loves the forest.

He doesn’t look it, and most of the time, he doesn’t act like it. But he grew up surrounded by the trees, taught how to navigate it safely, how to provide for himself.

Taught how to hunt.

Wild animals are easy. Maybe a little boring, but easy. They’re practical, predictable. And Aaron, being who he is, gets extremely bored, extremely easily.

He has friends in weird places. Some of those friends share his callous disregard for human life. It’s those friends he goes to when he needs to let off some steam rather creatively.

There’s three hunters, and only one prey. Miles away from the nearest wisps of civilization.

The poor thing isn’t escaping them.

The hunting rifle is strapped to his back as he makes his way through the forest. Leaves crunch under his feet: hunting in the fall is a nightmare. Still, he knows he’s still far away enough for it not to matter. Their prey is just a random guy from the suburbs: healthy enough to survive for a couple of hours, but nowhere near trained enough to escape.

In some ways, it’s a game on easy mode. But Aaron doesn't like working hard.

He’s not losing this game, either. Because friends are friends, but he’ll still find himself being the next quarry if he doesn’t entertain well enough.

Dusk creeps closer, and Aaron exhales softly, breath fogging in the cold mountain air. The man looks so scared. He can see him, trying to huddle under a tree, yards away. There’s no pity, only satisfaction at being the first to the prize.

He remembers being taught how to shoot by his father. It’d taken more than one session, of course, especially considering his propensity for forgetting anything safety-related. But they’d gotten there, in the end.

Slow breaths. Don’t move. If you make a sound, it will hear you. Think of the wind. How far away are you?

Aaron’s had a lot of practice over the years.

Of course, aiming for the head or the chest would be boring. An instant kill? Sure, that might be the end goal of the game, but it’d be so very tedious. He wants to play, first.

The bullet rips through Suburban Steve’s stomach, and Aaron knows his timer has started. His competition is going to be coming this way soon, and the prey has to be dead when they get here. Otherwise, victory isn’t clear.

Stupid rules.

Walking confidently towards the fallen quarry, reveling in its screams, Aaron pulls out a long hunting knife, sharp and menacing. Whistling something jazzy he’d heard on the radio just the night before, driving up the winding roads.

The wind is just cold enough to make his lungs hurt, and he grins down at the terrified, pained animal he’s about to dismantle.

What fun.

[krautjunker]

[crimsonwolf715]

Hunted

“We’ll work on what repairs we can do tonight and then leave the rest for tomorrow,” Shiro says. “Pidge and Hunk, work with the Princess and Coran to see what’s wrong and Lance, follow instructions.” 

“What are you planning on doing?” Allura asks. 

“I plan on staying by the defenses in case something tries to kill us.” 

Allura nods. 

Pidge and Hunk instruct Lance on what to do while arguing with Coran on what’s the fastest way to fix the problems. Lance isn’t thrilled at basically sitting around listening to everyone argue while Allura tries to mediate, but he definitely isn’t going inside with Shiro. Lance feels like he’s been acting strange lately, and he’s going crazy with nobody listening to him. So he just avoids Shiro whenever he can without making it look like he’s avoiding him. Finally, it’s time to eat and get some rest. Lance gets a shower after eating and heads towards his room. He stops in front of Keith’s door. 

You would have at least heard me out, wouldn’t you have, Keith? 

He keeps walking and once he gets to his room, he locks the door so he can get some sleep. 

Lance wakes up and when he flicks the lights, they don’t turn on. He tries to open the door and nothing happens. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” 

Lance manages to pry the door open enough to get out and it stays half-open. Lance waves a hand, then leaves it. He heads to the command center where Shiro’s sleeping at one of the panels. 

Shiro’s never fallen asleep in a public place.  

Lance gets closer and realizes that his sleep doesn’t look very restful. His face is scrunched up and his head keeps moving. Lance moves over to one of the other consoles and tries to pull up the diagnostic. Nothing comes up. Lance tries again, but nothing on the panel is lighting up. Lance turns to go get the princess and sees Shiro shoot up from his chair, looking between angry and scared. Shiro spots him, then visibly calms down. He sits back down. 

“You good?” Lance asks. 

“Yeah, fine. What are you doing up?” Shiro replies. 

Lance points at the console. “Power isn’t working.” 

Shiro tries to turn on the main console and that one doesn’t work either. 

“I’ll get Allura.” 

Allura and Coran have them checking things out and Hunk finds panels on the ground and parts missing. 

“I think someone’s trying to sabotage us getting off this planet,” Coran says. 

“We’ll head out and check for people. You and Coran should figure out what the damage is,” Shiro says to Allura. 

Allura nods. 

The mission is a simple one. Infiltrate a battle cruiser and get information on Zarkon’s plans. Anything that will give the Blade of Marmora the edge they need to get ahead. Keith’s flying the ship this time while his mission partner, Celeste, sits in the back. Keith has more flying experience than Celeste and he hasn’t gotten to fly in a while, so he jumped at the opportunity to do some flying, even if it isn’t very far. They use the master code to get onto the ship and they land smoothly. 

Well, that was too easy. 

Nobody comes to greet them so they head straight towards the information room where everything would be stored. Celeste puts the chip into the computer and starts typing away. 

“Go stand watch outside the door,” she says. “I can handle this part on my own.” 

“Sure thing, boss. Whatever you say,” Keith mutters sarcastically before making his way out of the door to watch the hallway. 

It’s quiet outside of the sounds of the machinery. Keith spends a while tapping his foot while waiting for her to get all the information that they need from this server. There’s some banging on the door of the hallway and Keith readies himself for a fight in case anybody comes in. Keith shifts his footing so he can open the door while watching for enemies. 

“Hurry up in there, we have company.” 

“Almost done,” Celeste answers. 

Keith bites back a groan. 

This is taking forever. It wouldn’t have taken me this long to get the information we needed off that stupid computer. This is where the phrase if you want something done right, do it yourself came from.  

He keeps his eyes focused on the doors.

Lance, Shiro, Pidge, and Hunk are walking, searching for anyone. This planet is a desert planet, consisting mostly of sand and rocks. Hunk’s inspecting a rock while the others are looking at their surroundings. Suddenly, Shiro grabs Lance and Pidge and pulls them behind the rock Hunk’s inspecting. Two shots fly past where they were standing a moment ago. Pidge starts breathing heavily and Lance is frozen. 

“You fine?” Shiro asks. 

Lance nods. 

Shiro pokes his head out from behind the rock and pulls it back right before another bullet hits the ground. Hunk’s panicking and Pidge seems to have calmed herself down. 

“If I can reprogram this drone, then it should help us escape them,” Pidge says. 

She crawls over to the drone and starts tinkering with the robot while Hunk anxiously hovers close by. Pidge keeps insisting that she’s gonna be fine while Lance keeps looking for the hunters. Lance turns towards the others and Shiro’s fiddling with his helmet. 

“What?” Lance asks. 

“I can’t get through to the others,” Shiro says. 

A shot goes off and everyone looks up except for Pidge, who yelps. Hunk pulls her fully behind the cover. 

“It got through a weak spot in my armor,” Pidge says. “And it wasn’t an energy bolt.” 

Shiro goes over to her. “It’s much more like a bullet. We need to get her out of here safely. If we distract the people that are probably on the ridge, can you get her back to the ship, Hunk?” 

Hunk nods. 

Shiro looks at Lance. “I want you to shoot up at the ridge and see if they take the bait. If they don’t, we run until we get their attention. Hunk, don’t leave this spot until you’re sure that the two of you are in the clear.” 

Hunk and Lance nod. Lance pulls his bayard out and starts firing at the ridge. No movement or return fire, so he fires in a different spot. He sees something move towards the other side so he adjusts fire. 

“Go, Hunk!” Lance shouts. 

Lance runs out and continues firing. He follows them until he lands a shot to their leg. They tumble and fall, giving Lance the opportunity to grab them. He pulls the mask off and he’s greeted by an angry face. 

“Why were you shooting at us?” Lance asks. 

“Outsiders are hunted for sport.” 

“Why? That feels like a bad pastime.” 

“Have you ever hunted a pack of Galra soldiers terrified for their lives? It’s one of the best feelings in the universe. Hunting the scum that enslaves everyone.” 

“Not all of them are bad.” 

“You’ll die with that belief.” 

Lance shakes his head, then finishes tying them up. “Where are the others?” 

“The rest of us are hidden beneath the ridge. I haven’t heard back from them, so I assume that your friend got to them,” they say. 

“Why would you sell out your friends?” 

“Friends? They don’t respect me.” 

“Ah, okay. That’s fun and all, but I have to go. I need to get to the ridge.”

Soldiers burst into the hallway and start shooting at Keith. Keith dodges shots while running towards the soldiers. He slashes guns and knocks them out while occasionally just shoving soldiers into shots so he doesn’t get hit. Keith switches between using the knife and having it turn into a full sword, making sure that he stays on top of the fight. One soldier manages to stab Keith. Keith staggers, but manages to knock him out. 

Crap, that’s not good. 

Keith tries to stop the bleeding with his hand and when that doesn’t work, he tears fabric off of his uniform. 

“What’s going on out there?” Celeste asks. 

Before Keith can respond, more soldiers come in so Keith goes into the room and shuts the door. 

“What are you doing?” Celeste asks, then turns and sees Keith’s injury. “Can you walk?” 

“I’ll be fine, but I may need help closer to the ship,” Keith answers. 

Celeste nods. The soldiers start pounding on the door as Celeste takes the chip out of the computer. 

“Alright, back door it is.” 

She types something in and the back door opens. The two head for the ship and Keith trips on some uneven floor. He hits the floor hard and bites down on his lip hard to avoid making a sound. 

Shit, that hurt. 

He pulls himself up and Celeste hasn’t slowed down. He tries to catch up and ends up leaning against a wall trying not to pass out. 

“Celeste?” 

Celeste turns around. 

“I don’t think I can walk the rest of the way by myself,” Keith says, forcing the words out even though it annoys him greatly. 

“Sorry, I can’t risk this info not getting to base. You’re on your own if you can’t keep up.” 

She keeps going and Keith tries to, but ends up falling again. 

Jeez, these guys are ridiculous. 

He can’t pull himself up this time and he gets to watch through one of the windows as the ship flies away without him.

Lance gets back to the ridge and Shiro’s beating the crap out of the other hunters. 

“Shiro!” Lance shouts. 

Shiro tosses the last guy to the ground, then turns to look at Lance. 

“What is going on with you lately?” Lance asks. 

“Nothing new,” Shiro answers, walking past. 

“Nothing…? Nothing new? Are you gaslighting me?” 

“No. Nothing is different.” 

Lance follows Shiro back to the others, a new anxiety gripping his chest, making it a little harder to breathe. 

“Shiro. Lance,” Allura says, meeting them several feet away from Hunk and Pidge. “What happened?” 

“We dealt with the hunting party,” Shiro says. “They won’t bother us again.” 

“Good, I’m glad.” 

She seems to notice Lance’s wary expression, but doesn’t say anything. Hunk is helping Pidge patch herself up. 

Shiro holds up a part and says, “One of them had it on them. Is this the one you were talking about?” 

Allura’s face lights up. “Yes, it is. Thank you, Shiro.” 

“You’re welcome, but it’s really no big deal. I didn’t even pick it up because I knew it was the part. I just took everything that they had on them in case it was something dangerous.” 

Allura jogs over to Pidge and Hunk with the piece. 

“I should probably give them the other pieces that I picked up,” Shiro says, staring down at the several small parts in his hands. 

Shiro’s face is so thoughtful, it’s almost like he’s back to normal. Shiro goes over and offers the parts to Allura. She takes them, so Lance walks over to Hunk. 

“What happened?” Hunk asks. “You look off.” 

“Nothing, just a bad time trying to deal with the people,” Lance answers. “What can I do to help fix the ship since Pidge is out of commission?” 

“I’m not out of commission!” Pidge shouts. “I just can’t get up!” 

“Same thing.” 

“Come on, I’ll show you what you can do.” 

Once they get the ship fixed up, they head off the planet. 

Keith’s taken by the guards and after being crudely patched up, is taken to a cell. Even though he’s in and out of consciousness, he hears the guards talking about him being tortured for information once they’re sure he won’t die before they can get the information that they want out of him. 

Luckily, they don’t have a chance to torture Keith because Kolivan and a couple other members come to break him out early the next morning. The operation is flawless and they’re out of the cruiser as quickly as they can be with Keith being injured and refusing help to walk. The flight back to base is quiet, nobody else wants to break the increasingly awkward silence while Keith just doesn’t have the energy to do so himself. Once they land and get off the ship, Kolivan stops Keith from following the others with a raised hand. 

“I’m sorry for Celeste’s behavior,” he says. “It won’t happen again in the future.” 

“I thought you didn’t care about leaving your members?” 

“If it is necessary. It was especially not necessary with how much information you have. You have to take calculated risks, and she would have had zero difficulty helping you to the ship. Especially with how little you weigh, you wouldn’t have even slowed her down.” 

Keith scrunches up his nose, unsure of whether to be offended or not. He decides that he doesn’t have the energy to be offended, and decides to just let it go. Kolivan then takes Keith to the infirmary so they can properly take care of his injuries.

[sorakh28]

Whumptober 2024- Archery

It really was a simple task- place the bows properly in the convoy.

And yet, when holding one in his hands… the weight, the handle…

suddenlyeverythingblursandeverywherehurtsinhisbody

He feels a hand at the shoulder blade, a voice telling him not to worry and they’ll take care of the bows. Another hand gently pries the bow away from him.

Marth realized how short of breath he was- his chest constricting from his recollections.

Catching his breath, he looked over to Ogma, smiling bitterly. “Sorry. My… I still can’t hold bows, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard, Prince Marth. Let me help.”

[everythingandthekitchensink]

“Why, then?” she croaks. “Why?”

The man seems pleased with her question, striding closer and smiling down at her like she’s a puppy that just did a trick right. Steph just wants to know what all of this hurt is for.

“It’s the thrill,” he says, crouching next to her. “Seeing the light go out in an animal's eye. The way they twitch. The pure raw fear so thick you can feel it in the air.” He cocks his head to the side, smiles a snaky smile. “It’s the best high in the world.”

[sushimango]

Day 14 of Whumptober!

It's Sam again - the one character you should never trust.

She's having fun

[chilopodacrudus]

Saw a lot of people starting to post SUPER rough concept type stuff so I guess I'll do that too.

Here's something I worked on awhile back of pre-death Piers in his hunting gear.