#hurtcember cry

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Found You Earlier

|| Parallel Powder x fem!reader

|| Warnings; season two episode 7 spoilers, reader crying, you choose what happened to reader, little dialogue, short drabble

|| Summary; when Powder finds reader crying, she listens to her struggles and brings comfort.

Requests closed!

Started; December 16th

Finished; December 16th

HurtCember2024; Day 12, Cry

~~~

Powder spent all morning looking for you. She'd even asked around if any of the others had seen you. Mylo shrugged and said you were probably off causing trouble somewhere. She doubted that, though. Something in Powder's gut just felt off. As though something was wrong and she couldn't place what it was. Her immediate thought had been you, so she was desperately trying to find you.

She finally did. Though it took her a good amount of time. You'd gone off to your favourite spot, one where only Powder knew. It was nice. A place between Zaun and Piltover, it even had sun. Powder walked over to you, her hand resting to your shoulder. Startling you out of your thoughts as you desperately wipped away tears. You didn't want her to see you crying, after all. Powder had everyone else to worry about. She didn't need you too.

"Babe?" Powder frowned, settling herself down beside you. It wasn't often she saw you cry. In fact, she's sure she's never even seen it. She knew something had been wrong. Powder wished she had found you earlier.

"Hi.." you murmured. The quietest she'd ever heard you speak. Well, there's a few exceptions to that. Like, when you're really tired and just mumbling. Powder thinks its pretty cute when you do that- and now she's getting side tracked.

"Did something happen?" Powder asked, tone soft while she brushed a couple strands of your hair from your face. Her hand coming to rest between your jawline and cheek. Gently cupping your face to wipe away the remainder of your tears with her thumb.

Talking to Powder had always been easy to do. She was gentle, soft and kind. The only person you felt comfortable talking to with this sort of thing. It all came out. Everything that had been bothering you. Powder listened to your every word, nodding along occasionally to show she was still listening to you. Her arm wrapped around your shoulders, bringing you in close to her side. Her fingers combing your hair.

Powder gave you some comforting words, even advice if you needed it. Her words soothed your rushing mind. As though building the dam herself to stop your tears from flowing through. One of the many reasons you loved her. Powder would always be there to listen to you and provide the comfort you needed, the gesture a reminder that you were still loved. Even when somedays it felt like you weren't.

She was there; and she always would be.

[sleepy-bi666]

I had too much fun

[melpomenelamusa]

Reasons to cry

~Original story~

Hurtcember DAY 12: Cry

CW: Lady whumper, lady whumpee, abusive parent.

"We should make a band." Knight made that comment one day, and Arlecchino knew the girl wasn't joking.

"Haha, it's a good joke," she said, despite that.

Knight's gaze was confident. She was serious.

"I'm serious," the girl said, a slight smile on her lips. "We should try auditioning. Every year big entertainment companies look for new talent, why not give it a try?"

Oh, Arlecchino could think of many reasons NOT to try.

"We'll surely outshine everyone," she replied, resting her head on her arms. "In fact, once they hear us sing, all the other participants will ask for our autographs."

Knight giggled.

"I like your attitude! Then let's promise that, if there is an audition, we´ll go together, and if only one is selected, we´ll support the other."

"Done!" Arlecchino said, and both of them intertwined their pinkies.

Arlecchino loved to sing since she was a little girl. She had her neighbors and family fed up, but she couldn't help it: once she felt the music in her body and soul, she couldn't help but want to be a part of it. In her free time she spent learning songs, which she accompanied by playing the guitar, a gift from her father for her birthday last year.

"I'd love to hear you sing in a concert," her father had once told her. She hadn't seen him in person for four years when he traveled north in search of better opportunities in life.

Arlecchino would sometimes send him videos of her singing and playing, and he would also send her new song ideas to learn. Besides blood, music also united them.

"Leave that stupid guitar behind and do something useful!"

Arlecchino's mother was not in favor of her passion.

"That stupid girl only knows how to scream and make noise with that guitar. She doesn't do anything else! She's going to starve to death on the streets, that's what she wants, it's because of those bad friends she has, that bulldyke she hangs out with.”

Arlecchino listened to her mother's conversation with the neighbor, clenching her fists. She was used to her mother speaking ill of her. She had always been like that: a daughter who was never good enough, who was just ungrateful to her poor mother who was left alone without her husband. Nonsense. Her mother had left her job and now dedicated herself to living off the remittances that Arlecchino's father sent, breaking her back in a faraway country. But if her mother spoke ill of Knight, that did make her angry.

"Don't call her that!" she exclaimed, going into the living room.

"You brat!" her mother growled. "Do you want me to burst your mouth?"

"There's nothing wrong with my friend!"

The sound of her mother's hand hitting her cheek hard could be heard in all the room. Her head turned at a ninety-degree angle. A tear jumped from her left eye.

"Why are you crying? I'll give you real reasons to cry!”

Arlecchino couldn't take it anymore. She ran to her room and locked herself in. Once she was alone, the rest of the tears she had been holding back fell free, soaking her face. She began to sob and felt her nose getting cold. She ran her hands roughly over her face, stifling a moan when she touched the swollen skin on her cheek.

She stayed there until dinnertime, and even after eating and throwing herself back into her bed, she continued to cry.

"Are you okay?" Knight asked, walking beside her after leaving class. "Your eyes are kind of red."

"Ah, I just had insomnia last night and I stayed up watching videos of kittens with the screen at its brightest," Arlecchino lied, letting out a giggle.

"If you have insomnia, I recommend you read a book instead, or you can do some exercise," Knight said, without a hint of reproach in her voice. "Screens will only irritate your eyes more and activate your brain, making it harder to sleep."

"Heh, okay," the other girl replied.

The two of them separated and Arlecchino continued on her way home alone. However, she felt someone steal her breath when she saw her guitar in the trash can in the corner.

"Why did you take my guitar out to the trash?!" the girl exclaimed, walking forward with a slam of the door.

"Because i've had enough of all your noise!" her mother shouted, getting up from the sofa. “You don't do anything useful, you just spend time there listening to those fake artists screaming and you imitating them like a parrot. You're not going to be a singer! Who's going to want to go see an ugly, screaming brat like you?”

Arlecchino screamed. It was a scream of frustration. Her face felt hot and her heart was racing.

"You don't care about me!" she replied. Her mother's furious face became distorted by the tears that began to blur her vision.

“Just what I said, you only know how to cry and scream,” her mother complained.

Arlecchino tried to control her crying, but she couldn't. She was a mess. Suddenly she felt someone grab her hair and pull it. She let out another scream.

"You stupid brat, today I'm going to give you reasons to cry," her mother announced furiously, dragging her to her room.

"N-no, m-mom, please...!" Arlecchino couldn't get away and she stumbled forward, feeling as if the strands of her hair could be torn off by any sudden movement.

Her mother threw her to the floor. Arlecchino hit the tiles with her knees. Those would be bruises later. However, when she looked up, the bruises on her knees were the last thing she would worry about.

“Cry louder,” her mother said, holding the leather belt in her hands.

The material whistled through the air and hit Arlecchino’s body multiple times, leaving red marks on her arms, legs and back. The beating felt like an eternity. After a while, her mother grew tired, put the belt away and left, leaving the girl alone, lying on the floor. She was barely breathing.

After a few minutes, Arlecchino stood up on shaky legs. She shuffled to her own room and dropped onto the bed. The pain took away all her hunger and she cried herself to sleep.

I decided to write another short story using some of the characters from this other story. I think the characters have a lot of potential and I'm really fond of these girls QwQ Thanks for reading!

[astaldis]

@whumpcember​     @hurtcember​

For the Whumpcember prompt 'Sacrifice' and the Hurtcember prompts 'Dead', 'Broken' and ‘Crying.’

Chapters: 1/1    Words: 113

Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Tissaia de Vries & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Additional Tags: Shakespearean Sonnets, Sonnets, Iambic Pentameter, Poetry, lament, Dirge, Lamentation, Canonical Character Death, elogy, Post-Thanedd Coup (The Witcher), Suicide, Whumpcember, Whumpcember 2023, Self-Sacrifice, Hurtcember, Hurtcember 2023

Summary: Yennefer's good-bye poem for Tissaia de Vries.

[hurtcember]

Above is the official Hurtcember 2024 prompts list.

Below are alternative prompts in case one doesn't want to do a few of the prompts (but still do the whole challenge) or for those who just want to write/draw more.

Both lists are typed out at the bottom of this post.

RULES 1. You can write/draw for any fandom or pairing 2. You can write/draw SFW or NSFW content, just label it accordingly 3. Please tag any Tumblr posts sharing your prompt fills with #hurtcember2024 so that we can find and repost them 4. If you post your works to AO3, please add them to this collection and add "Hurtcember" and/or "Hurtcember 2024" to the additional tags of your prompt fill(s) 5. The challenge officially starts on December 1st but feel free to write/draw before then and/or submit things after the month ends officially, whatever works best for you 6. Be kind to other participants 7. You DO NOT have to do every single prompt if you don't want to. The point is to have fun and spark creativity, not to feel like you're doing a chore

Prompts List (Text Copy) 1. Collapse 2. Breakdown 3. Blood 4. Scars 5. Faint 6. Touch-Starved 7. Abandoned 8. Cuddle 9. Exhaustion 10. Touch Aversion 11. Caretaking 12. Cry 13. Nightmare 14. Near Death 15. Trauma 16. Bruise 17. Concussion 18. Fatigue 19. Desperate 20. Panic 21. Afraid 22. Self-Harm 23. Bed-bound 24. Dissociate 25. Accident 26. Guilt 27. Pain 28. Captive 29. Dehydration 30. Dizzy 31. Hyperventilation

Alt Prompts List (Text Copy) 1. "Don't leave" 2. "Help me" 3. "Leave me alone" 4. "It's my fault" 5. "Take my hand"

[whumpdreaming]

My introduction!

Hi! My name is Heather (they/them). I've been a lurker for some time, but I now realize what I've been writing has been whump all along, so.. hello!

My first encounters with whump were in Sunday school 😭😭 some of those kid's bible books were insanely whumpy for no reason at alI, and then it's only now I learn what the term actually is. I speak decent French (getting back into it after not using it for a few years), I intend to go to culinary school and become a professional chef, and my main fandoms include Overwatch, Baldur's Gate (not into it as much anymore, sadly), Epic: The Musical, and Ultrakill and FNAF (which I don't write much fic for).

This blog will never contain NSFW content! Kink blogs and antis please DNI!

What this blog will contain:

Whump (obviously)

My own writing (lots of drabbles, occasionally some of my more involved work ; aka my two big projects, a BBU story since that setting grabbed me by the brain as soon as I saw it for the first time, and various Overwatch characters getting whumped to hell and back --- I don't see enough talk about Cole Cassidy's big sad puppy dog eyes)

Lots and lots of reblogs since that's easier than actually writing 😅

Keep in mind that this isn't a NSFW blog and I won't be posting anything sexual/explicit, but I'm a fan of intense/graphic whump and things can get pretty dark. In those cases, there'll be a warning at the top of the post along with the content listings just to make sure everyone stays safe!

Some of my favorite tropes:

Living weapons!!

Gore (I'm not a fan of major character death, so I like it best when a healing factor is involved if it's very intense)

Parental caretakers

Transition/weight gain in recovery

Recovery in general, especially when difficult!

Lab whump!

Pet whump!

Chronic pain (totally not coping with this one)

Dehumanization!!

Vivisection!!

Panic attacks

Emotional distress of all kinds

Sickfics!!

If you send me any asks or requests or interact with my posts or say literally anything nice about me whatsoever I will give you my firstborn child

Some of my favorite whump blogs that inspired me to make a blog in the first place: @painonthebrain @whumpninja @defire @whumpwordsoftheday @sowhumpshaped

@sickfictropes @allthingswhumpyandangsty @writinglittlepains @whumpyourdamnpears --- sorry in advance if you didn't want to be mentioned! 😭

Btw --- check out my Widowmaker whump fic :)

Series:

Barbara Summers has a bad time with the mob (I'll update it someday I promise) ; also called "Consequences"

Intro

One

Two

Drabbles: (Electrocution+Unconscious+"Say Please") (Warm Bath + Fresh Bandages + "..Nothing. It just hurts") (Broken Fingers+Trying not to scream+"Aw, poor thing")

---

Crownchain

Character/setting introduction

"Foul Play"

"Pulling Strings"

Whump+Hurtcember: (Day 1: Collapse + Broken Bones) (Day 2: Breakdown + "This is your fault") (Day 3: Blood + Begging) (Day 4: "Help me" alt prompt + "This isn't my blood") (Day 5: Faint + Concussion) (Day 6: Touch Starved + "Please stop") (Day 7: Abandoned + Kidnapped) (Day 8: Cuddle + Fire alt prompt) (Day 9: Exhausted + Shaking) (Day 10: Touch Aversion + "Let me help you") (Day 11: "It's my fault" alt prompt + Manipulation) (Day 12: Cry + "I have nowhere else to go") (Day 13: Nightmare + Trauma)

---

Hemopenia

Stages of blood withdrawal

Stage Zero

Pilot

Not Dead

Stage One

Lively

---

That's about it for now!! Thanks for reading!

[marchofpain]

Above is the first official March of Pain prompts list and some alternatives. All of those will also be typed out at the bottom of this post for accessibility.

March of Pain is similar to things like Whumptober, Comfortember, and Hurtcember: That is to say it's a list of hurt/comfort and whump-oriented prompts for writers, artists, etc. to fill throughout the month of March.

RULES

1. You can write/draw for any fandom or pairing

2. You can write/draw SFW or NSFW content, just label it accordingly

3. Please tag any Tumblr posts sharing your prompt fills with #marchofpain2024 so that we can find and repost them

4. If you post your works to AO3, please add them to this collection and add "March of Pain" and/or "March of Pain 2024" to the additional tags of your prompt fill(s)

5. The challenge officially starts on March 1st but feel free to write/draw before then and/or submit things after the month ends officially, whatever works best for you

6. Be kind to other participants

7. You DO NOT have to do every single prompt if you don't want to. The point is to have fun and spark creativity, not to feel like you're doing a chore

PROMPTS LIST

1. Depression

2. Apologies

3. Screaming

4. Self-Inflicted

5. Anxiety

6. Career-Ending Injury

7. Bankruptcy

8. Broken

9. Vomiting

10. Flashback

11. Sick

12. Tics

13. Nerve Damage

14. Dissociation

15. Abuse

16. Burden

17. Work Injury

18. Miserable

19. Heavy

20. Addiction

21. Unlovable

22. Pain

23. Cut

24. Stomach Bug

25. Meltdown

26. Worthless

27. Food

28. Burn

29. Scars

30. Crying

31. Shutdown

ALT PROMPTS

1. "I'm sorry"

2. "I love you"

3. "Please"

4. "Help me"

5. "I'll be better"

Yes, this is by the same event runner as the @hurtcember challenge, so if you did that challenge and noticed any similarities, that is why.

[cuddlepilefics]

Snowed in @fluff-cember

(DAY2) @12daysofchristmas

Little lie

Trapped together in a snowstorm

“I thought you knew where you were going?!”

“I don’t know what to say, but it’s Christmas, and we’re all in misery.”-National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

@hurtcember : 2 breakdown, 12 cry, 13 nightmare

Fandom: Ateez

Sickie: Hongjoong

Caregiver: mainly Seonghwa

No one’s POV.:

“I thought you knew where you were going?!”, Hongjoong complained as he trudged after Seonghwa. The two had taken a trip to the country side to go on a hike and explore a snow covered mountain range. Turning back to his dongsaeng, Seonghwa reminded: “I know where I am going.” It was a little lie but it would hopefully keep Hongjoong from whining for bit. The snow was starting up again, perfecting the seasonal atmosphere, and Seonghwa wanted to be able to enjoy it for a little while longer without his friend’s complaints. The truth was though, that Seonghwa didn’t exactly recognize the path that they were on, so he wasn’t entirely sure where they were headed.

The snow fell in increasingly large flakes and the visibility declined by the minute till Seonghwa eventually announced: “Maybe we should try to find shelter and wait out the snowstorm before we make our way back down the mountain.” – “And where exactly are you planning to shelter from the storm?!”, Hongjoong frowned, fixing his scarf to protect himself from the cold winds. “Well, I dunno”, Seonghwa muttered, “There are usually storm shelter on mountains like this, so we just gotta keep our eyes open.” – “I’d keep them open if the wind didn’t make them water like crazy”, the younger retorted, rubbing his eye with his gloved hand.

Deliberately ignoring Hongjoong’s comment, Seonghwa kept pushing on, only to be reminded: “I can’t even feel my toes anymore, hyung.” – “I’m cold too, Joong-ah! We gotta find shelter if we want to warm up, so instead of whining, you could try to walk a little faster. The faster we find shelter, the sooner we’ll feel our toes again”, the older snapped, startling Hongjoong. He hadn’t expected his hyung to lose patience with him. Not wanting to fight with Seonghwa after all, Hongjoong kept his mouth shut afterwards. He sulked for the next ten minutes, sniffling into his scarf from time to time as the wind made his nose run.

Hongjoong was close to crying when they finally found a small storm shelter. He was shaking so badly, he couldn’t open the door and almost collapsed when Seonghwa ushered him inside. “Stop being such a crybaby”, the older sighed, closing the door behind them. Finally having had enough, Hongjoong snapped: “I’m not but maybe I’m so fucking cold that everything hurts and whose fault is that? You were the one dragging me out here, insisting you knew the way. I’m not stupid. I know that we’re lost and that you don’t have the slightest clue where we are going.” – “Why do you always need to pick fights, Joong?”, Seonghwa frowned as he looked around the storm shelter to take stock of what they had, “I don’t know how they made you the leader of you can’t be a little mature and cooperative.”

Hongjoong was at a loss for what to say to that, his hyung’s words stinging badly. If only he hadn’t been feeling so miserably cold, maybe he would’ve been able to handle the situation better. When Seonghwa turned to the other again, he found tears spilling down his flushed cheeks and sighed: “What?! Can’t handle the truth?” – “Please stop”, Hongjoong sniffled, using his glove to wipe at his eyes but the tears still kept coming. He was overwhelmed and Seonghwa not being on his side this time wasn’t helping in the slightest. A shiver ran down Hongjoong’s spine and he curled in on himself tightly.

“His fever’s still going through the roof”, Seonghwa sighed as he removed his hand from Hongjoong’s forehead. The leader hadn’t reacted well to the touch at all, flinching away and curling up. The bed was almost vibrating from the force of the chills wracking Hongjoong’s body. A weak groan caught their attention and Seonghwa shushed: “You’re okay, Joong.” – “All jus’ cuz I trusted you”, the younger slurred weakly, “No’ gonna listen to you ‘gain.” Carefully tugging the blanket lower, so he could look at his friend properly, Seonghwa hummed: “What do you mean?” They didn’t get a reply. “Should we take him to a hospital?”, Wooyoung asked, anxiously biting his nails, “I know driving is tough in this snowstorm but he’s been like this all day.”

“Wake up for me, Joong-ah”, Seonghwa whispered, stroking the leader’s hair. Weakly swatting at his hand, Hongjoong whimpered: “I hate you!” – “I know you do”, Seonghwa sighed sadly, “I just don’t have the slightest idea why.” The tears spilling down Hongjoong’s cheeks startled both, Seonghwa and Wooyoung. “I’m so cold. I don’ wanna be stuck here”, the leader sobbed, triggering a cough. He weakly pressed his face into his pillow as his body was shaken with painful coughs. Gently propping the older up, Wooyoung hummed: “Where would you wanna go in your condition, hyung?” – “Home”, Hongjoong choked out, only crying harder. He was breaking down completely, his friends unable to console him.

Cupping Hongjoong’s damp cheeks, Seonghwa cooed: “Where are we, Joong?” – “Storm shelter”, the younger hiccupped hoarsely, unable to comprehend why Seonghwa wasn’t mad at him anymore out of a sudden. The eldest shook his head, denying: “You’re home, Joongie. We’re at your dorm. I came over about an hour ago because Wooyoung-ah called me. He said you weren’t feeling well and he wasn’t exaggerating. Your fever is really high.” The words were too many and too fast for Hongjoong to comprehend. All he could do was whimper when the cold hands on his cheeks made him shiver even harder.

“Hyung, you were either hallucinating or having a nightmare”, Wooyoung explained, sitting at the foot of Hongjoong’s bed, “Do you think you could stomach some soup and take medicine? We really need to bring your fever down.” Shaking his head, the older pulled his blanket tighter and breathed: “Jus’ sleep. Too cold.” – “By the way, why do you hate me?”, Seonghwa asked softly, pulling the blanket back down. Glaring at his hyung, Hongjoong tugged on the blanket and pouted: “’s exactly why.” – “No?” – “Hyung, I don’t think you’ll get any straight answer out of him right now”, Wooyoung interrupted, resting his hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder. Dropping his head, the eldest sighed: “I didn’t even do anything.”

Since Hongjoong wouldn’t comply with taking medicine, Seonghwa brought a bowl of cool water and a washcloth before settling in next to the leader. For the next two hours, the eldest dabbed Hongjoong’s face with the cold cloth in frequent intervals, slowly bringing his temperature down. At some point, he was able to thread apart the other’s feverish ramblings and understood the gist of his friend’s nightmare. It worried him greatly to know just how far Hongjoong’s consciousness was gone. Maybe they’d have to take him to the hospital, if only they weren’t snowed in like that. He had barely been able to make it over to his friends’ dorm earlier.

“Hwa?”, Hongjoong groaned, head pounding as he turned his head. Lowering the washcloth, Seonghwa hummed: “Hm? How are you feeling?” – “Wha’ are you doing here?”, the younger slurred, closing his eyes again. Draping the cold cloth over Hongjoong’s eyes, Seonghwa whispered: “Wooyoung-ah called me because your fever got really high. You got quite delirious.” – “I don’ remember”, the leader sniffled. “I bet you don’t”, the older chuckled, petting his friend’s hair, “You got really upset at me because you dreamt that I took you hiking and we got snowed in. Pretty much, you blamed me for feeling so cold and it took me ages to figure out what you were going on about.” – “Sorry”, Hoongjoong breathed, feeling around for Seonghwa’s hand to give it a squeeze. “Don’t be sorry, you couldn’t help it.” – “Still, you came over to take care of me and I gave you a hard time.” The older shushed him calmly, before remembering that they were still snowed in, mumbling: “I don’t know what to say, but it’s Christmas, and we’re all in misery.”

[val-creative]

Merry Whumpmas! Day 2: 'Broken Bone'

Hurtcember Day 2: 'Breakdown'

Whumpcember Day 2: 'This is your fault'

Medcember Day 2: 'Septic Shock'

Rise of the Guardians

For the Merry Whumpmas 2024 Day 2 prompt "Broken Bone"!

For @medcember's Day 2 prompt "Septic Shock"

For @whumpcember's Day 2 prompt "This is your fault"

For @hurtcember's Day 2 prompt "Breakdown"

Type: Fanfiction | Fandom: Rise of the Guardians (2012) | Characters: E. Aster Bunnymund, Sophie Bennett, Jamie Bennett, Jack Frost, Other Rise of the Guardians Character(s) | Ships: None.

Warnings & Triggers: Major Character Injury, Illness, Near Death.

---

During the very next spring, Bunnymund watches the river moss and sedum and green flowering lichen creep and cover the oasis's stones.

He always welcomes down the two kids: Jack Frost's first believer and The Last Light, Jamie Bennett, and... Jamie's sister, Sophie. Out of all the Guardians there ever were, Bunnymund's her favorite.

Sophie often runs around the Warren, chasing the unpainted eggs, laughing at the brooks bubbling and ancient-carved stone heads dancing. Sophie jumps at Bunnymund's feet to dance along, eagerly tugging his paw, batting her eyes up at Bunnymund without saying a word and getting whatever she wants. As if princess to Bunnymund's own domain. She may as well be. No other kid was ever so loved.

"No, Sophie! Don't jump off those!" Jamie yells, waving over to his little sister taking tumbles off the stone heads flailing to catch her.

One of them misses, and Sophie lands with a thud. But she's smiling.

Reassured by it, Bunnymund waves off a frowning Jamie instead. "No more fussing! It's an Easter picnic, mate!" he announces. Jamie's shoulders slowly go tense. "We got jellybeans! We got ham and we got carrot cake and we got pepper deviled eggs and we got--!"

At another high-pitched holler, Sophie leaping again, Jamie gets up. He marches to the nearby pond she plays at, calling out again.

"What are ya gonna do when Sophie's all grown up?" Jack mumbles, glancing between her and Bunnymund's eyes entirely focused on her. "The day's coming, y'know. She's turning nine in December this year."

"You should ask yourself that question instead, mate," Bunnymund sharply points out, and Jack makes a bit of a face, nibbling on one of the deviled eggs and ignoring Jamie's back. "He'll be out of middle school soon enough. That's usually when they stop believing..."

"Hm, no." Jack shakes his head, insisting, and Bunnymund huffs, "No. I'm not worried about Jamie. You guys have had adult believers."

"But they never remember to look... and to SEE us, Jack."

Unconvinced, Jack still shakes his head, frowning now like Jamie.

"JACK! JACK, HELP!"

Jamie's panicking scream echoes through the Warren, and a fierce-looking Jack's running off even before Bunnymund gets himself up.

At the pond's edge, water ripples. Where's Sophie?

He manages to get it out between breathes, Jack's hands protectively clasping Jamie's face--"Sophie fell in! I think she's hurt!"

Bunnymund doesn't wait, diving in, searching her out underwater. His rabbit-heart thrums fast. Something must be wrong. Very, very wrong. Because Sophie knows how to swim... and if she can't swim...

When Bunnymund pulls her out, his fur soaked, Sophie gasps for air and trembling and cries in Bunnymund's paws, holding her left arm.

It looks distorted to Bunnymund, swelling red. And unnaturally warm.

"Oh, no..."

---

He was the fastest out of everyone. Bunnymund whispered to Sophie cry-hiccupping Bunnymund's name into his dripping wet bunny fur, unsure of how to make her better, heaving them above ground.

Unfortunately, Sophie's arm didn't get any better. The skin purpled. Bunnymund thought he caught a whiff of a fever on Sophie building.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennett took her away, frantic.

They were mad at Jamie at first, scolding him for not watching Sophie and letting her get into trouble, then... they weren't. Sophie got worse. From an infected bone fracture, Bunnymund learns.

For a while, Sophie slept while being taken care of doctors. And slept. And slept past the time Sophie was meant to wake after her surgery.

Before she woke up in that morning, nearly a month after Easter, Jamie confronted a devastated-looking in Jamie's own bedroom. "This is your fault!" Jamie yelled, tearfully ramming little fists against Bunnymund's chest. "I hate you! I hate you, Ihateyou!"

He finally broke, angrily sobbing. Jack, watching them solemnly from the door, nodded. Bunnymund lowered his ears and hugged onto Jamie sobbing louder and hugging Bunnymund back reluctantly.

(Jamie didn't hate him... he didn't hate anyone, Jack mumbles to Bunnymund when it's late in the night. That wouldn't ever be Jamie.)

"It is my fault, Jamie... I thought she would always be safe with me..."

---

Bunnymund sneaks to Sophie's window as soon as she's home.

Sophie notices him, grinning, trying to open her window. Instead of having her struggle with it, Bunnymund opens it and climbs in.

"Hi!"

Bunnymund's nose-whiskers twitch. She smells like herself again. "Hi, Soph," he says, eyeing Jamie wheel up Sophie's oxygen tank.

"Did you have something to say, Sophie?" Jamie mentions.

She flattens her lips, glaring a moment at her brother.

"I... I promise I won't practice hopping anymore."

"That's what happened in the Warren?" Bunnymund mumbles, awed. "You were trying to practice to be... a rabbit like me... and hop high?"

When Sophie looks down, a little more ashamed, Jamie seems satisfied and pats her uninjured arm. Bunnymund minds her little hot pink cast, hugging Sophie, cupping the back of her blonde head.

"You need to all better first, okay... that's the most important thing," Bunnymund reminds her, letting an eager-eyed Sophie rest on his huge and furred knee. "Then... I'm gonna teach you even more secret rabbit tricks. Not even the other Guardians know about them."

It's worth hearing a giggle. Because one day, Sophie will grow up. And Sophie will understand how truly, deeply loved she really is.

[cosmic-adventurers]

This story is for @fluff-cember (Alternate Prompt: Home-cooked Meals), @hurtcember (Day 12: Cry), and @ao3tagbingo (Tag: Banter)

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Rating: T

Pairing: Damon/Elena

Fluff, angst, humor, emotional hurt/comfort, banter, mutual pining

Word count: 3833

Summary: When a sudden storm prevents them from following up on a lead to look for Stefan, Damon suggests baking some pignoli cookies to cheer Elena up – but maybe there’s more behind her weird behavior than he realizes. Takes place in early S3.

Elena had been playing the weirdest game of hide-and-seek with him for days. Dodging him like she'd suddenly developed an allergy for Damon cooties one minute, and them desperately seeking him out - flimsy non-excuse in hand - the next.

On top of that, it was the first rainy afternoon in weeks, spreading through several states, which put a sudden halt to his secret plans to track Stefan and Klaus in the Smokies, based on a half-reliable lead at best. In fact, all the forecasts predicted golden, sunny weather, with only the slightest chance of rain, and the sudden storm seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Some local coven was probably agonizing that their precious herbs weren't getting enough of Mother Nature's tears, and overdid it on the rain ritual. Typical. Or maybe chaos was just in the air.

Speaking of.

Damon leaned against the doorway to the parlor of the Boarding House, swirling a tumbler of bourbon as he watched the whirlwind of pen strokes and turmoil write herself into a storm to rival the one railing outside. Sometimes their eyes would meet, and as soon as she was caught, a delectable blush would coat her cheeks, diverting her attention to the journal once more. Occasionally, she would pause and stare at seemingly nothing – her gaze filled with a distraught kind of confusion. But then she would wrap her fingers around her vervain necklace, and a profound sense of calm would kiss her features once more – her eyes would flutter closed and her lips would curl into a smile, as though the necklace itself gave her strength, a steady reservoir of joy. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that those moments were bittersweet. As nice as it was to see the anxiety leave her spirit, however fleetingly, the knowledge that it was all thanks to thoughts of his saintly brother made the whole thing taste like ash.

This behavior, where Elena alternated between seeking him out and avoiding him, caught in a loop of soft vulnerability and sharp frustration, began on her birthday last week.

He chalked it up to her learning that her sanctimonious, morally-upright Saint Stefan was more Hyde than Jekyll, but that still didn’t explain the odd moments he’d find her staring at him with a look suspiciously like longing, only to quickly turn away and pretend to busy herself with the journal lying upside down on her lap when he caught her. Or, on the off chance that the notebook was aligned correctly, she’d begin scribbling in it like someone possessed, seemingly desperate to free herself of the persistent something that kept her captive.

He assumed it was some kind of tragic ode of longing for his pompous brother, filled with melodramatic rhetoric about the noble virtues of his Hero Hair and broody disposition.

But that wasn’t even the really weird part.

No, what really puzzled him were some of the telltale signs that he’d already been accustomed to since they’ve met, only dialed up to eleven: her dilated pupils when he got a little too close; her racing heartbeat whenever some part of her would brush some part of him, accidentally-on-purpose; the enticing shift in her scent whenever she caught sight of him, that stirred something deep and primal within him. But Damon knew that she’d wanted him for a while, so what changed? Even then, he knew that it wasn’t just physical attraction – there were feelings behind the yearning glances she’d cast his way when she was certain he was otherwise occupied – but this took it to an entirely different level.

And whatever it was, it was starting to drive him crazy.

 All right. Enough of this. He could only take so much tense silence. He swallowed the remaining bourbon in his tumbler, and swaggered over to her, hoping to remind her what fun actually looks like.

 “Oh, Stefan! My Broody Knight in Rock-Hard Hair Gel!” Damon mocked in a dramatic falsetto, lifting an imaginary journal with Shakespearean flair to emote a staged reading with one hand, and using the other to clutch at his heart. “The caverns of your frown lines run so deep, that I find myself lost and adrift in the memory of your mopey silences –”

 Elena raised an eyebrow, finally putting her notebook down. Ooh, and look – right-side-up this time. A solid 30% track record. “What’s the matter, Damon? Not getting enough attention?”

 “Not even close!” Damon said, giving her a sultry wink before resuming his performance. “Your moral superiority –”

 “Is that what you think I write about?” She rolled her eyes theatrically, but Damon saw the upward twitch of her lips that she tried to hide – mission accomplished.

 “And lo! How I’ve been forced to part with thy tragic perfection – whose visage alone makes all the forest animals weep – though perhaps it’s with relief. And instead, must endure the company of your much wittier, sexier, more charming brother!”

 Elena tapped her chin thoughtfully, her dark eyes sparkling with mirth. “Fake falsetto Elena raises a great point, you know. The ‘wittier, sexier, more charming brother,’ might be growing an ego large enough to form its own gravitational field, and that puts her in danger,” she expressed in mock-concern, punctuating his title with air quotes.

 Damon shrugged, a lazy grin forming as walked over to the wet cart and poured himself another glass. “Being a danger magnet’s kind of her thing.”

 She rewarded him with an infectious laugh that warmed something in his chest with a delicious ache. “So, is this the plan? Spend the rest of the afternoon making bad guesses about my journal?”

 “Nope!” He grabbed his phone, bringing up a search engine. The truth was that her behavior began to worry him. Clearly Stefan’s sacrifice was weighing heavily on her. And while baby bro was busy earning his Martyr Merit Badge with the Original Drama Lord, Elena continued to spiral. The absolute last thing she needed was this, and after losing both pairs of her adopted parents and birth parents – forced to watch three of them die violently – this could have finally set her over the edge. “Is it my turn to make bad guesses?” She responded with a grin of her own.

 “We’re going to make pignoli cookies,” he replied with a wink. “I just need to pick up some almond paste and pine nuts.” A quick Google search told him that they carried them both in the supermarket in the next town over. Frowning in contemplation, he decided it would probably be faster if he just ran.

 When he came back less than ten minutes later, he was less-than-surprised to find her frozen in the same position with a blank look on her face, looking past what he was sure were fascinating figures on the wall. 

 “How did you get back here so fast?” she finally asked, clearly startled when he walked in, his now-soaked fitted tee clinging to him in a way that made her pupils instantly blow up in size, followed immediately by an adorable blush and a refusal to meet his eyes. There she is.

 Damon rolled his eyes theatrically. “I’m a vampire, Elena. We have a little thing called ‘super-speed’ – at least those of us not beholden to the whims of Bambi’s new workout regimen.”

She hopped off the couch, surprising him by leaving her precious journal unattended to peek into the bags.

He playfully smacked her hands away when she reached for the pine nuts, 

"I didn’t know you could bake.”

 “I have lots of hidden talents,” he said, letting his tone drop suggestively, while tearing the almond paste into smaller pieces. “But I like cooking more. Baking’s a bit too precise for me. I like something a little more … experimental.” He extended the last word suggestively, meeting her gaze with that same flirtatious flash of his eyes that he’d been expressly told not to do. What did she call it? ‘The eye thing?’

 She instantly ducked her head trying to hide her physical reaction, which suited every smug instinct in him just fine. She must have picked up on it though – it’s like she had a special radar for when he got too cocky in her presence, and immediately met his gaze again, raising her eyebrows in playful challenge. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

 “What do you think it means?”

 She tilted her head to the side cheekily. “I’m not sure this is the appropriate time to discuss all your kinks.”

 He gasped dramatically. “Oh my God, Elena! Get your mind out of the gutter. I meant experimenting with different flavor profiles.” Before she could respond, he dashed up to Stefan’s room and back, retrieving the stuffed teddy bear she’d been keeping there when she spent the night.

“Is she like this with you, too, Gummi?” he asked the bear, exaggerated concern written all over his features. His voice dropped to a stage whisper. “Does she sexually harass you, too?”

“All the time, Damon!” he cried in an even higher falsetto than before, really straining his voice, while wiggling the teddy’s little hands and feet in front of his face. 

 “Show me, Gummi. Show me where Elena’s hurt you.” He directed the little paw to point right at his heart, placing his own hand over it in a dramatic display of compassion for the stuffed bear.

“I just want her to love me,” Damon-as-Gummi cried, the sound of her laughter reducing everything inside him to jelly, and urging him to continue, unable to fight the uncharacteristically foolish grin on his face, “but Elena won’t stop talking about sex.”

He turned to Elena, wagging his finger at her in a display of disappointment. “You need to learn to control yourself, Elena. Poor Gummi’s traumatized.”

She grinned deviously, surprising him with a decidedly sultry step forward, so much that she was able to yank the bear from his hands without him noticing. “Nah, he’s just a prude. He’s supposed to be my Emotional Support Plushie, there to listen to all my wicked fantasies, but clearly he can’t keep up.”

Damon’s physiological response was immediate, his pupils darkening his eyes with desire as he narrowed the gap between them, their breaths practically mingling in their shared proximity as his gaze dropped to her lips. He told himself it was to call her bluff. “Maybe Gummi just needs a little break. I can be your Emotional Support Plushie, Elena. You can tell me all your wicked fantasies.”

Her heartbeat accelerated again and he was crushed to catch a glimpse of regret on her face as she grasped her necklace, stepping away from him to catch her breath. “Let’s get those cookies started?” Her voice cracked with false cheer, breaking the tension-filled spell in the room.

 “Why are you using a food processor, anyway, Mister I’m-a-super-speedy-vampire? Shouldn’t you be able to do it by hand?” Elena asked in challenge, leaning over the counter playfully as she watched Damon add the almond paste, confectioner’s sugar, egg white, salt, and vanilla into the machine. “Since you’re ‘too cool for pilates with Bambi,’” she mocked impishly.

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” he drawled, grabbing a whisk from one of the drawers and replacing the items into a large bowl. “The fragile human mind can only be exposed to so much cool at a time, and you’ve been spending most of your time with a guy whose idea of fun is quoting Puritan prayer books from memory.” Within seconds, though, his hand began to spin in a veritable blur, earning a squeal of delight from Elena.

“That’s so cool!” She leaned in closer, narrowing her eyes at the speedy motions before pulling back, a cheeky grin on her face. “You should make meringue next.”

When the cookies were finished, Elena grabbed one as soon as it wouldn’t scald to the touch, moaning at the taste. “Oh my God, these are amazing!” She leaned back on the couch, an expression of pure bliss on her face.

Damon’s throat constricted, and the promise of being able to leave with the receding rain almost felt like a blessing. He didn’t know how much longer he could spend in her presence and still hide everything he felt. “I thought we agreed you’d stop making sex noises in front of Gummi, and at least try to respect his boundaries.” 

She threw a pillow at him in retaliation, which he neatly dodged, but was instantly on her feet as soon as she saw him grab his keys, her face awash with consternation. “Where are you going?”

“The rain’s clearing, and I’ve got something I need to check out,” he told her, thumbing through his phone distractedly.

“You can’t!” The words were out before she could stop herself, her entire body hurtling forward to stop him. Her hand shot out, holding his wrist in vice grip – surprisingly strong for a human. That’s when he realized it was infused with panic – a fight or flight response. Her heart was racing again, but this time it wasn’t from desire. He could practically feel the palpable fear, smell the sharp spike in her adrenaline.

He cocked his head to the side to study her. What’s gotten her into such a tizzy about him leaving? “And why’s that?”

Her panicked eyes flicked to his ribs, where he was staked during their previous bout of Klaus and Stefan’s creepy take on Where’s Waldo meets Hansel and Gretel, only they chose to substitute breadcrumbs with reports of disassembled bodies.

“I’m coming with you!”

“Nope! The Sun’s already set, and by the time I get there, the Smokies are going to be crawling Remus Lupin’s less hygienic cousins. You’d only slow me down.”

When her heart sped up even more, Damon began to seriously entertain the idea of distracting her and sprinkling the cookie in her hand with some of his blood in case she went into cardiac arrest. Still holding his wrist in a death grip, she walked over to the window in the darkened parlor, gracelessly dragging him along. If not for them being rounded in terror, Damon would think that her eyes in this moment – sparkling fields of midnight velvet, reflecting twin golden marbles of the Full Moon – were one of the most breathtaking sights of his life.

And then he realized the real reason for her anxiety. She must be worried about him. Her mopey knight.

So that’s why she’s been so reluctant to let him throw himself into the fray. She needs him to get his brother back. Something told Damon a stake to the heart would have hurt less, but he refused to let her see it, his ever-present smirk on his face yet again.

 And yet, there was something so genuine in the way she looked at him – the way her hand dug into his wrist, like she sincerely cared. Sometimes when he caught her gaze, he could almost swear that she was in lo –

 No, there was no way. That was definitely wishful thinking.

“We…” her voice faltered. “We need to make more cookies – for Jenna, and Jeremy – and Ric!”

“Right.” She’d been doing this more and more – creating some silly excuse to keep him from running into danger, and he was getting increasingly tired of her dancing around her actual reasons. One of these days – someday very soon – he’d make her admit it. He knew she ‘cared,’ as she was fond of telling him, but this felt deeper – more poignant, more real.

“Okay, so that should take another hour or two – tops.”

“And after that –!” Now both of his wrists were in her hands. “I should probably make some for Bonnie and Caroline; and Matt, and Tyler – oh! And we can make an extra batch for the Lockwood Fourth of July Party!”

“Why so much concern over the Lockwoods? Are we trying to infiltrate them by posing as the Werewolf Girls Scout Troop?”

“And – and you have to stay here, and help me bake them,” she continued, her voice stilted. “Because otherwise, I’m going to burn down your house.” She leveled a mock-threatening gaze at him that he found absolutely adorable. “I can’t be trusted around a stove, remember?”

He couldn’t stand to see her so worried, moving to cup her face gingerly, the jocularity in his voice replaced a softness that she'd become unnervingly adept at bringing out. "What's this really about?"

She threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight enough to hurt, as he felt her body shudder against him. After the initial shock receded, he wrapped his arms around her trembling body, soothing the softening cries with gentle strokes on her back, her hair. "Okay there, Randy. I know you want to see me in a wet tee shirt again, but you could just ask," he attempted playfully. She responded with a sob-chuckle and a smack against his back, after which she held him even tighter. His demeanor instantly softened, a curious ache taking place within him - one even more painful than his increasingly breaking heart. The sight of her in so much pain was agonizing to him.  “Don’t worry, Elena. I’ll bring your saintly soulmate back to you in one piece. I’ll polish his halo and everything so that not a strand that Hero Hair is out of place.”

She looked at him strangely – as though through him. There was a resigned, almost penetrating sadness in her gaze. Her lips quirked into a wistful smile that didn’t meet her eyes, until the laugh that she couldn’t stifle softened them with mirth. “I wouldn’t call him ‘saintly.’ But he’s not as bad as he pretends to be, either.”

Stefan? The guy who could give hypocritical church ladies a run for their money in the self-righteousness department, pretending to be bad? Maybe her spiral’s even worse than he thought.

“Look, he’s still the same pompous, annoyingly self-righteous douche we all know and love; and once Klaus stops pulling his perfect little puppet strings, you’ll have your mopey boyfriend back.”

 “Right. Klaus.”

“What you’re feeling now is just temporary,” he said, the softness in his voice cutting into his own heart. “You’ll have your sullen savior back, and everything will be right as rain. Happily ever after. True love conquers all.” He was making himself sick. Damn, he felt pathetic.

 “I –”She stole another quick glance at his lips before her eyes shot back to his. “I’m not sure that’s possible anymore. We can't always get what we want, Damon. Sometimes things ... things make it too late. It would cause too much damage.”

 “Ooh, look at you, all doom and gloom. What happened to all that annoying optimism?”

 “Because being with me might cost him something else that’s important to him, and I’m not about to let him lose that – not when he’s fought for so long to get it back.”

 “The blood lust issues?”

 “Sure,” she said, glancing away, unable to meet his eyes.

“What could possibly be more important than you?” he asked quietly, the question pouring forth from his heart without his knowledge or permission.

The expression on her face was so achingly vulnerable that it nearly broke him. Her hand gingerly touched her necklace again just as her eyes fluttered to his lips. The sound of her racing heartbeat nearly eclipsed that of the one shattering his heart every time she reminded him with that one gesture that it’ll always be Stefan . It was so cacophonous that he barely heard her next words. “Someone who isn’t temporary.”

“Why would you be temporary? Aren’t you two supposed to be written in the stars as the paragons of melodramatic love confessions and dreamy sighs?”

“Damon, I –” Her voice affected a gentle, almost apologetic tone - tough it was obvious to him that something inside her was breaking and every fiber within him wanted to heal it, to make it whole. “We’ve had our fun pretending – and it was nice; it almost made me feel normal – but I can’t forget what I am. I’m the doppelganger. I doubt I’ll survive the year –”

“Don’t you say that!” His response was visceral, immediately, the energy sucked from the room as just the thought of that was enough to utterly pain him. He forced himself to breathe naturally, evenly, letting his hands fall to take hers and press them to his heart. “Takes all the fun out of outsmarting Klaus and the rest of the rest of the emotionally-constipated Shakespearean tragedy of a family. Can’t let them win.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced, but didn’t argue. Instead, she threaded her fingers through his, squeezing them for several whole seconds before speaking. “We’re out of ingredients, if we’re spending the rest of the night baking. Let’s go pick up some more.”

“I can get them faster by myself,” he countered.

“You’d better come right back. No reckless detours.” She nodded, taking a step back. “The cookies await!”

“Relax! There and back. Like a one-vamp ultra-sexy hurricane."

“Mm,” she hummed, scrutinizing him skeptically through narrowed eyes. “Sorry if I don’t take your word for it, and put my own insurance policy in place.”

“Oh, what’s that? More melodramatic entries about Stef's noble attack on the evil ozone layer, one hair product at a time?”

“Okay, well, remember, if you’re not back in fifteen minutes, I’m setting your house on fire.” To punctuate her point, she clasped her hands at waist level, perfectly mimicking the saccharine image of an innocent fairy tale princess.

Uh-huh. Wow. Well, he always suspected she was just as crazy as he was.  A sly grin captured his face, as yet another piece of his heart merrily jumped into her hand, belonging to her forever.

“And just how many batches are we making?”

Her eyes flicked to the now-healed space on his forearm where he once had a werewolf bite, then turned to the window, the soft moonlight illuminating her face in an ethereal glow that squeezed a part of him he thought forgotten before he met her. She met his gaze again, he could plainly see her eyes shining with unshed tears. “As many as it takes.” There was determination in the feather-softness of her voice.

“Okay, Miss Arsonist. I’d better not see a single match near my bourbon when I come back, or anything I make for you from now on is coming out of a box." When a hint of trepidation remained on her face, he felt his own demeanor soften, letting his thumb gently stroke her cheekbone.

"Promise me."

For a second, Damon could almost swear he saw something in the aching vulnerability in her expression, the same longing, the same love that threatened to tear his still-beating undead heart from his chest and place it in her waiting hands - to crush, to squeeze, to do with as she wished. And like an idiot, he would gladly let her, because even pained seconds in her warmth were infinitely better than the coldness of the world without her.

"Fifteen minutes, Elena. I promise."

[kokinagi]

Hurtcember 2024 || Day 2 - Breakdown || @hurtcember

|| Leon & Chihiro (/p but can be interpreted however you like)

Genre: drabble, hurt/comfort

CW/TW: anxiety attack

Summary: Chihiro comes across Leon having a breakdown and calms him down.

A/N: this might be the fastest that I've ever written anything.. this is my first time writing these two characters and it's been awhile since I've played the first game but i think i was able to do then justice!!

The sun trickled in through the crack of the slightly ajar window in the abandoned stairwell, lighting it up just enough for Chihiro to see where he was going. The boy always liked to come here to eat and relax during lunch, as there was nobody around to bother him or cause a ruckus.

However as he descends the steps and hears the sound of faint sniffling and mumbling, he can already tell that his afternoon isn't going to be all too relaxing.

Should he turn around and pretend he never came? Pretend that he didn't hear a thing to avoid any possible conflict?

No.. That didn't feel like the right thing to do. He was already here so he might as well go through with it. If the person doesn't acknowledge him then he can just go on about his day.

With his mind made up, he continues to descend the stairs, taking deep breaths to keep his anxiety at bay. When he rounds the corner of the stairs though, the person he sees is someone he was least expecting to find in the middle of the stairwell crying.

"Chihiro! Shit, sorry, you're not supposed to see me like this," Leon mutters out, frantically wiping away at the tears that were running down his cheeks.

It hurt to see his friend like this, especially when he doesn't know the reason behind all of this. Worry fills his chest, making his heart feel as though it were sinking deeper between the confines of his ribcage.

"N-No, it's okay, really. If you uh.. Don't mind me asking... Why are you hiding out here crying?" Without a second thought, the brunette is sitting himself down on the stairs next to the taller man, his prior worries long forgotten about in favour of helping his friend.

Leon exhales a long sigh, holding the front of his head in the palms of his hands. "I thought this stairwell was forgotten about.. Nobody ever comes here or uses it for anything, except for you, I guess."

"I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to-"

"No need. If anything, it's me who's taking this spot from you right now so," the red head interrupts, waving a hand in Chihiro's direction before returning it to his face.

"I mean.." Chihiro trails off, not really wanting this to turn into an argument or anything of the sort. "N-Nevermind that.. You can continue if you uhm.. If you want to."

"Thanks, Chihiro.. Well like- I just didn't want the team to see me like this. God, they'd think so differently of me if they saw me crying and I don't really want to tell any of them what's been on my mind lately. They'd probably hate me," he mumbles running his fingers through his messy hair.

"I.. I doubt they'd see you in a different light just because you're expressing your emotions," the brunette replies, a sad nervous smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"Well of course you'd say that, you're a girl. There's no hate when a girl cries but for guys? That shit is different."

Well Chihiro supposes this is what he gets for pretending to be a girl all of this time.. It's only natural that Leon would think this way. One of the reasons he ended up pretending to be a girl in the first place was because of how weak and sensitive he is.. So he can understand how Leon feels, to an extent at least.

"I guess you're right.. Well uhm.. I won't judge you so if you want to talk about it then I'm here," he reassures the distraught man, going as far as to rest a hand on his shoulder.

Leon slowly nods his head, giving himself a moment to get his breathing in order before opening up to the shorter man.

"I.. Fuck, saying this out loud is terrifying.."

"Breathe.. It's okay, I promise."

The redhead inhales a deep breath through his nose before exhaling through parted lips.

"I want to quit baseball. Like, entirely," Leon admits, tears already starting to well up again in his sky blue eyes. "And I knowwwww that's what I'm best at and whatever but it's not what I want anymore. I'm so tired of that stupid fucking sport! Hell, I've already been skipping practices! The team is already getting sick of my shit!"

Chihiro can't help but stare with wide eyes at what his friend had admitted, not being able to believe it. Why quit the thing that you're best at? Chihiro could never stop programming, he loves it too much.

"T-That's valid.. It's okay if that's not what you want anymore.. People change and so do their interests."

"I just don't know what the fuck to do.. My team will fucking kill me if I back out. I'm just so tired of it all.. I want my piercings and I want to keep my hair long! Why the hell do I even need to take them out and shave my head for a damn sport? I don't see soccer players having to shave their heads!"

"I wish I knew the answer to that but I'm not really good at sports so.. But if that's what you really want then I think you should do it."

"It's not that easy. I gotta go to the coach and tell him that I wanna quit, I gotta tell my teammates.. They're all gonna fucking hate me! But like- I just can't do this anymore.. This isn't what I want, this isn't what I see for my future," Leon cries out, wiping the tears from his cheeks as they leave his tear ducts and run down his cheeks.

Chihiro's heart breaks at the sight of seeing his friend cry like this. He's always seen Leon as the type to not sweat things too much, just going with the flow and doing what his heart is set on. Not to say that he sees him any differently now, if anything this has him seeing just how strong the other man really is.

"If baseball isn't what you see for your future then what do you see? What do you really want to do?"

"I uh.. I want to be a musician. I'm not great on guitar or anything but I think that's what makes it fun. It's like.. I'm learning something new and there's still hella progress to be made, you know?" The redhead sniffles, a faint smile pulling at his lips.

"Yeah, I get that. I know it's hard to face this truth but.. You should go for it, Leon! Do what you want, not what other people want you to do," Chihiro says, although he knows he should really taking his own words into consideration.

That's for a different day though.

Leon hums, leaning down to rest his head on Chihiro's shoulder. The brunette's body tenses up at the sudden action before letting his body relax, soaking up the little bit of affection from his friend.

"Thanks, Chihiro. You're right, I gotta do what's best for me.. I'm fucking tired of letting other people decide what's best for me and what I should be doing with my own life," he replies, his voice shaky but filled with more confidence than he had previously.

"I'm glad y-you want to take the reigns of your life.. That's not easy to do sometimes," the brunette replies, bringing a timid hand up to Leon's head. He pauses, hesitant to touch the other man's head.

"You can, I don't care. It's not like you're a stranger or anything."

"Oh.. O-Okay," Chihiro mumbles before carding his fingers through the messy red strands.

Leon hums and relaxes against the smaller man, finally starting to calm down from his break down.

"So what do you come here for anyways? You've never told me or Mondo about this or anything."

"Uhm.. Well nobody ever comes here so I like to relax here during lunch or whenever I have the time to.. It gets too loud sometimes," he mutters out, resting his head against his friend's.

"That checks out, yeah. My bad.."

"N-No no, it's okay! I like being around you and Mondo so really, it's fine."

The taller male hums in response, shifting slightly to pull out his phone. Chihiro averts his gaze, not wanting to see something that he shouldn't.

It only takes a minute before Leon is sighing and putting his phone down on his lap.

"My teammates are messaging me in the group chat and asking where I am.. I really don't want to go."

"You're already skipping, right? If you plan on quitting, I don't really see any reason for you to go. That's uhm.. That's just my opinion though," Chihiro replies, although he's not too confident about that response. He's not one to give advice on matters like this.

"You're right! Yeah, fuck thaaat, I'm not going! I uh.. I have a question though.."

"Hmm?"

"If I went to the team later to break the news.. Would you come with me? I.. I feel like if I try to do it alone, I might back out," the redhead mumbles, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

Would Chihiro really be of any help if he went with Leon? Bringing a "girl," with him might make it look suspicious, won't it? Well if it'll give Leon more confidence..

"Sure, I can come with you. I just want you to do what's best for you," he agrees, figuring that everything would be fine. Leon would never put him in an anxiety inducing or unsafe situation.

"Thanks, Chihiro! You're the best," Leon sighs, loosely wrapping his arms around the smaller male in a hug.

"It's nothing, really! I just want you to be able to move towards the future that you want, that's all." Chihiro returns the hug, lightly ruffling the other's hair.

After that very much needed conversation, they spend the rest of lunch together, Chihiro going as far as to share his food since Leon hadn't brought anything with him. The brunette doesn't know where this feeling of confidence came from, but he knew that everything would go well in the end for Leon.

[sleepy-bi666]

hurtcember day 6

Ranboo curls up on himself, his body shaking as he tries to ignore the hunger pains.

Some would think just asking for some food would be less painful than this, but Ranboo didn't want to burden anyone.

The scraps of food he had managed to gather was given to his pets, since he'd rather sacrifice his own health rather than his beloved animals.

He sighs, laying down on his mattress on the floor, which was really more like a few blankets stitched together with a worn out quilt thrown over it, trying to get a bit of sleep.

He curls up in his comforting quilt, despite it not giving much warmth, and lets himself fade into the darkness.

"...blood sugar...low...---sick." Ranboo hears someone say as he slowly fades into a half-asleep state.

Ranboo feels himself being lifted into someone's arms.

He sighs, letting himself finally get help, falling asleep in the person's arms.

[elodiah]

Hurtcember 2024 - #2: Breakdown

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: “Crying Themselves to Sleep”

Fandom: Loki

[newwwwusername]

Fic title : Needless Apologies and Loving Hands

@marchofpain 2024 prompt : Apologies

@hurtcember 2023 prompt : Flashback

@comfortember 2022 prompt : Breakdown

Rating : General Audiences

Fandom : The Owl House

Pairing : Hunter/Willow

Additional tags : Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Hunter | The Golden Guard has PTSD (The Owl House), Flashbacks, Apologies, Crying, Mental Breakdown, Startling, Hurt/Comfort, Reassurance, Hunter | The Golden Guard Needs a Hug (The Owl House), Good Significant Other Willow Park, Scars, Grounding, Stimming, Autistic Hunter | The Golden Guard (The Owl House) (if you squint)

Word count : 469

[hurtcember]

Above is the official Hurtcember 2023 prompts list.

Below are alternative prompts in case one doesn't want to do a few of the prompts (but still do the whole challenge) or for those who just want to write/draw more.

Both lists are typed out at the bottom of this post.

RULES 1. You can write/draw for any fandom or pairing 2. You can write/draw SFW or NSFW content, just label it accordingly 3. Please tag any Tumblr posts sharing your prompt fills with #hurtcember2023 so that we can find and repost them 4. If you post your works to AO3, please add them to this collection and add "Hurtcember" and/or "Hurtcember 2023" to the additional tags of your prompt fill(s) 5. The challenge officially starts on December 1st but feel free to write/draw before then and/or submit things after the month ends officially, whatever works best for you 6. Be kind to other participants 7. You DO NOT have to do every single prompt if you don't want to. The point is to have fun and spark creativity, not to feel like you're doing a chore

Prompts List (Text Copy) 1. Astraphobia 2. "I'm fine" 3. Fainting 4. Fever 5. Dead 6. Starving 7. Broken 8. Flashback 9. Paranoid 10. Amputated 11. Guilt 12. Chronic 13. Addicted 14. Breathe 15. Fleeting 16. Crutch 17. Anxiety 18. Sick 19. Bleeding 20. Poison 21. Crying 22. Paralyzed 23. "I'm sorry" 24. Forced 25. Hiding 26. Avalanche 27. Freeze 28. Betrayed 29. Depressed 30. Haunted 31. Abused

Alt Prompts List (Text Copy) 1. Hug 2. Quarantine 3. Note 4. Scar 5. Snow

[whumpdreaming]

Crownchain Whumpcember + Hurtcember Day 12

All my other prompt fills can be found in my pinned post :) content warning: strongly implied domestic abuse

Day 12: Cry + "I have nowhere else to go"

Kyrie sits watchfully over Lady Avaline's very intoxicated form, as she only has orders to take her up to a side room once she's sufficiently unconscious. Most people are already asleep; it's a late, late night, even for such a party. Lady Avaline stirs slightly, so Kyrie doesn't touch her. She supposes it wouldn't be improper to take her up now, as she probably won't remember; but Kyrie does as she is ordered, and perhaps Lady Avaline expected to fall asleep easier, laid out on the couch, making a very noble attempt at speech despite her severe inebriation.

Kyrie looks up as a lone figure stumbles across the sitting room, having entered from the hall. A tan woman in a dress. She must have dyed her hair red, to get it so deep. Kyrie doesn't recognize her, but she's obviously very drunk.

"Oh, you're still awake," she murmurs, and it takes Kyrie to recognize it's her being spoken to. "Good. Good."

Kyrie narrows her eyes as she approaches. She's barefoot, so she probably cast off her heels somewhere, seeing as those monstrous things are the current fashion. She lurches forward, pressing herself against Kyrie's breastplate. Kyrie stays very still, unsure what to do.

A man comes out of the hallway, obviously also drunk, though perhaps far less so. His step is more solid as he crosses the floor, towards the woman.

The woman presses a sweaty hand to Kyrie's breastplate. "Please. Please. You'll protect me, won't you? Please? I have nowhere else to go." She's whimpering now, begging quietly.

"Come on, Orya, don't be so dramatic," the man drawls, stepping up to her. "We're just messing around," he tells Kyrie, like her opinion means anything at all.

Kyrie makes no move to do anything.

The man grabs Lady Orya's arm. She resists, now crying, begging for Kyrie to help her. But Kyrie is under no orders to help Lady Orya, and doesn't want to deal with Lady Avaline's wrath if it turns out to be the wrong choice, so she keeps her face completely impassive as the man slowly pulls Lady Orya away, back towards the hallway, and Kyrie does not even care as Lady Orya gives her a single, final, desperate glance.