#prompt: flatline

[serickswrites]

We're Running Out of Time

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, forced to watch, stabbing, knife wounds, blood, bleeding out, field med, temporary character death, rescue, unclear character status, cpr

Whumpee collapsed to their knees with a scream as Whumper plunged the knife into their thigh and twisted. "STOP! YOU'RE HURTING THEM!" Caretaker roared.

Whumpee's chest heaved as they struggled to remain upright. Their eyes were pain-filled and desperate as they stared at Caretaker.

"That is exactly the point," Whumper hissed as they pulled another knife from their belt. Whumper had spent the better part of the afternoon since kidnapping Whumpee and Caretaker carving into Whumpee. Whumpee's chest and arms were littered with cuts. They had a knife embedded in their right shoulder and now in their thigh. The ground beneath them was becoming slick with blood.

"Pl-Pl-Please," Whumpee stammered. Caretaker could see they were on the edge of passing out. Whumpee needed to hold on a bit longer. The team was coming. Help was moments out.

"Leave them alone!" Caretaker growled, straining forward even though the chains around their wrist kept them stationary. Whumper had cuffed them immediately and forced them to sit in the corner. The chains manacling their wrists to the wall had no give, but still Caretaker tried to move.

"Where's the fun in that?" Whumper smirked as they stood behind Whumpee. They knelt behind Whumpee, wrapping their arm around Whumpee's chest. They sniffed along Whumpee's neck as they pulled Whumpee close. "This is so much better, don't you think, Whumpee?"

Whumpee whimpered as Whumper ran the flat of the blade along their throat. They swallowed, but did not say anything. Caretaker could see them taking short, shallow breaths trying desperately to avoid being cut by the blade.

"So much fun," Whumper murmured as they withdrew the hand with the knife. "Don't you think?"

Caretaker opened their mouth to snarl another insult at Whumper, but Whumpee's sudden stillness and gasp of pain had Caretaker freezing.

"Oops," Whumper said as they released their grip on Whumpee's chest and Whumpee slumped forward, revealing that Whumper had stabbed them in the back, blade stuck in to the hilt.

"YOU BASTARD! I'M GOING TO--"

"Do absolutely nothing but watch Whumpee bleed out, Caretaker." Whumper rose and wiped their bloodied hands on their trousers. "You are going to do absolutely nothing. I'll be back soon. After it's over."

And before Caretaker could hurl another insult, Whumper left. They turned their attention to Whumpee. Whumpee lay on their side, having taken care to not fall forward. Their hand limply propped themself up. "Whumpee, Whumpee, darling talk to me."

"H-H-Hurts," Whumpee whispered. They coughed, blood trickling from the corner of their lips.

"You're going to be ok. Help is almost here. You're going to be ok, Whumpee." Caretaker tried to not let the fear that Whumpee was bleeding out before help could arrive fill their voice. Whumpee was going to be ok. Help was almost here. They just had to hold on a bit longer.

Whumpee blinked slowly at Caretaker. "Don'ttttt f-f-f-feel-l-l-l 'kayyyyyyy."

Caretaker heard sounds deep within Whumper's compound. Their head whipped round to stare at the door. They could hear it. The sounds of fighting. Help had arrived. "You're going to be fine, Whumpee. Darling, help is here. You're going to be just fine."

Whumpee didn't reply.

Caretaker turned back to speak to Whumpee again, but what they saw had their mouth running dry. Whumpee's eyes were closed, their mouth agape as a mixture of drool and blood dripped from their lips. "Whumpee! Whumpee! Darling, wake up. Please wake up. Help is here!"

The door crashed open. "Please, darling. See, the team is here. Open your eyes!"

Caretaker was swarmed by the team as they rushed in. "Help Whumpee! Help Whumpee! Damn it! Leave me, help them!"

The lead medic surged forward, pack on their back. They quickly began to bark orders at the rest of the medics. "Get a line in. Don't remove the knife. Can we turn them? Oh I see. Carefully. Carefully. Let's get the EKG going."

Caretaker watched with growing horror as the non medical part of their team uncuffed their wrists and the crowd around Whumpee's very still body grew. Caretaker flinched as the monitor blared to life with a loud, long BEEP.

"Flatline. We're out of time," one medic shouted.

"Starting compressions." Another said as they pushed Whumpee onto their back.

"Caretaker, Caretaker," a voice came distantly, "you don't want to see this. Let's get you out of here."

"No, no, please, no," Caretaker sobbed. "Whumpee, darling, wake up. Open your eyes."

But as strong hands gripped Caretaker's shoulders and pulled them from the room, Caretaker couldn't tear their eyes from Whumpee and the crowd of medics around them. One was packing the wound in Whumpee's back while another was wrapping Whumpee's leg--knife included. All the while the lead medic's compressions never faltered. They continued to bark orders.

"No, please. They need me. I need to be here. Please," Caretaker whispered as they were almost through the door.

"You don't want to see this, Caretaker. When they give us the all clear we'll bring you back. We need to get you checked out, too."

"Please," Caretaker sobbed. They couldn't leave Whumpee. Whumpee needed them. Whumpee would come back to them.

But as the wail of the alarm continued in one, unending scream, and Caretaker was pulled over the threshold, Caretaker saw the lead medic falter. "NOOOOO!" Caretaker screamed.

But the team didn't stop. Didn't let them stay. "It's ok, Caretaker. They're handling it. Whumpee is in good hands." A voice from Caretaker's right said.

"PLEASE! WHUMPEE!"

[byghostface]

Goomba Flatline/Nika‼️🐱🍄‍🟫🌟

.

For donor @lilith-sd and @/dcforgaza fundraising on Twitter(X)♥️

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1271

Whumptober #3: "Make it stop."

But instead of the traditional context of the whumpee begging for the torture to end, it could be:

The doctor wishing the flatline alarm would stop, and for the patients heart to resume a normal beat.

The leader calling off the search party as it's been so long. - "Stop- just- we need to stop this."

The coordinator saying it as the team goes off to fight the Big Bad End Game - "Make it stop - get all this madness to stop."

The torturer saying to the whumpee. "Make it stop? I can do that..."

The whumper telling the medic as they leave - the whumpee has been screaming and the whumpers flippant "Make it stop." is for their own sake rather than the whumpees.

The caretaker saying to the whumpee to get them to step up - "You can make all of this stop if you just grow up."

[bylertruther]

He Is Literally Gay. ... whoa 😦 michael of "our son with a girl? 🤨" fame... good for him 👍

[blue-spider-official]

why are there no dc×dp fics on ao3 with Danny Phantom or Fenton interacting with Flatline???? they would be amazing!!!

king of ghosts meeting someone who kills to get abilities of the person they killed!

amazing!!!

I do hve ideas if anyone wants some.

also if there are fics could someone pls tag me or link them?

thanks!

[goldeneyedgirl]

AILess Whumptober Day 7: CPR/Flatline

moribond. (day 7: cpr/flatline).

twilight, alice/jasper, pg, haunted-verse.

A follow up to Haunted, and will make no sense without it.

I am currently pretty ill; I have seen some delightful asks and will get to them ASAP (probably in the morning), but I haven't got a sensible thought in my head tonight.

To him, death smells like violets, ash, and rainwater.

—

He didn’t know how it turned out like this.

But then, he’s always going to be responsible for her deaths. He understands and accepts that. It’s always going to be her blood on his hands.

She gets off the bus on the other side of the parking lot; her uncle’s a long-haul trucker, and Alice is still saving for her own car. She bullied him into picking her up for school when she first arrived, but he’d gone hunting with Emmett over the weekend and told her to get the bus.

(He had still made a point to stop at the diner and get her that disgusting coffee drink that she demands every morning. He’s holding it, as a peace offering that she had to catch the bus.)

“Alice!” He calls out to her, shouldering his bag. She makes eye contact with him, and he feels the little spark of happiness - at the sight of her beverage.

And then she drops her phone.

—

This version of Alice frustrates him. A sharp, witty girl who with a low bullshit tolerance, she sticks to him like glue from that very first moment - a constant little voice of guilt in one ear, her emotions feeling hot and agitated against him.

(“You can give me a ride home, I’m never getting on that bus again,” she said imperiously the very second day they know each other, walking from class. “You owe me.” That becomes her catch cry - you owe me, Jasper. If she wants coffee before school, if she needs a lift somewhere, if she needs a few dollars for the vending machine. And he reluctantly pays his penance because if he doesn’t, she follows him around reminding him of every single way he broke her, of the pain and the grief and the bone-crushing fear that he left in his wake. Borrowing Emmett’s Jeep and giving her some crumpled dollar bills is a small price to pay rather than having to relive it all again.)

She calls him Jasper, Hale, Whitlock, or very occasionally, Major - usually when he’s pushed too hard, as a warning shot. The one thing they don’t talk about is all those years ago in the South, even though he wonders how much she remembers.

He calls her Alice, nothing else. If she’s being particularly aggravating, he refers to her as a brat, because that’s the strongest language he’d use around a lady - even one he’d like to choke the life out of some days because she just… never stops talking, and her favourite topic is always how many times he murdered her and how she had to remember every single time.

(He thinks that, and then he feels like a monster because how many times has he killed her? Twenty-five. He can’t even joke about choking her, he’s take away her life so, so many times.)

But somehow, this caustic girl has become his best friend. Or at least, that’s what it looks like. Everyone talks about them as they roam the halls. His siblings aren’t happy about the situation, but Edward clearly believes that Jasper is an unwilling participant in this, so they all leave it alone. To the others, Alice Brandon doesn’t matter. They’ll leave her behind without a second thought, so there’s no point making a fuss.

But it is the closest friendship he’s had since Peter, and that was forged in very different circumstances. (Alice would point out that was because Jasper executed her when her newborn year was up, and maybe she could have been like Peter to him as well, and the fact that he can hear her smug voice in his head reminding him of that makes him want to gag her for a day.)

It’s very strange to think that, out of all of them, he’s managed a quasi-high school friendship, even if it is with the reincarnation of his favourite murder victim.

He hopes Esme and Carlisle have noticed how well-adjusted this is.

—

One thing about Forks is that the local public transport system is a piece of shit. The two ancient school buses that run are over-full. The local buses are unreliable at best, and the closest useful stop on the route is four blocks over from the school - but it arrives either an hour before class starts, or twenty minutes after the bell has rung, if it shows up at all.

Which is why it’s practically a right of passage for the juniors at Forks High to get some kind of vehicle. It might be held together with duct tape and sixteen years of fervent birthday wishes, like the one Kirk drives, or it might be a shiny, good-as-new one like the one that Jennifer Ford has recently acquired.

He just stands there, and watches all the pieces come together. At Alice, who is so slight, leaning down to pick up her phone. At Jennifer laughing from the driver’s seat, leaning over to grab something, not even looking. She’s going too fast for a fucking car park.

Alice straightens up a split second before and that’s when he begins moving, the stupid coffee hitting the ground and spraying his boots with ice and and cream and slush.

The sound she makes when Jennifer hits her seems to echo and for a moment there is silence; everyone is frozen in place.

And then everyone begins screaming.

Except Alice.

(She isn’t moving.)

—

Alice is extremely sparing about her private life, but he’s gleaned enough from her monologuing to paint a picture of her life - her family were killed in a car accident, and she was the sole survivor with a head full of memories from past lives. Her bachelor uncle had been quick to take her in, even though he had no idea what to do with a grieving teenage girl.

Her uncle didn’t have a great deal of money, and she seemed aware that her presence was a financial strain - she worked at the gas-n-gro a few afternoons a week, a job she hated, to save for the much coveted car.

(He often wondered if that was why she asked him for vending machine money - so that she didn’t have to dip into her own money to pay for cafeteria food. That made him oddly sad; Alice was somehow incapable of being a figure of pity and yet...)

She’s alone a lot, when her uncle is on the road, forced to fend for herself. Maybe that’s why, when he picks her up, she seems to have trouble getting all the words out. Why she has so much to say, even when she’s not detailing all the ways it hurts for a vampire to, say, rip out her throat and leave her for dead.

And Alice really likes to ask him questions. She never says Maria’s name, but she sure as hell wants to know about Peter - her memories of Peter are hazy but unflattering, as she refers to him as a pervert and a man-whore several times. She was gone before Charlotte was changed, but she seems interested that Peter finally met someone, “that inspired him to keep his hands to himself for once.”

(He’s going to have to ask Peter about that.)

She asks about the Cullens, and she doesn’t care what he tells her - one day, in an attempt to drive her to boredom, he described all of Esme’s interiors to her in mind-numbing detail. It hadn’t worked - she’d just developed opinions about white-on-white decorating the next time she got into the Jeep.

(Emmett only loans it to him because he thinks it’s funny that Jasper’s being bullied by a five foot nothing girl into being her personal chauffeur.)

Sometimes he wonders if she learns as much about him during their conversations, if he gives as much away as she does. He can read her now, what each glare and sigh and huff and blink of those mismatched eyes means. He knows her coffee order, and that she’s failing Spanish. He knows that she keeps a shotgun near the front door when her uncle is away.

(He knows she’s terrified she’s going to die young again, and that it will be his fault.)

—

Alice is just lying there and she isn’t moving.

Jennifer Ford is screaming, a cluster of girls around her trying to calm her, justify the accident in her favor.

Jasper’s never moved so fast (at least, at a convincing pace for a human) in his life. He’s just so suddenly there, next to Alice. There’s blood and she’s surrounded with glass, and he’s so suddenly terribly aware that he cannot hear her heart beating.

(This was his doing. He shouldn’t have distracted her. He should have waited at the bus stop for her. He’s always going to be her killer.)

Edward’s at his side in a second.

“Jasper.” And the quiet pity in his voice tells Jasper that Edward expects him to leave her here, dead and gone. That this is the moment where he moves on and lets her go for good. That he can get up and walk away and no one will think less of him.

Instead, he ignores Edward and carefully turns her over. She’s cut up badly, and it’s all over his hands, but he doesn’t… he doesn’t want that. He wants her to open her eyes, to hear that soft reassuring sound of her heart beating in her chest.

(Her shoulder is all wrong, the way her arm moves. One of her legs, too. She’s going to be so upset that her jeans are destroyed.)

“She needs CPR,” he says hoarsely.

“She’s in cardiac arrest,” Edward agrees. “Jasper…”

“We’ve called 911.” The nurse is there. “Move away, please boys.”

The nurse and one of the teachers are crowded around her with efficient competence, the nurse pressing so hard on Alice’s ribs he’s sure that if they weren’t broken when the car hit her, they will be now.

Everything feels like its moving in slow motion, as they try to push life back into Alice. The tear-stained teenage girls watching from several feet away. Edward trying to talk to him, but his words just sound like white noise. He’s just crouched there, with her blood on him, using every ounce of his energy to push his gift into her, to try and inspire something inside her to catch and bring her back to life.

They’re still working on her when the ambulance arrives.

(He makes eye contact with Jennifer as she’s led away, and he hopes she knows that if Alice doesn’t open her eyes again, he’ll do everything in his power to make sure that she doesn’t ever forget what she’s done.)

—

She knows his siblings, of course. Mostly from sight; she doesn’t engage with them and they don’t approach her. Edward and Alice have a couple of classes together, unfortunately, and Edward is quick to point out that she’s crude and depressing and aggravating. Alice is quick to point out that he needs to stay out of her head if he has a problem with its contents.

“They don’t like me,” she says when he offers to ask them to let her sit with them at lunch. “I’m not going to waste my precious free time trying to convince a bunch of people I have nothing in common with that I’m worthy enough to sit on a metal chair and stare at cafeteria food with them.”

“I mean, aside from the vampire thing,” Jasper says. “Nothing in common at all.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass, Whitlock. Besides, you think your sister hates me now - imagine if she gets it into her head that I somehow outwitted that whole vampirism-is-irreversible thing.” Alice made a face.

“Rosalie doesn’t hate you.” Alice had laughed, a bark of laughter that sounded more jaded than he expected.

“To Rosalie, I am a cockroach. When I am within her eye-line, she loathes me and looks for ways to eradicate me. Outside of that, I can do as I please. So spare me the honour of meeting your ‘family’, thanks.” They’d arrived at the vending machine then, and she’d held out her hand for the dollar he was already rifling around his pockets for.

(Somehow the solution was shared custody - something Emmett joked about regularly. They had their table in the corner, where he would watch her eat vending machine snacks and listen to her talk, and on the days he sat with his siblings, she didn’t bother going to the cafeteria at all.)

—

The whole world is in slow motion when the paramedic takes over CPR. When they cut through her shirt (oh, she’s going to be mad) and try to restart her heart.

Once.

Twice.

(Third time lucky.)

The sound that he makes sounds like a sob, raw and harsh and desperate as whatever machine they’ve got connected to her beeps to life. They’ve got her, they’ve got her.

But whatever hope he has is lost as he reads the grim looks on the paramedics’ faces, the efficient way they move around her and get her into the ambulance. The way she’s so pale and limp on the gurney. Their emotions are distant, not allowing themselves to really invest in the dying girl before them because they have to do their jobs.

Edward had remained at his side silently, watching over proceedings. He doesn’t know where Rose or Emmett are. He can still hear Jennifer sobbing, and he wants her to shut up because her emotions are too revealing - she’s more scared than repentant.

They slam the doors to the ambulance and he wonders if that’s the last memory he’ll have of her still alive, broken and bleeding. If the next doors that close on her will be in an autopsy drawer, after her uncle identifies her.

He feels sick.

“Jasper.”

Edward’s voice sounds patient, like he’s been trying to get his attention for a few minutes.

“Jasper, we can go. They’re sending us home. Carlisle’s in the ER waiting for her. He’s going to do all that he can. He’ll update us when he gets home.”

Carlisle. Carlisle can put her back together. He’s good at that. He can wait for Carlisle.

Somehow, he stands up, and follows Edward back to the car - it’s like he’s on autopilot. He’s holding tight to something - her bag, he realises. He doesn’t remember picking it up.

(Emmett and Rosalie look worried, and he’s grateful neither of them speak to him. If he opens his mouth, he’s not sure what will come out.)

—

Sometimes he wonders what it would be like to run his fingers through her hair.

(He would never admit that to anyone, not under pain of death. And frankly, if she knew he had ever thought that about her, she’d probably murder him on the spot - humanity be damned.)

She wears it long, too long, and keeps threatening to cut it off. But it’s black and shiny and looks so impossibly soft. He likes watching her braid it, absentmindedly weaving the strands together as she talks, likes the way she wears it over one shoulder and plays with it as they walk the halls. The way it makes her eyes look so much brighter.

(Sometimes, when he’s alone, he wonders other things as well. Things that are embarrassing and stupid, and that he locks up tight behind a wall in his head. He’s just been alone too long, and she’d eat him alive.)

—

He waits in Carlisle’s office.

They send all the witnesses home after the ambulance departs, sirens blaring. There are parents arriving at the school, police roaming around, local news and media hoping for interviews. It's easier for everyone if the students just... leave.

He takes her bag with him. Most of the contents are destroyed, and he makes a mental note to ask Esme to order replacements for her make up - it had been important to her. Her phone is smashed to uselessness, but he’s certain they still have a few spares in the house somewhere.

Esme looks so worried when she sees them, horrified when Edward explains what happened. She goes to hug him, but he vanishes upstairs to wait.

Carlisle’s working the ER. Carlisle will fix her, Carlisle can save her.

(But would he? Would he save her if that was all that was left to do? Would he consider it or even think of it? Would Carlisle know that Alice was important enough? The worry, the fear, weighs so heavily on him that it takes all that he is not to start yelling or crying or … something.)

He waits.

Esme checks on him, tells him to shower.

Rosalie checks on him, tells him that she’s impressed with his control. Her blood is still under his nails, and he hasn’t thought about it once.

Emmett checks on him, to let him know that Carlisle’s pulling a double shift and won’t be home until after ten, with the sympathy that it’s another four hours to wait.

Edward stays away, having already dug Alice’s grave and seeing no reason to try and convince Jasper of the inevitable.

(Why is this time different? Edward wants to ask. You killed her twenty-five times before. Why is she special this time? And there aren’t words to explain the way she looks at him over her sunglasses and orders him to just drive, Whitlock. The way she has a permanently bruised elbow from jabbing him in the ribs. The way he can just say any shit to her about who and what they are and who he is, and he doesn’t have to hide anything because he’s already murdered her a bunch of times; she knows him better than anyone. And that’s why this time is different.)

The study is dark when Carlisle’s Mercedes finally pulls into the drive; Esme warns him as soon as he’s in the house.

He waits - Carlisle has a routine when he gets home (coat on the hook, bag under the table, a kiss for Esme, an update on the day from Esme and anyone else in the living room), and there’s no reason to rush. She’s just as dead or just as alive if he lets Carlisle greet his wife before demanding answers.

Carlisle looks shaken when he sees Jasper. At the haunted look on his son’s face, at the dried blood streaked on him. At the bald-faced desperate hope on his face, but the grief looming over his shoulder.

And maybe instead of words, Carlisle just reaches out and wraps his arm around Jasper.

(He should have been there to drive her to school.)

—

He gets a text two days later, from an unknown number.

(She’s in ICU, black and blue all over, with stitches bisecting her right cheek, casts and bandages, and a great chunk shaved out of her hair, flipping him the bird with Nice try, Whitlock. You owe me another coffee underneath it. And if the relief hits him so suddenly he has to sit down and take a breath, no one else needs to know. He feels wrecked and raw, the image of her unmoving amongst the broken glass burnt into his retinas.

(Death smells like violets and ash and rainwater. But so does his best friend, and she’s going to be okay.)

[eldritchships]

Selfship-vember 2023 - Daydream

Pairing: ShockLine

Word count: 458

Author's Note: Written for @kits-ships' Selfship-vember. I'm using the "Taking it easy" version of the prompt list, which you can find here!

"I need you, Flatline. You're everything I want."

Flatline sighed, his ventilation fans spinning giddily with the exhale. His arm was propped on the table, cradling his helm in his palm. A warm, wide smile had settled on his lips.

"We can find a laboratory of our own, far away from this planet. Just the two of us. I love you."

A delighted chuckle escaped him, feeling his faceplate grow hot with energon. It was much like a human blushing, apart from the lack of colouration on his cheeks, but the same meaning was apparent. Especially in combination with the pulse monitor on Flatline's chest, which was beeping fast and had been for a while now. His helm was floating off and all too far gone into the world of fantasy.

He could imagine it so vividly. Sweet words muttered into his audio receptors, his circuits alight from hearing such indulgent confessions. Dextrous digits travelling across his back, pulling him close against thick purple and grey plating. Clutching, as if Flatline were the one and only thing craved in that moment. Oh how his spark melted at just the thought.

"You're the only bot I can bear to be with. I want to identify independent variables with you forever."

Flatline sunk a little further into his palm, smile breaking even wider. A small warning about the bordering threat of overheating appeared in the corner of his HUD, but his shining blue optics weren't registering a thing.

Of course Flatline would say yes. He'd say anything Shockwave wanted. Flatline squirmed with glee in his seat, and he let the daydream continue to unfold in his processor.

The glow of a singular red optic gazing intently into him, feeling as much as hearing the deep rumble of Shockwave's words. Flatline's helicopter rotors fluttered at the idea of Shockwave pledging his life to their partnership - of being utterly devoted to him. More-so than Megatron, more than the Decepticons. More devoted to him than anything short of the pursuit of science.

A huge Predacon fossil was dumped on the table in front of him with the bare minimum amount of care to prevent it from breaking. The impact made Flatline jump, instantly snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Fantasize on your own time, Flatline." Knockout drawled, wiping the dust from his servos. He walked past, ignoring Flatline's now narrowed optics on his back. Flatline frowned and turned his gaze to the datapad sitting in front of him - he had long since completed the work contained on it, which had allowed his mind to wander off in the first place.

With another sigh - disappointed, annoyed, but still lingering with adoration - Flatline got up from his seat to transfer his finished data into the Nemesis' memory banks.

[lauronk]

Editing day 16 of whumptober (I’m behind I know 😭) and hopefully it’ll be up today.

The vibes I’m going for:

🙃🙃🙃🙃

[aria0fgold]

Whumptober day 16, alternative prompt used: Brass Knuckles and Whumptober day 22 prompt: Glass Shard

Characters: Mel, Marigold Ages: 15, 29

Mel hissed as Mari applied ointment on his injuries. A swollen cheek, cracked lips, several cuts and bruises all over, he even seemed to have sprained his ankle as well, though he wasn't certain of that, not when the only pain he can feel is from his other foot that had glass shards lodged into it earlier. It was quite an unfair fight, 5 people with some wielding weapons, a bat, brass knuckles, or whatever. Yet even with those advantages, they still lost, pathetically running with tails between their legs.

“Aight, ya got any excuse bout this?” Mari continued to tend to his wounds, one of her pals saw him and ran to get her. So here they are, in one of their hideouts closest to the area. There was a small frown on her face, he can't quite tell if she's mad at him or the people he fought.

He merely stayed silent, he didn't have to energy to explain anything to her nor does he have the energy to even talk at all. He just wanted to get to bed, to hell with his injuries, infection be damned, he didn't care about anything anymore, he just wanted to collapse somewhere and never wake up.

“Mm… Well, should've expected that silence.”

Mel groaned, rolling his eyes and looking away, anywhere to distract himself, the pain wasn't a problem to him, he had worse before, what was the problem however, was Mari herself. He can't understand her at all. A gang leader famously known to be scary and strong, caring and tending for a brat she found half-dead in an alleyway. He sometimes thinks it would've been better for him to have died then. What was the point?

Why would she even bother to look after a stranger's kid, completely unrelated to her? His parents didn't even bother to care for him the way she's doing. So what's the point?

“Hey.” Mari snapped her fingers in front of him.

Mel frowned, “What?”

Mari put a hand on her hip, looking him up and down, “Hmm… Anyone ever told ya yer easy to read?”

He huffed out a sigh, “Yeah, the people I just beat up.”

She whistled, her lips forming into a smirk, “Oooh, look at that. Ya plan on fightin' me next too, aye?”

Mel glared at her.

She merely chuckled at him, “Maybe wait when yer all healed up. Wouldn't mind a spar with a lil zombie.”

“Seriously, just say what you wanted to say. Stop with that shit.”

“Heeh… Already said all that I wanted.” She shrugged, “Ya know, that gloomy look don't suit ya. Want me to tell ya bout that time I found ya?”

Mel let out a loud groan, “Shut it then. I don't wanna hear it anymore.” He'd heard that story countless of times already, far too much to keep track of, he never understood why she liked talking about it so much.

Mari didn't seem to listen, “You were sitting all bloodied at that alley--”

“I told you to shut it.” Mel grabbed a shoe nearby, throwing it at Mari who caught it with ease and an annoyingly smug expression.

She laughed, annoying him even further. She can be so unbearable at times, yet Mel can't truly bring himself to hate it. If anything, he hated that it brought him a sense of comfort.

He clicked his tongue as he stood, though he stumbled forward, Mari was there to steady him by grabbing onto his arm.

“Here, here, I'll carry ya.” She turned, bending down to carry him on a piggyback.

“No--”

“Aish! I aint taking no as an answer from ya! Ya can't even stand well! If ya don't want a piggyback then I'll carry ya like those princesses.”

Mel grumbled as he climbed on her back, tugging at her hair in irritation when she laughed, though it didn't quite stop her from laughing even more.

“Anyway, bout time ya tell me bout those brats ya fought.”

“So what? You can get revenge for me?”

“I aint giving ya that luxury! Ya get revenge on yer own, but those idiots did step into my territory so someone oughtta teach em a lesson not to.”

Mel chuckled, “My information comes with a payment. And payment first.”

Mari grumbled, “Aight, aight! Whatever! Tell me what ya want then!”

Mel laughed, a genuine laughter for the first time in so long, yet he didn't realize it as such. All that he knew then was, it wasn't so bad living like this.

[sushimango]

I really liked those games back then, I need to replay them :D

As usual I try to finish each prompt in about or less than an hour, so don't expect fancy details.

[serickswrites]

Forget the World

Warnings: knife, stabbing, blood, mcd, grief, caretaker and whumpee

"Don't go where I can't follow, Whumpee," Caretaker had always said to Whumpee whenever they went out to hunt down a perp.

"I won't," Whumpee had always promised.

But as Caretaker rushed a limp and bleeding Whumpee to help, they weren't so certain Whumpee was going to keep their promise. To Whumpee's credit, they had stayed by Caretaker's side. Mostly. Caretaker had only turned to check down a different hallway for a few moments, had only let Whumpee leave their sight for less than five minutes.

And that five minutes was all it took to fall to shit.

It was the sound of Whumpee's scuffle with Whumper that had Caretaker spinning around. It was the sight of the knife in Whumper's hand already slick with Whumpees blood that had Caretaker's mouth going dry. And it was the sight of the knife plunging into Whumpee's side once more that had Caretaker charging forward.

As Whumpee collapsed onto their knees, hands going to try and staunch the flow of blood from their side, Caretaker was on Whumper. They pummeled Whumper until they were sure that Whumper wasn't going to get up again. Caretaker cuffed Whumper before they turned around to check on Whumpee.

Caretaker couldn't get a good breath once they did.

Whumpee was deathly pale, their skin almost grey, as they knelt in a puddle of their blood. Their hands weakly pressed against their side. "Caretaker," Whumpee whispered, "I....don' f-f-f-feel sooooo go-go-gooood."

Caretaker ripped off their own jacket and pressed it to Whumpee's side. "Hold this there." Caretaker called for an ambulance, knowing that one wasn't too far away, but that they would have to walk to where the ambulance could meet them. "Can you walk? We have to get you to help, now Whumpee."

Without waiting for Whumpee's reply, Caretaker pulled Whumpee to standing, hooking Whumpees arm around their neck. Caretaker winced at Whumpee's screech of pain. "PLEASE!"

"It's not far, Whumpee. Come on. I know it hurts. I know. I'm sorry, Whumpee." Caretaker knew they wouldn't be able to carry Whumpee. Whumpee was taller and heavier than they were, there was no way. "I'm going to get you to help, but I need you to help me."

Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut and nodded. "'kay," they said shakily.

Caretaker moved as quickly as they could to where they knew the ambulance would be waiting. They could feel Whumpee struggle to take each step. Could hear Whumpee's ragged breathing grow fainter with each step. Could feel Whumpee's hot blood coating their own hands more and more as they moved. "Not much farther, Whumpee. Almost there. Hang in there. Remember, you promised you wouldn't go where I can't follow you. You hear me? You promised."

"Y-Y-Yes," Whumpee exhaled.

Caretaker could see the flashing lights of the ambulance. Relief filled them as they trudged forward, Whumpee's weight leaning more and more on them. "We made it, Whumpee," Caretaker said, relief filling their voice.

Whumpee didn't reply as their legs gave out. Caretaker slowed down Whumpee's fall, but was unable to keep them upright. "HELP!" Caretaker roared, hoping that the EMTs could hear them. "Whumpee. Whumpee. Open your eyes. Whumpee." Caretaker frantically tapped Whumpee's cheek.

Caretaker was pushed to the side by the EMTs. The EMTs quickly lifted Whumpee onto the waiting gurney, hooking Whumpee up to various leads and lines. The monitor flicked to life in one continuous shrill cry that Whumpee's heart wasn't beating. That Whumpee had flatlined.

Caretaker watched in horror as the EMTs frantically got to work. Caretaker watched, feeling ever distant from their body, as the EMTs started CPR. Caretaker watched as they repeated their words to Whumpee over and over under their breath. Don't go where I can't follow. Don't go where I can't follow. Don't go where I can't follow.

They couldn't tear their gaze from Whumpee's slack face. They hadn't kept an eye on Whumpee and that was all it took for Whumpee to end up bloodied on a gurney fighting for their life. Caretaker wasn't sure how long they stood there unable to hear anything but the shrill cry of the monitor. They jumped when one of the EMT's put a hand on their shoulder. Caretaker didn't want to hear what they were saying, didn't want to have the terrible words spoken into life.

"I'm so sorry. We tried everything we could. We couldn't get them back."

The words echoed in Caretaker's ears as their world crashed down around them. Whumpee was.....but they couldn't think that. Couldn't bear to think that they would exist in a world without Whumpee. Caretaker let themself be guided so sit near Whumpee's head. They couldn't hear the murmured words around them. They could only hear the terrible words that the EMT had said. "Whumpee is dead."

Caretaker cupped Whumpee's rapidly cooling cheek. If Caretaker only looked at Whumpee's face, they could lie to themself, tell themself that Whumpee was only sleeping. Because Whumpee did look like they were sleeping, albeit they were deathly pale.

"You promised me," Caretaker whispered as grief clawed its way up their throat. They couldn't breathe. This wasn't real. "You promised me you wouldn't go where I can't follow. You promised me."

But Whumpee didn't reply.

"I can't follow you there," Caretaker sobbed, the reality of everything finally setting in. "Oh God. I can't. I can't follow you. You promised!"

And still, Whumpee did not reply.

[aaronnaphiliou]

Avatar the Last Airbender Whumptober 2023 Day 16

No. 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Gurney | Flatline | “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Bato watches his friend fail to say goodbye

[whumptober]

Whumptober 2023

Welcome to Whumptober 2023 — the sixth year running!

COMPLETIONISTS/PARTICIPANT BADGES CAN BE FOUND HERE

To those of you who participated last year, welcome back! To everyone joining this year, welcome!

Please make sure to read the Event Info carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

And this years playlist can be found here.

There are 139 prompt options in total this year - this is including the alternatives list! A special thanks goes out to those who took part in our trope vote back in July. From the 1526 responses to our list of 223 tropes, we looked through the popularity results, as well as your honourable mentions, and were able to produce this years prompts list. Stay tuned, as we will be posting some of the results at a later date!

We’re very excited to see the community come together once more and be a wild, chaotic bunch of creators and consumers of whump. Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2023 Prompt List

No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

No. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”

Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.”

No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Cattle Prod | Shock | “You in there?”

No. 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.”

Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.”

No. 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.”

Recording | Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”

No. 7: " “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”

Alleyway | Radio Silence | “Can you hear me?”

No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”

Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”

No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.”

Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”

No. 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

Broken Phone | Stranded | “You said you'd never leave.”

No. 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”

Animal trap | Captivity | “No one will find you.”

No. 12: “I haven't slept in days but who's counting?”

Red | Insomnia | “I’m up, I’m up.”

No. 13: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.”

Cold Compress | Infection | “I don’t feel so good.”

No. 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.”

Flare | Water Inhalation | “Just hold on.”

No. 15: “I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself.”

Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

No. 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Gurney | Flatline | “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

No. 17: “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest.”

Collar | Touch Aversion | “Leave me alone.”

No. 18: “I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened.”

Blindfold | Tortured For Information | “Hit them harder.”

No. 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”

Floral Bouquet | Psychological | “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

No. 20: “People don’t change people, time does.”

Blanket | Found Family | “You will regret touching them.”

No. 21: “See the chains around my feet.”

Vows | Restraints | “Don't move.”

No. 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.”

Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”

No. 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.”

Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?”

No. 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.”

Goodbye Note | Neglect | “I thought they were with you.”

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Storm | Buried Alive | “They’re not breathing!”

No. 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”

Seeing Double | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.”

No. 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.”

Matches | Scars | “Let me see”

No. 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.”

Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | “You'll have to go through me.”

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”

Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”

No. 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay’.”

Borrowed Clothing | Bridal Carry | “Not much longer...”

No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”

Emptiness | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”

Alternatives List:

Betrayal

Aftermath of Failure

Brass Knuckles

Decoy

Body Modification

Playing Cards

Examination

Hunting

Drugging

Shaking

Panic

Broken

Miscommunication

Lab Rat

Reluctant Whumper

Event Info & Rules

~ Please read our extensive event info posts before sending us an ask ~

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. The 'theme' of each day is the line of lyrics.

The prompts are merely to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is "flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be related to the 'spark' of a relationship. It's truly up to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day: there's lyrics, an object, a trope and a line of dialogue to choose from.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2023 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(day number)

#lyric, #bruises, #stabbing,  …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC, … (ironman, originalcontent, oc …)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #gore tw, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Add "tw" AFTER the trigger/content warning. )

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed the event. You do not need to post anything you have created, we rely on trust and we will not check this.

Questions not addressed in one of our many event info posts can be directed to this blog. We will not answer any questions that have been answered in the FAQs or rules already.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. How does this year’s prompt list work? What do I have to choose?

You can create something based on:

The overall theme/lyric of the day

Prompt 1, 2 or 3

One or several of the alternative prompts

A combination of the above

Q. Is [specific anything] allowed?

When in doubt: JUST DO IT!

Q. Do I have to do all 31 days?

Participate as much or little as you like! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.7, #radio silence). If you create works for 31 total theme days you will become a completionist. But apart from that, there are no repercussions if you don’t fill prompts for each day.

Q. Can I post early/late?

Yes, you can post whenever you want. We will only reblog posts during October, but you can use our prompts all year round. The day you post will only affect your probability of being reblogged.

Q. Will you reblog my post?

Due to the sheer number of content posted during Whumptober we can’t promise to reblog every single post. We will make a random selection trying to capture a wide variety of content. The following will increase your chances at being reblogged:

tag your post properly

post within 2-3 days of the theme you want to fill: if you fill the prompt for Day 1 your chances of being reblogged during October 1st to 3rd are highest and will go towards zero afterwards.

Q. What if I don’t understand a prompt/theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help with wild, unhelpful clarifications or brainstorming. That being said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation. Don’t take them too literally. For example: You can be choking on a cherry, someone else can choke you or you could be choked up on emotions, etc.

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gifset or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe.

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

Q. Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! You can post your own content wherever you like (or you can opt to not publish it at all). Additionally we’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. It can be accessed here. The tumblr blog @whumptober-archive is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle.

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes.

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the Whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If you’ve previously posted something that checks the boxes, we ask that you not include it retroactively for this current year. You can, however, add new chapters relating to one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, RPF, whoever you like. You can use the generic “whumpee” character or have specific ones.

Q. Does it have to take place in a specific fandom?

No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes, but it only counts once towards being a completionist.

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day’s prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

No, you can’t exchange prompts for different days. However, if all four prompts of a specific day make you uncomfortable, we have created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from. You can exchange any prompt with these, but please make sure not to use them twice.

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t have to (cross)post it to Tumblr or at all. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.  

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you.

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine.  The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit.

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst/emotional whump focus ok?

Of course! We are not going to establish a threshold for whumpiness. If you think it’s whumpy enough, then it’s whumpy enough. It can be physical, psychological, emotional, or any combination of the three.

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What is whump?

Typically the genre includes situations where a fictional character is hurt, be it emotionally, psychologically, or physically. Fanlore provides information here.

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn’t whumpy at all, does that count?

If you don’t think your interpretation is whumpy, then it doesn’t count for Whumptober. Remember that whump comes in many forms, though, and that we don’t have a whump-checker or a threshold for how much whump needs to be included. If you think your interpretation contains enough whump to count, then it does.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we post the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time” so feel free to start creating early!

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. #gore tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want. 

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the #whumptober2023 tag.

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, but please make sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies for whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord or come into our ask box.

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, use clear and descriptive tags.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

[polyamships]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: DCU Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne/Flatline, Jonathan Samuel Kent & Damian Wayne's Pets, Damian Wayne & Damian Wayne's Pets, Flatline & Damian Wayne's Pets Characters: Damian Wayne, Jonathan Kent, Flatline (DCU), Damian Wayne's Pets, Titus | Damian Wayne's Dog, Ace the Bat-Hound, Bat-Cow (DCU), Alfred the Cat (DCU) Additional Tags: One Shot, Fluff and Humor, Pets, Multiamory March Series: Part 5 of Deux n'est qu'un début Summary:

Damian présente ses animaux à ses deux petits-amis, Jon et Flatline.

[ailithnight]

DPxDC Prompt #7

Danny is a clone.

But not of Bruce. Nor Tim. Nor Damian, Jason, or Dick. Not Clark or Diana or any of those usual suspects.

No, no.

You see, when Ra's realized that he was running out of Pits to revive himself with, before he resorted to allowing Talia to give him a grandson with the Detective, Ra's tried to clone

Himself.

After all, who better to be his Heir(/Vessel to Possess) when this body ultimately fails him.

But he failed. Repeated use of the Lazarus Pits had done something to his DNA. Changed or degraded it. All of the clones were unstable from the start. None surviving past the embryonic stage.

All but one.

Ra's last attempt before deeming the project a failure developed all the way to standard 40 weeks before flatlining.

In a last ditch effort to salvage it, Ra's instructed for the clone to be dipped in the Pit. Only to have the Lazarus Waters rip the stillborn infant away and down down down into it's depths.

Immediately following that last failure, Ra's finally relented and gave Talia permission to inseminate herself and bear him an Heir of his and the Detective's blood.

.

Meanwhile, in the Infinite Realms, an Old Clock finds a mortal infant choking on his first living breaths through the Corrupted Ectoplasm in his lungs which gave him life and brought him here. The Ancient smiles. The Realms has chosen her next King. And what a Great One he shall be. Now the Time Keeper needs only deliver the infant where he needs to be to become who he must become.

[juneofdoom]

What up, whump fam?!

June of Doom 2024 Prompts!

We've brought back some old favorites/ popular prompts from last year with a healthy dash of new!

Please feel free to participate with original or fan works of any kind (writing, photos, gifs, mood boards, videos, songs, whatever creative medium your heart desires!). You can do one or all of the prompts on any given day, and if none are to your liking, check out the alternate prompts!

Two rules this year!

As with last year, tag your stuff with appropriate warnings, plzkthnx.

AI-created content is highly discouraged and frowned upon. I have no way of "checking", but I respect the time and effort people put into their crafts and encourage everyone to do the same. This isn't a contest for best written or prettiest art — it's a challenge, so challenge yourself.

[AO3 Collection] - "JUNEOFDOOM2024"

Text list below the cut for easier crossings-off. And don't forget to tag @juneofdoom so I can reblog your awesome here! Have fun!

“Help me.”                                        | Failed Escape | On the Run | Fetal Position |

“It didn’t have to be this way.”             | Scream | Double Cross | Made to Watch |

“Well, well, well…”                            | Hiding | Ambushed | Stalking |

“Does that hurt?”                               | Impalement | Fracture | Punishment |

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”                 | Bite | Swelling | Disfiguration |

“They don’t care about you.”               | Flinch | Broken Promise | Abandoned |

“What happened?”                            | Nightmare | Isolation | Stumbling |

“This is your last chance.”                    | Drowning | Chair | Prisoner Trade |

“I made a mistake.”                            | Accident | Acceptance | Blame |

“Can you hear me?”                           | Fear | Smoke | Phone Call |

“We’re out of time.”                           | Bleeding Out | Collapse | Flatline |

“I can’t stand seeing you like this.”        | Dehydration | Grief | Coma |

“Wait!”                                             | Sacrifice | Adrenaline | Cornered |

“What were you thinking?”                  | Surrender | Human Shield | Outmatched |

“Get me out of here!”                         | Rescue | Chainsaw | Presumed Dead |

“At least it can’t get any worse.”           | Secret | Stranded | Setback |

“You don’t want to do that.”                | Struggle | Blackmail | Desperate Measures |

“I’m fine.”                                         | Self-defense | Allergies | Headache |

“This can’t be happening!”                  | Sobbing | Straitjacket | Dissociation |

“I can handle it.”                                | Scrape | Panic Attack | Neglect |

“Let’s play a game. “                           | Stairs | Pressure Points | Trap Door |

“What’s the bad news?”                      | Poison | Bedridden | Cauterization |

“You’re doing great.”                         | Trembling | Gaslighting | Rules |

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”                  | Blankets | Stitches | Bandages |

“I should have listened to you.”           | Guilt | Backseat | Failure |

“Don’t lie to me.”                               | Rage | Choke | Paranoia |

“Or what?”                                       | Defiance | Display | Last Resort |

“Say something.”                               | Numb | Cold Shoulder | Gag |

“I’m so cold.”                                    | Delirium | Fever | Exposure |

“Breathe, damn you!”                         | Shock | Asphyxiation | Emergency Room |

ALTERNATE PROMPTS

“Who did this to you?”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not okay.”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“You poor thing.”

Attending Your Own Funeral

Broken Glass

Mask

Whip

Obedience