#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."

[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.

[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

[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.

[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!

[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.

[superscourge]

Resurrected AU [Masterpost]

What starts as a strange, unlikely alliance between Scourge and a mysteriously resurrected Infinite somehow turns into some kind of freaky sitcom situation where a bunch of previously-not-alive villains are all living under the same roof as a family!

[full masterpost under cut!]

General AU Tag (chrono order; includes everything from headcanons to art to extra info)

AO3 Fic

--

Characters involved in the AU (so far...):

Scourge the Hedgehog

Infinite the Jackal

Meta the Hedgehog (organic Metal Sonic)

Mephiles the Dark (given a mortal Mobian hedgehog body)

Iblis the Flame (given a mortal Mobian hedgehog body)

Flatline the Platypus (zombie Dr. Starline)

Solaris the Hedgehog (fusion of Mephiles and Iblis)

Julius the Hedgehog (zombie Anti-Jules Hedgehog)

Sonic the Hedgehog

Shadow the Hedgehog

Bangarang the Hedgehog (Scourge, Sonic, and Shadow's accidental chaos child)

Vacío the Jackalhog (Infinite and Mephiles' son)

Black Doom (given a mortal Mobian hedgehog body)

--

Character References (some need updating):

--

Major Plotpoints So Far:

Scourge "rescues" Infinite from a base built by Eggman Nega with the intention of using him to defeat Sonic, but Infinite quickly asserts his dominance over the situation; Scourge and Infinite agree to an alliance of sorts, but that eventually turns into a mutual familial bond, and they basically adopt each other as father and son figures

Meta (Metal Sonic given a Mobian hedgehog body by Dr. Eggman) discovers Scourge and Infinite and proceeds to be very antagonistic until they are shown kindness and hospitality; Scourge and Meta butt heads at first because Scourge is afraid Meta will replace him in his relationship with Infinite, but Infinite reassures Scourge that this won't happen, and Scourge learns to eventually see Meta as a younger sibling; Scourge, Meta, and Infinite proceed to move into Infinite's old abandoned family home

Scourge accidentally releases Mephiles from his prison after snatching the artifact he was trapped in that was pulled through time thanks to one of Eggman's machines; Mephiles uses Scourge's shadow to take his form, but due to the circumstances of him being out of his own timeline his form is unstable and he must remain close to Scourge in order to tether himself to the timeline; Meta takes interest in Mephiles from a scientific standpoint and decides to study him while Mephiles proceeds to quite dramatically be a nuisance in the three's lives, especially Infinite's; Mephiles eventually takes Infinite's form to mock him but in doing so he becomes weakened, which prompts Meta to suggest he be given his own mortal body as well; Mephiles is given a body and leaves for a short period of time before returning and properly integrating himself into the family because of his attachment to Meta (and Meta's to him); Mephiles and Infinite discover they have feelings for each other despite everything

Flatline pulls Iblis from Mephiles' timeline into theirs and gives her a mortal Mobian hedgehog form like Mephiles' in order to distract Mephiles enough to where he can get at Infinite's Phantom Ruby, except he botched the process and made her body unstable; Mephiles ruins Flatline's plans by rejecting Iblis in the moment in order to save his current family, but he quickly returns to reassure her that he isn't going anywhere and invites her to join them instead; Iblis agrees because of her love for Mephiles, and Flatline is forced to stay with them as well to work with Meta to stabilize Iblis' body; Flatline eventually grows fond of the family despite his initial ulterior motives, and he decides to stay for real even after Iblis is stabilized; Infinite, Mephiles, and Iblis become a triad after Mephiles reassures Infinite that his feelings for him have not changed even with Iblis in the picture now; Mephiles and Iblis discover they can still fuse into Solaris, just in hedgehog form, and they can also unfuse at will

Flatline discovers Julius (Scourge's late father) was revived similarly to how he was revived--wild chaos energy--and pulled across space into their world; Julius stays with the family but everyone kind of hates his guts because they know about how he used to treat Scourge and why Scourge took his life; eventually Scourge confronts Julius and tells him the full and honest truth about how he feels and has always felt, which finally puts things into perspective for Julius; Julius and Scourge slowly but surely begin to mend their relationship

Sonic runs into Scourge one day and discovers Infinite is back, but upon seeing how neither of them care to get into it with him, he becomes curious and decides to talk to Scourge one-on-one for a while, slowly discovering how much Scourge has changed thanks to his living situation; Sonic and Scourge eventually develop feelings for each other, but Sonic makes a point to make sure Scourge knows Shadow will be involved as well, which ends up not being a huge issue for neither Scourge nor Shadow, and the three of them also become a triad

Scourge, Sonic, and Shadow accidentally create a baby when a giant explosion of their combined chaos energy happens during a high-speed race; they name the child Bangarang (or Bang for short) and proceed to raise them together, with Bang staying at Scourge's place for the majority of the time as Sonic and Shadow don't really have a solid housing situation; Mephiles sees Bang and suggests to Infinite that they have a similar child, and when he agrees, they combine their essences using the Phantom Ruby and Mephiles' god powers to create a jackalhog named Moon; Moon and Bang grow up alongside each other, and Moon eventually renames himself to Vacío to honor Infinite; Bang slowly discovers his Doom powers as they part Black Arms like Shadow, and while they have an easy time wrangling those, Vacío struggles with his Phantom Ruby abilities that he inherited from Infinite

Eggman revives Black Doom by giving him a Mobian hedgehog body like he did with Meta, with the intention of using him against Sonic and Shadow; Black Doom only complies with the intention of getting revenge on Shadow and possibly forcing him over to his side finally; Black Doom manages to shake up Scourge's family by subtly and slowly manipulating Scourge, and eventually this leads to Black Doom full-on controlling Scourge's mind; Sonic, Shadow, and the rest of Scourge's family are able to break him free from Black Doom's control in the end

--

Possible Future Plotpoints:

Mephiles and Iblis have a child, as well as Infinite and the collective Solaris

Some kind of family thing with Black Doom and Shadow (I can't help myself lol. we ball)

--

Extra Important Tidbits:

Meta uses they/them pronouns at first, but later realizes she feels happiest when referred to in a feminine way

The entire family hates that Scourge is dating Sonic and Shadow, but they begrudgingly support him because their love for him is stronger than their hatred for Sonic and Shadow

Mephiles and Iblis remember Sonic and Shadow, and Sonic remembers them, but nobody else remembers them as they are from an erased timeline

Iblis is indifferent towards Sonic and Shadow, whereas Mephiles heavily dislikes them both

Infinite is closer to Mephiles than he is with Iblis, but the three of them are still a very solid and healthy polyamorous relationship

The AU takes place a while into the future; Scourge is 23 at the start of the AU, Meta is 22, and Infinite is 37

--

That's all I have for now! I have a fic version slowly being written as well as a potential comic version (hopefully). This is an ongoing, still-developing AU that just keeps growing, so things may be changed/added/removed as time goes on! :) I hope you stick around to see what unfolds! <3

[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

[eldritchships]

if you're doin em for drabbles - ❓ - "is this what you want?" with BlurrLine? 👀

On my hands and knees. I truly don't know what happened here, I think I got possessed.

❓ - "Is this what you want?"

This was a terrible idea.

Blurr’s been pacing this rooftop for hours, enough to practically leave his tire treads in his wake. He’d sent the invitation before midday, in what he’s now decided with increasing insistence was a state of delirium. And/or his central processor blowing a fuse. Or maybe some warped sense of survivor’s guilt. The point is that it’s now well past evening, well past the time he had listed on the invitation for them to meet. If anyone is going to show up, Blurr thinks as he stops to vigorously tap his pede.

Maybe he should give up and go inside, maybe it’s best that he take this as a sign to forget about this stupid idea, to forget about him. Maybe the invitation hadn’t gone through at all - Blurr had put it through half a dozen layers of encryption to ensure no-one else could possibly get their servos on it. Maybe he’s not coming and Blurr’s standing around on this roof for nothing. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Blurr’s audio receptors catch on the rumble of a jet engine, quiet but getting closer. His helm snaps up to the dark sky; his body’s first instinct is to seize up for action, but then a rush of relief, joy and apprehension flood over his spark. The jet’s shape is less sharp than a usual Decepticon’s, he recognises the wingtips. The most telling clue of all is when the jet banks and gently curves down towards the rooftop, and the soft light fixtures illuminate a pink and blue paint job.

Blurr steps back, feeling like his fuel pump is in his throat as the jet transforms, plating shifting in a fluid turn of gears and actuators. Turbines whip up a small whirlwind which disturbs the scenery, and Blurr raises an arm, protecting his faceplate. The pink Decepticon lands a few feet before Blurr, wings clicking into place on his back.

They stare at each other for a long moment, two sets of blue optics that don’t dare look away. The Decepticon - Flatline, who really came and accepted the invitation and is here - tilts his helm lower, a breathing mask retracting from his faceplate to reveal a set and sceptical frown.

“You came, I almost can’t believe it I mean it wasn’t the safest course of action and in fact there was a noticeable element of danger to coming but you did and I was beginning to think you wouldn’t.” There’s a smile on the corners of Blurr’s lips even though his servos are shaking. Flatline glances over his shoulder pauldron and ducks further into the rooftop seating area, hoping no-one managed to see him arrive.

“I didn’t expect to see you again.” Flatline’s voice is more controlled than usual. Away from any prying Autobot optics, Flatline circles Blurr; Blurr doesn’t miss how he’s keeping a distance, taking an assessment, gauging the situation. He must be expecting a trap. It’s a clever deduction, and Blurr expected the same. Blurr shifts, doing a slow spin so he can keep Flatline in view. That lilting voice is still hanging in his processor, but Flatline is still a Decepticon, and Blurr is a well-trained intelligence agent.

“I didn’t expect to see you either after the ship and what you did both to me and for me the former of which I’m still sore about by the way, you’re lucky that I was given a healthy diagnostic once the medibots gave me the once-over.” Blurr places a servo on his hip, giving a firm glare to make a point. Flatline slows to a stop, and a chuckle escapes his lips. Blurr straightens, his spark flip-flopping in its chamber at the sound.

“There shouldn’t be any long-lasting damage from anything I gave you.” Another helm tilt, to the side this time, and amusement plays on the guarded look in his optics. Lovely, shining blue optics- “Is that all you called me here for? Verification on your check-up?”

“No no no of course not.” Blurr shakes his helm quickly. He glances across their surroundings; a comfortable seating area for the tenants of the building’s habitation suites, lit with soft lamps dotted above the different benches and chairs. The current time of night gives everything a cosy and secluded atmosphere, one that might be more perfect than his original plan. Flatline’s question hangs unanswered, and Blurr chews on it for a second longer, averting his optics. The Decepticon’s wings twitch higher, slightly more flared. “I just wanted to talk to you again I suppose, I have questions and I didn’t trust trying to relay them to you over encrypted messages that might be found by someone else. I couldn’t get you out of my helm and trust me I tried and tried and tried but I couldn’t take it anymore I had to see you again.”

Flatline brightens, although it seems like he tries not to.

“You…missed me?” It’s barely even a question. Blurr crosses his arms, which causes Flatline to hazard a single step closer towards him. Ah, Blurr had almost forgotten about that; how Flatline always found it amusing and ‘cute’ when he gets fluster- defensive. He doesn’t reiterate how true it is that he could hardly think about anything else except this moment for the whole cycle. Instead, he uncrosses his arms to gesture in invitation to the bench closest to the two of them. Flatline’s optics flick between the bench and to Blurr, but he stalks over and takes a seat, folding one leg over the other. Blurr is quick to join him.

Blurr sets his servos on his knees, a digit tapping rapidly against the blue metal. He can feel Flatline’s attention closely on him, roaming up and down over his form, and he resists the urge to squirm. Instead, he goes for the spark of the matter; the burning question that’s been bothering him for weeks.

“Why did you help me escape? You never explained why and it doesn’t make any sense to me why you would stick out your neck cabling to release a prisoner, especially not when I’m an Autobot and you’re a De-”

“The same reason I kissed you.” Flatline cuts him off, talking over the word Blurr was about to say next. His pauldrons relax, and his voice calms from the bite it temporarily had, “....Twice.”

“Three times.” Blurr corrects, holding up the same number of digits.

“At least one of those times was initiated by you.” Flatline insists with raised brows. Blurr sits straighter, puffing out his chestplate with a huff. The corners of Flatline’s lips start to curl, primed and ready to retort to whatever Blurr says next in defence. He’s arrogant, too clever for his own good, cocky, and it gives Blurr a rush of warmth that could be either anger or affection. As a result, all he does is deflate, and stare at Flatline as he grumbles under his breath. Flatline cracks a full smile, and pats the servo Blurr has tapping his knee. It’s hardly a consolation, but at least the pink medibot’s attention drifts away - he sits back, helm tilting up to look at the night sky. That’s right, Blurr remembers, optics widening slightly, The first Cybertronian sky Flatline’s seen in eons. He’s been cooped up in ‘Con laboratories all this time, and from the soft sigh that leaves his lips, you’d think he’d been left starving without the pinpricks of light dotting the dark backdrop. Blurr doesn’t dare move to disturb the vision sitting next to him. Flatline looks pretty like this, with the lamplight shining on the curves of his pink frame, and oh so tempting…especially when Blurr isn’t being held captive. His gaze follows over Flatline’s form, but it lingers on the syringe built into his arm, and Blurr is hit with a cold reminder of the danger to this reckless idea.

A frown sours Blurr’s features, and he clears his throat. Flatline’s helm snaps back down to look at him, just fast enough to make Blurr tense. His vocaliser seizes, but he forces it to reset.

“See the fact of the matter is you and I clearly have some affection for each other based on our prior poor calls in judgement and I thought that might have gone away on its own but it hasn’t. I really really really must have caught some form of malware because all day every day for the last few weeks I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” His expression softens into something close to anguish, shaking his helm as he blurts out a confession he wishes he had practised more. The ground unfortunately doesn’t seem like it’s going to do him a favour and swallow him anytime soon. “The reason I sent you an invitation and found the most private location to meet is because despite knowing this is dangerous beyond measure and will likely end in one or both of us being killed, I couldn’t bear not being able to see you again in person.”

He points his optics at the floor and keeps them there, refusing to look at Flatline. A unbearably long moment of silence passes, and Blurr’s servos fidget in his lap. He’s tempted immediately to start denying everything, say it was a joke or a deception and run as fast as he can out of the building. Surely, this is where Flatline laughs at him, and then impales him clean through and disposes of a loose end.

Flatline shifts. Blurr braces himself. Flatline scoots closer towards him on the bench, and slowly, ventures taking one of Blurr’s servos in his own. Blurr’s helm shoots up to look at him, watching as Flatline raises their interwoven digits. The look on his faceplace isn’t mocking, he looks flattered, and a little smug.

“Freedom looks good on you.” He presses a kiss to Blurr’s knuckle-joints, optics half-lidded and fixed on Blurr as he does so. Blurr’s cooling fans click on, sounding louder in the otherwise peaceful space, and he quickly straightens and paws at his own plating, trying to shut them off. Flatline chuckles, and releases the servo he’s holding. He shifts closer again, and starts to lean in. Blurr stops trying to manually disable his own internal systems and freezes entirely, although his processor is running faster than he ever could with a million whirring thoughts and hesitations. His servos hang in the air, unsure where to put themselves as Flatline cups his cheek. His helm tugs away slightly in the soft touch on impulse, and Flatline pauses. Blue optics watch Blurr intently.

“Is this what you want? Really?” Flatline’s thumb-digit brushes over his cheek. Blurr searches his faceplate. It’s so close, so close Blurr could move just a little bit forward and break the remaining distance so easily. His engine revs, and rumbles steadily to match the high-pitched noise he makes while his focus grapples with having Flatline’s lips so close to his own.

“Yes, yes yes please.” Blurr breathes. Flatline surges forward and kisses him. All at once Blurr is swept away by a tidal wave, washed over by delight and terror in equal measure and sparks are sent shooting through his entire circuitry. This is an awful idea and he knows that but his servos clutch onto Flatline as if his life depends on it. Flatline moves again until they’re flush against each other, kissing underneath the stars and soft lamplight above.

Blurr can kick himself for this decision later. Right now, his spark feels so full it might burst, and he’s too enraptured by Flatline’s intoxicating presence to think about ‘later’.