#tw: near-death experiences

[indulgentdaydream]

Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)

anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.

Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.

Out of the Bag

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.

Word Count: 1,862

Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use

You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.

“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.

That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.

You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.

“Princess,” he sounded panicked.

Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”

You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”

The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.

You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”

He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.

That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.

You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.

You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.

He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”

You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.

Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.

He’ll apologize when you wake up.

When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.

No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.

His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.

Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.

“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”

Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.

That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”

Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”

Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.

There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”

“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”

Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.

Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.

He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”

A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we’ve never been introduced?”

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”

Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.

He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.

Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.

He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.

The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.

There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.

Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.

“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.

Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”

Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”

Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”

Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”

A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”

Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.

“Are they seriously listening right now?”

Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”

Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”

Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”

Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.

Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”

“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”

“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“

“What’s going on…?”

Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”

“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.

Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.

You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”

Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”

“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”

Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”

You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.

From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.

“Out!”

Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”

[fruitbythefoot7]

bylerween day 7: season 5 era, shiver (ish)

michael.

@bylerween

[pincushionx]

“Failed assassination attempt”

Cw, Blood

(Click on image for higher quality)

I’d imagine there was all sorts of assassination attempts in the emperors coven, including on the Golden Guard, but our boy is very much alive by the end of the series, so that means he came out alive in the end, victorious. Too bad victory can be quite messy.

I’ve basically become the Hunter angst artist at this point lol. I love torturing this boy. (I’ve been watching invincible and I’m crafting all sorts of ideas ^u^)

This was timed very weirdly

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Your Storm is My Storm

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader Summary: Is it possible to have trauma from an event you didn't actually experience? You never thought so, but now you are tormented nightly after witnessing Tyler's near death. Luckily, he's there to comfort you and remind you that he made it back to you, and that he's not going anywhere. Word Count: 1976 TW: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death (but not really), Dealing with PTSD, Storm-Related Peril Notes: Huge thank you to @blue-aconite for encouraging me and reading this over, and to @mayhem24-7forever for reminding me to stop doubting myself and just write it already 💕

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

You are standing in the middle of a vast grass field wearing a white cotton dress that billows wildly in the increasing wind. Across the field heading in your direction, you see an oh-so-familiar red Dodge Ram bucking and crashing over the uneven dirt. Even though you are several hundred feet away and the wind whips around with a deafening roar, you hear Tyler whooping loudly, the joyful sound as clear as day in your ears. 

Then, suddenly, you are in the backseat of the truck, watching as Boone leans back to get a better angle of Tyler with his camera. Shifting his focus away from the plain in front of him for a minute, Tyler looks at Boone and gives another rowdy shout before clicking a button on the dashboard. The truck bolts forward at a break-neck speed, heading directly for the dark swirling funnel forming in front of them. 

You try to warn them, to call out and tell them to turn around before it’s too late, but even though you can feel the screams tearing at your throat, not a sound passes from your lips. You lean forward and pull at Tyler’s arm, your fingers digging into his sleeve so deeply that you are sure you are tearing into his skin, silently pleading, begging him to stop. And yet he doesn’t react. 

Tears are streaming down your face as the truck nears the tornado and skids to a stop. The edge of the storm is licking at the front bumper. Tyler grins at Boone, giving a quick wink to the camera, and says, “Here we go!”

He reaches forward and flips a switch on the center console—and nothing happens. 

For a moment, that cocky grin stays on Tyler’s face but then the realization of what didn’t happen snaps his attention back to the switch. He jiggles it a few times but still nothing. The storm is even closer now, the entire vehicle shaking as the intensity of the winds grows.

Tyler glances at his co-pilot. “Boone…the augers aren’t going down.”

Boone lowers the camera, an instant sign that something is wrong. Though the feed is still live, the shot now only shows the steering wheel and out the windshield of the truck. Occasionally, Tyler’s hands pop into frame as he frantically tries to get the switch to work. Even from your place in the back seat, Boone and Tyler’s voices can barely be heard over the roar of the wind but their tones are panicked and tense. Nothing they are doing gets the augers to work and by this point they are too close to the storm to drive out of it. You squeeze your eyes closed, cover your ears with your hands, and curl up in your seat—you can’t watch what happens next. Not again. 

Just as the wall of wind passes over the grille of the truck and the front tires raise slightly off the ground, Tyler grabs the camera from Boone’s lap and turns it towards his face. His usually bronzed skin is pale in the growing darkness and there is a fear in his eyes that has never been there before while chasing a storm. Yelling loudly to be heard over the roar of the wind, he screams, “Baby, if you’re watching this, I love you with everything in me, and I’m so sorr—”

He is interrupted as the truck tilts backward 90 degrees and the camera slips from his hands, flying past you and smashing into the back window, cracking them both. The last thing the camera streams is the sound of Tyler and Boone’s screams.

In the blink of an eye, you are once again standing in the field far from the truck. It is now lying upside-down and, for a brief moment, you see Tyler struggling to drag himself out of the driver’s side window, one arm hanging limp and useless at his side. He raises his head, blood streaming down one side of his face, and, somehow, his eyes find yours across the distance.

Then the truck explodes and Tyler disappears into a ball of fire and smoke.

“NO!” you wail, sound finally bursting from your mouth only to be lost in the blast of the explosion. Tears stream down your face as you collapse to your hands and knees, your forehead pressing into the wet dirt. The heat from the fire washes over you and you struggle to breathe as your sobs rattle in your chest and the smoke fills your lungs but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.

Lifting your head, you blink through your tears and the smoke. When they clear, you see the twisted metal frame of the truck and the skeletal, charred remains of the man that you loved.

You let out a blood-curdling shriek—

“Hey, hey, baby…..” Hands grab at you, trying to hold you down as you thrash wildly. Another anguished scream rips from your lips even as you hear a voice pleading with you, “Wake up…please. Baby, it’s okay. I’m alright—we’re both alright. I promise. I’m here. Just please wake up for me.”

The voice finally breaks through the storm of emotions raging through your mind, and as you recognize it, your eyes shoot open to see a face you thought you’d never see again looming over you. “T-Tyler…” you manage to breathe, your lip quivering in disbelief as you reach up, fingers brushing against his mouth. 

He nods, pursing his lips to kiss your fingertips, some of the desperation and fear on his face melting into relief as he runs his hand over the top of your hair. “Shhh, it’s okay. You just had the dream again.”

“W-what?” 

As your eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, you see that you are lying on your bed in the apartment you shared with Tyler back in Arkansas. You aren’t in Oklahoma. There is no tornado. Tyler is alive and well. 

It had all been a dream……but the problem was, that’s only partially true. 

Last month, the auger system on Tyler’s truck had failed and Tyler and Boone were caught in the storm as the truck flipped over. However, the truck, thankfully, hadn’t exploded like in your dream. Tyler had fractured his arm and got a shallow gash on his head while Boone had broken his nose, but otherwise, the two had walked away from the incident relatively unharmed. 

However, the same couldn’t be said for you. While you hadn’t been with them in person, you had been watching the Storm Wrangler’s live feed as everything happened and that experience alone had been enough to cause these nearly nightly terrors. That moment when the camera had broken and the last thing you heard was Tyler screaming in fear and pain had been the most horrible moment of your life, one which dragged out for several hours until Tyler could reach you and confirm he was alright. And now you were being forced to relive it night after night after night. 

Alternating waves of relief, exhaustion, and despair begin to wash over you. Though you had been momentarily comforted seeing Tyler’s face, the reminder that you are caught in this seemingly neverending torture loop causes tears to once again begin streaming down your face.

After weeks of going through the same cycle of you waking up terrified only to realize what was happening, Tyler is used to this reaction. He murmurs, “Come here, baby,” before scooping you into his arms and holding you tightly against him.

You rest your head against his bare chest, but the steady beat of his heart that had once brought you such comfort and calm now only serves as a reminder that you had watched him die over and over again. It hadn’t been real, yet you felt that loss at the moment, and that pain still hung over you like a shroud even as you lay wrapped in his arms. 

“Ty, I can’t do this anymore,” you whimper, your fingers digging into his arm which only brings you back to the moment in your dream you begged him to turn the truck around. “I can't sleep and those pills the doctor gave me aren't helping. Every time I close my eyes I see you—” You break down into a sob, burying your face deeper into his chest as that horrific last image of Tyler from your dream flashes in your mind.

You can feel him taking a few, deep, shuddering breaths and it breaks your heart as you realize he’s trying to keep himself from breaking down from seeing you like this. He was the one who actually went through the near-death experience, and yet here he was comforting you every night. It wasn’t fair–to either of you–and you wonder how much more he will take before he throws in the towel, leaving you to face this on your own. Honestly, part of you is surprised he hasn’t left yet.

But he’s here tonight. And as he presses his lips to the top of your head, he whispers, “God, baby, I'm so sorry.”

Shaking your head against his chest, you cry, “It's not your fault.”

“The hell it isn't.”

You shake your head again. “You've told me not to watch your live stuff just in case something like this happened. It was my fault–”

“No,” Tyler stops you, grasping your damp cheeks between his calloused palms and tilting your head to face his. Oddly, the rough skin of his hands feels soothing, familiar, and you start to feel more grounded in the reality of the moment. For the first time tonight, you feel the dream starting to lose its hold on you. 

Rubbing his thumb softly across your cheekbone, he looks you straight in the eyes and firmly says, “No…None of this is your fault. I knew there had been problems with the augers but instead of waiting to test them, I went out anyway. What happened out there and how it's tormenting you is my fault and no one else’s. Do you understand me? You did nothing wrong.” You start to look away but he squeezes your face tighter, causing you to look back at him. “Tell me you know that.”

“I guess,” you whisper. Then, stronger, you say, “But Ty, it doesn’t matter. Whoever’s fault it was, or even if it was nobody’s fault, it doesn’t change the fact this keeps happening. And I don’t know how to live the rest of my life like this.”

“It won’t be the rest of your life. You’ll get past this, I promise,” he says, releasing your cheeks to run his hands across your shoulders and down your arms until he is holding your hands in his. Squeezing them tightly, he adds, “Eventually, every storm passes. We just have to hold on tight and don't give up until that happens.”

Your voice breaks as you ask, “...‘We’?”

“Yeah, of course ‘we’.” His eyes darken under a furrowed brow. “Wait…do you really think I’d let you go through this on your own?”

You shrug one shoulder. “It’s a lot. And it’s not your storm to weather.” 

“Baby, your storm is my storm. And I’m going to hold you so tightly during it and never let you go, whatever it takes. Then once it passes—because it will given time—I’m still going to be right there next to you for whatever comes next.” He leans forward until his forehead is leaning against yours. “You’re never getting rid of me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You aren’t sure how long the two of you remain like that, hand-in-hand with heads pressed together. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. But all you know is that Tyler is with you and, at least for tonight, that’s enough.

Eventually, in the darkness together, you whisper, “Let's go to sleep.”

Tagging a few people who might be interested: @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @blue-aconite, @hederasgarden, @writercole, @ryebecca, @heart-0n-fire, @nerdysuperchick, @ohtobeleah, @slightly-psycho-multifan, @sunlightmurdock

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Your Storm is My Storm

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader Summary: Is it possible to have trauma from an event you didn't actually experience? You never thought so, but now you are tormented nightly after witnessing Tyler's near death. Luckily, he's there to comfort you and remind you that he made it back to you, and that he's not going anywhere. Word Count: 1976 TW: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death (but not really), Dealing with PTSD, Storm-Related Peril

You are standing in the middle of a vast grass field wearing a white cotton dress that billows wildly in the increasing wind. Across the field heading in your direction, you see an oh-so-familiar red Dodge Ram bucking and crashing over the uneven dirt. Even though you are several hundred feet away and the wind whips around with a deafening roar, you hear Tyler whooping loudly, the joyful sound as clear as day in your ears. 

Then, suddenly, you are in the backseat of the truck, watching as Boone leans back to get a better angle of Tyler with his camera. Shifting his focus away from the plain in front of him for a minute, Tyler looks at Boone and gives another rowdy shout before clicking a button on the dashboard. The truck bolts forward at a break-neck speed, heading directly for the dark swirling funnel forming in front of them. 

You try to warn them, to call out and tell them to turn around before it’s too late, but even though you can feel the screams tearing at your throat, not a sound passes from your lips. You lean forward and pull at Tyler’s arm, your fingers digging into his sleeve so deeply that you are sure you are tearing into his skin, silently pleading, begging him to stop. And yet he doesn’t react. 

Tears are streaming down your face as the truck nears the tornado and skids to a stop. The edge of the storm is licking at the front bumper. Tyler grins at Boone, giving a quick wink to the camera, and says, “Here we go!”

He reaches forward and flips a switch on the center console—and nothing happens. 

For a moment, that cocky grin stays on Tyler’s face but then the realization of what didn’t happen snaps his attention back to the switch. He jiggles it a few times but still nothing. The storm is even closer now, the entire vehicle shaking as the intensity of the winds grows.

Tyler glances at his co-pilot. “Boone…the augers aren’t going down.”

Boone lowers the camera, an instant sign that something is wrong. Though the feed is still live, the shot now only shows the steering wheel and out the windshield of the truck. Occasionally, Tyler’s hands pop into frame as he frantically tries to get the switch to work. Even from your place in the back seat, Boone and Tyler’s voices can barely be heard over the roar of the wind but their tones are panicked and tense. Nothing they are doing gets the augers to work and by this point they are too close to the storm to drive out of it. You squeeze your eyes closed, cover your ears with your hands, and curl up in your seat—you can’t watch what happens next. Not again. 

Just as the wall of wind passes over the grille of the truck and the front tires raise slightly off the ground, Tyler grabs the camera from Boone’s lap and turns it towards his face. His usually bronzed skin is pale in the growing darkness and there is a fear in his eyes that has never been there before while chasing a storm. Yelling loudly to be heard over the roar of the wind, he screams, “Baby, if you’re watching this, I love you with everything in me, and I’m so sorr—”

He is interrupted as the truck tilts backward 90 degrees and the camera slips from his hands, flying past you and smashing into the back window, cracking them both. The last thing the camera streams is the sound of Tyler and Boone’s screams.

In the blink of an eye, you are once again standing in the field far from the truck. It is now lying upside-down and, for a brief moment, you see Tyler struggling to drag himself out of the driver’s side window, one arm hanging limp and useless at his side. He raises his head, blood streaming down one side of his face, and, somehow, his eyes find yours across the distance.

Then the truck explodes and Tyler disappears into a ball of fire and smoke.

“NO!” you wail, sound finally bursting from your mouth only to be lost in the blast of the explosion. Tears stream down your face as you collapse to your hands and knees, your forehead pressing into the wet dirt. The heat from the fire washes over you and you struggle to breathe as your sobs rattle in your chest and the smoke fills your lungs but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.

Lifting your head, you blink through your tears and the smoke. When they clear, you see the twisted metal frame of the truck and the skeletal, charred remains of the man that you loved.

You let out a blood-curdling shriek—

“Hey, hey, baby…..” Hands grab at you, trying to hold you down as you thrash wildly. Another anguished scream rips from your lips even as you hear a voice pleading with you, “Wake up…please. Baby, it’s okay. I’m alright—we’re both alright. I promise. I’m here. Just please wake up for me.”

The voice finally breaks through the storm of emotions raging through your mind, and as you recognize it, your eyes shoot open to see a face you thought you’d never see again looming over you. “T-Tyler…” you manage to breathe, your lip quivering in disbelief as you reach up, fingers brushing against his mouth. 

He nods, pursing his lips to kiss your fingertips, some of the desperation and fear on his face melting into relief as he runs his hand over the top of your hair. “Shhh, it’s okay. You just had the dream again.”

“W-what?” 

As your eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, you see that you are lying on your bed in the apartment you shared with Tyler back in Arkansas. You aren’t in Oklahoma. There is no tornado. Tyler is alive and well. 

It had all been a dream……but the problem was, that’s only partially true. 

Last month, the auger system on Tyler’s truck had failed and Tyler and Boone were caught in the storm as the truck flipped over. However, the truck, thankfully, hadn’t exploded like in your dream. Tyler had fractured his arm and got a shallow gash on his head while Boone had broken his nose, but otherwise, the two had walked away from the incident relatively unharmed. 

However, the same couldn’t be said for you. While you hadn’t been with them in person, you had been watching the Storm Wrangler’s live feed as everything happened and that experience alone had been enough to cause these nearly nightly terrors. That moment when the camera had broken and the last thing you heard was Tyler screaming in fear and pain had been the most horrible moment of your life, one which dragged out for several hours until Tyler could reach you and confirm he was alright. And now you were being forced to relive it night after night after night. 

Alternating waves of relief, exhaustion, and despair begin to wash over you. Though you had been momentarily comforted seeing Tyler’s face, the reminder that you are caught in this seemingly neverending torture loop causes tears to once again begin streaming down your face.

After weeks of going through the same cycle of you waking up terrified only to realize what was happening, Tyler is used to this reaction. He murmurs, “Come here, baby,” before scooping you into his arms and holding you tightly against him.

You rest your head against his bare chest, but the steady beat of his heart that had once brought you such comfort and calm now only serves as a reminder that you had watched him die over and over again. It hadn’t been real, yet you felt that loss at the moment, and that pain still hung over you like a shroud even as you lay wrapped in his arms. 

“Ty, I can’t do this anymore,” you whimper, your fingers digging into his arm which only brings you back to the moment in your dream you begged him to turn the truck around. “I can't sleep and those pills the doctor gave me aren't helping. Every time I close my eyes I see you—” You break down into a sob, burying your face deeper into his chest as that horrific last image of Tyler from your dream flashes in your mind.

You can feel him taking a few, deep, shuddering breaths and it breaks your heart as you realize he’s trying to keep himself from breaking down from seeing you like this. He was the one who actually went through the near-death experience, and yet here he was comforting you every night. It wasn’t fair–to either of you–and you wonder how much more he will take before he throws in the towel, leaving you to face this on your own. Honestly, part of you is surprised he hasn’t left yet.

But he’s here tonight. And as he presses his lips to the top of your head, he whispers, “God, baby, I'm so sorry.”

Shaking your head against his chest, you cry, “It's not your fault.”

“The hell it isn't.”

You shake your head again. “You've told me not to watch your live stuff just in case something like this happened. It was my fault–”

“No,” Tyler stops you, grasping your damp cheeks between his calloused palms and tilting your head to face his. Oddly, the rough skin of his hands feels soothing, familiar, and you start to feel more grounded in the reality of the moment. For the first time tonight, you feel the dream starting to lose its hold on you. 

Rubbing his thumb softly across your cheekbone, he looks you straight in the eyes and firmly says, “No…None of this is your fault. I knew there had been problems with the augers but instead of waiting to test them, I went out anyway. What happened out there and how it's tormenting you is my fault and no one else’s. Do you understand me? You did nothing wrong.” You start to look away but he squeezes your face tighter, causing you to look back at him. “Tell me you know that.”

“I guess,” you whisper. Then, stronger, you say, “But Ty, it doesn’t matter. Whoever’s fault it was, or even if it was nobody’s fault, it doesn’t change the fact this keeps happening. And I don’t know how to live the rest of my life like this.”

“It won’t be the rest of your life. You’ll get past this, I promise,” he says, releasing your cheeks to run his hands across your shoulders and down your arms until he is holding your hands in his. Squeezing them tightly, he adds, “Eventually, every storm passes. We just have to hold on tight and don't give up until that happens.”

Your voice breaks as you ask, “...‘We’?”

“Yeah, of course ‘we’.” His eyes darken under a furrowed brow. “Wait…do you really think I’d let you go through this on your own?”

You shrug one shoulder. “It’s a lot. And it’s not your storm to weather.” 

“Baby, your storm is my storm. And I’m going to hold you so tightly during it and never let you go, whatever it takes. Then once it passes—because it will given time—I’m still going to be right there next to you for whatever comes next.” He leans forward until his forehead is leaning against yours. “You’re never getting rid of me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You aren’t sure how long the two of you remain like that, hand-in-hand with heads pressed together. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. But all you know is that Tyler is with you and, at least for tonight, that’s enough.

Eventually, in the darkness together, you whisper, “Let's go to sleep.”

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1302

The whole ‘limbo moment where the whumpee sees a dead loved one who tells them they have to stay alive etc’ is touching and all, but what if the loved one was more aggressive?

Whumpee: “Am I dead? [Loved One] it’s so good to see you - I’ve missed you so mu-“

Loved One: “What on earth do you think you’re playing at? Get the hell back down there!”

Whumpee: “But- but it’s so painful.”

Loved One: *slaps whumpee*

Whumpee: “The hell was that for?!”

Loved One: “And now it hurts up here. Get back down there, you idiot, you’ve got people waiting for you. I’ll still be here when your time comes.”

[adrift-in-thyme]

Febuwhump Day 12: Semiconscious (Warriors & Time)

Ao3

CW for poisoning, vomiting, blood and injury, and a near death experience

————————————

He stopped seeing clearly long ago.

His surroundings are no longer distinctive shapes. No, they are mere colors now, smeared and edged in the glare of lantern light. It is as though someone poured oil out on the street and left it to be trampled.

Warriors stumbles over something substantial and nonexistent. Another wheezing breath tears out of his lungs. Everything tips sideways and he goes with it, tripping over his own feet. He collides with a lamp post, frightens a blurred figure, garners murmurs of “inebriated” and “not right in the mind.”

He doesn’t care. Not much is bothersome, he’s quickly realizing, when you can’t breathe.

Wildly, he glances around. The buildings lean right, then left, their glowing windows seeming to leer at him. The inn…he has to find it. That is where his brothers await, that is where he can get help.

Warriors gulps in air and gains nothing from it. The ground tilts. He goes down, bile rising in his throat. He has already vomited up everything his stomach contained. But his body is desperate, desperate to rid itself of whatever is killing him.

So, it tries again.

He comes up feeling no less dizzy, no less sick. If anything, it is worse now. When he shoves to his feet, his vision goes abruptly dark. For a moment, he is certain that this is it. This is when he collapses, surrendering to the bitter embrace of oblivion. But then it screams back into a mirage of shifting shapes and nauseating shades of vibrancy.

“Captain?”

Warriors blinks rapidly. Someone is standing before him – a woman he thinks. The visible edges of her expression convey worry.

“Are you well?”

He grins and it feels wrong. Lopsided, clumsy, sharp…a grimace more than anything else.

“Not to worry. ‘M fine.”

“Oh.” She frowns now. Or at least, he thinks that she does. Drunk, her silence screams. Irresponsible. “O-oh alright, then. Goodnight to you.”

It’s good a thing, his mind assures him, as Warriors gazes dazedly at her retreating form.

It’s a good thing that they think you’ve drank too much. Better than them knowing. Safer.

…yeah. Safer.

He is certain he’s going to be sick again. His lungs rise and fall, and nothing comes of their efforts. The ground churns like the sea in Wind’s Hyrule. If only it were warm here like it is on that beautiful beach. But no. Here it is icy cold.

He shivers, stops the failure of his equilibrium with a nearby wall.

Just find them. Find…find your brothers.

Darkness tinges his vision again, spreading like an ink blot on cloth. It grows from left to right, and he lists sideways, drifting towards it. Something catches his boot on the way over. He stumbles, fails to catch himself, crashes down in a tangle of long limbs and thick fabric.

“Oh, look what we’ve got here!”

Giant forms move in the borders of his waning sight. Warriors stares up at them, icy heat prickling the back of his neck and head. Everything smells and tastes of iron. Everything hurts.

“It’s the princess’s favorite little errand boy!”

Something flat and harsh connects with his cheek. Warriors’ head snaps sideways. He chokes, coughing blood onto the pavement.

Get up! His instincts screech. Get up and fight!

He ignores them. It’s so easy to do that now. They are usually so loud, so boisterous and unignorable, hardened and loudened by years of experience.

It’s nice to silence them for once.

“He don’t look so good. Looks like somebody already got a hit on ‘im.”

“Poison?”

“Seems like it. He reeks of something rancid and it ain’t whiskey. His breathin’ ain’t right either.”

“Well, then.”

A hand fists in his collar. The next thing he knows, the ground is falling out from beneath him. He hovers somewhere above it, gazing obliviously at the space before him. Something is there – or maybe someone – but he can’t make out their features.

“He’s all lonesome out here. Might as well finish what they started. It’ll be easy.”

He should be afraid. He’s not.

Warriors feels nothing now except pain. Well, pain and the curious sensation of drowning. Strange, he doesn’t remember seeing water anywhere around here. But maybe he’s simply floating in it, unknowing, unseeing. That would certainly explain how cold he is.

His body slams back into the ground, and what little wheezing breaths he had managed to garner abruptly flee. Dull panic slices through the haze for a split second – just long enough for him to grab a wisp of air. Then, it’s back, a fog as thick as the stuff hovering over Time’s Lost Woods.

Unavigatable. Unbeatable.

For once, he can’t win this battle. For once, he has an excuse to succumb.

And he’s not one for giving in – his stubbornness is practically unmatched – but throwing in the proverbial towel now…fills him with relief.

“Go on boys! Gut him!”

The words reach his ears, but he hardly hears them. And he certainly doesn’t comprehend. Everything is so very far away…

It’s odd how without oxygen the world grows soft.

His head flops sideways. Lazily, he blinks into the indistinct expanse of Castle Town. The colors run together more than ever now. He can hardly tell them apart anymore.

Its beautiful, he thinks, with a loopy smile. Like Arty.

The soft shink of deadly metal surrounds him. Pain streaks through his abdomen. He coughs. Blood spills down his chin and drapes his tunic in crimson. It is wonderfully warm.

Again, metal strikes. More blood, more warmth. More pain.

His eyes flutter. There is not much to see now. But darkness is beginning to be replaced with dazzling light.

It is as beautiful as Castle Town…maybe even more. It beckons him, envelops him like a hug.

Come, it whispers, in the voice of his mother, come to me, dear child. Rest.

Somewhere, someone screams.

Warriors smiles and it is a soft, gentle thing. He starts to step forward.

“No!”

Hands grasp his wrist, as small as a child’s yet, much too calloused to be. Warriors dares to glance over his shoulder.

Mask stands there, his green clothing even more vibrant in the world of white. Tears have turned his large blue eyes the color of Warriors’ scarf. His lip trembles, despite the way he has it between his teeth. And while his grip is strong, his expression is a rapidly crumbling wall.

Warriors feels the tug again, the call from the endless light. He needs to go. He wants to. Sweet Hylia, he wants to.

“Sprite…”

“You-you can’t!” Mask shouts, stepping closer. He is shaking, Warriors realizes. The child who has faced monsters larger than himself armed with nothing more than a cocky grin and a slingshot is shaking. “You can’t leave me!”

The tears fall and smudge the markings that have now appeared on his face. Shades of blue and red trickle down his cheeks.

Warriors blinks and suddenly, the child’s hands are drenched in blood. He gasps, stumbling back. But Mask holds on.

“Sprite, I’ve got to go,” he says, desperately, because he must see that he can’t remain here. It’s time…isn’t it?

“No. It’s not.”

Mask ducks his head, as a sob tears at his tiny body. Salty water plunks onto the ground. It sounds like raindrops.

A downpour on a sunny day. A child curled beneath his scarf, grinning mischievously. A beautiful woman laughing, face upturned to the sky.

A tear slides down Warriors’ own cheek.

“Oh, Link…”

“Please,” he croaks, soft now, vulnerable. Broken. “Please, don’t leave.”

A single eye meets Warriors’ two. A face marked by a war god crumples, every year, every battle, every loss written in the tears streaming down it.

The captain moves closer. The light seems to dim now, lessened by the aching in his heart. Time…Time should never look like that. If he could reach him, maybe he could make that pain go away.

Time drags in a trembling breath. Crimson-drenched fingers fist in Warriors’ scarf like he did so often as a child.

“I need you, big brother.”

Warriors take another step and another and another. He can’t stop now. The decision seems plain. Whatever is behind him, wonderful though it may seem, is not yet for him. Not when Time is looking at him as though he is his entire world and then some. Not when he can hear them now — the faint pleas of the other heroes.

His brothers. His family.

He reaches out, fingers brushing Time’s cheek. The hero’s breath hitches as he leans into his touch.

“I’m right here, Sprite,” the captain promises. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

With a sob, Time falls into his arms. Warriors closes his eyes and buries his face in his shoulder. And as they cling to each other, the endless white surrounding them comes crashing down.

[flowers-in-your-basement]

theres blood on the upholstery of the impala. There's blood on Dean's clothes. There's also a ringing kinda white-noise sound in his ears. He thinks he might be dying. Dad's defying the laws of physics, he's driving so fast, Sam's patching him up. Sam and dad are arguing. He can't figure out about what.

He's so cold. He tells Sam that, or he thinks he does and Sam starts sobbing, yelling harder at dad. Dean wants to tell him that its alright, just get a blanket. He's too tired.

The blood on the car is from him. Of course it is. He can't feel his toes- can't feel anything at all. He's drifting and dad is driving and Sam's 12-year-old face is so sad.

In another universe, this is how Dean Winchester dies- back of a car post werewolf hunt.

In this universe it is one of many close calls.

[shsl-leader]

system doubt is so funny. i figured this out over a year ago. my family knows. apparently i talked to "voices in my head" as a child. i have had near death experiences and still could not imagine the body as anything except the current fronter. but what if too many fictive??? system fake because im all fictive????? i cant Enjoy Media and have Disorder, brain too Stupid.

[serickswrites]

Lonely Place of Longing XII

Master list here (includes chapter links, character bios, and summary)

Warnings: scars, referenced near death experience, angst

Halle had never felt so stupid in all her life. Dylan never loved her. Was Dylan even capable of love? He had been alive for over a hundred years of course life had become boring. Dylan needed a source of entertainment and Halle cursed herself for falling for it.

But even as Halle thought that, she couldn’t help but feel heartbroken. Even if none of it had been real. It had felt real. And it had been real for her.

She made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t stoop to Dylan’s level and be so cruel. She would be professional. She would still take care of Dylan to the best of her abilities, even if Dylan was essentially scum of the earth.

“No better than Owen,” Halle muttered to herself as she made her way to the briefing room. She walked slowly to be sure she wasn’t going to run in anyone. She hadn’t seen or spoken to Dylan in two days and she was going to have to see him now.

“Ah, Halle, thanks for joining,” Thomas said as Halle shouldered open the door to the briefing room.

“Sorry I was late, I was checking our supply inventory.” Halle quickly hurried in and took a seat at the table.

She tried to not let her eyes find Dylan. But her traitorous heart couldn’t help but look. Dylan stood in the corner, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes were red rimmed and his lean face was puffy—unusual for Dylan. He looked as though he hadn’t slept since Halle left his room days ago. He didn’t look at Halle or any of the team assembled at the table. Was this all that were going to be allowed to go after Owen?

“Now that we are all here,” Thomas began, “I’m going to actually turn this over to Dylan. He has experience with Owen. It’s one of our advantages right now. So please, listen carefully. All our lives depend on it.”

Dylan didn’t move from his corner. Had Dylan even been paying attention? Halle could see the rest of the team get restless. Finally, Dylan spoke. “Owen is unlike any enemy you’ve faced before.”

“I’ve been on plenty of missions where we faced off against weapons. We did just fine,” Helena sneered.

Dylan turned and gave Helena his full gaze. “Owen isn’t like them. He’s much, much more powerful.”

“How do we know that you won’t join his side?” Another teammate—Benjamin—called out. It was a fair question. But Halle knew the answer without Dylan having to say. Dylan had no choice. And Owen didn’t want Dylan any more than Halle did.

Dylan didn’t respond. He surveyed the team gathered at the table, his eyes not resting any longer on a team member than necessary. He stared when he finally reached Halle. Halle refused to be the one who looked away first. If Dylan could toy with her heart like that, she could show Dylan how unbothered she was.

With a sigh, Dylan spoke again. “I have no desire to work with Owen ever again. Not after everything he has done—to the world and to me.” Dylan raised his shirt so that his scarred abdomen and chest showed. “Some of these are from other missions. But this one,” his fingers ghosted along a sickle shaped scar that stretched from his mid sternum to his left shoulder, “is from when Owen escaped and I tried to stop him. So no, I won’t be joining Owen in this lifetime.” Dylan let his shirt drop.

Dylan had said a mission went sideways years ago. That many people had died. He hadn’t lied. But he hadn’t been completely honest with her. He lied. Always. He had always been lying to her.

“Just listen to Dylan, he is our expert on Owen. Listen. All our lives and quite honestly the fate of the world are depending on this. So don’t fuck it up.” Thomas’s voice was biting and full of frustration.

“Thank you, Thomas,” Dylan said and sounded genuinely grateful. He ignored the angry whispers that whipped around the table. “As I was saying, Owen is unlike any enemy you have face. He’s….he’s like me. My powers are more similar to his than any enemy you have ever faced for against.”

“Then we’re sure to win because you’re always getting hurt,” Benjamin snickered.

Dylan ignored the comment and continued. “Owen has two distinct advantages over our team. The first is that we are going to try and take the fight to him, so we will be fighting Owen in his own home. And the second is that he is insane. Like really insane. And that makes him more unpredictable than any other enemy. It is going to take all of us cooperating completely to be able to take him down.”

Halle lost track of everything that was said in the meeting. It didn’t really matter to her. She wasn’t going to be actively pursuing Owen. She would be where she always was: behind everyone in the relative safety of the base camp the team had set up. She would only deploy to front lines if Dylan couldn’t be brought to her. And she was perfectly fine with that. She wouldn’t have to follow Dylan into battle. Wouldn’t have to watch him use his monstrous powers.

And she wouldn’t have to worry. Dylan didn’t love her, didn’t care for her. And so she didn’t have to feel that way any longer. Halle repeated the mantra over and over throughout the lengthy meeting. Thomas spoke often and Halle paid more attention during those parts than when Dylan spoke.

By the time everyone was dismissed with the order to be ready to move out in six hours, Halle realized she still wasn’t sure of her role. Perhaps she should have paid more attention.

“Dylan,” Halle said gruffly as she approached the weapon. Dylan never left his corner. He coolly surveyed Halle with his icy gaze. “What exactly am I supposed to do?”

“Weren’t you paying attention?” Dylan’s voice was cold.

“It didn’t seem relevant to what I would be doing, so no. I won’t be joining you on the battle line. My job is to keep you alive. And I will do my job.”

“Will you?”

Halle could have sworn she saw something besides cruelty in Dylan’s gaze. But the moment passed and Dylan looked as cold and flat as ever. “Of course. I will do my job. I always do my job.”

“See that you do, Halle, because this all hinges on me. And I can’t take out Owen if you don’t do your fucking job.”

“I always do my job,” Halle said angrily. She stepped in very close to Dylan, craning her neck so she could make eye contact with Dylan. She hated Dylan with every fiber of their being, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t do their job. She was a professional. “And you better remember that, Dylan, because I am the reason why you are still alive. Never forget that.”

Before Dylan could reply, Halle spun on her heel and left. She would ask Thomas exactly what she would need to be sure was in her med kit. She didn’t need Dylan giving her orders. He was just a weapon. Halle would only ever take orders from her fellow humans. As she left the room she could have sworn she heard Dylan’s murmured response, “I never will,” but couldn’t be sure because the words sounded so soft and miserable, sounded like the Dylan she had fallen in love with. The fictional Dylan. Not at all like the Dylan she knew to be real.

Tags: @beomsstudio @mousepaw @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @eyehartart @corbytheking

@seysposts @cosmic-butterflys @wormjerky @godnessofmagic

@daddyslittlestgirlll

@thatlittlefirestarter @defire @jthecalmone @shook-skull @sagencrafts

@theforeverdyingperson @bilightningwhumper @cryptid-potato @fox-fox234 @deepfriedpan

@4-err0r-4 @half-duck @bigmiki @amberconnverse636 @penguin4473-blog

@abbyreader23 @lateuplight @firelan @octafi @paingoes

@xo7-parad0x @whumpandcomfort @kazekunai @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe @soul-of-a-local-bard

@dragonkales @kitarajy-kari @carosbee @celestialsoyeon @knightinbatteredarmor

@kay-kayxb177 @alwaysjaywalking @decayanddie @demetercabingreen-thumb @never-enough-novels

@whump-a-bear-workshop @sizzlingtigerwerewolf @urmum-11 @velcrostrip @rattypop

@lexiebiss-blog @whumplump @geozone430 @jumpywhumpywriter @hufflepuffwritingstuff2

@anightmarishwhump @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @st0rmm @ay5ksal

[just-a-space-rabbit]

Flufftober 2024 Day 2: Fireplace

Supervillain waking up next to a fireplace in a unknown cabin.

Flufftober 2024: Prompt List by @thepenultimateword

TW:Injury, Near death experience, Implied abuse, Attempted murder Mood: Angst/Fluff

Part 1 : Part 2

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Supervillain began to twist around in their bed as the images from last night swirled around in their head. Small glimpses of their fight with Superhero faded in and out, but none of it made sense.

Suddenly they jolted awake as pain surged through them. But instead being greeted by their own expensive bed in their luxury apartment.

They were greeted by an old stiff sofa, in a room lit and heated by a small fireplace with a dying flame. Their eyes slowly darted confused around the room, they could see they were in a tiny cabin. And by the musty smell and dust, they doubted it had been used in a while.

Looking down they saw that it and most of their body had been bandaged up. “What the hell happened…?” they mumbled, as everything felt stiff and painful. 

Immediately after seeing the state they were in, Supervillain began to look for their phone, as they did not want to spend a single moment more in this place. But all their gadgets had been taken away from them. Before Supervillain had time to stress about this, a small snore coming from somewhere else in the room caught their attention. 

Slowly, they began to lift their heads to peek over the top of the sofa, looking into the rest of the small one roomed cabin. And there just outside the light of the fireplace he saw someone asleep at the kitchen table, with an old undrunk cup of tea and cold soup infront of them. “H… Hero?” they asked, confused.

Upon hearing their name Hero’s head shot up, looking just as confused as Supervillain had been moments earlier. They looked over at the now awake villain before muttering “oh, you're awake already?” Before they got up and immediately went to tend the dying flames of the fireplace. Supervilllain looked as Hero’s golden blue suite gleamed in the light, but seemed duller than normal. “Do you want some tea? Or coffee?” Hero asked while Supervillain just looked at them stunned. 

It was Hero… The Hero! Superhero’s top team member Hero. The one Hero no one could imagine breaking a law. This was the last person they had expected to be here, wherever ‘here’ happens to be…

By the time Hero had sat down in the living room chair opposite to them, the fire was burning brightly again filling the room with its golden glow.

And Supervillain had finally grown confused enough that all the questions came out at once, making the young hero do a small startled jump as they were bombarded with. “What do you mean by ‘you're awake already?’ Why are you here? Why am I where? Where are we? What is going on?”

As they asked more questions. They tried to get out of the sofa but were met with a sharp pain in the stomach, making them fall back down.

Hero quickly got up to help them back in place, asking if they were alright. “This is my old grandpa's cabin.” Hero said silently, “It’s the only place I have left that… That Superhero doesn't know about.”

“Superhero” Supervillain repeated shock growing on their face as all the memories of their last battle clicked back into place. That’s then they finally looked at Hero properly and saw their maskless face for the first time. And they could finally see how tired and empty their eyes looked.

“Why did you save me?” Hero asked in a cry just above a whisper. “You jumped right in front of Superhero’s attack. It could have killed you.” 

Supervillain did not answer, because… they did not know why. Superhero had just turned on Hero from what it looked like, out of nowhere and began attacking them.

Everyone knew Superhero was cold and strikt with all those how got close to them, but violent? No. Not even Supervillain thought they would stoop that low. “Dead heroes tell no tale” they finally answered. “There have to be some reasons Superhero attacked you. And I want to know why?”

It was now Hero who grew quiet, looking away from Supervillain. Before muttering a small “I can’t tell you that”

“Well, in that case, do you have my phone? Since it seems you took all my gadgets while I was asleep.” Supervillain asked, and they could swear they saw Hero blush a bit in embarrassment as they looked away shyly for a moment and asked what he wanted it for.

“So, I can call in a helicopter and get the two of us out of here. With the way Superhero is acting, I think it 's best that the two of us skip town for a while. Because I doubt you’ll make it far without me.”

Hero hesitated for a bit. And Supervillain could see it in their eyes how they were thinking it over in their head. Finally they relaxed their shoulders, as they looked back at Supervillain with a small light back in their eyes for the first time in ages, and handed them the phone.

... ... ... ... ...

Day 1 -🎃- Day 3

[sm0ke4brainz]

guys i havent posted because guess who got alcohol poisoning and got a ride in the wee woo ambulance yesterday!! this girllll. it was extremely traumatic and i almost died but alas i live. i had to eat a lot today to recover which sucked and i look fat in my new clothes but whatever ion wanna die yet so im just glad to be here.

bruises i got from not being able to walk look cool tho

[ur-fairy-of-mimicry]

Guys... what if Brandon once almost died to protect Sky from danger? Let's say he was still a page in this scenario (probably at the age of 13.)

Should I write a short story about it? :>

[keldae]

Buried

Fandom: Baldur's Gate Pairing: Gale/f!Tav (pre-relationship) Genre: ANGST. With a side of pining and hurt/comfort. Warnings: Descriptions of severe injuries (including broken bones and a lung wound), fear of abandonment. ---

Pain was all that Devi could feel. She groaned, trying to move; but she was pinned under something hard and unyielding. Her limbs refused to cooperate with her commands to move, and it hurt to breathe.

She opened her eyes, but could see nothing in the black void before her. What the hells had happened? She frowned, trying to think back. They were in the shadow-cursed lands… they had been climbing through a ruined building in the village… she had heard the sound of rotten wood giving way under her feet, and remembered hearing a yell… she must have fallen through a particularly decayed section of floor into this building’s basement. And now she couldn't move.

And dear gods, everything hurt. She forced herself to wiggle her toes in her boots, and groaned as pain shot up her leg. Oh, that was a mistake. She could feel something hot and sticky dripping over her eyes, and realised she had to be bleeding.

She suddenly realised she could hear sounds from somewhere nearby. She could hear frantic shouts, and snuffling noises. But she couldn't see anything, and that scared her. She tried to move again, and whimpered as her ribs protested the movement. Gods, it hurt to breathe…

She abruptly saw a pale blur in the darkness and felt a wet nose nudge her hand. “Scratch…” she whimpered, trying to focus on the dog beside her. “Good… good boy, Scratch…”

Scratch licked her hand, whining before he started loudly barking. He seemed distressed to not get an immediate response, and licked Devi's hand again before he carefully stepped off the rubble concealing her body. He moved out of the half-Elf's line of sight, still barking; Devi felt panic lurch in her heart. “No…” she whispered. “Don't… don't leave me…” She tried to move, only to whimper in pain as her body informed her, in excruciating detail, of how badly she was hurt.

She wasn't sure how long she laid there in the darkness, shaking and with tears trickling down her face. Truthfully, it couldn't have been too long before she felt Scratch nudge her hand again, whining. Now she could hear the sounds of a person scrambling on the rubble behind the dog, and hear heavy breathing. She could just see the glow heralding an arcane object, one shaped like a staff, and wanted to sob in relief. She wasn't alone in this hell. 

She heard a horrified gasp, followed by Gale's frantic voice. “Oh, no, no… Devi!” She felt his warm hand touch her cheek; in the dim light cast by his staff, she could just see terror in his eyes. He conjured a light to hang over the scene of Devi's fall; what he saw made him go sickly pale. He turned to shout over his shoulder. “Shadowheart! Wyll! This way!” As his shout echoed off the walls of the basement, he started rummaging in his satchel. “Good boy for leading me here, Scratch – such a good boy. Devi, can you hear me? Say something, please, darling…”

Read the rest on AO3!

[mugloversonly]

Silver over Gold

Ch 3: Kintsugi - Final

Ch.1 Ch.2 AO3

Summary:

Steve and Eddie finally talk.

Steve stood outside Eddie’s door horrified by what he heard on the other side. Eddie was sobbing and his inner omega was whining weakly. “Eddie? Baby can I come in?” He pleaded.

“Alpha?” Eddie cried softly. “Door’s locked.” His voice was fading into a whisper. “I’m sorry alpha.”

Steve didn’t think twice about ripping the door of the hinges; he'd fix it later, he just hoped Wayne would understand. His omega needed him and his alpha would stop at nothing to help him (for once he was in total agreement). The smashing of the door echoed through the whole trailer but Eddie didn’t seem to notice. He was curled up on his side in the corner of the room with his head tucked against his knees, shaking violently. Steve rushed over to him and gently swept his hair out of his face. He gasped when he saw his beautiful omega. “Oh, Eddie.” He whispered. He was paler than usual, practically translucent. His lively chocolate eyes were red rimmed and puffy, empty as they stared up at him. Steve wasn’t even sure if Eddie could see him right now.

“I’m sorry alpha.” Eddie whispered. Steve stared at him hoping for some awareness in his eyes but there still wasn’t anything. He must be speaking unconsciously.

“Sh,” Steve cooed. “I’m right here, omega. Your alpha is right here. I'm not going anywhere.” He ran his hands up and down Eddie’s arms and kissed him on the forehead. His skin was freezing to the touch and if Steve didn’t know better he’d think he just came out of Lover’s Lake.

He took him into his arms, laid them back in Eddie’s nest, and removed their shirts for skin contact, pulling the blanket over them for good measure . Steve made sure to hold the omega’s nose directly onto his scent gland. He didn’t know much about rejection sickness, but from what he learned in school one way to cure it was through comforting touch and scents. Eddie barely moved and didn’t acknowledge Steve at all. Steve was having a hard time staying calm but the whines and howling of his omega were helping him to stay focused.

H is shivering finally subsided and Eddie fell into a light haze. He pulled back from Steve and his eyes were a bit clearer. “Stevie?” He asked. At Steve’s nod he threw himself back. He didn’t deserve to be held like this. He was a bad omega. His alpha didn’t love him and it was all his fault. Steve didn’t let him get far before he was yanking him right back in. He ran his fingers through his tangled hair and nuzzled his neck. “I’m sorry Steve. I should’ ve trusted you . I'm a bad omega.” He sobbed but Steve clapped a hand over his mouth.

“You're not a bad omega Eddie. You're my omega.” Steve said. He felt more than heard Eddie’s gasp and watched as his wet eyes widened. He reached up and pulled Steve’s hand off his mouth.

“I’m still your omega?” He whispered hopeful yet terrified.

“Yes, darling.” Steve replied caressing his cheek. Eddie put his hand over Steve’s and held it there.

“You still want to be my alpha? After everything I put you through?” Steve looked deep into Eddie’s eyes and kissed him on the nose.

“You didn’t put me through anything. I will always be your alpha. Even if you decided you wanted nothing to do with me, I will be here waiting. There is nothing you could do that would drive me away. I will never leave you.” He promised. “Let me apologize now.”

“No, Steve you don’t owe me anything.” Eddie said clutching his shirt. “I was the one in the wrong.”

“No you weren’t. I was scared. I didn’t stop to consider that I was stringing you along.” He bowed his head as tears finally spilled over. “I love you, Eddie. I never want you to doubt that. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. And I’m sorry the first time I said it was in an argument.” He grabbed Eddie’s face and tilted it until their lips were barely a millimeter apart. “I would never lie to you. I know why you would think that. Wayne told me. Just know, that the most important person in my life, is right here in my arms. Okay?”

“Except Robin?” He knew it was shitty, but he needed to know.

“No my lovely omega. Even more important than Robin.” He kissed him then. A quick press of lips, there and gone in mere moments. “Robin is my best friend and I won’t stop loving her or change how she and I are with each other. But you’re my future mate, and nothing is more important than you feeling secure in us.” Eddie surged forward and kissed him hard practically shoving his tongue down his throat.

“I don’t want you to stop being friends with Robin or anything like that, Stevie. It’s just…” Eddie knew he had to let Steve hear some of this from him. “The pups constantly tell me how you two were made for each other and how it’s only a matter of time for you two to mate.” Eddie looked down. “I guess, with you wanting to keep it a secret and when I ask about courting you brush it off, mix that with Dustin asking me to find out if you’re secretly dating Robin and I thought it was only a matter of time before you stopped what we had and went with her. And when I saw you two together, I thought it finally happened and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me first.” His voice broke on that last word.

“Wait a second...the pups have been saying what?!” Steve yelled out startling the omega and causing him to whimper. “Sorry.” He took a few calming breaths before asking again. “The pups have been telling you that Robin and I are secretly together?”

“Basically.” Eddie admitted.

“No wonder you didn’t believe me.” Steve scoffed. “Don’t worry my love I’ll set the record straight as soon as I can.” He snuggled Eddie closer and kissed his hair.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with Steve. Not for my sake.” He understood that it may be hard for Steve since he had only dated female omegas before. But his alpha just rolled his eyes.

“I’ll put an ad in the newspaper try me.” He laughed. “It’ll say something like: I, Steven Anthony Harrington am courting and plan to mate with the beautiful” he leaned over and nuzzled against Eddie’s scent gland causing the omega to giggle. “Wonderful, remarkable, one of a kind, Edward Wayne Munson.” He nipped lightly at his neck. “I will don’t tempt me.”

Light finally returned to Eddie’s eyes. “Thank you.” He whispered. Steve knew he was thanking him for much more but Steve didn’t want him to feel grateful that Steve treated him like a worthy partner.

“No thanks necessary. I’m not going to hide any more okay? In fact, close your eyes.” he said. When Eddie did so, he reached into his pocket to pull something out that he fastened around Eddie’s pale throat and kissed him softly. “Open.”

Eddie opened his eyes and gasped. It was the most unique courting gift he’d ever received. Pure silver because he mentioned to Steve once that it was his favorite precious metal. The pendant was a perfect copy of his warlock with small rubies creating the red lightening. As he took a closer look, he realized the neck of the guitar was actually Steve’s nail bat. It was the perfect combination of them.

His chest no longer felt tight and his nose tickled as his blood orange scent began pouring out of his scent gland. It was faint, but it was there. Steve beamed and pushed his nose to the source and took a big inhale. “Thank you, Alpha. I accept your request to court.” Eddie said in the traditional manner. He pulled away. “I’ll give you something I scented in return once it gets back to normal.” Eddie promised. Steve nodded and pulled him into another kiss. This one was more heated and while Eddie did feel better and the sickness was receding, he wasn’t ready to go very far. He leaned back slightly but stayed close so the alpha knew he was okay. “Is it alright, if we take it slow?” He couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Whatever you need.” Steve said tilting his head up. “What ever you want. It’s yours.” He said more like an oath than a promise.

“I threw away your yellow sweater. I’m sorry. I know it was your favorite.” He admitted ashamed. Steve slid away and for a second Eddie thought he was leaving, but before he could let out a single noise of protest he was getting hit in the face with soft cotton. In his hands was the best thing he'd ever seen.

“Wayne said he saw you throw it away and figured you were just upset.” Eddie smiled.

“He knows me so well.”

“I’d hope so, he is your dad and all.” Steve said. “Speaking of, I’d like to formally ask him to court you. I know you already said yes, but it’s traditional to ask an omega’s parent.” Eddie beamed.

“You really do love me, don’t you?” He asked.

“I do. I love you so much. I want to court you and mate with you. I want to see you round with my pups.” Steve replied and laid down pulling Eddie with him. “I want us to smell like one another so there’s no mistaking who we belong to.”

“How long have you had this necklace by the way?” Eddie asked the pendant clutched in his hand.

“Since right after spring break.” He admitted. At Eddie’s raised eyebrows he sheepishly said “I told you, I’ve wanted to court you for a long time.”

The two talked a bit more about their insecurities and about Eddie’s past trauma with alphas. When the alpha that hurt him came up again, Steve growled. “Give me a name.” The fire in his eyes would have scared Eddie if it was directed at him. But at the moment, it may have made him a bit slick. He’d never had an alpha want to protect him like this.

“If I tell you, can you promise you won’t do anything crazy?” Eddie asked.

“No.” Steve said. “I promised no lies.” He defended at Eddie’s snort.

“You did, you did. Okay, just promise you’ll be careful.” Steve agreed to that and motioned for Eddie to continue. “It was Tommy Hagan my first senior year.” He admitted. The scent of burning woods filled the his nostrils.

“When?” Steve growled. Had he still been friends with Tommy?

“We started courting in August. The heat we spent together was in November.”

“You were the omega he couldn’t shut up about?” Steve asked. Eddie shrugged.

“I guess. Weird that he couldn’t shut up about me when he cheated on me with Carol.” Eddie said meekly. The faint blood orange Eddie was finally emitting was turning sour and he was trying to pump out calming omega pheromones to calm Steve, but it didn’t seem to be working well due to the dull nature of it.

“Sorry, sorry.” Steve said as he willed himself to calm down. “It’s not important right now.” He stood and pulled Eddie to his feet.

“What is important is getting you checked out by a doctor. Let’s let Wayne know and we can go okay?” Steve asked. Eddie nodded and the two got dressed with some difficulty since they refused to let go of each other. Steve wore his yellow sweater so it would smell like him again and Eddie pulled on his favorite band tee. On their way out of the trailer they wrote a note for Wayne and Steve walked Eddie to the passenger side. He opened the door and kept a firm hand in Eddie’s until he was seated. Eddie watched on amused as Steve practically sprinted around the car so they could spend the least amount apart as possible.

~ ~~

At the hospital, the Doctor that saw him last time was able to see him again. “Eddie, this one could have killed you if your alpha hadn’t come when he did. To help you get back on your feet it’ll be good for the two of you to spend the next 48 to 72 hours together. Now for cases like yours we have a new type of medication that can stop rejection sickness from getting worse once it starts. I’m giving you a prescription for that. And I want you to go back to taking the preventive ones for a while.” He looked between the two men knowingly. “I’d say until you’ve mated. After that, you should be okay to stop them. But, keep the emergency one on you at all times. It could be the difference between life and death.” He said before leaving them with a nurse. She gave Eddie some fluids in an IV that were supposed to help him return to normal and then they were on their way.

“So, what now?” Eddie asked. Steve took his hand again.

“Let me take you out on the town? Then we can go back to the trailer and cuddle?” He asked. Eddie blushed and his blood orange scent finally filled the car in full force.

"I'd like that."

@v3lv3tf0x @lexirosewrites Final part!

That's a wrap on this one. But I do have plans to write some Robin POV and what Steve does the next time he sees Tommy.

[arcatsk]

Whumptober Day 30 More of 'Resurrection Gone Wrong' trope.