ed-46

[maloosh-baloosh64]

new game im making

[breezy-cheezy]

WHUMPTOBER 22: Vehicular accident

Yes I’m still doing these. Slowly but surely, at least the ones I had distinct ideas for. Anyway! Deuce got in a blastcycle accident, Epel was on the phone with him when it happened. They were about to meet up for something for fall break or something….im sure they didn’t plan this. Ofc Epel called fantasy 911 first, but then…

He’s on the phone with Rook because as CRAZY AS HE IS, mans knows how to handle emergencies. Also look at his dumb picture please lmao

Please don’t tag with ship tags, thanks!!

[abubblingcandle]

Chapters: 3/6 Fandom: Ted Lasso (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Colin Hughes, Coach Beard (Ted Lasso), Dani Rojas (Ted Lasso), Sam Obisanya, Isaac McAdoo, Roy Kent, Jamie Tartt, Keeley Jones, AFC Richmond Players (Ted Lasso), Rebecca Welton, Nathan Shelley, Leslie Higgins Additional Tags: road traffic accident, Graphic descriptions of injury, Blood and Injury, no one dies, Concussions, Post-Concussion Syndrome, Survivor Guilt, Exhaustion, Internal Organ Damage, Broken Bones, crush injuries, Trapped, Hypothermia, no one has a good time, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Therapy, Injury Recovery Series: Part 10 of Candle's Whumptober 2023 Summary:

Colin heard the accident before he saw it. “Fucking idiot,” Jeff cursed from the back of the bus. Before Colin could turn there was an almighty crunch followed by an ear-splitting tearing sound. Colin’s head snapped to the side with a jerk and he felt weightless for a moment. Time slowed. The bus skidded.

AFC Richmond end up in a bus accident on the way to a game and Colin has to contend with the near death of his closest friends

Whumptober Day 22 - Vehicular Accident

----

Sam’s chapter is here! The boy do be going through it but it gets better I promise!

Whumptober Day 13 - “I don’t feel so good”

Thank you to everyone who has been supporting my 5 month long whumptober and this fic as well. I have now officially hit 100k on whumptober which is INSANE! 

Two more days to go!

[sam-loves-seb]

we got time (but we're only human) -- chapter 3

The engine kicks as he idles in the spot. Mickey can start the car, which is progress, but he can’t seem to take his hands off the wheel once he does. The gear shift remains untouched, and his knuckles go white with his tight grip. When he sits in the car and thinks about driving, it’s like he can feel all the stitches in his body, like he’s hyper aware of the scars fading on his forearm and chest and face. It’s like he’s there again, in the old rig, hanging upside down and bleeding with Ian passed out right beside him. It’s like he can’t get out this time. And that makes him panic.

// mickey has some lingering issues to deal with after the accident

whumptober 2023 -- day 22

prompt: vehicular accident

[ ao3 | ko-fi | etc ]

[nagiru]

A bit late, but for Whumptober 2023, Day 22: Vehicular Accident

I decided to try and redraw a scene from the anime for this, except instead of the shark, I wanted to reference the original car accident that got them in the Game in the first place!

[mystery-star]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 22 | Vehicular Accident

No Way Back (1995)

[riahlynn101]

Whumptober Day Twenty-Two: "Vehicular Accident."

Trigger Warnings: Blood, major character death, mentioned car accident (of sorts), children in distress, mentions of needles, and implied kidnapping and murder.

Summary: (Young) Mike is hit by a car.

Open/ambiguous ending :))!!

--

The sky is blue today. The same color blue as his mom’s eyes. Clear and bright. Not a single cloud in sight, which kind of annoys Mike. When Garrett was still here, they used to watch them go by, and call out what they looked like. 

Garrett’s go-to was always, “Fredbear.” No matter what the shape was. 

Not that Mike was any better. His go-to was “Springbonnie,” or “rabbit.” 

It was predictable, but it was fun. Mike misses it every single day. 

It’s cool today. It’s the middle of fall, and the leaves are all kinds of pretty colors. Reds and oranges and dark greens. 

It’ll be Halloween soon. 

This will be their first holiday without Garrett….

He wanted to be Spider-man this year. Mike’s sure it’s only because he wants to go as Spider-man, and Garrett just has to copy everything his older brother does. Mom says that just means he loves Mike, but it frustrated him to no end. Especially when it seemed like mom and dad encouraged it. 

Now…Mike would do anything to have him back. 

Anything. 

He groans, tears run down his face. 

“Mommy!” He wants to call out, but there’s something in his throat. Something warm and wet that tastes like old pennies. 

His head throbs, and his body feels strangely numb. Like all his limbs have fallen asleep all at once. 

People move around him. Mom tries to reach out for him, but a police officer holds her back. Dad holds her, as she sobs loudly. 

Mike hates that he’s the reason she’s crying. 

He tries to move his arm, so he can get her attention or call her over. He could really use one of her hugs. They’re warm and make him feel safe. Mike needs her.

“Mike…?” 

His head is shifted to the side by a person in a navy blue uniform. Another person flashes a light in his eyes. 

Just behind them, Mike sees his little brother. 

In spite of how scared he feels, Mike can’t help the wave of happiness that overtakes him. He tries to smile, but his lips don’t move. (Why can’t he move them?)

Garrett looks sad, staring down at him. “You’re hurt,” he says, pointing at Mike. 

Mike can’t summon the words to speak, but he wants so desperately to. He tries to wriggle around, but it doesn’t help. 

Garrett comes closer, kneeling down in between the two EMTs. He tilts his head. “If you go to sleep it won’t hurt anymore.”

All the alarm bells go off in Mike’s head. That’s the exact opposite of what the EMTs told him just five minutes earlier. And he has a feeling if he closes his eyes, he’ll never wake up again. 

“Nothing bad will happen,” Garrett murmurs. 

Mike coughs, chest constricting. The people hovering over him become more frantic. He’s lifted onto a stretcher.

He winces, or at least tries to. Just like everything else, his body doesn’t seem to want to listen. Tears run down his face, mixing with the blood smeared across his neck and chest. Garrett sits next to the EMTs. He watches them work, eyes sad. 

“Go to sleep, Mikey,” he whispers, voice like a lullaby. “You won’t hurt anymore if you sleep.”

Mike is poked with a needle and then another. He can’t tell if they’re IVs, tetanus shots, or if the EMTs are collecting blood, but he feels all of it. The needles poke through his bruised skin. But he can’t do anything about it, besides quietly groaning. 

His little brother frowns. “They’re making you hurt worse.”

Mike ignores him, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. He does his best to separate himself from the pain, trying to imagine that he’s home, watching TV dramas with his mom. They’ve been watching a new one, and there’s supposed to be a new episode tonight. He hopes he doesn’t miss it. Mom would be so upset if he did. 

Three months ago, it used to be something Mom, him, and Garrett used to do. Every Thursday night they would settle on the couch, Garrett on one side of their mom, and Mike on the other. A fresh bowl of popcorn on her lap.

Thursdays are the days that their dad works late, so mom lets them stay up extra late to see him. But they both end up falling asleep, heads resting in their mother’s lap. 

Mike inwardly sobs. 

Another poke. 

“It’ll hurt less if you close your eyes, and when you wake up, we can play together. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

He hates this. 

Hates how his brother sounds reassuring and right. 

Hates how he knows what’s going to happen if he shuts his eyes.

Hates that-despite how scared he is, and how much he wants his mommy and daddy-he wants even more to see and play with Garrett. 

Mike shuts his eyes. Just for a second.

But when he opens them again, he’s sitting next to Garrett. 

A machine off to their right beeps loudly, and the two EMTs look panicked. They shout out things that Mike-with all his years of watching late-night medical dramas-can’t understand. 

“That- that’s my body. Why?” He turns his head. “Garrett, what’s going on?”

His brother grabs his hand. “You’re asleep now.”

Mike shakes his head horrified. “No, this- I don’t like this. How do I wake up? I need to wake up.”

“You can’t.”

Garrett pats him on the shoulder. The world becomes blurry for a moment before returning to normal. 

They stand in a densely-wooded forest. 

Mike blinks rapidly, trying to wake up. Whatever this is, it can’t be real. He slaps himself in the face.

He feels….nothing. 

Mike digs his nails into his skin,  scratching at it. 

But again, he feels nothing. 

He feels panicked, terrified even, but his heart rate hasn’t picked up. In fact-Mike presses his hand over his heart-he can’t feel it thump against his ribcage. It’s quiet and still, like it’s not-

“I’m dead.”

Garrett grabs his hand. “But it’s okay, because I’m here.”

Pulling his hand away, Mike shakes his head frantically. “No! No! No!” He tugs at his hair.

His brother hugs him. It feels warm and safe and…and just like their mom’s. It feels like home. Mike hiccups, leaning into the hug. He closes his eyes, ignoring (for a moment) everything that has happened today. 

Being hit by a car. 

Glass shattering and people yelling.

Mom crying.

….Dying….

Mike tightens his hold. 

He’s safe. 

Of that, Mike is certain. 

Unseen, head resting on his older brother’s shoulder, Garrett smiles. 

[loopielupie]

Whumptober Day 22 - Vehicular accident

Sasaki startles awake with a hiss of pain and immediately screws his eyes shut, disoriented by vertigo and the ringing in his ears. His chest aches with every breath as he tries to piece together what happened. He has flashes: headlights, squealing tires and a panicked shout but the only thing he can remember clearly is this morning...meeting-

"Mya-chan!" His eyes snap open, darting wildly around the wrecked interior of their rental car. Now he remembers the truck, the impact, the dizzying roll-

"Don't move!" A voice shrieks at him, tight with panic, and he freezes immediately. He's never heard Miyano sound so scared before. Panic lurches up in his chest but before he can say anything, Miyano continues:

"S-sorry, Sh-shuumei-san. We...we shouldn't move too much." His voice is strained like he's in pain. Sasaki's heart sinks. He wants nothing more than to turn and look at him, but Miyano is right. In this situation all he can do is stay still.

"A-are- how are you doing, Myaa-chan?" Sasaki winces but he needs to know.

"I...I think...I hit my head. I can, um, feel it?" Miyano sounds uncertain, voice wobbling a little like he's trying to hold back tears. Sasaki doesn't know what Miyano can feel, but his stomach rolls with the thoughts of it. He fumbles his free hand across the centre console and feels ice cold fingers squeeze his like a lifeline.

"O-ok, Myaa-chan, just-" he swallows thickly, feeling his eyes starting to sting. "Just stay awake for me, ok?"

Miyano hums something less certain than Sasaki would like and Sasaki feels suddenly, overwhelmingly guilty. His breath catches painfully around ribs he's pretty sure are broken, probably from hitting the steering wheel, maybe from when the door caved into his space.

I should have been more careful. I shouldn't have even suggested driving there.

"-npai-"

This is my faul-

"SHUUMEI!"

Sasaki chokes on a wheeze and snaps out of it, lungs burning as he pants for breaths he clearly hasn't been taking. Each one strains his ribs and he can't help the pained sounds that escape with them. A cold thumb tuns clumsily over the back of his hand and he squeezes back. His other arm throbs to the beat of his heart.

"S-sorry," he stutters. "Got...lost in thought. 'm fine now."

He knows, immediately that that was a mistake. Miyano huffs a wan, humourless sound.

"Shuumei...please? I know you're not. I need to know what's w-wrong."

Sasaki bites the inside of his cheek and pretends he doesn't taste blood. he doesn't want to worry Miyano but he's never been able to lie to him.

"'m pretty sure my right arm is broken. Some ribs too. Dunno about my legs and I'm not gonna move them unless I have to."

The hand in his hold starts to tremble and Sasaki hears a hitched breath from the passenger seat. And then another, tight around what's definitely a sob.

"'m sorry, Sh-shuumei-san," Miyano whispers "I shouldn't-" his breath hitches again, "'m sorry I suggested this trip."

Sasaki's stomach rolls with guilt and his own eyes well up in response. He's never felt so helpless before. He's sure Miyano feels the same, but that only makes the weight on his shoulders even heavier.

"Myaa-chan, it's not your fault. I'm the one who suggested driving," Sasaki croaks, distantly aware that he's also crying. He pets Miyano's hand, doing his best to reassure him.

"Well...you're not the one that ran us o-off the r-road," Miyano argues, some of his normal stubbornness colouring his tone. Sasaki can't help the weak little chuckle that escapes him.

"Guess you're right," he admits, even if the guilt doesn't ease at all. Miyano hums like he knows it and squeezes his hand, weakly. For a minute or so, there's no sound in the car other than quiet breaths and then, in the distance, Sasaki hears sirens.

"D'ya hear that, Yoshikazu? Help's almost here."

"..."

"Yoshikazu?!" he yelps, squeezing his fingers.

"S-sorry, 'm 'wake," Miyano slurs, but it does nothing to reassure Sasaki and his panic only grows when Miyano asks:

"Where...'re we?"

"We had...an accident," Sasaki explains, trying to keep his voice level around the lump in his throat. "But the ambulance is here. They're gonna help us, ok?"

"mmm," Miyano human, airily. "ok. 're you...ok, Sasaki?"

"Y-yeah," he croaks, unable to hide his fear anymore. "I just need you to keep still and keep talking to me. Can you do that?"

He can hear voices now, getting closer. They're so close to being rescued.

"Mmm, maybe," Miyano replies, dazed.

"I know you can," Sasaki encourages, wracking his brains for a non-BL topic to keep up the conversation. He doesn't want their shared pastime tainted by this. Instead, he asks meaningless, easy questions about whatever else comes to mind.

They'll be out of here soon. He's not going to let their story end here.

[susiequaz12]

Whumptober 22

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

Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”

Day 22. Part of Lo's story with Allan. Last part was from Day 19. CW: nonbinary whumpee, creepy/possessive whumper, shock collar, car accident, non con touching, death.

- - -

It had been months. 

Lo was on the brink of losing their sanity, going crazy with playing the role Allan had set forth for them. But they knew that there was no way orf getting out of it. Not with them constantly being chained up or watched 24/7. Not with how Allan hovered over every single breath and movement. 

Not until that night Allan took Lo out of the house. 

A reward for their “good behavior”. Which basically meant letting Allan do whatever he wanted. 

He had dressed them up again in a skimpy little outfit, done their makeup and hair, and he was taking them out to dinner. There was a lovely little collar under the scarf Lo was wearing, complete with a little box digging into their throat, and a remote controlled by Allan. Any toe that was stepped in the line would get a button pushed- and Lo electrocuted. 

Keeping them docile and completely controlled. 

Lo thought about getting the waitress’s attention. Scrawling something on a napkin. Sneaking off to the bathroom- but Allan watched their every move like a hawk. There wasn’t even an opportunity to say a single word as he ordered for them the whole night. 

There wasn’t any opportunity- that was until they were driving home. 

The road was dark. It was just starting to rain a little bit- the road slick and damp. Late enough that there weren’t very many cars about as they followed the few roads to Allan’s place. 

That’s when Lo’s mind started spinning. 

Allan was driving, one hand on the wheel, the other on Lo’s thigh, playfully touching and fondling. 

When Allan brought both hands up to make a turn, Lo took theirs, and placed it on Allan’s thigh. 

They moved their fingers higher, holding their breath- waiting for his response. 

“Darling- what are you doing?” He questioned, as Lo’s hand moved higher- but he didn’t stop them. 

“I’m just- just trying to please you. You bought me a nice dinner, I should say thank you, right?” They stated, breath low and sultry. 

“Oh you’re completely right darling. You behaved very well tonight.”

Lo continued touching him- dipping a few fingers below his waistband as they carefully kept an eye on the road. There was a turn up ahead- a few large trees at the side of the road. 

Allan let out a soft moan as Lo dipped their hand further beneath his pants, he closed his eyes for a brief second, right as he was about to make the turn-

And then Lo reached over- as quickly as they could, and yanked the steering as hard to the right as was possible. 

The tires spun as they caught on the slick asphalt. 

“What are you doing?” Allan screamed, shoving Lo away as he tried to gain control of the car. Lo didn’t let go- yanking the wheel harder as the car spun- tipping off the road into the dirt- and then everything stopped. 

The car flipped- spinning in slow motion as it crashed- landing with the front end smushed against the trunk of a tree. 

Lo had covered their arms over their head, shards of glass raining down on them as a crash fell through the window- and there was a sickening squelch beside them. 

After a few moments Lo pried their eyes open. 

Everything was so silent except for the patter of rain against the car. 

They scanned their eyes over to Allan- his face frozen in silent terror. A large branch of the old tree had fallen- shattering right through the window- straight into his chest. 

Lo’s face fell in horror as their body throbbed and ached from the crash. 

There was- there was nothing left of him. 

And Lo was free. 

The door was jammed against the ground and bushes- unable to be opened enough to climb out, so Lo scrambled over the dashboard, climbing through the broken windshield. They winced as shards of glass dug into their skin, before their feet sank down on the cold, wet ground. 

Lo kicked off the heels they had been forced to wear, and took off into the cold, dark night. 

- - -

Tag List: @imagination1reality0 @thecyrulik @whumpsday @termsnconditions-apply @spectral-whumpy-writer @raddyscoops @whumptober-archive

[spiltcandycoatedpunkblood]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Adventures of Tintin (2011) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Archibald Haddock & Tintin, Milou | Snowy & Tintin Characters: Tintin (Tintin), Archibald Haddock, Milou | Snowy, Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Stabbing, Car Accidents, Blood and Injury, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Panic, Anger, Cold, Cold Weather, Unconsciousness, Darkness, Revenge, Attempted Murder, Rescue, Delirium, Pain, Agony, Fear, Worry, Paralysis, Blood Loss, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2023, no.22, They never saw us coming ‘til they hit the floor., Glass Shard, Vehicular Accident, no.23, It’s gonna get me by the end of the night., Shadows - Freeform, Stalking, Father-Son Relationship Series: Part 12 of Tintin Whumptober 2023 Summary: "He felt it in the pit of his stomach and in the prickle on the back of his neck. A noise behind him got louder, another crunching sound of the road underneath tires, and faster, and he barely had time to leap out of the way as he spun around to see it, eyes wide with panic like a deer in the headlights.

He didn’t feel anything until the front bumper of the car slammed into his stomach, and he realised that the car had swerved to the point of going offroad. He narrowly avoided the fate of getting pinned to a tree, falling to the ground violently and his head hit the road beneath him. He’d only been able to let out a grunt of pain as the world spun back and forth in front of him, vaguely able to see the car lose control after hitting him at high speed, and crash into the aforementioned tree itself."

[determinedwriter]

Whumptober 2023: Day 22: Vehicular Accident/“Watch out!”

Ro

Dad picks me up from school, getting me not far from the front. I don’t want to draw attention. But he insists on grabbing me today for some reason.

Getting into the passenger side, I grin at him. “What’s the occasion?”

He beams at me. “You’re smart, that’s what.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay.”

“Your report card came in. You’re on the honor roll and you didn’t tell me!” He exclaims.

I shrug. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. You’re the smartest person in the damn world. Honor roll is hardly impressive.” 

“Nuh-uh!” Dad interjects. “I’m gonna stop you right there. You’ve been working hard and I’m going to treat you to whatever you want. Whatever you want for dinner. And hell, order a dress or something.”

I chuckle. “A dress?”

“You like dresses.” He replies.

“Okay, what about a new video game?” I ask.

He laughs. “Alright, fine. You’re gonna let me play with you some time though. I wanna know the kind of stuff you’re playing.”

“Solid,” I say. 

“Wanna head home?” Dad questions.

I nod. “Yeah, can we order in?” 

He starts the car and begins to drive. “Sure thing, kiddo.”

My heart pounds and I suddenly get a strange feeling. Dad starts to speak just as this feeling overcomes me. “I’ve gotta make a stop.”

The moment he drives to make the detour, a car barrels towards us. “Watch out!”

Dad swerves, one arm outstretched over my body in an attempt to shield me. “Shit!” 

The car slams into us and we go flying, our car soon upside down. My head is thrown forward to the windshield, hitting it hard. 

“RO!” Dad yells at the top of his lungs, sounding absolutely terrified. Then I don’t hear him at all.

Head spinning and pounding, I struggle to form a sentence. “D-Dad…”

Looking to the side, I don’t see him in the driver’s seat. “DAD!”

Hyperventilating in panic and pain, I sob. “Oh God. Oh my God.”

“Ro!” Dad yells from outside of the car. 

“Dad!” I scream.

I can see him through the window in his suit. He must have gotten it on before he went flying. Quick thinking. Thank God for nanotech. 

“Are you hurt?” He asks, unable to see me fully. The car is pretty crushed. 

“My head hurts,” I reply. “It really hurts. I-I can’t breathe.”

Dad gulps. “Okay. Alright, it’s alright. Can you get your seatbelt off? I’m gonna get you out of there.”

I unfasten my seatbelt, falling to the roof of the car, still upside down. “I got it!”

“You see the window?” He questions next.

“Yeah. I can barely see you.” I say. 

“It’s okay. Crawl towards the window. Can you reach your hand out?” He asks.

I wince, stretching my arm out of the window as far as it will go. “Dad?”

I feel his hand grab mine. “I’m right here.”

Breathing starts to get more difficult as I lie there. “I can’t breathe…I can’t breathe, Dad.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, just hold on. I’ve almost got you.” Dad reassures me.

Using his suit to move the metal and make a hole for me to crawl through, Dad pulls my arm gently. “Come on. Come towards me. You’ve got it.”

I inch my way to him, whimpering in pain. “I-I can’t…I…”

“You can. You can do this.” He counters.

Gasping for breath, I squeeze his hand tighter. “I can’t breathe.” 

“I know.” He says at my repeated statement. “Once you’re outta here, you’ll be able to breathe. Keep moving towards me.”

Becoming incredibly dizzy and disoriented, I whimper again. “I’m trying…I can’t…see.”

“You can’t see?” He asks.

“Blurry…” I explain.

“Okay. That’s okay. It’s all gonna be fine.” Dad replies. “Keep moving. You can do this.”

At this point, I can hardly move a muscle without it shooting daggers through my body. Especially my chest. “It hurts…it hurts too much.”

He crawls toward me, suit making it so he’s not getting scraped up by the broken glass. “There you are. I’ve got you.”

I see him in front of me as he deactivates his helmet for a moment and gives me a comforting grin. “I’m here, see?”

“Yeah…” I groan. “I…see…”

“Stay with me here.” He urges, hearing as I start to slur a bit.

“Okay…” I mumble.

Dad pulls me out of the car, thankfully able to drag me to the side of the road and see my entire body clearly. “I have you. You’re okay. You’re still with me.”

At this point, he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. I cry in relief at the sight of him, blinking to see clearly. “It hurts so much, Dad. I-I can’t…I really can’t breathe.”

His hands hover over my chest but he doesn’t touch it. “It’s okay.”

I’ve heard that a good few times now, but nothing feels okay. I’m nauseous, in pain, and anxious. At least I’m not in the car anymore. 

My vision blurs again. “D-Dad…don’t…go…”

“I’m not leaving you. I’m not going anywhere. Hey, keep those eyes open. Can you hear me?” He asks.

I can, but I’m too weak to answer above a whisper. “Y-Yes.”

“Good. Keep listening to my voice. Keep looking at me. Look at me.” Dad presses, looking me in the eyes. “You’re gonna be alright.”

With one last moan of pain, I’m out like a light, waking up hours later with a tube down my throat, immediately starting to choke on it when I’m conscious, eyes instantly locking with Dad’s. He presses the nurse call button. “My daughter’s awake and she’s choking on the tube. Y-You’ve gotta come take it out.”

“We’ll just be a moment, Mr. Stark.” A nurse replies over the speaker. 

I continue to gag on the tube, grabbing Dad’s hand. This is extremely uncomfortable. The nurse comes a couple of agonizingly unpleasant minutes later, getting the tube out. It feels awful. And I soon learn I’ve had this tube in my throat for an entire day after I was brought into surgery for a collapsed lung.

No wonder I couldn’t breathe. Everything still hurts and will continue to for a while until I fully heal. Dad seems to blame himself for the whole thing, saying he should’ve just driven me home. If he didn’t take that detour, everything would be fine.

And considering the multiple traumas he has concerning vehicular accidents, it seems to bring him right back to those memories. Back when he lost his parents and when he was in Afghanistan for a weapons presentation. 

The very same presentation that led to the arc reactor in his chest and his rise as Iron Man. Funny how these things work.

Except I definitely don’t feel like a superhero. Just my luck.

I let Dad worry over me since I’m in too much pain to protest. He doesn’t leave my side. Not even when I’m discharged from the hospital. He’s acting like I might break if he takes his eyes off of me.

This means we’re spending more time together, so I can’t complain. Well, I can. But not about that aspect of things. I just complain about my healing ribs these days. They make it hard to breathe still.

Dad’s suit saved him from death when we crashed. If he hadn’t thought to use it, he’d be a goner. I don’t let myself think too much about that. I’m sure things like that already torment him enough for the both of us.

At the end of the day, I’m just glad I’m alive.

Alive and aware of my own mortality, but alive.

[aaronnaphiliou]

Avatar the Last Airbender Whumptober 2023 Day 22

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

Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”

Zuko got the Avatar onto his ship only for everything to go wrong. Now he was locked within himself staring out like a prisoner with only a one-way window to see the world.

[thegreenleavesofspring]

Max sees the accident coming but there's nothing he can do to stop it.

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 22 - Modern Brumaria

This is probably the future of the Soldier Boy AU, or any other universe with gang!Kamaria. Also it's much longer than my other Whumptober fills because I'd already been working on it before Whumptober. Bruno belongs to Izzy and is used with her blessing!

Taglist: @painful-pooch , @sssunshinebreeze

Masterlist

No. 22: Vehicular Accident

Contains: lady whump, broken bones, dislocation, mild gore, head injury, referenced panic attack, referenced trauma, hospital mention, kidnapping mention, delirium, whipping mention, romance

.

.

This day has completely sucked. Well, it started out normally enough, but then she’d been triggered in the grocery store of all places when she saw a bald white man who reminded her of Roderick. And trying to hold the panic inside because she was in public just made the fallout ten times worse when she finally gave in. Always does, as Bruno likes to point out. Never stops her, though, she’s too stubborn for her own good - another bit of Bruno wisdom that he needs to turn on himself.

He and Shadi have tried their best to make the rest of the afternoon not suck, they really have. But come evening, Kamaria is still feeling off. She needs air. She needs to just not think for a while, which is what she tells her husband as she slips into her leather jacket and boots and straps her knife to her hip. 

“Be careful, love.” He kisses her forehead, then her cheek, concern etched into his handsome features. “And call if you need anything.”

“I will.” She’s not sure who looks more pitiful, Bruno or Shadi, as they watch her reach for the door. She gives one a smile and one a scratch behind the ear, then heads to the garage. 

The rumble of her bike underneath her automatically eases a little of the tension in her shoulders. Driving it far too fast, zipping around curves and past cars with the landscape flying by in too much of a blur to decipher, is even better. All of her concentration has to go into handling the bike. She doesn’t have any time to think about anything else. 

Once she’s way out of town and her mind isn’t so much of a swirling mess, she slows down and sits up straighter, raising her visor so that the wind can hit her skin. It’s nearing dark, and the roads out here are practically empty. Her thoughts slowly move back toward the grocery store, to Roderick and the feeling of being caught doing something she shouldn’t be that had overwhelmed her in that moment, but it doesn’t bring the same buzzing sensation beneath her skin as earlier. 

What would the real Roderick actually think, if he could see her living this life, going out and buying groceries whenever she needs them instead of living off of stolen goods, peaceful and happy with a husband and two dogs and a house of their own and absolutely no one to punish them for their mistakes?

He’d hate it, that’s for sure. But he’s not around anymore, so what he thinks doesn’t matter.

She’s getting closer to being ready to go back home, but before she’s made up her mind to actually turn around, a rumble of thunder sounds above the motorcycle‘s engine. Kamaria glances up at the sky. While she was lost in thought, dark clouds had rolled in, looming heavily overhead. 

Guess that’s my cue.

Checking for oncoming traffic, she U-turns and starts back toward home, picking up her speed just a bit. Fat drops of rain plop loudly onto her helmet. Within seconds, they’ve turned smaller and more and more frequent, until she’s being pelted in the face and has to use one hand to slam her visor back shut. The road is already soaked, so she keeps her pace around the speed limit. 

A few minutes into the trip, headlights are reflecting in her mirrors. They’re too bright to see what kind of car it is, but whoever’s driving is clearly impatient, coming up close behind her and hovering. Kamaria just rolls her eyes and resists the urge to slow down even more. There’s no one else anywhere around, just the two of them, the wet road, and the trees, so it’s not like they can’t pass her if they’re that desperate. 

Which they do, though not before tailing her long enough to make sure she understands their aggravation. Engine revving, the car pulls into the oncoming lane and comes flying by. She doesn’t even have time to react to slow down and let them get back into the lane. Just before they’ve fully passed her, they swerve back over, clipping the front of her bike with their back bumper. 

Her front wheel immediately dives to the side. She jerks the handlebars hard back into place, but there’s not enough traction on the slippery road. In the blink of an eye she’s spinning out, careening toward the edge of the road and the trees. 

The motorcycle tips as it reaches the grass. Her leg hits the ground first, pinned underneath the body of the bike, followed swiftly by the rest of her, head rattling inside her helmet as it slams into the pavement. That’s not the end of it, though. The bike is falling, dragging her with it, off the side of the road and down the steep embankment. It slams into a tree and she finally tumbles free from it, but by then it’s too late. She can’t stop. She’s rolling, violently, hitting trees, flipping, and rolling some more, everything a blur of brown and green and pain. Somewhere along the way she loses her helmet. 

By the time she comes to a stop, she’s lost consciousness, as well.

…

It’s unclear how much time has passed when she wakes. She’s barely even aware that she was unconscious at all, only that she opens her eyes to a dark canopy of trees overhead and rain dripping in her face. Wincing and blinking it away, she tries to turn her head to the side and is met with blinding pain shooting streaks of lightning through her vision. 

It takes a moment before she can see straight and breathe again. Moving very, very slowly this time, she cranes her neck to look back up the hill toward the road…the road that isn’t in sight at all. She fell a long way. She can’t see her bike, either, so she can only hope that it’s somewhere up top, still visible to passersby. 

Coaxing the arm that hurts the least into motion, she fumbles for her pocket. Empty. No phone, of course, that would make this far too easy. 

Okay, she needs to take stock of her body. Obviously her head is in bad shape, she probably hit it on a tree after losing her helmet. With the same hand, she reaches up and gently prods a wet, sticky patch on the back of her skull, gritting her teeth at the pain that responds. 

The arm she’s using is in a familiar bit of pain, itself, though it takes more thought than it should to pinpoint why. Dislocated shoulder. Of course, that was to be expected. Her shoulders have been dislocated so many times in her life that it takes very little to do it again. The other arm is worse, though, it feels broken. With a bit of support from the dislocated left arm, she picks up the right so that she can see it, holding her breath against the pain. 

Oh. Yep, that’s definitely broken. In a bloody, something is sticking out through her jacket sleeve kind of way. Right. She carefully sets it back down. There’s nothing she can do about it right now. 

Her left hip hurts, too, where she landed on it when the bike tipped, but she doesn’t bother trying to move it or look at it. As far as she can tell, those few things are the worst. Everything else on her hurts, but it feels like scrapes and bruises, not broken bones. 

It’s been a really long time since she was in this amount of pain. She isn’t used to it anymore. But that doesn’t really matter, does it? Not when she’s stuck in the bottom of a gulley with no phone and no one who knows where to find her. She highly doubts that the car stuck around to call for help. She needs to pull herself out of this situation, just like the old days, which means she’s going to have to embrace the pain again. 

Slowly, though. This is one of the worst head injuries she’s ever had, and if she gets too eager she’ll just knock herself back out. 

Inch by inch, Kamaria pushes herself up onto her left hand and the unbroken part of her right arm, stopping to breathe through her teeth and let the forest swirl around her after every movement. With one last heave, she’s sitting upright, clutching the sides of her head and squeezing her eyes shut. 

Halfway there. Now she just needs to stand. 

Her right leg seems to be in fairly decent shape - minus the long, bloody scrape she can now see on her thigh that tore right through her jeans - so she puts most of her weight onto it. She’s trying to move slowly, but it’s leaving her in awkward positions and she keeps almost losing her balance. Part of her wants to give up and collapse. Somehow, though, with the support of a nearby tree, she fights through the dizziness and pain and makes it to her feet. 

It’s a really, really long way up to the road.

Her first step onto her left leg is nearly her only step. Fire shoots through her hip, she instinctively jerks in response, and her vision fills with lightning again. But she manages to fall into the tree trunk and stay upright, clinging desperately and gritting her teeth until the worst of it passes.

She has to do this. No one is coming to help her. Not because there’s no one who cares, not anymore, but Bruno won’t have any idea where to find her once he realizes that something is wrong. It’s all up to her.

With that in mind, she pushes onward, keeping her weight off a hip that’s likely broken as much as she can, and grabbing onto branches and trunks whenever they’re available to pull herself along. They aren’t available nearly as often as she needs. 

But she’s dealt with worse than this before, right? She can’t think of any specific examples at the moment, but that’s probably just the concussion messing with her. There was the stabbing incident. That didn’t involve broken bones or head injuries, but it did involve a lot of blood loss and trying to get back to base without passing out. She survived that, she can survive this, too. She has to. Back then, all the incentive she had for making it was continuing her path of revenge. Now she has a husband, a home, a real life and someone who loves her and needs her as much as she does him. She can’t let him down. 

Each step is agony. Her vision cuts in and out, her whole body throbbing. She has no idea how far she’s actually made it, only that it seems like the road should be much, much closer by now than it actually is. It doesn’t look like it’s gotten any closer at all. Maybe that’s just the rain pouring down her face messing with her perception, though. 

She takes another step, reaches for a branch hanging just in front of her. It’s farther than it looks, though. Her fingers just brush the leaves as her foot slips on the mud and wet brush beneath her, and suddenly she’s falling. 

She feels every bit of pain when her body hits the ground, but she’s unconscious before she has the chance to scream.

…

She’s been gone too long. 

Bruno tries to give her the space she needs on days like this, he really does, which is why he didn’t protest her going out on her own or start worrying too much when the rain began. Even when the rain kept pouring and there was still no sign of her, he reasoned that she must have found someplace to stop and wait it out. 

But she didn’t call. Didn’t text. And when he finally gave in and texted her, checking in just to make sure she was alright, she didn’t answer. Never even opened the text, in fact. 

Which would make sense if she had given up on waiting out the rain and happened to be riding at the time. But she still didn’t come home. 

Bruno looks over at Dante, who’s watching him pace the house with growing concern, and punches her name on his phone screen. There’s silence in the speaker for a couple of seconds, then the generic voicemail message that Kamaria never bothers to change drones to life. 

He pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it. Her phone is off. Why would her phone be off? Even when they need alone time, they always keep themselves available, knowing their spouse will respect their needs unless it’s an emergency. It doesn’t make sense for her to have turned her phone off. 

Something is wrong. 

Without delaying any further, Bruno snatches his jacket from the closet and goes to his own motorcycle in the garage. He has no idea where Kamaria went on her ride. Just from their house there are two choices of directions to go, and from there it branches off into infinite possibilities. 

But he doesn’t care. He’s going to find her. 

…

Kamaria drifts in and out of consciousness. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows she needs to get up and move, but she can’t really remember why. Everything hurts. She doesn’t want to move, she just wants to keep lying here until maybe the pain gets a little more bearable. 

So she lets herself burrow back into the darkness. When she wakes again, she’s struck with a sudden sense of urgency. She can’t just lie here. She has to get up, her father will be waiting on her to return. He doesn’t care about missions gone wrong, he just cares about obeying orders to perfection, and she’s already late. She’ll get whipped for this. Ten lashes for each hour she was missing. How many hours has it already been? She has to get up, she has to make it back. 

She tries to move, and passes out in a wave of pain through her skull.

The next time that she finds herself staring up at the canopy of trees, she has no idea where she is or how she got there. She’s wet, and she hurts. Must have been Roderick again. He probably beat and waterboarded her. She can’t remember what it was she did wrong this time, but chances are it doesn’t matter, anyway. Their ideas of punishable offenses are usually things she can’t avoid no matter how hard she tries. 

Her last thought before losing consciousness again is, I want Bruno.

…

As he rides, Bruno calls the local hospital and police station, just in case. No one has seen or heard anything about a black woman with green eyes and a large scar across her face named Kamaria Stenberg. 

He goes from fretting that she may have gotten into a wreck to wondering if somehow she’s been taken again. Kane shouldn’t have any way to get to her, right? And none of his cronies should have a reason to want to take her, they were just following orders the first time. Then again, maybe one of them is holding a grudge, or enjoyed having her in their clutches a little too much. Or maybe it’s someone from her old life, animosity among gang members dies hard and there were plenty of people back then that wanted to get their hands on her. Yeah, they’ve moved states to get away from all of that, but that doesn’t mean anything. If someone really wanted to track her down, they could.

He’s sick to his stomach, thinking of all the possibilities as he forges on through the pounding rain. It’s been hours. Her phone is still going straight to voicemail. The two-lane stretch of road he’s currently riding is one he knows she frequents, but he’s gone all the way down it without any more sign of her than any other street he’s been on. He turns at the end, riding around a few more blocks with his heart in his throat before heading back up that same road, back toward town.

There’s a skidmark on this side. He’d noticed it out of the corner of his eye coming past the first time, but it’s not like they’re uncommon. This time he pays more attention, though, slowing down as he reaches it. It, because there’s only one. Not two, like a car, but one single mark. Like from a motorcycle. 

Bruno pulls over quickly, punching the button for his hazard lights, and tugs off his helmet as he climbs off the bike. Running over to the mark, he follows its trajectory with his eyes first, then his feet. It’s probably nothing. He’s trying not to get his hopes up and also fighting back dread at the same time. 

But then he stands with the toes of his boots hanging off the edge of the pavement and looks down the embankment, and he sees the large rivet that something left behind as it skidded through the mud. He sees bark missing off the bottom of a large tree trunk, like something smashed into it at top speed. 

He’s moving again almost before his mind has caught on, slipping and sliding to the tree line. He wants it to be her as desperately as he wishes that it’s not. Then he sees it, just a couple of yards past the first smashed tree - a motorcycle, lying on its side. He doesn’t have to see it up close to know it’s hers. But he goes over anyway, as fast as the uneven terrain will let him, eyes darting around the area. 

She’s not there. It’s her bike, like he knew it was, and it’s scratched and dented from its fall, but there’s no Kamaria to be seen. No sign that she was ever even there.

Could she have gotten up, walked away from a crash like this? But then he would have passed her on the way somewhere, right? And he’s already confirmed she hasn’t been to the hospital. 

Or maybe his second fear was correct. Maybe a wreck was just the start of it, just the method someone used to grab her, and that’s why she’s not here now. 

Fingers buried in his hair and chest heaving, he takes a few steps back and looks around wildly. “Kamaria!” His voice echoes through the trees, down into the hollow below. “Kamaria!”

…

Someone’s calling her name. It must be her mom. She’s really, really tired, she must have stayed out too late again, playing in the creek in the woods behind their house. She didn’t mean to make her mom worry.

“Coming, Mama,” she mumbles, trying to find the energy to get up. Her head hurts really bad. She doesn’t remember why. Mama will make it better, though, she always does. She’ll probably give her some of the pink medicine that’s supposed to taste like cotton candy, and plenty of kisses. 

Kamaria is about to fall back asleep, thinking of her mom’s kisses, when another noise jolts her back awake. Leaves are crunching and branches shaking somewhere above her, like someone or something is sliding down the hill toward her. Automatically her hand moves to grope for a knife at her hip, but comes away empty. She tries the other side - nothing there, either. Maybe there’s one in her boot, but she can’t make her body bend to check. Why is she out on a mission without all of her knives? If she was stupid enough to lose them all, and even her gun, then she deserves for whoever or whatever this is to get her. 

“Kamaria? Kamaria!”

She still doesn’t know who it is until his face appears above her, fear carved into his handsome features. “Bruno,” she breathes, a smile spreading across her face. “What’re…you doing…here?”

“Looking for you.” His hands cup her cheeks, and wow, they’re so warm. He needs to keep doing that. She didn’t know how cold her face was before now. “You’re gonna be okay now. I’m gonna get you help.”

She hums a little as he pulls his phone from his pocket and punches buttons with his thumb. “Better not…let my mom see you. She says…she says ‘m not allowed t’ have…t’ have a boyfriend. ‘Til I’m thirty.”

He holds the phone up to his ear, looking down at her with a strange look on his face that she doesn’t quite get. “Wait until she hears I married you.”

He starts talking to someone on the phone and it’s a lot for her to follow, so she just stares up at the trees and enjoys the one hand that’s still on her cheek. It stopped raining at some point. It was raining earlier, right? It’s nice that it stopped now, and that Bruno’s here. 

“Kamaria? Love?” The hand is patting her cheek now. “Open your eyes for me, love. I need you to stay awake.”

She didn’t realize she’d closed them. Wrinkling her nose, she whines a little. “Tired.”

“I know you are, but you have to stay awake for now. The ambulance is on its way. Come on, open those gorgeous eyes for me.”

She complies, but gives him her best unamused expression. “My head hurts.”

He grows even more solemn. “I know. I found your helmet way up there somewhere. Can you tell me what else hurts? Your leg is scraped up pretty good.” She feels him gently lift her shirt. “Stomach is, too. I don’t see any concerning bruising on it, though I’ll bet you cracked a rib, at least.”

“Head,” she repeats, trying to think past that all-encompassing, throbbing pain to see what else there is. “Hip. Arm.” Almost as an afterthought she adds, “Shoulder.”

“No, I don’t want to move her.” He sounds like he’s talking to someone else. The person on the phone still, maybe. “Hip…” He carefully prods at both, eliciting a gasp and jerk from Kamaria when he touches the injured one. “Left hip. I’m guessing broken, based on the reaction, but could be dislocated. Left shoulder is definitely dislocated. And, uh…” Leaning over, he touches her hand, but quickly pulls back. “Right arm has an open fracture. Yeah, I’m staying on. How far out are they?” He listens for a moment, free hand coming back to rest on her cheek. “They need to hurry up. I’m worried this is more than just a concussion.”

She really wants to go to sleep. Now that Bruno is here, she feels much safer. Maybe now that he’s asked his questions he’ll let her nap.

“Stay with me, Kamaria.” His face is close to hers again. Eyes normally blue like the sky look more like storm clouds in the dim lighting.

“You’re…pretty.”

She somehow expects him to smile at that, but he just keeps looking at her with that worried expression and lightly strokes her hair. “Thank you. So are you.”

“Mean, though. Won’t let…me sleep. And…lost my knife. Can’t…stab you.” 

“We’ll find your knife. And if you try your best to stay awake until the doctor says it’s okay to sleep, then you can stab me all you want after, okay?”

“No,” she whines. She’d like to bury her face in his chest, but she can’t move. “No doctor. Hate doctors.”

“I know, love. But I’m afraid you have to go this time.”

“Will you come?” She doesn’t want to go alone. He just got here, and the doctor is scary.

“Of course I will. I wouldn’t leave you.”

“Can…Shadi come?” 

“Tell you what, I’ll check and see if she can come visit you while you’re there. Alright?”

Kamaria sighs and lets her eyes drift shut again. “‘kay.”

“Eyes open. Come on.” He pauses, turns his head a little. “I hear the sirens. They’re almost here. I’m gonna have to let them work on you to help you feel better, okay? But I’ll be right here the whole time. I’m not going anywhere.” Bending down, he presses a warm, gentle kiss to her forehead. “You’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too, Kamaria.”

[averagekindergartenfan]

`🩸; GORETOBER 2024 (DAY 30)

Aftermath of the "Linda commits vehicular manslaughter" video:

COME GET YOUR FOOD LUCAS HATERS‼️‼️‼️ Also I just realised Lucas is kinda like Jimmy from Mouthwashing if he was blonde (I wanna get into Mouthwashing fully). original by @//real.kitty.channel.afnan on ig

[lilimonarch]

Doctor Hanahaki - The Memories that Never Return [22]

Doctor Hanahaki Prequel: Whumptober spinoff!

Whumptober day 22: Vehicular accident

~

They never saw us coming, 'til they hit the floor

Akaashi did not love his mother.

He didn't love anyone, to be honest. His mother was important to him, more important than anyone in the world, but he couldn't bring himself to say "I love you." He provides for her, and he knows she loves him, but the words tasted salty in his mouth. Love... was complicated, to say the least.

Akaashi never asked his mother about his past, about their life in Japan before America, and she never sat him down and told him. He never worried about his past, he didn't need to, he didn't want to.

He left for work early in the morning, his mother asleep in her bedroom. Akaashi knew his mother had not been sleeping well lately so he left a text message for when she got up, a good morning and a reminder they were running low on eggs for when she went grocery shopping later that day.

Good morning, mom. I didn't want to wake you up. Please remember to buy the eggs.

He paused.

I love you.

He erased that last message.

His day went on as normal, he worked through the patients one by one, only two Hanahaki patients for the day. Nothing absolutely world breaking. Well, there was one patient who's Hanahaki seemed worse than normal, it worried Akaashi, but a part of him knew it would be fine.

Everything was fine until he drove up to his home, seeing his mother's car not in front of the house. "Odd," he thought to himself, heading into the kitchen and putting on the news while he started dinner. Opening up the fridge, seeing no new groceries. "Must not be back yet."

"Multiple car crash at the intersection in the city," the television played and Akaashi's face turned sour. That was only about 10 minutes from his home. Akaashi started to pay attention to the broadcast. "The victims have not been identified, all drivers died on impact. Four people, young adults to elderly, the young adult had empty alcohol bottles in his car..."

The rest of the words were faint as he saw the camera pan to his mother's car, completely destroyed. "...Mom?" He neared the television, a number flashing on the screen for anyone to call and plead, the bodies shown on the screen were their loved ones... or in Akaashi's case, his mother. "No, a lot of people have that type of car," a lie, the car was old and dated, people didn't have cars like that anymore. "There are a lot of old people driving," a lie, old people weren't supposed to be driving.

Akaashi did not call the number. He finished preparing dinner, setting two plates on the table and sitting in silence, waiting for his mother to come back with the groceries. He wrapped up her plate when she did not arrive, heading to take a shower and change into his sleepwear before sitting on the couch and scrolling through medical articles on social media. She wasn't gone... his mother would be fine.

The door opened and in came in his mother, appearing much younger. "Oh, Keiji, dear. You should be in bed. It's late, you have school tomorrow!"

Akaashi shook his head, blinking a few times. He had denied it for too long, his own subconscious trying to convince him of hopeful realities. His mother, the only tie to his past, the only proof there was a life before California. "I don't have school tomorrow, mom," he sighed, staring at the woman who continued to stand by the doorway.

"I suppose you don't," she responded, taking a few steps and sitting on the couch. "You look tired, Keiji."

"I know," he ran his fingers through his hair.

"You look like you've been crying."

"I know," Akaashi nodded, but truth be told, he was unaware of the tears which poured down his face till he brought his own hand up to his cheeks, feeling the stray liquid. He bit his lip to prevent any sobs from coming out. He had not cried so recklessly in years. "You aren't here anymore."

"I know," she went towards the door. "I know."