#whumpuary day 3

[shywhumpauthor]

Whumpuary Day 3

Questions

hypothermia | "stay with me" | shot

Alt prompt: stranded

Prev. || Masterlist

Cw: strangulation, choking, thoughts of/accepting death, gun whump, threats, self sacrifice for a cause, noncon touching

“You’re smart.”

Whumper’s fingers played with Whumpee’s tie, their pull loosening enough so Whumpee was no longer straining for breath. Their fingers danced over the threads, hold secure as their eyes wandered across Whumpee’s expression.

They spy had to fight the urge to squirm, straightening their back against the strong desire to sink back into their chair. The tension in the room was heavy, thickening the air to the point where that too was hindering each inhaler they drew. The proximity, the contact, the way Whumper’s face held only inches from theirs, added a adverse intimacy to the feel, one that Whumpee quickly began to loathe. Their feelings towards Whumper had never been quite positive, but this was something beyond any disgusted hate Whumpee had ever felt. The way they could feel their breath felt violating, their cold clean stare invading Whumpee’s mind as if they could see straight into their thoughts.

“Brilliant, even. It’s a shame that was all an act. I could have truly used someone like you.”

Whumpee felt the gun begin to move, dragging slowly from their forehead to their temple, curving down to linger against their cheek. The metal was no longer cold, the prolonged contact against their skin drawing the chill from the muzzle, yet Whumpee could still feel the ice drifting across their face as Whumper trailed the weapon across their cheekbone. The bullets resting only inches away taunted them, death’s cold hands raking down their spine. With each moment’s twitch of Whumper’s hand, Whumpee feared that it would be their last. That their finger would tighten and blood would splatter and they would be gone.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Whumpee muttered, but their voice fell silent as Whumper’s fingers pulled at their tie, warning. The gun moved to press against their lips, and all Whumpee could think to do was clench their jaw. Keeping their expression blank. Letting every drop of mimicked emotion slip away to a cold indifference. A default, one they had learned to hold well. Staring straight ahead to meet Whumper’s eyes, but not quite looking at them.

“And you haven’t answered any of mine, so I will consider that even.“ Whumper’s tone dragged at the end, sounding almost like a low purr as the fully released Whumpee’s tie, keeping the gun pressed against their lips. “However, perhaps if you were to answer me, I’ll answer you. An answer for an answer, so call it.”

Whumpee didn’t answer, they couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Opening their mouth now would only allow themself to sink into a position of greater vulnerability, and they were already quite so without giving Whumper the opportunity to shoot them clean through the throat. No thanks, that wasn’t happening today.

If Whumper recognized the reason to their silence, they didn’t act, instead letting out a small hum.

“Very well. I’m sure I’ll find many other ways to gain your obedience.”

Their hand rose to Whumpee’s cheek, fingers pressing to their jaw. They could feel Whumpee’s pulse thrum beneath their fingertips, the rapid pace of the beats revealing the fear their expression managed to hide so well.

“I hope this doesn’t have too great an impact on our relationship, my friend. I have grown rather fond of you, and I’d hate to loose all that.”

•••

Whumpee wasn’t sure what they had been expecting, yet somehow this was exactly what they had anticipated, and so far from their predictions at the same time.

They sat in a chair across from a table, not unlike how the situation had presented in Whumper’s office a few hours prior. Whumper sat on the other side, but their attention was not on Whumpee as they flipped through a sleek binder.

On the table, various items were spread across the metal. Some photographs, snapshots taken from obvious surveillance recordings of them, paired with a date and time across the bottom. The same files that had been present in Whumper’s office were there now, spread out to consume more room across the surface. Whumpee wasn’t entirely sure if those had a purpose, or if they were rather just to add to the ambiance of room. Whumpee was no stranger to that tactic of sorts, a simple mind trick where Whumper would present as if they had scores of information to oppose any claim of innocence Whumpee might attempt, when in reality there was quite nothing. The pictures, even, didn’t seem to prove anything, didn’t display any air of guilt. In the images, Whumpee just appeared to be doing their job, walking down the hall between meals, on the computer as they filed a report, the most incriminating evidence present was the one where they were quite obviously sneaking a second roll from the cafeteria. What a crime.

The rest of the room was bare. The table and the two chairs were the only decorations, the metal reflecting a certain luster as the lights above gave off an occasional flicker. The room wasn’t small, perhaps equal to the side of Whumper’s office, but the lack of furnishing made it seem so much bigger. Behind Whumper’s side of the table, there was a large mirror, undoubtedly glass. Whumpee wondered how many guards were watching them from the other side.

Two open cameras watched silently from opposite corners of the ceiling, one in front of Whumpee and one behind. Little red lights blinking silently, even more people watching them.

Whumpee’s hands were cuffed behind their back, making the simple act of sitting uncomfortable after a few extended moments. They didn’t make any move to adjust, however, choosing to rather suffer through the growing ache than give Whumper that shred of satisfaction.

Though, Whumpee couldn’t tell if they were even paying attention to them. Whumper’s attention seemed to be strictly on the binder, flipping through the laminated pages with no regard to the passing time.

Whumpee’s gaze fell back to rest against the table, they had to fight to keep from clenching their fists. The stockpiled evidence only covered a portion of the table, leeching slightly across the halfway point before the papers were exchanged for various weapons. There weren’t many, Whumpee noticed, not a great collection. Whumper’s gun rested openly closest to them, subsequently the furthest from Whumpee’s possible grasp. Closer to them lay a taser, and a small scalpel-like blade, and finally a small container, clear sides with a clasp on lid, Whumpee couldn’t clearly see what was inside. They had to give Whumper credit, it certainly wasn’t easy to make an empty room appear cluttered, but they had done it.

Any shred of fear or anticipation had faded. Whumpee wasn’t sure if Whumper was drawing our the moment in an attempt to heighten their anxiety, or simply lower their guard, but it was doing neither. If it was an attempt to prompt them to speak first, to fill the pressing silence out of desperation to hear a sound other than the pulsing electricity of the lights, it wasn’t working too well.

Then Whumper pulled out their phone. None too subtly, they typed something, fingers moving across the screen Whumpee couldn’t see from their position. They slipped it back into their pocket a moment later, and finally looked up. Closed the binder and set it onto one of the few open spots across the table.

“If I weren’t so fond of you, I’d have left my guard to take over this whole operation hours ago.” Whumper stated, clasping their hands and resting them on the table. They didn’t sound bothered, not by the tension, not by the cold, the vent directly above the table pumping a continuous stream of bitter air through the room.

“You don’t expect me to thank you now, do you?” Whumpee responded after a few moments, when it became clear Whumper wasn’t planning on elaborating with that sentence. Whumpee’s tone was flat, their expression utterly blank as they stared at Whumper, completely void of all emotion. It was a skill, how easily they could melt into a mask of utter indifference, one that brought along such a chilling satisfaction as Whumper frowned.

“There’s no need to be rude. Perhaps I will let them have their fun, then. See how long it takes until you’re begging for me to return.” By the way Whumper spoke, it was clear they meant it as a threat, but Whumpee could see straight through the wordless manner. For a moment, they were tempted to continue taunting, but they were better than that. They knew better than that.

“Typically, I’d opt for giving you some time to think in this situation, to weight your options, allow for some time alone to make your choices.” Whumper leaned forwards against their elbows, propping their chin on their hands. “Regretfully, time is not a luxury I can offer in this situation. So I will give you one chance, and one chance only to surrender on your own terms, to submit yourself to questioning and answer honestly without the need for force. If you do so, Whumpee, I can promise you, things will be so much easier than what we’re leading towards.”

From the way Whumper spoke, the genuine twist to their voice nearly throwing them off. If Whumpee didn’t know better, they would have sworn Whumper was truthful in their words. But of course they knew better. It was Whumper, for god’s sake.

“Do your worst.”

——————————

Next

Tag list: @pickleking8 @blood-enthusiast @t0rture-me @whumpuary

[autobot2001]

Not a Happy New Year Snippet

Genre: Fanfiction Fandom: Transformers Rating: T Warnings: blood, poor mental health Description: Jamie is found by a soldier and brought to the media seriously injured. Everyone can't believe what happened, but her guardians struggle the most. This is the portion that fits all the prompts for Whumpuary.

Day  1: snow Day 2: collapse Day 3: stumbling Day 4: lightheaded Day 5: “Stay please.” Day 6: exhaustion. Day 7: drugged. Day 8: “You look awful.” Day 9: Alt 8: blood loss. Day 10: can’t stay awake Day 11: blood Day 12: “You’re awake.” Day 13: barely conscious, “I’m fine.” Day 14: breakdown Day 15: Aftermath

Other promotes used; Alt 1: Stabbed, Alt 2: “let me see.” Alt 5: headache Alt 8: blood loss

A male soldier walks along the path, enjoying how quiet it is. Even with how large the military base is they like walking around the paths outside. Even in the middle of winter. Despite the paths being cleared, snow still coats the paths, but they are walkable. Someone stumbling in three feet of snow instead of walking on the path alarms the soldier. “Hey, are you ok?” He asks. Recognizing the person, the soldier becomes worried about her condition. The female feels lightheaded. Before the soldier can grab her, the female collapses in the snow. The soldier watches as the snow turns red. With no time for first aid, they rush the woman to the medbay. The female whimpers as the soldier picks her up.

“Help!” The soldier yells as they rush into the medbay waiting room. Panicking that no one is at the reception desk. They run through the doors to the rest of the medbay. “Help!” They yell again. “What’s going —” Jasmine sees who the soldier is holding and lets out a gasp, “Jolt! Ratchet!” The two mechs rush out of their offices, horrified at what they’re seeing. The soldier follows the medics to the emergency care room. Patients for this room arrive by medivac or Ratchet’s ambulance alt mode. The soldier lies the female on the medical table. He's uncertain about waiting in the room. He can’t watch the medics once he sees how critical the female is. He goes to the waiting room. I can’t believe this. Ratchet thinks. Jamie has been in the medbay before, but this time is unlike any other. She has never been brought to this room before. Once the three medics remove Jamie's clothes, they can't believe what they're seeing'; many stab wounds all over her body. “She was fragging attacked!” Jolt rages. “Get a blood transfusion going,” Ratchet orders Jasmine, “and test her blood count. The three are aware that Jamie is in hemorrhagic shock but unsure of its severity. Jasmine gets a blood bag and a syringe to draw blood. Jolt puts in a large-bore IV for rapid delivery of fluids and blood. Jolt prepares an IV bag of crystalloids. “I think we should intubate her,” Jolt advises, “airway protection for now. No positive pressure.” Jamie's injuries are the final concern. Especially the cuts on her abdomen. The three medics hope Jamie won't need surgery.

The soldier isn’t told to stay or leave as Jamie’s guardians, sister, and Optimus come to hear what happened to Jamie. The medics were surprised to see the terror twins with Crosshairs and Drift, but the twins are not asked to leave. Even though this news will infuriate Sunstreaker. As Ratchet finishes explaining the situation, Sunstreaker's anger intensifies, while Lightning, Sideswipe, and Optimus become angrier. Crosshairs and Drift remember the nightmare situation they went through, Terrified it’s happening all over. The soldier knows about the Autobots' call the nightmare situation, which brings up painful memories for Crosshairs and Drift, despite their numerous battles. The soldier watches as the medics make Crosshairs and Drift sit on the chairs close to them. “Do you know who did it?” Sunstreaker asks. “N-no, I wish I did,” the soldier tells him. Sunstreaker growls and leaves the medbay. “Great, he’s going to try to find them,” Sideswipe sighs. “The paths don’t have cameras,” Optimus points out, “Red Alert won’t be able to help us.” “Maybe the cameras by the doors can help find out who attacked Jamie?” The soldier asks. “Perhaps,” Optimus replies and leaves the medbay. “Let me see her,” Drift says, fear in his voice. “I don’t think that’s —,” Ratchet argues. “Let me see her!”The two medics nod, telling Ratchet to let Jamie’s guardians and sister see her even though they’ll hate her condition. They ask the soldier to come with them. The medics worry about the reaction they’ll see from the three worried friends.

Ratchet and Jolt make Crosshairs and Drift sit on the chairs that were already moved by the bed. Tears roll down Crosshairs and Drift’s faces. “Sit down,” Jasmine whispers to Lightning “I’m fine. Well, compared to them.” The soldier knows he’s seeing a fraction of the sadness Crosshairs and Drift deal with. Seeing their relationship with Jamie. He knows Lightning is close to Jamie, but not like Crosshairs and Drift. Despite the medics' decision not to disclose Jamie's injuries, the bag of blood is a clear indicator of the seriousness. The stitched cuts on Jamie’s arm that was lifted from under the blanket also gives clues about how badly the soldiers hurt Jamie. The soldier isn’t sure how injured Jamie is, but the blood he saw on her clothes told him she was heavily bleeding. “Should we tell them she’s not in an induced coma?” Jasmine whispers to Ratchet. “No, they’re going to struggle as it is without knowing further details about Jamie’s condition. It would be the same to wait for her to get stronger before stopping the medically induced coma. She might wake up in two days once she recovered from the blood loss. However, I'd rather not inform them right now.” “I’m going to go now and let them be with her,” the soldier tells Ratchet. “No, stay, please,” Drift says while standing up. Everyone watches him lead the soldier to where he was sitting. The soldier doesn’t understand why he’s allowed to sit here. He saved Jamie, but he never interacted with her or her guardians prior to today. He’s just another soldier in the base. So why the privilege of sitting by Jamie and in Drift’s way? Drift stands next to him. Lightning stands next to Crosshairs, who hugs her.

“What?!” Red Alert and Prowl ask. I can’t believe this is happening again. Prowl thinks. Red Alert immediately checks the security footage near the back entrance of the base. The three mechs hope they can get evidence and arrest the soldiers who attacked Jamie.

“Did you find out who attacked her?” Sunstreaker asks as the three mechs walk out of the security office. “Yes, you will not engage with them,” Optimus replies, “it’s better you and Sideswipe help Crosshairs, Drift, and Lightning.” Sunstreaker doesn’t want to let the soldiers get arrested rather than killed by him, but he worries about his three friends and Sideswipe. He heads to the medbay.

Sideswipe stands in the hallway by an ICU room. “It’s bad,” he tells Sunstreaker, “I had to step out but I can’t leave, you know?” Sunstreaker looks in the room, at the bed Jamie lies in. “Yeah, I know. They’ll need us, but it’s hard seeing her like that. This has happened twice now. I'm concerned about the possibility of this happening again and Lily becoming a target. “What the frag are they thinking? They’re just going to get arrested. Unless…. they’re trying to get Optimus to decide Jamie shouldn’t be here.” “Still, how’s that benefiting them? They’re arrested and in prison. I hope this stops. Even with how difficult her mental health is, she needs to be here. She needs them.” Sideswipe looks into the room from the window. The medics have returned to their offices. Sunstreaker goes to talk to Ratchet.

“Is there anything you can tell me?” Sunstreaker asks. “Only that she might wake up in a day or two, but she’ll be weak. You don’t want to know the extent of her injuries. I hope this stops.” “I worry Lily could be a target even if Sideswipe is right about soldiers trying to get Jamie banned from coming here. “This is a serious problem. We’ll tell Optimus after Jamie recovers. He’s already worried about her, having to arrest soldiers, and if this could happen again.”

The terror twins, Lightning and the soldi get Crosshairs and Drift to go to the cafeteria for lunch. Everyone is worried about leaving the medbay, but Ratchet will make them if they don’t leave to eat. The six hate how everyone else will know what happened. 

Everyone who found out what happened want to help their friends but know nothing will help until Jamie recovers from the attack.

“You look awful,” Crosshairs points out, worried “I’m fine,” Drift claims. Two days passed, Drift doesn’t sleep and eats very little. Crosshairs worries about Drift’s energon level. Knowing how little he’s eaten would affect a human at this point and how using their holoform uses the energon in their Cybertronian bodies. He watches Drift stumble down the hall. He follows the mech to the medbay.

Jolt and Ratchet notice Drift’s poor state. They struggle to get him into an exam room. Drift’s holoform is strong, but he’s struggling to break free from the medics’ grip. A hint for the two medics of how unwell Drift is. Jasmine doesn’t wait for orders before getting a syringe of lorazepam. The three mechs don’t question her before she injects the drug. Thankful Drift is wearing a T-shirt. The drug is fast acting, and the medics get Drift on the exam table before he’s asleep. “Mental breakdown,” Ratchet sighs, “I should have known this would happen,” he watches Crosshairs sit on the chair in the room, “don’t tell me you’re ok.” “I…,” Crosshairs doesn’t know what to say as tears roll down his face. He should talk to Rung, but I don’t think that’ll help. Ratchet believes. Jasmine watches the two mechs, hoping she won’t have to drug Crosshairs. Ratchet calms Crosshairs the best he can with the situation going on and lets him stay in the exam room with Drift. Crosshairs doesn’t wait for the three medics to leave before crying. “I just think how Jamie still feels alone even with how close the three are,” Jasmine sighs. Ratchet hugs her. Both worry about the two mechs. Hating there’s nothing he or Rung can do to help the two mechs.

Crosshairs realizes he’s been neglecting himself as he now has a terrible headache and feels dehydrated. He can’t stop worrying about Drift and hiding how he’s doing. Jasmine walks in to check on the two mechs. “You ok?” “Headache,” Crosshairs mumbles. Jasmine leaves the room, returning a few minutes later. “Here, this will help,” Jasmine says, handing Crosshairs a small cup of water and a pack with two pills, “he’ll be asleep for another hour.” “I’ll stay here. I shouldn’t use the remaining exam room.” “Ok I’ll be back in an hour.” Jasmine leaves the room. Crosshairs turns off the lights and sits on the floor by the counter. He rests his head on his arms. Tears roll down his face. We deal with her mental health and condition. Jamie has been wanting to be dead, which is causing more anxiety for Drift and I. Now this. It’s getting harder to act ok for Drift, but I have to even if he hates I do this. We both want Jamie to be happy, but it’s been feeling impossible to help her. Now we have to worry about soldiers attacking her.

Crosshairs looks at Drift, seeing his friend sleeping with the little light from the gap in the curtains. I want to say Jamie will be ok, but even if she will be from the attack, she’s not ok mentally. Crosshairs sighs.

Drift stares at the ceiling, having no memory of falling asleep. He feels what he’s lying on, realizing it’s an exam table. The mech is now confused why he was sleeping in the exam room and has no memory of Ratchet telling him he could. He opens the curtains a little before seeing Crosshairs sitting on the floor, asleep. “Crosshairs?” Drift gently shakes the sleeping mech. Crosshairs tiredly looks at him, “you ok?” “Other than a stiff neck, yes,” Crosshairs replies, rubbing his neck. Drift sighs, uncertain if he can believe Crosshairs knowing how he hides how he’s feeling, but he’d rather not argue with his friend as they worry about Jamie. Drift sits beside Crosshairs and puts his head on Crosshairs’ shoulder. Crosshairs takes Drift’s hand and the two sit quietly.

They don’t know how much time passed until they hear Drift’s stomach. “Come on, you need to eat,” Crosshairs says while standing up, “then we’ll see Jamie.” He pulls Drift up and the two leave the room. Letting Ratchet know they’ll be back before leaving.

“They will not like seeing Jamie still needs blood,” Jasmine sighs, “more evidence of how injured she is.” “We can’t tell them not to come here either,” Ratchet says, “that’ll be worse for them.” “They’ll find out about all the stab wounds and cuts,” Jolt points out. “Unfortunately, yes, but let them worry about how Jamie is in a coma and needing blood transfusions. That’s hard enough on them.” Ratchet goes to get another bag of blood.

“I can’t believe this happened,” Ratchet sighs and takes Jamie’s hand, “bad enough you struggle mentally while here rather than feeling this is an escape.” He sits on the chair by the bed, worried about Crosshairs and Drift’s mental decline as they wait for Jamie to wake up. He’s been worried about their mental health as Jamie’s worsens, but he knows how this is causing memories of the nightmare situation to resurface. Ratchet knows he could tell them Jamie will be ok, no chance of declining, but the two won’t be able to relax.

Crosshairs watches Drift struggle to eat. Worried how long before this affects Drift’s energon level and how long before he too struggles to eat. Meanwhile Drift worries Crosshairs is continuing to act like he’s ok. Worried that if Crosshairs can eat, how long before he struggles? Worried Crosshairs forced himself to eat and ends up throwing up.

The two don’t know the terror twins and Lightning watch them from the entrance to the cafeteria. “I hate we can’t help them,” Lightning says. “I don’t think they’d be doing much better if they could forget the nightmare situation,” Sunstreaker believes, “they’re with Jamie much more than we are. They know how much she’s struggling more than we do.” “They think they’re protecting us from feeling the way they feel, but I think we just feel more sadness in place of the anxiety they feel,” Sideswipe adds. The three leave before they’re spotted and go to the medbay.

The three worry about seeing the larger bag of blood on the IV pole. They know Crosshairs and Drift will not like seeing that. “You don’t think she’s bleeding internally, do you?” Sideswipe whispers. “Ratchet would have made sure she wasn’t by now,” Sunstreaker replies, “it’s not reassuring knowing the issue is blood loss from her injuries.” Lightning and Sideswipe sit on the chairs while Sunstreaker stands behind them. They notice her blood pressure is low on the monitor and it wasn’t a few hours ago. Hoping this is normal and Ratchet isn’t failing to notice internal bleeding. Lightning lifts the blanket, seeing Jamie’s wrapped abdomen and more stitched wounds. The twins also see this. “Damn, I figured it was bad looking at her arms, but this….,” Sideswipe trails off. “That’s why I’m not telling them,” the three hear Ratchet, “they have enough to worry about. They’ll find out how bad the rest of the wounds are soon. Jamie will be awake long before I can remove the stitches.” “Can I please go kill the bastards?” Sunstreaker asks. “No, we need to worry about if this will happen again or if Lily could be a target,” Ratchet replies. “This is so fragged up,” Lightning comments, continuing to look under the blanket. Sunstreaker pulls the blanket down. “It’s depressing enough seeing her arms and her guardians struggling,” he tells her. The three worry about what does Jamie’s chest look like? The thought of stab wounds close to her heart terrifies them.

Crosshairs and Drift walk into the room ten minutes later. Both mechs see the IV bag that looks bigger and has more blood than what they saw three hours ago. Both worry about how much blood Jamie lost and the wounds they can’t see. Sideswipe moves to allow Drift to sit by the bed. It’s been two days. Drift worries. Why is she still needing blood transfusions? Drift makes the mistake of looking at the monitor, seeing Jamie’s low blood pressure. This can’t be good. He worries. Something is wrong for her to get worse now.

“He saw,” Jasmine tells Ratchet as he sits behind his desk. “I was hoping he wouldn’t, but I knew the chance was slim. There’s no sudden internal bleeding. Even with thirty percent blood loss, this delay in blood pressure drop concerns me. For now, the chemical in her blood isn’t delaying recovery.” “Something isn’t right. I think when the four leave, we should do a CT scan.” Though it’s an unusual route, both medics are hoping Jamie is recovering and won’t find internal bleeding. That would delay her recovery and when she’ll wake up.

An hour passes. The three medics watch the terror twins and Lightning struggle to get both Crosshairs and Drift to leave. “They both saw, and are terrified,” Ratchet believes. “Taking Jamie to get a CT scan will add to the fear, but Jasmine is right. We better do one,” Jolt adds.

The three medics tell the friends to stay and what they’re going to do. This worries the three friends and, as Jolt said, terrifies Crosshairs and Drift. The three friends stay with Crosshairs and Drift in Ratchet’s office. Ratchet informs Rung. “I don’t know if I can help them, but I’ll be there in a second,” Rung tells Ratchet.

Optimus follows Rung into the medbay. Worried about the reason for his visit to the medbay. He hates how terrified Crosshairs and Drift are and that the twins and Lightning are more worried about Jamie. As Rung thought, telling Crosshairs and Drift the CT scan is a precaution doesn’t calm the two. Drift hugs Crosshairs, who feels him trembling.  He’s terrified and thinking Jamie will need emergency surgery. Crosshairs realizes. The medics didn’t seem concerned. He’s not overreacting after what we’ve been through and the fear we’ll lose Jamie. What do I say? The others watch, uncertain what to say. The medics could be wrong and Jamie could end up in emergency surgery. “You three don’t have to stay here,” Optimus tells the twins and Lightning, “at least wait in the waiting room.” The three understand what he’s saying and walk down the hall. Optimus looks into the office, worried about the two mechs. “I hate not knowing how to help them,” Rung sighs, “it’s not just the nightmare situation. It’s Jamie’s mental decline also affecting them. The fear they’ll lose her, but watching her fight for her life causes them to be afraid when she ends up in the medbay.” The two go into the office and close the door. Hoping to help Drift without causing more anxiety to Crosshairs.

“Nothing,” Jolt tells the other two medics, as he watches the monitor display what the machine sees. “This is good, but also concerning why this turn?” Ratchet questions, “we’ll put her on medication to raise her blood pressure. There’s no other evidence that she’s still in shock.” “We should tell them she’s doing ok,” Jasmine tells him, “even with her low blood pressure and the wait for her to wake up.”

The three medics didn’t think Optimus and Rung would be with Crosshairs and Drift. By now, Crosshairs is worried about what the three will say. Crosshairs hugs Drift as the four are told about the scan results. “.. she’ll be ok, but I don’t know when she’ll wake up,” Ratchet finishes. Ratchet figured Drift would ask to sleep in Jamie’s room. The cot would cram the room, which would make it challenging to reach Jamie. “He can handle medical emergencies,” Jolt argues, “though I think Jamie won’t decline. Show him the medication we’ve been giving her, just in case.” Her blood pressure is low, but I don’t think it’ll drop to a critical level. Drift believes. Still, I need to be by her. Crosshairs says nothing. He’ll sleep in an exam room if he has to. An exam room wouldn’t be used in the middle of the night compared to the ICU room next door. He hopes this will help Drift get some sleep. “Now, will you two please go relax?” Optimus asks Crosshairs and Drift. “Come on we’ll come back in three hours after dinner,” Crosshairs says and gets Drift to go with him “I’m not lying to them,” Ratchet says once the two are far down the hall. “I know you wouldn’t as much as you hate giving them bad news,” Optimus tells him, “I hope we can end this. Even if it’s been three years since the last time soldiers attacked her, this is fragged up.” Optimus sits by Jamie’s bed. The medics go back to their offices and Rung leaves the medbay. Hoping to check on Crosshairs and Drift.

Crosshairs and Drift return to the medbay at eight. By now Drift is exhausted. He's hesitant to sleep because he fears being awoken by an alarm alerting a medical emergency. 

Ratchet does the last check on Jamie of the night. Drift sees her blood pressure is going up. “One more infusion should be enough,” Ratchet tells him, “her levels are normal, and she doesn’t need another blood transfusion. You don’t have to worry about an emergency.” Ratchet cleans up the supplies and leaves the room. Crosshairs sits on the chair, watching Drift as he kisses Jamie and lies on the cot. Even while he’s looking at Drift’s back, Crosshairs can tell when Drift is asleep. He worries about Drift’s mental health even with the good news the two got today.  Drift is asleep in under five minutes. Crosshairs stays for a few minutes before going to an exam room to sleep. Hoping Drift will do better while they wait for Jamie to wake up.

Crosshairs wakes up, hyperventilating. The sun shines through the window. Crosshairs’ phone says it’s six in the morning. He sits on the edge of the exam table, questioning why he had a nightmare about losing Jamie even after the good news yesterday. This has him worried about Drift. He goes to Jamie’s room.

Crosshairs stands in the doorway, seeing Drift still asleep. He sees Jamie’s vitals aren’t critical. This has him more confused about the nightmare he had. I hope they’ll both do better today. Crosshairs thinks as he continues to look into the room at his friends.

“What happened?” Jasmine asks. “I…”

Jasmine leads Crosshairs into her office. “You ok?” “I don’t know why I had a terrifying nightmare,” Crosshairs tells her, “I don’t know if it’s a glimpse into the future or random. Jasmine doesn’t have to ask for details to know how his nightmare frightened him. Delayed response, as always. Jasmine suspects. Either he couldn’t continue to act ok, or the fear of losing Jamie resulted in the nightmare, even with the good news yesterday. “She’ll be ok,” Jasmine assures him. Crosshairs goes with her back to the room.

Crosshairs sits on the chair as Jasmine checks on Jamie. “Her blood pressure is normal,” Jasmine tells him, “all other vitals are normal. I think she’s done needing blood work. I’ll test her blood.” Crosshairs realizes Jasmine has a vial of blood in her hand. He didn’t see Jasmine get supplies to draw blood. Jasmine looks at Drift before leaving. Happy he’s getting some sleep.

“Everything is good,” Jasmine tells Ratchet as she hands him the paper with the blood work results, “her blood pressure is normal. Would be great if this could tell us when she’ll wake up.” “I know. Could be in the next twenty-four hours or a couple of days.” “Crosshairs had a nightmare about Jamie even after the good news yesterday. I don’t think either of them will be ok hearing it could be two days. I worry about the three of them when she wakes up.” “What a fragging disaster. So glad severe flare-ups are under control. They wouldn't be able to handle those flare-ups happening frequently like they happened the first few years after Vegeta poisoned Jamie. “I don’t think anyone could. The fear she could die.” Ratchet sees Drift still asleep and Crosshairs sitting on the chair by Jamie’s bed. At least Drift is getting good sleep. Ratchet thinks. Hopefully Crosshairs doesn’t deal with any more nightmares.

Crosshairs ends up falling asleep for three hours. With a stiff neck, he looks at Drift. He’s getting good sleep. Crosshairs thinks. After not sleeping well the past two days and I know he’s been tiring quickly with how anxious he’s been. “You have to stop sleeping like that,” he hears Ratchet before realizing the mech is standing next to him, “you want to feed her? I was waiting for you to move, but it’s already ten.” “I’ll take care of her.” Ratchet hands Crosshairs the supplies and leaves the room.

Before Crosshairs can do anything, he watches Drift move on the cot under the blanket. He waits a few minutes. Watching Drift slowly wake up. He smiles as Drift looks at him, hoping Drift will not worry that something is wrong. Crosshairs tells him what he was about to do and lets Drift feed Jamie. The two stand by the bed, hoping Jamie will wake up. Worried about after she wakes up as they look at her arms. They are certain she has wounds on her legs and abdomen and worry there are wounds on her chest. Both are afraid to see if any wounds are close to where the heart is. To see how close the soldiers were to killing her.  “Crosshairs?” Drift asks, not liking how Crosshairs is looking, “frag.” Drift stops pushing down on the syringe pump and puts it on the bed. He guides Crosshairs onto the floor. Worried about how Crosshairs seems unaware. They were close to killing her. Crosshairs thinks, remembering his nightmare. Crosshairs blinks as he looks at Drift, seeing how worried he is. Which worries him. He questions if he passed out. “Crosshairs? Are you ok?” Crosshairs hates how worried Drift is. While Drift suspects Crosshairs acting like he’s ok is backfiring on him. He leans on Drift while the mech hugs him. Drift doesn’t know what to say. This situation is hard for both of them and many others. “Shit, do I need to get a medic?” A familiar voice asks, “should I leave?” The soldier that got Jamie to the medbay stands in the doorway. “No, it’s ok. He’ll be fine.” Drift thought Crosshairs would get up by now. The soldier sits on the chair in the corner, concerned about Crosshairs.

It’s a few minutes before Crosshairs lets Drift get up to finish feeding Jamie. “She’s doing much better,” Drift tells the soldier as he cleans up the supplies, “it’s a waiting game for her to wake up. Then I don’t know. I worry about her seeing all the stitched wounds.” “Are you two ok?” The soldier asks, “I know it sounds like a stupid question.” “I can’t believe there are still soldiers who want to physically attack her,” Drift replies, “mentally is disgusting and Sunstreaker has been trying to warn the soldiers to leave Jamie and Lily alone,” Crosshairs nods to say this is how he feels, “are you ok? You found her.” “I knew she was bleeding heavily, but I didn’t think it resulted from being stabbed and cut many times. It was clear if I found her two minutes later, she would have been in more serious trouble.” The three leave the room and go to the cafeteria.

(skipping parts of the story)

“You’re awake,” Drift smiles, though Jamie is barely conscious. He knows she won’t be able to stay awake for long. He sits by the bed and takes her hand as she watches him. Another way Drift knows Jamie is barely conscious is the lack of wanting the breathing tube out, “you’ll be ok.” Jamie blinks, unable to stay awake, “go to sleep.” Drift kisses Jamie’s forehead. He sits back on the chair and watches Jamie fall asleep. He feels a hand on his shoulder. Crosshairs stands behind him, smiling. “I told you she’d be out of it,” Crosshairs says, “she’ll be ok. Come on, let’s go tell Ratchet.”

The three medics are in Ratchet’s office. They’re all happy to hear Jamie woke up. They knew she’d be back asleep. “I’m going to wait until she wakes up to remove the breathing tube,” Ratchet tells them. “I’m not looking forward to her finding out about all the wounds,” Jasmine says, looking at Crosshairs and Drift. Ratchet sighs, “you guys know why I’ve been waiting to let you two see the rest of her injuries. It’s best to see how before she’s alert. I kept her only in her underwear and bra. She can wear clothes.” The five go into the ICU room.

End of the snippet. I hope you enjoyed it. The full story will be posted here, A03, FFN & Wattpad hopefully soon.

[fletcherwilbury]

@whumpuary Day 3: Collapse

Warning for Overworking, exhaustion, parentification, burns, fainting, past physical abuse, dizziness, self-neglect

[serickswrites]

Black

Warnings: bruises, black eye, implied domestic violence

Caretaker waited for Whumpee in the coffee shop. Whumpee was late. They were never late. Caretaker checked their texts again to be sure Whumpee hadn't said anything. Sure enough, there were no new notifications.

Just as Caretaker was preparing to text Whumpee, the coffee shop door opened, bell tinkling. Caretaker looked up to see Whumpee hurry through the door. Whumpee was hunched low as they walked, each step slow and jerky. "Whumpee, is everything ok?"

Whumpee dropped into the chair across from Caretaker carefully without a sound. Their had was pulled low over their forehead, their head bowed. "'m fine," they said softly.

"Do you want any thing to drink? I haven't ordered anything yet, I was waiting for you."

Whumpee looked up, their pale face blanching. "You didn't have to wait. I'm so sorry. I just--"

"Whumpee, what the hell happened to your face?" Caretaker couldn't help but interrupt. Whumpee's right eye was swollen shut, the deep red bruising turning a deep, purple wine color. The bruises extended down their face and across the bridge of their nose.

"I slipped and hit my face on the door knob. I spilled my water last night and thought I could just walk through it instead of getting a towel to clean it up. It was silly of me." Whumpee's words were clear and certain, but Caretaker didn't believe them.

"Are you ok, should I take you to the hospital? Where was Whumper?"

"I don't need to go. I'm fine. Whumper was asleep. They got up and helped me. It's ok, Caretaker, really," Whumpee said hurriedly. "I'll get us both a tea, sound good?" Whumpee got up without waiting for an answer.

Caretaker didn't believe Whumpee. This wasn't the first time Whumpee had had a black eye in the last few months, but this was certainly the worst. Whumpee had been having many accidents in the last few months, blaming their clumsiness. In all the years Caretaker had known Whumpee, Whumpee had never been clumsy. Until they started dating Whumper. Caretaker tried to ignore the sinking feeling in their gut, but the evidence was clear. Whumpee was lying and Whumper had everything to do with it.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat

[rpf-bat]

I JUST NEED A PLACE TO BE

Pairing: Samy Elbanna/Arttu Lesonen

Word Count: 863

Summary: A depressed and very drunk Samy shows up on Arttu’s doorstep, just after midnight.

Tags: Alcoholism, Suicidal Thoughts, Drunken Confessions, Pining, Short Oneshot

[windfighter]

Architectural Assault

Prompt: Manhandling

-----

Hero gripped the back of Villain’s neck, forced them to the ground. Villain’s body ached, bruised and battered from the fight. Their knees hit the ground, sent a shockwave through their body, and they grunted. Hero leered behind them, their grip strong against Villain’s neck. Super-strenght. An A-grade hero sent to take care of a low-grade Villain together with a team fresh out of Hero-school. Villain tried to pull free, but their own superstrenght paled in comparisation.

”You broke my arm”, Villain said.

Hero prided themself on never hurting anyone, but their grip around Villain’s neck got tighter. Heroes never hurt people who mattered.

”You should have surrendered”, Hero answered.

One of the other heroes pulled Villain’s arms behind their back, handcuffed them together. Villain felt the broken bone shift and grind inside their arm and bit down a scream. They wouldn’t give Hero the satisfaction. Hero let go of Villain, took a step back.

”You have the right to remain silent”, they said. ”Everything you say can and will be used against you.”

Villain rolled their eyes. They knew the deal already, had already been through the system. Sleeping anywhere except inside an apartment was illegal and Villain’s first time breaking the law was at 13. It had been many more since then. They tilted their head, didn’t even try to look innocent.

”What’s my crime then, oh great server of justice?” Villain sneered.

”You were scaring the civilians.”

”Last I checked someone being scared of you isn’t grounds for arrest.”

Hero leaned in, grinned. Their teeth white and straight and perfect and everything Villain wasn’t.

”Terrorism is”, Hero answered. ”Disturbance of the peace.”

Hero straightened their back again, gestured at the benches around the area. Villain’s eyes narrowed. They had pulled the armrests splitting every single bench throught the middle away, carelessly thrown them into the closest trashcan.

”Destruction of city property.”

”People can use them again”, Villain answered. ”Rest if they need to.”

The break in Villain’s arm was pounding and the only reason they didn’t pass out was because Hero’s stare and Hero’s grin and Villain’s sole wish of wanting to punch that smirk off them. Hero crossed their arms over their chest. This wasn’t an argument in their mind. Sirens were coming closer, the police rushing in to drag Villain away, lock them up in a place where desired people wouldn’t need to see them.

”Have you heard the phrase ’hostile architecture’?” Villain asked.

They kept their back straight despite still being on their knees. Hero pressed their lips together, stared at Villain, but didn’t answer. The police car stopped nearby.

”Who are you protecting?” Villain continued. ”The people in need or the status quo? The suits or the ones who suffer?”

Police officers grabbed Villain, pulled them to their feet. They winced as the broken arm shifted again. That would never heal correct. Villain hoped it wouldn’t stop them from helping the beaten and the damned, the one the heroes had forgotten. They sent another glare at Hero.

”They only care about you as long as you fall in line.”

Hero stepped out of the way and the police officers pushed Villain forwards, into the back of the car. Villain watched as the police talked to the heroes, probably praised them for their quick work.

The police returned, sat down without talking to Villain. Why would they need to? Hero had already read them their rights, there was already proof of Villain’s crimes. The car sprung to life, and Villain was forced from the scene of the crime.

-----

Hero pulled one of the broken armrests out of the trashcan, straightened the bent metal and put it back on the bench. Villain’s stunt would be expensive for the city to fix. Money that would be taken from the tax-payers, people who were already struggling.

They gestured for their team to head out and left the area. The laws were there for a reason and Hero wouldn’t let Villain’s words get to them.

[cuddles-with-dragons]

here

a fucking nother one

trying to do this and I think it's working out

[whumpuary]

Whumpuary 2025!

(edit in case anyone actually reads this, i messed up and put "i'm fine" in twice for day 25 and alt prompt, so either ignore that or you can use "do it" as an additional alt prompt)

these prompts came together through community submissions and then a voting form where people voted for their favorites, here are the top 53 prompts

i want to try a slightly new format where there are still only 15 days for creation prompts but with additional community prompts/questions. those are entirely voluntary but are here to possibly inspire some community interaction and trying new things

i'm excited to see some awesome creations in january!

go here for info/rules/tagging go here for faqs

(note: number 31 is not a creation prompt and therefore not required to complete the challenge, it's just colored black so the colors add up)

text version of the prompts and rules is under the cut

(image description note: there are 31 numbered prompts, on each odd number the text color is black and on even numbers the text color is white)

Whumpuary 2025

a whump-themed multi media creation event for january

create for at least one prompt from each odd/black number to complete the challenge community prompts (even/white) numbers are voluntary

main prompts

1. sacrifice | headache | "this will hurt" 2. how did you find the whump community? 3. choice | storm | black eye 4. what are your favorite whump tropes? 5. "do you trust me" | manhandled | chills 6. share your favorite whump creations (others or yours!) 7. unfair fight | insomnia | "no one is coming" 8. what media genre do you like whump in? 9. trapped under rubble | gunpoint | out of time 10. write your own whump prompt 11. "i didn't ask for this" | blood | abandoned 12. create something in a new/less familiar medium 13. close call | sleep | choking 14. what's your favorite character dynamic? 15. handcuffed | dead | "please, stop" 16. leave a comment on a whump fic/art/creation 17. drugged | "i'm glad you're alive" | revenge 18. favorite whump medium? (movie, book, art, ...) 19. "let them go" | overworked | head injury 20. send a nice message to someone in the community 21. bruises | "who are you?" | immortality 22. take 10 minutes to work on a wip 23. backhand slap | alone | "i can't do this anymore" 24. what do you take inspiration in? 25. "i'm fine" | missing | drowsiness 26. draw/doodle something whumpy 27. stuck in a loop | twisting the knife | rescue 28. find a creator in the #whumpuary tag and send them an ask 29. kidnapped | "don't leave me" | devotion 30. make a whump meme 31. say something nice about your own work

alt prompts

hiding impaled "i'm fine" rain betrayal hair pulling darkness falling (added later, not in the image: "do it")

rules & info

-any medium is allowed (art, writing, gifs, edits, ...) -prompts are open for interpretation (but the context does have to be whumpy) -create for at least one of three prompts on creation prompt days (black/odd numbers) to complete the challenge -if you're not aiming for completionist you can do however many prompts you want any way you want -community prompts (white/even numbers) are voluntary and don't count for completionist (but can be combined with creation prompts if applicable) -use alt prompts to replace main prompts you don't like some works posted on tumblr will be reblogged if tagged correctly -#whumpuary2025 -#whumpuaryno1 (number of the prompt(s)) -#sacrifice #head injury #"i'm fine" (the prompt(s) you're using) -any trigger/content warning tags -any additional tags (fandom, oc, other used tropes, ...)

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumpuary Day 9-10

Prompt: “Stay. Please.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of injuries

A/N: This one is just a drabble. I was not in a great mood when I wrote it and it probably reflects that. I’m sorry for the subpar work. I hope you still love me.😭

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

“Daryl, she needs you.” Carol implored, blocking the infirmary exit. The archer tried to side-step but the woman just knew him too well and moved with him. 

“Damnit, move!” Daryl all but roared at his best friend. He knew she meant well, he did. But he had to stop them. He couldn’t let them hurt anyone else. He’d failed enough by allowing them to get to you. It was eating him alive. He didn’t know how else to deal with the guilt. It was fueling his rage like gasoline on a fire. 

“You’re not thinking straight!”

“M’thinkin’ jus’ fine! Move, Carol!”

“You can’t go out there like this!”

“I can’ believe this! Ya saw wha’ they did ta ‘er!”

“And that’s why you need to stay!”

“Nah, tha’s why I gotta—”

“Daryl.” Your voice was low, strained. It was weak. But he heard it. Of course he heard it. The archer didn’t give Carol a second glance when he crossed the space to you in two long strides. The silver-haired woman walked behind him with her arms crossed, eyes rolled. She knew all it would take was your specific persuasion to calm Daryl down. She was only hoping to hold him off long enough for you to awaken. 

“Hey, m’right here.” He sat down on the edge of your bed in the infirmary, his hip pressed against yours. You looked so small, fragile in the large bed. Pale and bruised with stitched lacerations and butterfly sutures. “Yer gon’ be okay, ya hear me?”

Your smile was tired and small but it was genuine. “I know I am.” You opened your hand and he took it immediately, pressing his lips to your busted knuckles. “I know I am because you’ll be here to protect me, won’t you?” You blinked slowly and watched his expression fall. 

“Ya know I gotta—”

“You don’t gotta do anything.” He looked like he might start to argue so you began to sit up, wincing with an arm around your middle to brace your broken ribs. Daryl was all don’ do that and stay still but you showed him what it felt like for your pleas to be ignored. Finally upright, you panted while Carol rushed to lift the head of the bed for you. You could breathe easier sitting up. You could also look your husband in the eye properly. “All you need to do is be here with me until a plan can be made.”

Carol smirked, seeing the very moment Daryl’s resolve began to crumble. When he glanced at her, most likely for backup he knew he’d never get, she was quick to turn her head, her smile hidden behind her hand. 

He sighed, deeply but not yet resigned. “I can’ jus’—”

“Stay.” You whispered, bringing the hand that was still holding yours to your cheek. “Stay. Please.” 

And that was that. 

Carol closed the door behind her just as Daryl situated himself on the bed with you so you could settle against his chest. When it came to Daryl Dixon, there was nothing anyone could say or do once he had set his mind on something. Except she now had a secret weapon. 

You. 

Taglist:

@thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @feral4daryl @deansapplepie @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @loganlostitall @callmeyn @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @gutsby @isakyakiisak @in-this-minute @eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bigbaldheadname @bananafire11 @graciepies @georgiadixon @esgoraths @hutchersonsgurl @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @KatelynAngel @richardsamboramylove55 @m0ss-g0blin @annhells @abi67sblog @nessieart @imgeorgeclooney @brinteylovesaliens @eduardast4rgirl @ass-butt-themusical @daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87 @ashtonbabe @atyourmomshouse01 @dixonzzgirl @unhingedbiatch @bultamer @lumimon47

[wheelsup-sevenup]

whumpuary 2025: day 3!

prompt: choice / storm / black eye

pairing: clint barton & natasha romanoff (marvel)

warnings: arguments + violence, implied dissociation

“…And will that be one or two beds?” the woman behind the desk asked Clint, looking askance at the muddy footsteps he’d tracked over the patchy carpet.

“Two, if you’ve got ‘em,” Clint said absently, wrapping the soggy Ace bandage back around the already bruising sprain on his wrist.

Clint was the only other person in the lobby aside from the receptionist. The motel was by no means nice, just the first Holiday Inn he could make out through the pouring rain. He’d asked Natasha if that was alright, but she’d just kept staring out the window. Nothing behind her eyes. He had yet to get used to it.

Apparently, Clint hadn’t got to know his new partner during her months of debrief as well as he’d thought. Their first unsupervised mission together had been something of a disaster: though they’d managed to get the intel they needed, the cover identity he’d spent years building up was left as ashes in their wake.

He was pissed. The car ride had been spent in silence.

“All right, your room’s gonna be 113, just across there.” The receptionist slid across two room keys, and Clint thanked her before ducking back out into the rain.

It was still pouring outside, and Clint jogged across the parking lot, trying in vain to keep himself from getting more soaked than he already was. In the car, Natasha still sat in the passenger seat, curled up loosely with her chin against her knees. She didn’t react when Clint rapped on the window the first time, and, irritated, he knocked again. “Natasha. C’mon.”

She opened the car door, turning minutely to face him while keeping herself out of the rain. Clint tossed a room key to her, which dropped onto her thigh, then fell into the footwell as she continued to stare at him.

“Natasha. I’m freezing. Let’s go.”

She didn’t move.

“Let’s go, I said.” Frustration swelled within him — at her, for being dry while he was wet, for not saying a word to him the past five hours, for the cover identity of Jamie Baker that no longer existed — and he leaned forward, seizing her bicep in his grip.

For some reason, he hadn’t expected the blow that came, swift and hard enough to knock him on his ass.

“Fuck,” he hissed, eyes watering, fireworks of pain shooting their way through his eye socket. “Natasha, what the fuck?”

He looked up at her, sitting curled in the passenger seat like she hadn’t moved at all, but this time he recognized the look in her eyes. He’d seen it before in wild animals, in the eyes of a fox about to sink her teeth into her own leg. Clint took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Anger still roiled in his chest, but he pushed it down. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you. Shit, Natasha, I’m learning too. I’m new at this. I’m sorry.”

A flicker of recognition. She met his eyes.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said, and to his surprise, he wasn’t. “I’m gonna go inside. You can follow me, or not. We don’t have to talk, if you do want to come in. It can be your choice, got it? Your choice. I’ll stay out of your way.”

Slowly, he got up, retrieving his bag from the trunk and leaving Natasha in silence.

The room was nothing special. Quiet, small. Two beds. Clint barely noticed any of it, checking through the window as soon as he got in to make sure the car was still there in the parking lot. He half-expected it to be gone, for her to be on the interstate already. But she had waited.

When he got out of the shower, the car was gone.

Her choice, he’d said. And if she’d chosen to leave, take her chances elsewhere? Well, he’d never live that down at SHIELD, but ultimately, she might be better off for it.

He took the bed farthest from the door. Didn’t secure the extra locks, just in case. He flipped through the channels for a moment before he fell asleep still sitting up, in the middle of a rerun of Family Feud.

He woke up to the shower turning on. Somehow, Clint hadn’t registered her presence when Natasha came in, and he wondered what it said about him, that he already trusted her that implicitly.

The room was dark, save for the TV, now playing Wheel of Fortune. He couldn’t see out of his right eye, didn’t even want to know what the swelling was going to look like.

Illuminated on his nightstand was a plastic shopping bag, a CVS receipt piled alongside it. Inside the bag was a hard wrist brace, a new Ace bandage, Tylenol, and a bag of Haribo gummy bears.

Clint couldn’t help but smile. It was something.

i feel like i’ve wanted to write more fics like these about clintnat, those early shield days where they didn’t know each other as well yet, where maybe things weren’t so smooth as they are later. and i’m really glad i did, because i love the way this one came out :)

i will probably keep this one a tumblr exclusive. but watch out bc i have at least another two-parter for clint/nat coming, (which i’ll probably post on ao3) with a lotta hurt and a lotta comfort ;)

[galaxymagitech]

5 Times Dick Covers for Bruce (+ 1 Time He Can't)

(Whumpuary 2025 - Day 3)

Summary:

“What happened?” Kori asks, eyes wide as she traces the edges of the bruise.

Dick looks into her eyes and knows that if he told her the truth, she would fly straight to Gotham with starbeams burning in her eyes. “I fell,” he says. He gives Kori a self-effacing grin. “It turns out that crutch handstands aren’t exactly the best idea.”

Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Duke Thomas, Roy Harper, Koriand'r, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Jason Todd

Warnings: Emotional and Physical Abuse, references to Jason's death

You can read it here or on AO3.

i.

“It’s just not right,” Roy says as he paces around one of the common rooms at Titans Tower. Dick doesn’t really know or care which one, he just chose the first one he could pull Roy into, before Speedy said something the other Titans didn’t need to hear.

On the couch, Dick buries his face in his hands. “Just shut up, Roy.”

“I’m telling you!” Through his fingers, Dick sees Roy whirl around, gesticulating wildly. “It’s fucking insane, is what it is.”

Roy, Dick decides, is a drama queen. Kinda funny, seeing as how he’d accused Dick of being the drama queen last week. “Dude, calm down. It’s just every other weekend.”

“Yeah, half the time you spend with the Titans!” Roy shakes his head.

“Bruce is right, though, Roy,” Dick says. “I am neglecting the Mission. And I do spend a lot of time messing around with you guys that I should spend patrolling.”

Roy flops onto the couch, sending Donna’s latest attempt at buying tasteful throw pillows flying. “He’s just jealous. Because he doesn’t have any friends except you, but you spend all your time with us.” Roy might be right. Bruce had been all for the Teen Titans until Dick started running off to them every weekend—or after one of their blowout arguments, which have only been getting worse since Dick turned 16 and got his driver’s license. “Plus, we tell you when he’s being an asshole, and I’ll bet he doesn’t like that.”

Okay, yeah. Bruce might be jealous, but the way Roy’s saying it makes it sound like Bruce is way more controlling than he is. “I mean, he wants to spend time with me,” Dick says. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“He’s telling you that you can’t see your friends,” Roy says flatly.

Bruce said that Dick can only go to Titans Tower every other weekend or in emergencies, but he also said he missed Dick. He’s keeping Dick from hanging out with Roy and Wally and Donna and Garth, but that’s because he wants Dick around. And sure, Bruce can be a controlling bastard—Dick has ranted about that to the other Titans plenty of times—but that just means he cares, right?

So, Dick leans in, like he’s telling Roy a secret.

“Listen,” Dick says. “I—I love you guys, and it’s really fun being here, but I’ve been wanting to spend more time with B for a while. And I do feel like I should focus more on Gotham to keep up with things. You know how it is—the landscape of crime is always changing. And Bruce kind of gave me a good excuse. So, don’t start shouting at B in front of the others, alright?” The truth is, Dick doesn’t want to decrease the time he spends with the Teen Titans at all. But he doesn’t want to get into a fight with Bruce about this. Bruce can’t think that Dick doesn’t want to spend time with him. And if going to Titans Tower less will make Bruce feel better, it’s worth it. For Batman and Robin.

“I don’t like this,” Roy says, but Dick watches as the older boy’s shoulders slump. “…okay, Dick. I’ll drop it.”

“Thanks, Roy,” Dick says, putting a hand on Roy’s shoulder and leaving the room before he can change his mind.

***

ii.

Kori’s warm hand rests gently on Dick’s cheek, careful not to press the growing bruise. Dick’s breath catches in his throat as her hand drifts up to brush his hair away from his black eye.

Bruce hadn’t even hit him in the eye. He just hit him hard. Hard enough that Dick fell to the floor of the cave. Hard enough that the blood pooled in the socket and turned it black and blue. 

“What happened?” Kori asks, eyes wide as she traces the edges of the bruise.

Dick looks into her eyes and knows that if he told her the truth, she would fly straight to Gotham with starbeams burning in her eyes. “I fell,” he says. He gives Kori a self-effacing grin. “It turns out that crutch handstands aren’t exactly the best idea.”

Because Dick doesn’t want Kori to fight it out with Bruce. Dick just wants to curl up next to his girlfriend and forget that today ever happened. Forget that Jason is dead, and it’s all Dick’s fault, and Bruce knows it, and Bruce told him to leave, and Dick can’t ever go back home now. 

“I’m alright, Kori,” Dick lies.

Kori frowns, uncertain. It’s a strange look on her. “Did Bruce have anything to do with this?”

Dick’s a performer. And it’s easy to perform what you know so well. A few days ago, he would have reacted with brief confusion, and then a confident denial. So, that’s what he does now. He lets the bewilderment play across his face for a second, then shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t worry, Kori. Bruce would never.”

Kori looks away. “I’ll get you an icepack.”

“Thanks,” Dick says.

Kori goes to rummage around in the freezer. Instead of handing the ice pack to him, she wraps it in a thin towel and holds it to his face herself. “I am sorry about your brother, Dick.”

Dick just hums in response. He has no right to mourn Jason. Not when he died in Dick’s family colors.

***

iii.

“What happened to your face?” Babs asks. Tim leans against the nearby door, making space for Dick to talk to Barbara, while Cass stands even further away, her cape flying out behind her.

“Uh—” Dick cuts himself off.

The answer is actually very simple: “I got in the way.” Dick’s not ashamed of it—he’s proud, actually. Proud that he intervened. Proud of saving that man from being strangled to death. Proud that Nightwing stopped Batman from becoming a killer. Because Jim could be dead, and no one else is going to lose their father tonight. One tragedy is already far too much.

What happened to your face? It’s an odd question to ask a vigilante. Dick was fighting people. The reason his lower face is covered in blood is because someone punched him. Such is the life.

So, if Babs is asking, that means she knows that this time is different.

Or—suspects. Suspicion, Dick can deal with. Especially now, when Barbara is understandably distracted.

Barbara can’t know. She’s already terrified for her father—this would only make things worse. And it would hurt Tim, who practically worships the Batman and Robin of old. If Dick allows even a tiny crack, that shatters. Dick can’t bear to be the reason Tim’s pedestal breaks.

It’s all excuses really. Dick doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want it to be a big deal. He just wants to move on, like he did after Bruce punched him the first time.

“Nothing,” Dick says. “Just let one get past my defenses, I guess.” Tim watches, his eyes narrowed. And Cassandra—Dick can’t see her reaction through her mask, but surely she’s clocked the lie. Doesn’t matter, though. They won’t press. “How is he?” Dick asks, changing the subject and leaning his head against Barbara’s as she cries.

***

iv.

Dick’s little brother is curled up in the corner of his apartment. Meanwhile, Dick is barely resisting the urge to strangle his former mentor.

How could Bruce do this? Tim had—Tim had friends. Family. A support system. People he could relate to. And Bruce looked at that and decided, ‘this child needs to trust people less.’ He saw that Tim had a good thing and ripped it to shreds, because the kid wasn’t paranoid enough for him. Because Tim could do what Bruce could not, and that must be a flaw, mustn’t it? If the great Batman doesn’t have friends, then his Robin can’t have them either.

It's so fucked up. Dick had really expected better of Bruce.

(But didn’t he do this to you too? Says the little voice inside his head. Dick barely even registers the thought. He stopped listening to that voice long ago.)

So, Dick is beyond angry right now. But that doesn’t do Tim any good. Not when the boy just needs someone to comfort him in his distress.

“Bruce has a strange way of showing he cares,” Dick says, wrapping an arm around Tim’s shoulders.

“I don’t—he didn’t even apologize, Dick.” Tim ducks his head, hiding the tears that are dripping down his face.

“He’s trying to help you,” Dick tells Tim. “He wants you to be safe, and sometimes he can be a bastard, but he loves you, Tim. You’re his Robin.”

Tim shakes his head. “It hurt, Dick.”

Yeah. Bruce betrayed Tim’s trust horrifically. But— “He’s a bastard,” Dick agrees. “I have half the urge to strangle him.” More than half, but Tim doesn’t need to know that right now. “But that’s how he is. That’s how he loves us. When I was your age I was mad at him all the time. But he means well, Tim. He really does. And when I stopped being angry at him for pulling these things, it got a lot better.”

“I don’t want to be like him.”

“Hey,” Dick says gently. “Am I like Bruce?”

“No,” Tim whispers. “You’re not.”

“See? I turned out fine.” Dick ruffles Tim’s hair. “You will too.”

“I—” There are still tears leaking from Tim’s eyes. Dick doesn’t know what to do. “Can I have some water, please?”

Dick springs to his feet, grateful to look away from the results of Bruce’s love. “Sure, Timmy.”

“Sorry for bothering you.”

Dick smiles. “It’s no bother.” He’s glad he could be here, to reassure Tim. Because Dick? Dick had no one to tell him that Bruce meant well. He just had to trust.

***

v.

“I don’t know what you expected,” Jason says, arms crossed and helmet lying off to the side as he sits on the rooftop with Dick. He’s refusing to even look Dick’s way, but at least he’s talking, which is far better than the past three hours of stakeout. Or the operation before that. Or— “I mean, we buried you, Dick. Or whatever fake you put there instead. We’re not going to just get over it, no matter how many bonding ops you try to drag us on.”

Dick sighs heavily. He regrets it immediately, though. Jason deserves better than dismissiveness. Dick knows what it’s like to mourn a brother, and he forced Jason and Tim to go through that. Sure, the accusations hurt like hell, but Dick needs to think past his own pain.

“Come on,” Jason says, finally, finally turning to look at Dick. He’s angry, is the first thing Dick registers from Jason’s burning eyes and clenched jaw. That’s not helpful though. Jason is always angry with Dick these days. There’s nothing Dick can do to change that. Nothing, except maybe tell the truth. And Dick is never going to tell the truth. Not about this. “Tell me why you thought it was okay.”

This time, Dick is the one who looks away. “Just drop it, Hood.”

Jason’s hand falls heavily on Dick’s shoulder. Dick flinches away, but Jason doesn’t let go, tugging Dick around to face him. “Why, Dick? Why did you go to Spyral? Why did you fake your death?”

Some things would break this family. And Dick can’t do that. He’d told Bruce things wouldn’t be the same, but they have to be the same. Because the this is the only thing he has left. His brothers, no matter how much they hate him. His pride, which will be lost if he admits he caved to Bruce’s demands just because they came with some harsh words and fists. And his lies—the same ones he has been telling for years.

“I did what I needed to do,” Dick says. “And no names in the field, Hood.”

Jason’s lip curls in disgust and he stands up, shaking his head.

Even though he’s the one driving Jason away, Dick doesn’t want his brother to leave. “We’re not finished with the stakeout.”

“They’re not showing up,” Jason says coldly as he puts on his helmet. “If you want to wait around, you can, but I’m out. I don’t wanna deal with you anymore.”

And then he grapples off, leaving Dick alone on the rooftop.

*** ***

In the end, Dick doesn’t slip up. He spent a decade and a half covering for Bruce, sweeping his bullshit under the rug. He’s good at it. If he was going to make a mistake, he’d have made it long ago.

Instead, it’s Bruce who brings it all crashing down. Not out of guilt, but simply because he is even more lacking in self-awareness than Dick thought.

It starts when Dick finds Duke sitting at his kitchen table on a Saturday morning. “…hi Duke,” he says. He wasn’t aware Duke had gotten to the ‘breaking into siblings’ apartments’ stage of Bathood yet, but he guesses the kid is just precocious. 

“Bruce had me looking at some old case files,” Duke says. He skips over the small talk completely, which is…unusual for him. “I had some questions?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dick says, walking towards the coffee maker. “Shoot.”

“I made you coffee,” Duke tells him, pointing to a mug on the counter.

“Thanks.” Dick smiles at his foster brother, scoops some sugar in, and then sits down at the table across from Duke.

Duke swallows. “What’s a percussive strike to the mandible?”

“Hmm…” Dick takes a moment to think over that one. “A really fancy way to say a punch to the jaw?” The only person he knows who is pretentious enough to phrase things like that is Bruce. Specifically, a brooding Bruce. Well-adjusted Bruce tends to write a little more like a normal person.

“Could it be anything else?” Duke asks.

Dick shrugs. “Don’t think so. A percussive strike is some sort of hit, and the mandible is the jaw, so…”

“And if something says ‘Sustained facial damage from strike during intervention; potential mandible fracture’ what would that mean?”

“Someone tried to get in the way of something, got hit in the face, and maybe fractured their lower jaw.”

Duke places a post-operation report printed from the Batcomputer on the kitchen table and then wipes his hands on his shirt. Dick can see wet spots on the paper from Duke’s sweaty hands. Is Duke nervous to ask questions? Dick must’ve made a mistake if he is. His little siblings can always ask him questions. “And…what’s this?”

Dick looks at Duke in confusion, sipping his coffee. “I feel like this is a trick question.”

Duke’s foot bounces furiously under the table. “Please just—just answer.”

Dick shrugs. “It’s a report from the batcomputer.”

“Yeah,” Duke says. He slides the file towards Dick. “Read it.”

First, Dick checks the date and searches his memories. That…that must’ve been pretty early on in his time with the red suit—probably the Court of Owls debacle. And then, he begins to read.

By the time he reaches the end, it’s taking all his willpower to keep his hands from shaking.

During this discussion, Nightwing’s tooth was removed via percussive strike to the mandible. The tooth was then confirmed to have the electrum implant.

“Duke, this is…”

“Here.” Duke passes Dick another file, and he reads that one too.

Nightwing prevented Batman from continuing attack. Nightwing sustained facial damage from strike during intervention; potential mandible fracture.

And all he can think is…why? Why would Bruce put complete descriptions of these incidents into his records—and not just his private records, but the records that are accessible even from Duke’s clearance? And then he told Duke to go looking through them, not even realizing that there could be an issue. He didn’t even—

“He didn’t even try to hide them,” Duke says hollowly.

Dick has to try, then. If Bruce has gone mad, Dick has to at least attempt to cover for him. One last time. So, he laces his hands in front of him on the table and gives it his best shot. “I don’t remember these, Duke,” Dick lies. “I think something’s up with the file system.”

Duke shakes his head. “Don’t try to gaslight me, Dick. This is—this is real. He hit you at least twice. Probably more, if he’s writing it this casually. If he doesn’t even realize how messed up this is.”

“Okay,” Dick says. “Okay, but it’s not—”

“Tim gave me access to the Titans contact sheet. Apparently, Roy keeps a file called ‘Fuck Batman’. Most of it is hearsay, but if I line it up with incident reports—”

“Don’t,” Dick whispers. “It’s…I made a choice, okay? I chose to cover for Bruce, because I was fine.”

Duke gives a sad smile and reaches across the small table to squeeze Dick’s hands. “It’s over,” he says. He probably means to be comforting.

It didn’t have to be, Dick thinks. He would’ve kept every incident secret for the rest of his life. All Bruce had to do was possess an ounce of self-awareness and realize that he had something to hide. But he didn’t. And now, Duke knows and the Titans and other Bats will soon follow. “Yeah,” Dick says, squeezing back. “I guess it is.”

[whumperwithwings]

Whumpuary 2025 Day 3

Day 3: Choice, Storm, Black Eye

Whumpee huddled inside their blankets on the couch, nervously glancing over at the front door every few seconds. Caretaker would be home any second. Right?

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Whumpuary Day 6

Whumpuary Masterpost

Prompts List

Share your favorite whump creations (others or yours!)

Hehe I love promoting other people

Cyborg Whump by @fourwingedwriter Recovery whump with a dose of body horror featuring a cyborg whumpee and mechanic caretaker. Quick read, very good.

Of the Divine by @fourwingedwriter Good soup, very whumpy, if you're a mythology fan this is the story for you.

The Marvelous Resurrecting Boy by @blackrosesandwhump Featuring Bram, an immortal whumpee, trapped in a circus and forced to die and resurrect for entertainment. I want to hug Bram as much as I want to watch him suffer.

Hook, Line and Sinker by @whumperofworlds Used as bait my beloved, captivity whump my beloved, very whumpy, good read.

The Curse Breaker and the Crown by @shes-some-other-where I love fantasy whump, and this has it all: curse whump, captivity whump, political intrigue, etc etc etc. 10/10.

Not including works by my fantastic mutuals that I haven't read or finished yet, but I intend to because I'm sure they are also very good I just need to find the time :)

And since I'm here... self-promo time :D

Net Prison Whump (Tales from Valaria) Draven wakes up tangled in a net, suspended over a pit of spikes. His guns are missing, he has a splitting headache, and he's not the only one in this position. What else can he do but attempt to escape, taking everyone else with him?

Hero x Villain Whump (AO3 Version) Hero flees their abusive team and seeks solace with Villain.

An Immortal Thief In which a thief, blessed to be immortal, is caught, hung, resurrects, and escapes.

Magician's Bait (Tales from Valaria) (AO3 Version) Damian has been abducted by a Stalker who seeks to use him as bait for her true prize. Reese Takari is enlisted by her mentor and a bitchy magician to find and rescue him.

Records of the Torrent Watchers: The Blood Moon Specter (Tales from Valaria) A series of murders has taken place up and down the River Torrent, in the villages and towns farthest from Caenum's influence. Luc and Reese are sent to investigate, accompanied by Damian at his insistence. But when all three are kidnapped, they discover that the case runs deeper than any of them realize. Occurs after Magician's Bait.

Killian Poison Fic Self-explanatory.

These are all completed novellas and short stories/one-shots, they don't include the random one-offs I've done for whump events unless they are part of an overarching plot. You can find those here. Both of my Tales from Valaria WIPs are also available to read, but I update sporadically lol :3

[serickswrites]

Way Away

Warnings: torture, poison, choking, collapse, unconsciousness, self sacrifice, unclear character status

"Fan out," Team Leader said to their team as they entered Whumper's lair. "Check everything, not a stone unturned. But," they paused as they glanced at their four team members, "please be careful. Whumper is cunning and I wouldn't put it past them to lay a trap for us."

Team Leader had been right about the trap. Teammate Two had discovered the pressure plate in the middle of a hallway. "It'll take me some time," they said to Team Leader, "but I think with Teammate Three's help, I can disarm it."

Team Leader nodded. "Teammate Three, help Teammate Two. Teammate One," they turned to the hulking figure behind them, "head back to the vehicle to get whatever gear they need and then continue searching for clues."

"You got it, boss," Teammate One saluted and headed out of the room.

"I'll just keep looking through here," Smallest Teammate called from the other room. "There are a lot of books in here."

Team Leader stepped through the sliding glass door into what they supposed was Whumper's library. "You think they would hide something important in here?"

Smallest Teammate picked up a book. "It's what I've done. No one ever thinks to check the pages. They know to check for hollows and fake books. But not actual books."

Smallest Teammate froze as the book in their hand released a fine powder in the air as they flipped through the pages. They dropped the book to the ground and shoved Team Leader out of the room. "Get away from me!"

"Smallest Teammate, what in the--" Team Leader said as they fell back out of the room.

Smallest Teammate slammed the glass door behind them. "I'm sorry," they said, though their voice was muted by the thick glass.

"What is wrong with you?" Team Leader got to their feet and put their hand on the door

Smallest Teammate locked the door. "I can't let you in here."

"Why?" Team Leader didn't like the breathy quality of Smallest Teammate's voice.

Smallest Teammate looked at Team Leader, a sad smile pulling at their features. "The pressure plate was the misdirect."

"What are you saying?" Team Leader yanked on the handle. "Open the door. Now."

Smallest Teammate shook their head as they began to cough. "I....I.....I can't do that."

"Why in the ever loving fuck not?" Team Leader tried not to let anger color their words. They did not have time for games.

"The books are poisoned." Smallest Teammate coughed harder. "Which means I was right and there is something in here." They turned their back to Team Leader and returned to the books.

Team Leader began to bang on the door. "Smallest Teammate! Open the door! Let me help you!" They tried to not let the panic consume them.

Smallest Teammate didn't turn around or look back at Team Leader. "I can't d-d-d-oooo that. I don't know-ow-ow-ow what the...... poison.... is. Or how m-m-m-many other boooooookssssss have it."

"Let us help you." They banged on the door again. "Teammate One!" They called over their shoulder. "Get in here!"

Smallest Teammate stared at the books on the wall, the poisoned book clutched in their hand. "Don't....don't...don't come in h-h-h-here, Team Leader. I-I-I can't risk....anyone.....else. I'll try and f-f-f-f-ind whatever-ever-ever-ever Whumper issssss hiding in here. I'll sh-sh-sh-show you whatttttt I f-f-f-f-ind." Smallest Teammate's breathing was labored.

"You don't have to do this, Smallest Teammate. Let us help you," Team Leader said helplessly from the door as they watched Smallest Teammate look at the book in hand.

"N-N-N-No. Whateverrrrr it....it.....it is," Smallest Teammate grabbed for a book on the bottom most shelf, "it'sssss.....fast." They thumbed through the book. "Knew.....it," their voice was barely above a whisper as they clumsily pulled their phone from their pocket.

"Please," Team Leader begged, "just open the door. We can help you."

"What's going on?" Teammate One came up behind Team Leader.

"We need to break down the door. Smallest Teammate has been poisoned!"

"N-N-No!" Smallest Teammate shouted weakly. "No-o-o-o-o onnnnnnne can....can....can.... c-c-c-ome in-n-n-n here. T-T-T-Tooooo dangerous."

Team Leader opened their mouth to protest but their phone vibrated. "Ph-Ph-Photo of....of...of...whatttttt weeee n-n-needed." Smallest Teammate collapsed to their knees as they struggled to breathe.

Team Leader stared at the photo. They couldn't believe what they were seeing. They thrust their phone into Teammate One's hand. "You know what to do with this. Take the others and go."

"What about Smallest Teammate?" Teammate One's eyes were filled with worry.

"Let me deal with that. This is too important to ignore. Go. Now."

Teammate One nodded and spun on their heel. Team Leader could hear them murmuring to the other two. The sound of three sets of retreated footsteps gave Team Leader some relief. At least none of this was in vain.

Team Leader turned back to Smallest Teammate. They lay on their side, their eyes growing hazy as they struggled to take even a small breath. Team Leader crouched down. "Let me help you."

Smallest Teammate looked Team Leader in the eye as they shook their head. They couldn't get enough air to speak. Team Leader could see the resolve in their eyes. They weren't going to let anyone else get hurt.

"I can't just let you die. Open the door." Team Leader was desperate.

Smallest Teammate shook their head. Their labored breathing shifted and Team Leader's stomach dropped as Smallest Teammate began to make choking sounds.

Team Leader looked around desperately for something to break the lock. "Hold on, Smallest Teammate. Hold on. I won't let you die." There was nothing. "Just hold on for me," they muttered as they watched Smallest Teammate's eyes roll back. They continued to choke and gasp for air as Team Leader ran from the room in search of anything to break down the lock.

Team Leader ran back to the entryway. There had to be something heavy they could use to break the lock. They found a large, heavy candelabra on the table. "No!" They shouted as they rushed forward in panic.

Smallest Teammate lay terribly still. So still that Team Leader couldn't be sure they were breathing. So terribly, terribly still. Their face was slack, mouth agape, and their lips were blue.

"No!" Team Leader shouted as they began to slam the candelabra against the lock. "No! No! No!" They slammed the lock over and over, not daring to look at Smallest Teammate's still face. If they didn't look, they couldn't be sure of the worst. The worst couldn't be real. Smallest Teammate couldn't be dead. They wouldn't let that happen.

Team Leader gave a crow of delight as the lock broke beneath the candelabra. They swung open the door, sucked in as big a breath of air as they could, held it, and rushed in. "I've got you. Hold on. Hold on." Team Leader murmured as they picked up Smallest Teammate and ran. Smallest Teammate flopped limply in Team Leader's arms.

Team Leader slammed the door shut and greedily sucked in fresh air. They would be ok. They had to be ok. For the team. For Smallest Teammate. They put two shaking fingers to the pulse in Smallest Teammate's throat and prayed. Prayed that they would find something. Prayed that they didn't fail. Prayed that Smallest Teammate still lived.

[sorinethemastermind]

YES THIS IS A FANFICTION MASTERPOST!!! All my Dragon Prince fics will be here for your perusal <3

One Shots

All the Colors of Before [tragic magefam sibs, sorvus, co-written with @honeii-puff]

A Family Recipe [clauderry, inbox trick-or-treating 2024, fluff]

The Wrong Confidant [janaya, inbox trick-or-treating 2024, fluff]

A Flammable First Date [sorvus, inbox trick-or-treating 2024, fluff]

Snow Day [rayllum, prompt ask, fluff, rayllum kiddos]

An Elf and a Mage walk into a bar [clauderry, prompt ask, fluff]

Snuggles & Snoozles [rayllum, prompt ask, fluff]

A White Wedding [janaya, prompt ask, janaya kiddos]

One Too Many Drinks [sorvus, modern AU]

What Can't Be [sorpeli, forbidden romance, bittersweet]

What You Started [rayllum, inbox trick-or-treating 2024, angst]

Modern AU

Falling For You (a life in pictures) [sorvus, non-graphic smut, modern au]

Two Birds on a Wire [magefam, sorvus, clauderry, viravos] (in planning stage)

TBD [crownfam, rayllum, broyals, virrow] (in planning stage)

TBD [ruthari, janaya, rayllum] (in planning stage)

TBD [sorpeli] (in planning stage)

TBD [sorvus, rayllum, clauderry] (in planning stage)

Katolis 99 [corsorpeli, janaya, rayllum] (in planning stage]

Crossover AUs

Dragon Falls [The Dragon Prince x Gravity Falls] (in planning stage)

Primal [The Dragon Prince x Arcane] (in planning stage)

TBD [The Dragon Prince x The Scholomance] (in planning stage)

Alternate Timelines / Realities

The Book of Destiny [fanon arc three, OCs, rayllum] (in planning stage)

Remnants [sorpeli, magefam angst, post S7] (in planning stage)

Aftermath [sorvus, post s6, hurt/comfort] (complete)

Call the Darkness [soren-centric, post s6, angst] (complete)

it's quicker and easier to eat you young [sorvus, halfelf!soren, post S6, co-written with @honeii-puff] (in progress)

Foundations [sorpeli, post s7] (in planning stage)

TBD [magefam, crownfam, rayla & the broyals] (in planning stage)

Mercy [alt arc 1, rayllum, early redemption soren] (in planning stage)

Fandom Events

A Dangerous Profession [sorvus week 2024, hurt/comfort, sorvus]

Camp Songs [sorvus week 2024 young soren callum & corvus, camp katolis]

My mind is the place I can't escape your ghost [snake boi callum week 3.0, tragic rayllum, broyals]

The Right Choice [snake boi callum week 3.0, tragic rayllum, coin theory]

Third Time's the Charm [snake boi callum week 3.0, tragic rayllum, coin theory, claudia & callum]

I flew so close to the sun that I flew away from you [snake boi callum week 3.0, bittersweet rayllum, rayllum kiddos]

Hearts of Cinder [sorvus, sorvus week 2024, emotional hurt/comfort]

Whispers on the Wind [sorvus, poet soren, sorvus week 2024, fluff]

A Good Man With A Big Heart [sorvus, alt s6, sorvus week 2024]

I'll Wait For You (will you wait for me?) [sorvus, post s3, sorvus week 2024]

Matching Scars [sorvus, post s6, sorvus week 2024]

A Campus Christmas [modern au, sorvus, rayllum, clauderry, fluffcember 2024]

The Things We Don't Say [sorpeli, interconnected oneshots, sorpeli week 2025]

(a magefam) Whumpuary 2025 [magefam whump / angst, whumpuary 2025, MCD]

You can also find all my works on Ao3

[tearyeyedboys]

Whumpuary Day 3 - Choice

Food issues, conditioned whumpee

Caretaker frowned. “Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?”

Whumpee didn’t respond. They stayed unnervingly silent, their head lowered.

Want?

Whumpee didn’t want.

Caretaker grabbed a bowl and filled it with soup, glancing over at Whumpee’s bowed head. The microwave hummed softly in the background. After a long, awkward moment, it beeped. Caretaker carried the bowl to the table, their movements slow.

“Whumpee… There’s more soup. I could heat some up for you, if you’d like… or you could pick something else…” 

Whumpee hunched down further, making themselves smaller. Caretaker trailed off, unsure of how to continue, not wanting to push too hard on the subject of food.

Whumpee tried not to look at Caretaker, trying not to watch them eat. They tried not to smell the rich, savory broth—still warm from the microwave, the scent of chicken and herbs drifting through the air. They tried not to think about how good it would taste, how their empty stomach clenched with hunger.

But they were Whumpee. They didn’t get to choose.

They didn’t get a say.