#wishing I was in the hospital with a tourniquet

[originalsinfulspoils]

Sigh I really hope that’s the end of it. I just want to be able to post on here without worrying about my ex. Apologies to friends that may have to witness the tags below

[whumptober]

WHUMPTOBER 2024: PROMPTS LIST

Welcome to Whumptober 2024 — Seventh Time's a Charm!

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

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

This year's playlist can be found here.

The 'Anatomy of a Whumptober Prompt' post can be found here.

And our 'Resources for Writing Sensitive Topics' post is here.

We’re very excited to see the community come together for another year of Whumptober! Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(Text versions of the prompts, as well as event information, rules and FAQ are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2024 Prompt List

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK

Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.” (Icysami x Renegaderr, Strangers.)

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES

Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE

Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

No. 5: SUNBURN

Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far." (Lottery Winners, Burning House)

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED

Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES

Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION

Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on." (Coldplay, Midnight)

No. 9: OBSESSION

Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD

Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE

Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.” (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs)

No. 12: STARVATION

Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY

Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD

Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted” (tiLLie, kooL aiD mAn)

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

No. 16: NECROSIS

Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO

Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

No. 18: REVENGE

Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.” (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes)

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL

Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?" (Bruce Springsteen, Radio Nowhere)

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST

Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

No. 21: BODY HORROR

Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES

Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE

Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

No. 24: RADIATION POISONING

Collapsed Building | Equipment Failure | “I never knew daylight could be so violent.” (Florence + The Machine, No Light, No Light)

No. 25: SURGERY

Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

No. 26: NIGHTMARES

Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.” (Poe, Haunted)

No. 27: VOICELESS

Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

No. 28: DENIAL

CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."

No. 29: FATIGUE

Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

No. 30: RECOVERY

Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP

Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.)

Alternatives List:

Body Swap

Communication Barrier

Finding Old Messages

Forgotten

Friendly Fire

Motion Sickness

No-Holds-Barred Beatdown

Regret

Secrets Revealed

Shivering

Survivor's Guilt

Time Loop

Used As Bait

Venom

Vermin

Event Info & Rules

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. They are meant to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is “flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be a reference to an ‘old flame’ - an old relationship. It’s truly down to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day. These are optional suggestions and can be used in conjunction with the theme, or as options/alternatives.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks. There is also a list of 15 alternative prompts that can be subbed in for any day, again to give participants as much creative freedom as possible.

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

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

#whumptober2024 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(theme number)

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

#altprompt …..(if you use an altprompt, tag the post with the number of the prompt you replace)

#fandom or #OC, …..(ironman, original content, oc, etc.)

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

#teeth, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Keep in mind not to add “tw” in front but only use the word/trigger itself)

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

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

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

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed. This is based on trust and we will not check this.

Frequently Asked Questions

Please read this before you send an ask!

TIMELINE

July: Trope voting form released. Late August: Prompt list is released for at least four weeks of preparation time. Tropes cannot be posted earlier than August 25th because of Moderator obligations in real life. (But, you know, go ahead and start writing/drawing, and add the themes in later, if you want!) September: Do as much or as little on your works as you want. You can prepare everything in advance or let September go by with vibes and start working in October. It’s up to you. October 1st: Challenge begins! A storm of whump breaks upon us all! During this time, some posts will be reblogged to the whumptober archive blog. We open the yearly AO3 collection for posting (optional). November 1st: The challenge is officially over! Completionist form opens for those who want to be included in the hall-of-fame. Early November: We release completionist and participant badges, solicit feedback, and post a hall-of-fame list of completionists by the 10th.

PARTICIPATION AND COMPLETION

Q: What counts as participation? Create or continue at least one work inspired by one of this year’s prompts. Q: What counts as completion? Creating work(s) inspired by at least one prompt from each day (or alts), for a total of 31 unique prompts. Q: Do I need to create 31 works? No. You can, if you want. Or you can create one work that you add to every day with a new prompt. Or several works that combine prompts. You can also update an existing work by adding new material with the current prompts. Q: Do I need to post my works somewhere to be a completionist or a participant? No. Q: How do you know I actually completed the challenge? We’ll take your word for it! Q: Do I have to finish my work(s) to be a completionist? No, you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish them in October, but if you want it to count towards being a completionist, you must have completed 31 prompts by the end of the month. So for example, if you’re writing a long fic and you fit 31 different prompts into the writing you did in October, it’s okay if that fic isn’t finished by the time October ends, you’ll still be a completionist. Q: Is co-writing/illustrating allowed? Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you. Q: Is there a min/max limit on word count for written works? No. Q: Is there a min/max limit of quality for art? No. Q: Do I have to do something each day to be a completionist? No. You can skip days whenever you want, and as long as 31 daily prompts (or alts) are in your works done in October, you can be a completionist. For example, if you wrote a 1000-word ficlet that covers prompts in days 2, 3, and 17, you can check all three days off your list even though it’s only one work. Q: Is this challenge just for fics? No! Artworks, GIFsets, headcannons, rec lists, poetry, moodboards, or any other creative work is encouraged. Q: Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges? Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

PROMPTS

Q: How do the prompts work? There are FOUR prompts per day: a theme and three ideas. You can use one, two, three, or all four prompts for each day. If you don’t like any of the daily prompts, you can substitute one of the ALT prompts instead. Q: How strictly/literally should we interpret the prompts? As literally or as figuratively as you want. For example, if the theme is WATER, that could mean drowning, waterboarding, raining, swimming, take place underwater, be lost at sea, construct a metaphor about a character’s mood that changes like a flowing river, crying, or whatever else you can think of that fits that theme. Q: Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many? No limit and combine as many as you’d like. If you create a work that checks off multiple prompts, that work will count for a fill of multiple prompts. You need to address 31 different prompts to be an official completionist, but you don’t have to produce 31 separate works.

WORKS

Q: What’s whump? Hurting a character, whether that’s physically, emotionally, intellectually, psychologically, or any other way you can think of. Comfort afterwards is optional. Angst is emotional whump, so it counts. Q: How do I know if it’s whumpy enough? If your character is just mildly inconvenienced, it probably needs more whump. However, no participant has to prove whumpiness to the mods. Whatever you write is up to you. Q: What kind of characters can I create for? Anything. Generic “whumpee,” OC, PC, NPC, major characters, minor characters, or whatever you want. There are no limits. Q: Does it have to take place in a specific fandom? No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want. Q: Can I create AI-created works? We will not reblog or promote any works we know to be generative AI-created. Q: Is there anything we’re not allowed to write? As long as it contains whump and is based on our prompts, it’s fine. Please courtesy tag your works if you post them so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences. Q: What about sex, minor characters, and potentially disturbing content? You can create whatever works are legal in your country and post them accordingly. Please courtesy tag anything you think might be objectionable if you post to Tumblr so people who follow the #whumptober2024 tag can filter according to their preferences.

POSTING

Q: Where can I post my work? Post where and how you want. You don’t even have to (cross)post it to Tumblr. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive. There is an AO3 archive for Whumptober 2024, as well as the parent collection for works completed outside of the event. Q: Can I start posting early? You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? We won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st. Q: Can I post late? Yes. For the sake of our hardworking Post Fairies, only a day’s themes will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive each day of October. But you can post whenever. Some of us are still working on and posting Whumptober fics from years ago. Q: Do I have to use your tags? Only on Tumblr and only if you want us to reblog your work on @whumptober-archive. Q: How do I have my works reblogged to the archive? Properly tagged posts will be reblogged to @whumptober-archive. If you want the official archive blog to reblog you, post on Tumblr and tag correctly (see this FAQ link for more info on tagging). Please note not all posts will be reblogged each day. Q: Can we @ you? For questions and comments, of course. We’ll be getting a flood of notifications, so if you really want us to see something send an ask. Q: Can I cross post on other blogs? Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable, as long as they allow cross-posting (to us). You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once. If you post some works under your main and others under an alt blog, that’s fine for completionist purposes. Q: Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms? Of course! We’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there, which can be found here. The blog is the official archive, so please respect the personal boundaries of any whumpers in your social circle (don’t out anyone as a participant who would prefer not to be outed).

Most importantly, have fun, create, and enjoy all the whump posted this October!

[firewasabeast]

He wished he could say he knew it was a bad idea before it happened, but he didn't.

It wasn't until the saw blade had sliced straight down his leg and the blood started seeping onto his pants and pooling on the garage floor that he realized hey, maybe I should have been a little more careful.

Still, without allowing himself to panic, he made himself a tourniquet before getting into his truck and heading toward the hospital.

“I was going through your files, Thomas,” Tommy's nurse, Angela, said as she walked into his room, “and you have a blank space where your emergency contact should be. Why's that?”

“Well good morning to you too, Angela,” Tommy replied, plastering on a grin. “Lovely to see you, as always.”

She cocked her head to the side, resting a hand on her hip. “Mhm. You need an emergency contact, Thomas.”

“Nobody calls me Thomas, Angela.”

“And nobody calls me Angela, Thomas.”

Tommy pushed himself up in the bed, wincing slightly at the pain that radiated down his leg. “What do they call you then? Angie? Ang? Ella?”

“This is serious, Mr. Kinard.”

“Angel?”

Angela sighed. “With your career, it's very important to have an emergency contact on file.” She moved closer to him, maneuvering the tray table over his lap and setting some paperwork down with a pen. “Get to writing.”

“Okay, okay,” he relented, picking up the pen. She waited as his hand hovered over the form. After a few seconds, he blinked up at her. “What's your number?”

“I find it very hard to believe that a pretty boy like you doesn't have at least one name and number he can drag from his phone to that piece of paper right there.”

“Is that a no on your number?”

“As long as no infection gets in that leg, you'll be out of here tomorrow,” she said, ignoring his question. “You have to have a ride or we can't release you.”

“Oh, come on,” Tommy whined, “I drove myself here!”

“Which was stupid!” She replied. “A gash that big, nearly to the bone. You're lucky you didn't bleed out on your way in.”

“My tourniquet skills are unmatched.”

“Well your common sense skills could use some work.” She took a look at her watch, let out another sigh. “I'll leave the paperwork with you. I'll be back in two hours to change your dressing and give you some meds.” She tapped on the paper, “I want a name and a number when I get back.”

Tommy grinned up at her, “Yes, Ma'am.”

He kept the smile on his face until she was out of the room, then he dropped the act. He tossed the pen down and pushed the tray away from him, pressing the button on the side of his bed so he'd be lying down.

Carefully, as to not disturb his leg, he turned onto his side and closed his eyes, letting sleep take over.

*****

When Tommy woke up nearly an hour later, it was due to loud noises across the hall.

Laughter.

A lot of it.

There was some shushing, and things quieted down for a minute, then it started back up again. It almost sounded like they were having a party over there.

When another round of laughter started, Tommy decided to get up and take a look at what was causing all the commotion.

Moving around too much wasn't recommended after the surgery and stitches he had to have for the gash on his leg, but he was tired of doing nothing and the door wasn't that far away.

Cautiously, he sat up and swung his legs around until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He pushed himself up, groaning slightly at the pain.

He clenched his teeth together and took a step, barely tiptoeing with his left foot to keep as much pressure on the right as he could.

He managed to make it to the door in five steps, leaning against the frame as he stared at the room across the hall.

The door was halfway open, filled with more people than Tommy thought was allowed in a room. He could see flowers on a corner table, and balloons nearby with GET WELL SOON written on them.

A man peeked around the corner, his smile turning into a grimace. “Sorry!” he exclaimed. “We're trying to keep it down over here.”

“Oh, you're fine,” Tommy assured him, motioning to his leg. “Needed to move around a bit.”

“Our boy over here just had surgery on his leg too,” the man said. “Trying to cheer him up since he'll be out of office for a couple months.”

Tommy forced a smile. “That's nice. Please, don't mind me. I'm not gonna be making it much further than here, just needed to get out of bed.”

“Alright. Feel better, Man.”

Tommy nodded. “Thanks.”

As the man disappeared back behind the door, Tommy turned back to his room. It'd been three days since his surgery, but there wasn't a balloon in sight. No flowers, no stuffed animals, no people. Nothing.

It was fine though. It wasn't like he needed those things. His captain had texted him that all his shifts had been covered, not to worry. A couple of coworkers had sent him teasing messages about hurting himself off the clock.

That was enough.

As he got back to the bed and laid down, he grabbed his phone off of the tray table. He was forever thankful to Angela for going downstairs to the gift shop on his first day in recovery to get him a charger.

He opened up the Uber app and clicked through all the steps to schedule a ride home tomorrow. He'd come back sometime soon to pick up his truck.

Once that was settled, he looked at the time. Angela would be back soon, and expecting a name and number on that piece of paper.

With a very dramatic eye roll, he grabbed the pen and quickly wrote down a name and a number.

*****

Twenty minutes after changing his dressing and getting his paperwork, Angela walked back into the room with a glare on her face. “You can't have Uber's corporate number as your emergency contact, Tommy.”

He gave her his award winning smile. “Hey, you called me Tommy!”

“I'm being serious with you. Who is Gary P.? Did you make him up?”

“Absolutely not,” Tommy gasped, feigning offense. “Gary P. is the lovely man who will be taking me home tomorrow. For the low, low price of $42.35. That's before tip, of course.”

“So you put your Uber driver down and added the corporate number?”

“You're in the wrong field, Angela,” Tommy said, wiggling his finger toward her. “You should be a detective.”

Tommy hadn't asked, but he was pretty sure by the face Angela was giving him that she was a mother. “What is this?” she asked. “Too macho to let anyone know you're hurt?”

“I've actually worked very hard to rid myself of toxic masculinity, thank you very much.”

“Tommy-”

“You've been a nurse a long time, Angela,” Tommy interrupted, beginning to feel a little irritated by her refusal to let it go. “I'm sure I'm not your first patient without an emergency contact.”

“You're not,” she agreed. “But with your job, you could have your captain or a coworker-”

“If I get hurt on the job, my captain and coworkers will already know. I'm not going to have them running down to the hospital because I didn't properly secure a saw. I texted my captain that I'd be out of commission for a while, he texted back. It's all good.”

“A parent?”

“No mom.”

“Your dad then?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “Angela, please, don't joke like that.”

“If something serious were to happen to you, you need someone on the form.”

Tommy rested his head against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. “If something serious were to happen to me, let it happen,” he said. “We're all gonna die anyway, don't need anyone to watch.”

He could feel her watching him. Could sense the pity. He closed his eyes, hoping she got the hint.

After a few seconds, he heard her shuffling around, and when he opened his eyes again, she was gone.

*****

Gary P. wasn't exactly the kindest man Tommy had ever met. He seemed frustrated that he had to pick Tommy up in the first place, as if he hadn't accepted the ride. He was impatient, huffy, took two wrong turns, and practically shooed Tommy out of the car the second they arrived at his house.

“You know, Gary,” Tommy said as he pushed the car door open and took a wobbly step onto his driveway, “I'm beginning to regret putting you as my emergency contact.”

Before Gary could even register what Tommy had said, he slammed the door and turned toward his house.

As soon as he got inside, he headed for the couch. He tossed down his keys, phone, and the bag of pain meds from the hospital pharmacy before sitting down himself. He propped his leg up on the coffee table and leaned his head back, closing his eyes and falling asleep.

When he woke back up it was due to a throbbing in his leg. He couldn't help the moan that escaped him as he tried to pull himself back up from the slumped position he'd sunk into.

He reached over for his meds and grabbed the bottle out of the bag, popping off the lid and shaking out one of the pills into his palm.

He needed water. He'd never been able to swallow pills without a drink of some kind. But water was all the way in the kitchen and the kitchen felt very far away right now. Especially when he could feel his heart beating in his leg.

Still, he knew the pain would only get worse if he didn't get up. So, he stood and his groans turned into whimpers with each step he took.

He ignored the pain as best as he could, stopping when he reached the fridge to lean against it with his hands gripping the door handle.

After letting himself take a few deep breaths, he opened the fridge and grabbed a water. He opened the bottle quickly and swallowed the pill, feeling a slight vindication at the fact that he'd done it and he could go back and rest again.

And that's when it hit him. Standing in the middle of his kitchen, staring back toward the living room, it hit him all at once.

He'd need to fix himself something to eat soon, or order something at least. Either way, he'd be walking to the kitchen or the front door. He needed to go to the bathroom. Needed a shower. Needed to rewrap his leg. He desperately wanted to sleep in his bed but wasn't sure if he could get back up after he laid down. Then he remembered he was in the middle of washing his sheets when he hurt himself so they were still in the washer, probably soured, which meant he needed to get his spare set of sheets out of the linen closet and make his bed.

He'd have to get another Uber in a day or two to go pick up his truck. God, what if he got Gary again? He needed to let his captain know when he'd be back at work. Needed to remember to get a release form when he went back to the doctor for a checkup. He needed to go grocery shopping. He needed to make sure all his bills were paid for the month. He needed... he needed help.

He needed someone.

He was so damn tired.

His eyes burned as he rested his elbows on his countertop, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes.

He was fine.

It was fine.

He didn't need anybody.

The couch would be fine for tonight.

He'd figure everything else out on his own.

He'd always figured everything out on his own.

This was no different. He just needed the pain to stop and to get some rest and he'd be fine.

With a deep breath, he straightened up. He ignored his blurry, wet eyes as he took each pain-filled step back to the couch. And if a few tears fell down his face on the way, well, at least no one would ever know.

*****

It took three and a half weeks before his leg was healed enough for him to return to work.

There was no big fanfare on his first day back, which he was thankful for.

A couple of people gave him a high five and asked him how gnarly the scar was. One guy told him he was forced to take three of his shifts, so Tommy owed him. His captain kept him on light duty and told him to make sure he let him know if he felt any pain.

Other than that, it was a regular day.

Another week passed until he could go back up in the chopper. He was thankful to be back in the air again. Back where he belonged. He could forget everything when he was in the air.

Just focus on flying. That's the way he liked it.

It was in the middle of his second shift back as pilot when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He stared at the name that lit up on his screen, eyebrows furrowed in confusion before answering.

“Howie? What's up, Man?”

“Hey, Tommy! Long time no talk, I know, but I, uh, I got a big favor to ask.”

[fresh-fanfics]

Yandere! Kaoru Hanayama x AFAB! Reader

TW: Depression, Mommy Issues, Stalking, Obsessive Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Delusional Thoughts.

Reader: A foreign college student who's currently taken. She's a bit of a brat, but has a good heart.

So I finally have an idea for a fanfic with Hanayama. I really like the idea of making Yandere fics with him, he just seems so perfect for them. This fic is gonna be a multipart, I'm used to making slow burns so if you don't swing with that, I don't know what to tell you. Buckle up? Anyways, enjoy.

Hanayama was no romantic man. Even with all the money and power in the world, no girl would ever want to stay with someone as dangerous as him. For a while, he was satisfied with this life. He had accepted that no person would ever look at him in adoration and pure love. As empty as it was going day to day, girl to girl, brothel to brothel, it was enough to distract him from his loneliness. When work became too much, he distracted himself with empty pleasure and the moans of prostitutes that were just there for the money.

He laid down against a brick wall, bleeding on the cold and dark floor at a filthy alleyway. It had been one of those days where the underground world was at a state of unrest, violent gang wars breaking out without any signs of stopping. He had no choice but to step in, show everyone who the real boss was. Hanayama knew he would survive. He always does, but sometimes he wished he didn't. He knew he needed to move, but peace like this was a luxury. Any man that tried to disturb this solemn moment would not live to tell the tale. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the cold wind blow against his face.

"Oh my God, sir, you're bleeding! Are you okay? What happened?" A feminine voice took Hanayama out of his thoughts, his eyes opening to find a woman that bent down with concern in her eyes.

He stayed silent, his steel-hardened gaze observing her delicate stature. She was a cute little thing, the equivalent of a tree sapling that had yet to bloom. He trumped her in size and strength, yet she was unafraid. Hanayama had seen hardened men twice her height and stature that would quiver at his feet, but not her. This naive woman who dotted over him like cattle. He watched her ramble about and rummage through her purse for some kind of thing that would stop the bleeding.

He knew it was useless and no amount of nursing from a stranger was going to make the pain disappear, but he commended her effort despite how foolish it was. Did she even realize who she was helping? She was naive to be tending to a man that has crushed millions of gangsters like a grape.

"Okay, almost...Got it." She had tied a makeshift tourniquet around his left arm using her cardigan.

"Can you get up?"

The large man gave a slight nod, struggling to stand up on his two feet while this stranger tried to help him stabilize his trembling form.

What was this woman doing? She must have either been the most oblivious thing on the planet or the most wreckless. She certainly didn't look like she belonged here.

"You speak good Japanese for a tourist." He spoke at out of the blue, making her slightly jump from his sudden comment.

The woman gave a forced chuckle.

"Actually, I've been living here for a while now. I know I don't exactly look like I am, but this is still my home as much as yours."

Kaoru felt conflicted, processing the words inside his head. Despite being born and raised in Japan, it didn't feel like home. Being raised in a Yakuza family was not easy for a young kid. Violence was your normal, and there was no telling if you would live to fight another day. He envied her naivety, the innocence in her eyes that he never got to keep. It was depressing to think about, to say the least.

"We definitely need to get you to the hospital. These injuries are not something you can shrug off." She reached for her phone before he grabbed her wrist with his other hand, causing her to flinch from its tight grip.

"No need. I know a doctor. I'll give you the number." He noticed her trembling form, loosening his grasp as he dialed the numbers and letting the phone ring.

"Hello? Who is this? How did you get this number?" An elegant voice could be heard from the other side, calling out to whoever was there.

"Kureha. I need your services." Without even uttering his name, Hanayama knew that Kureha would recognize his deep and raspy tone. He spoke with conviction and directness.

"Kaoru? What happened to-You know what, it doesn't matter. Where are you right now?" Kureha sighed in exasperation.

"I'm in an alleyway at the Red Light District near Deathmatch pub. Come quick." He hung up without so much as a goodbye, dropping her phone in her hands.

"You can go. I don't need your help anymore."

The foreigner girl's face soured, glaring at him as she shoved her phone in her bag.

"Hmph. You're welcome." She grumbled, gritting her teeth and turning up her nose at rude man.

"I guess I'm not needed here. Good luck. I hope you recover well." Sarcasm dripped from her tone as she left him alone in the alleyway.

He watched her figure disappear through the bustling crowds in the city streets without even as much as looking back at him. Hanayama stared into space, alone in a cold alley once again. Despite her bratty behaviour, he didn't mind it at all.

"Huh. Strange. This girl is something else. For someone who claims to have lived here for a while, she's damn clueless. I'll admit, she has guts to talk down to me like that.."

Before he could dwell on it any longer, a series of loud sirens blared down the streets with an ambulance stopping nearby. Paramedics clamored to take him away for treatment, rushing him towards the hospital.

It would seem that he'd have to hold that thought for a while...

To be continued.

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober 2024 Compilation Post

Hello! This is a compilation post of the 2024 version of my Whump vs Flufftober challenge, for easy accessibility. Click below to go to a prompt! If a link isn't clickable, then the prompt hasn't been fulfilled yet.

AO3 Link (series will eventually be cross-posed onto here)

Day 1: search party / Lost Pet Meet Cute

Day 2: amusement park | role reversal

Day 3: wrongfully arrested | "I warned you" / Favorite Scent

Day 4: HALLUCINATIONS hypnosis | sensory deprivation

Day 5: heatstroke / Acorn, Chestnut, Pine Cone

Day 6: NOT REALIZING THEY'RE INJURED unhealthy coping mechanisms / Mistaken Identity

Day 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES unconventional weapon | magic with a cost / Hoodie Weather

Day 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION forced to stay awake / Chopping & Piling Wood

Day 9: OBSESSION broken window / "Don't do that!" - "But..."

Day 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD passing out from pain | "I can't think straight" / Bet, Game, Contest

Day 11: convenience store | loneliness | "leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist" (Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs) / Ingredients & Spells

Day 12: STARVATION underground caverns / "This is spooky." - "Really?"

Day 13: familial curse / Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room

Day 14: LEFT FOR DEAD hunting gear / Fantasy AU/Mundane AU

Day 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA moment of clarity

Day 16: NECROSIS wound cleaning | "no, I can't feel anything" / Yes, No, Maybe

Day 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO ruined map / Only One Bed

Day 18: "I see what's mine and take it" (Panic! at the Disco, Emperor's New Clothes) / Bewitched

Day 19: abandoned cabin / Yarn

Day 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST shoulder to cry on "it's not your fault" / Paw

Day 21: BODY HORROR / Bonfire

Day 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES tourniquet | reopening wounds | "oh, that's not good" / Heirloom

Day 23: "I'm doing this for you" / Stormy Night

Day 24: collapsed building / Comfort Food

Day 25: SURGERY stitches | being monitored / Haunted House

Day 26: breakfast table / "I can't find it."

Day 27: muzzled / Afternoon Stroll

Day 28: DENIAL CCTV / Lucky Charm

Day 29: FATIGUE labyrinth | burnout | "who said you could rest?" / Time Capsule

Day 30: RECOVERY hospital bed | holding back tears | "what have I done?" / "Forever?"

Day 31: ASKING FOR HELP therapy | making amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well" (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well) / Make a Wish

[green-eyedfirework]

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

Whumping season is upon us! 🖤🧡🖤🧡 Prompts are currently closed, I'll see you all in October!

No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK Search Party | Panic Attack | "If only we could hold on.”

broken mirrors

No. 2: TRUST ISSUES Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife's in my back.”

wind blows

No. 3: SET UP FOR FAILURE Fingerprints | Wrongfully Arrested | "I warned you."

side of the angels

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.”

broken mirrors

No. 5: SUNBURN Healing Salve | Heatstroke | "If my pain will stretch that far."

alpha's price

No. 6: NOT REALISING THEY'RE INJURED Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms | Healed Wrong | "It's not my blood."

slipping

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

silver bird

No. 8: SLEEP DEPRIVATION Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on."

close haul

No. 9: OBSESSION Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.”

crumpled paper

No. 10: BLOW TO THE HEAD Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

siren call me

No. 11: SEEING DOUBLE Convenience Store | Loneliness | “Leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.”

gemini

No. 12: STARVATION Underground Caverns | Cannibalism | "Just a little more."

caught

No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part."

silver bird

No. 14: LEFT FOR DEAD Hunting Gear | Blackmail | “Because I want you to know what it feels like to be haunted”

unmarked

No. 15: CHILDHOOD TRAUMA Painful Hug | Moment of Clarity | "I did good, right?"

teeter

No. 16: NECROSIS Swamp | Wound Cleaning | "No, I can't feel anything."

unmarked

No. 17: NOWHERE ELSE TO GO Ruined Map | Shipwrecked | "We had a good run."

safe passage

No. 18: REVENGE Unreliable Narrator | Loss of Identity | “I see what's mine and take it.”

deliverance

No. 19: BLOOD TRAIL Abandoned Cabin | One Way Out | "Is there anybody alive out there?"

bystander

No. 20: EMOTIONAL ANGST Shoulder to Cry On | Giving Permission to Die | "It's not your fault."

an heir for an heir

No. 21: BODY HORROR Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.”

wouldn't wish it

No. 22: BLEEDING THROUGH BANDAGES Tourniquet | Reopening Wounds | "Oh that's not good."

crumpled paper

No. 23: FORCED CHOICE Public Display | Broken Pedestal | "I'm doing this for you."

plunder

No. 25: SURGERY Stitches | Being Monitored | "It's for your own good."

plus sign

No. 26: NIGHTMARES Breakfast Table | Parting Words of Regret | “I'm haunted by the lies that I have loved, the actions I have hated.”

virtue is truest nobility

No. 27: VOICELESS Laboratory | Muzzled | “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

deliverance

No. 28: DENIAL CCTV | Exposure | "They caught me red handed."

scape

No. 29: FATIGUE Labyrinth | Burnout | "Who said you could rest?"

through a glass darkly

No. 30: RECOVERY Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?"

virtue is truest nobility

No. 31: ASKING FOR HELP Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well."

wedlock

Alt 2. Communication Barrier

ribbons

Alt 9. Secrets Revealed

in the middle

Alt 10. Shivering

in the middle

Alt 11. Survivor's Guilt

the best revenge

[ahumblenipple]

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)

Relationship: Hank Anderson/Connor

Characters: Hank Anderson ,Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Cole Anderson, Jericho Members (Detroit: Become Human), Kara (Detroit: Become Human), Luther (Detroit: Become Human), Alice Williams (Detroit: Become Human), Ralph (Detroit: Become Human), Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Carl Manfred, Various Character(s)

Additional Tags: Emotionally Repressed, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Doctor!Connor, Strongman!Hank Anderson, Eventual Smut, Everyone lives, Medical Inaccuracies, I'm not a doctor lets be real, Top Hank Anderson, Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Fluff and Smut, Found Family, will update smut tags, its gonna be there tho and its gonna be sappy

Language: English Collections: Detroit: Become Human Reverse Big Bang 2024

Did I mention I'm doing a second piece for the RBB? This one was a collab with @connor-sent-by-cyberlife who did all the amazing renders and came up with the concept!! Please check out their work when you have the chance, as well as the other great stuff in the @dbh-bb page. All of the pieces are absolutely phenomenal

He drifted across the rows of patrons and up to the stage in a fever dream, certain that any moment all of this would evaporate because for whatever reason, this didn’t feel real. The warm smile greeting him and the wide palm that settled on his shoulder were the only grounding thing as nerves continued to gnaw away at Connor’s throat. “What’s your name, stranger?” Hank asked as he leaned forward. This close, Connor could see that icy blue all the better, and he’s stuck staring at the clearest eyes he has ever seen. --- Connor O'Sullivan has lived his entire life according to his family's wishes. Attending Med School, working in a Detroit Hospital, and now? Becoming engaged to the woman his Step-Mother picked out for him. But something feels wrong in the middle of it all. If his life is so perfect, why does it feel hollow? An impulsive decision leads Connor to a circus show, and the single greatest change in his entire life. So called "The World's Strongest Man", Hank Anderson is incredible, and all Connor can think about, even if he doesn't truly understand why. This is a story about self-discovery, found family, and the joys of early 1920's medicine.

[literatecowboy]

Dr. Feelgood

3. Physical Exams

Part 4

Start at part 1 here!

Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: This is my first fanfiction - please be gentle. Additionally, the reader's callsign is "Feelgood." I have done my best to write the reader as ambiguous regarding appearance, but she/her pronouns and AFAB anatomy will be utilized. I hope for this to be a slow-burn romance with Simon "Ghost" Riley.  Warnings: Gunshot wounds, medical terminology and procedures, finger up the butt, touching, allusions to NSFW

-----

Ghost lay alone in the medical bay, thoughts racing through his foggy mind. For once, he’d gotten Feelgood to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. After his flirtation you’d squeaked, snarky reply dead on your lips, and made an excuse to leave before bustling out, the door slamming behind you. 

You were infuriating. The way you bossed his colleagues around as if you had some sort of authority over them, the ways you tried to control him by cornering him and forcing him into bed, allegedly “for his own good.” The softness of your skin against his as you held him while he collapsed during his panic attack. The way he wished he could shut your smart mouth up with your plush lips wrapped around his–

The door to the med bay swung open and pulled him from his thoughts. Gaz poked his head in and glanced around, raising an eyebrow at Ghost.

“Where’s Feelgood?” he asked, wandering into the room with Soap trailing behind him. 

“Left.” Ghost grunted, shrugging his shoulders and scowling under his balaclava. 

“Where to? Price was asking after her and I think she has some questions for him too,” he said, peering into the office through the window in the door. 

“Didn’t ask.” the masked man grumbled. 

“How you feelin’ L.T. - seems like the lass is doin’ a lovely job,” Soap remarked, plopping down in a chair at his lieutenant’s side. 

“She’s competent.” Ghost said. What he wanted to say was ‘She’s a feisty little thing. I quite like her.’

“She’s scarier than you, mate. If I ever get shot, promise you’ll protect my arsehole?” Soap asked, snickering. Ghost fixed him with a glare. 

“Bring that up ever again, sergeant, and you’re a dead man,” he growled lowly. 

“Bring what up again?” you called out as you strode back into the med bay, a tray piled high with food in your arms. 

“Got you something to eat from the mess, Lieutenant,” you said with a smile, setting the tray by his bedside. 

“Hey, Feelgood, Price was askin’ after you earlier. Said you should head down to the office when you get a minute.” Gaz said, coming out of your office and offering you a smile. You returned it. 

“Thanks! I need to ask him about hiring medical support staff for this place. I’m sure you guys would be happy with more than just me poking at you all the time.”

“Hey lass, what does Feelgood mean? Where’d you get the callsign?” Soap asked, leaning back in his seat. 

“Oh, it’s stupid. Do you like classic rock?” you asked with a laugh, sitting down and sweeping your hair back into a ponytail. 

“I know enough to know Dr. Feelgood is the title of a song - Motley Crue, right?” Gaz asked, sitting next to you. 

“Yeah! I got it when I was still doing fieldwork and running missions with soldiers on the ground as a medic in the marines. One day three of us are headed into some little village and we get hit by an IED and the Humvee we’re in flips. So I crawl out, and my guys are still alive but they’re fucked up pretty bad. 

“My buddy Marston’s lost an arm so I tourniquet it and pump him full of drugs and he starts feeling good again before he passes the fuck out. And I figured fuck, why stop there? We’re all fucked up and bloody and we might die here in the sand so why not go out feeling better than just comfortable? So I offered some to Duncan after I’ve finished bandaging him up and he was like, ‘Sure, why the fuck not?’

“Then I patch myself up and put the needle in my thigh. Next thing I know I’m waking up driving a little donkey cart down the road and there are evac vehicles coming towards us. Marston’s passed out in the back and Duncan’s singing something made up - I think pretending to be the radio. 

“Anyway, I got into a metric fuckton of trouble even though we all made it out alive. I fucked my shoulder badly in the wreck, too bad to keep doing fieldwork, so they shipped me off to work in the base hospital’s emergency department. I got my shit together and went to medical school after that. 

“But the name - when my buddies came around enough to joke about it with me, they started calling me Dr. Feelgood after the song. See, it’s about a drug dealer called Jimmy who manages to evade trouble for a long time, but at the end of the song, he finally goes down on charges. They kinda reckoned my story mirrored Jimmy’s, but instead of going to prison, I got reprimanded and put in a more boring environment.” You finished. 

“Steamin’ Jesus lass, that’s–”

“I wasn’t aware you did field missions.” Ghost’s voice cut through Soap’s, silencing him. You smiled thinly. 

“Used to. Now the closest I get is coming with evac to stabilize wounded soldiers before they reach a proper hospital,” you admitted. 

“Sorry, Feelgood, but that’s pretty funny,” Gaz said with a grin, patting your knee before standing. 

“I just feel bad for whoever’s cart that was,” you admitted with a laugh, making Gaz shake his head. 

—

You went to see Price not long after the conversation died down under the assurances that Gaz and Soap would watch over Ghost. The door to his office was shut so you knocked softly. 

“Come in!” he called. You stepped in, taking in framed pictures and documents lining the back wall. A little plant sat atop the sill of the little window on the left wall and a couch was leaned against the right wall. 

“You wanted to see me?” you asked, slipping inside, the door shutting behind you.

“Yes! I wanted to let you know that I’ll be going on a mission with Soap and Gaz in a few days. It won’t last more than a week, but I wanted to check in with you and ask your professional opinion about Ghost’s condition before we leave. How’s he healing?” he asked, closing the laptop on his desk and fixing his gaze on you as you sat down. 

“Ghost is healing remarkably quickly and I’m confident he’ll make a full recovery provided he follows my instructions. Whether or not he does that is a matter of question,” you admitted with a smile. 

“Ah, I understand. I also wanted to ask - do you have any other concerns about the medical bay? Are there any supplies you’d like me to request for you, are we running low on anything?” Price asked. 

“What I need the most right now is support staff. Nurses, care assistants, other doctors? I know that those positions might be difficult to fill, but I’m one woman. I’m also not an anesthesiologist, an orthopedic surgeon, or a psychiatrist - my scope is very limited. 

“I also looked back at old records and I’ve noticed that none of you have ever provided medical history or undergone a physical. Before you leave for your mission, I’d like to do that for each one of you to get a baseline to compare later records to,” you said, counting each thing off on your fingers. Price nodded. 

“I can get the boys to get looked at for sure, but extra staff will take time to find. If there’s ever an emergency that you can’t tackle, we go to the general base hospital, but that’s discouraged due to the secretive nature of the work the task force does,” he explained. 

“Sir, I’d like you to undergo a physical too. Not just the boys. Do you have any reservations about seeing me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I don’t doubt your competency, Feelgood, and I mean no offense, but I…dislike the idea of being prodded at.” Price admitted. You nodded sympathetically. 

“What if I gave you a questionnaire and you wrote things down? I’d settle for that and a check of your vitals - that’s really what I want from you guys anyway.”

“I’ll think about it.”

—

“Oh, come on, you’re telling me you aren’t appreciating being pampered and doted on by a cute girl while you’re laid up in bed?” Gaz asked teasingly. Ghost grunted. 

“I’d rather not have been shot, Sargent,” he said dryly, poking at the buttons on the side of the hospital bed. The bed alarm was blaring, signaling that he had gotten up, but you were too far away in Price’s office to hear. 

“But you think she’s cute, right? Come on, how could you not? And she’s got fire, too, I like her.” Gaz teased, making Ghost roll his eyes - but he didn’t respond. He finally figured out how to silence the bed alarm and the room went quiet again.

“Oh my god, you do think she’s cute! Come on mate, at least ask if she’s seeing anyone!” Soap almost shouted, laughing in disbelief. 

“If anything, I’d like to see less of her. She’s fuckin’ everywhere, buzzing around me. Won’t shut the fuck up.” Ghost said. This was a lie - he just didn’t want his teammates to see how you got under his skin. Soap and Gaz groaned in unison. 

“You should see if she’ll come out with us before we leave. I wonder if she likes bars?” Gaz wondered aloud. Ghost stiffened where he stood. 

“You’re leaving? All of you?” he asked.

“Less than a week, it’s a quick one this time. It’ll just be you and the–” Soap’s eyes widened in realization.

“Steamin’ Jesus it’ll just be him and the doc!” he exclaimed, turning wide-eyed to Gaz. 

“If anything happens–”

“Watch your mouth before you end up with me here in the med bay.”

“--you’ll tell us, right?”

“It’s perfect, you’ve got a whole week to flirt with her without him bothering you,” Gaz said, jabbing his thumb back at Soap.

—

Gaz was your first physical patient. You’d offered to take him back into your office for privacy but he said he didn’t mind Ghost sitting in. Ghost was on his phone on the couch in the corner with a cup of tea and hardly paying attention to the world - it was a compromise you’d come to once you found out he’d broken the bed alarm and he’d threatened to go back to his room permanently. 

“I didn’t know your name was Kyle. I like it, it suits you,” you remarked as you took his blood pressure. 

“Thanks, Feelgood.”

“Makes you sound like an American frat boy.” Ghost quipped from the corner. 

“Hey, be nice. Is HIPAA a thing over here?” you asked. Gaz laughed and shrugged and you went forward with the exam.

Overall he seemed to be in exceptional health and you were satisfied with your findings. Gaz seemed oddly relieved when you told him so, almost as if he was worried he’d fail the health exam. You sent him outside and called Soap in. 

“Hey, lass, no finger up the arse today right?” he asked nervously, sitting down on the gurney you’d set up as you took his temperature. 

“Not unless you’re into it,” you said dryly, earning a surprised cough from Ghost and a laugh from Soap. 

Soap’s exam went as well as Gaz’s had and he walked out with an inflated ego when you informed him that he was in excellent physical shape. You decided to approach Ghost next. 

“Your turn big guy,” you said, gesturing for him to raise his arm so you could attach the blood pressure cuff.

“I’ve been in this fuckin’ bay for days, don’t you have enough?” he grumbled but reluctantly obeyed - only so he could feel your warm hands against his skin as you secured the cuff. 

“I’ve been managing your wound and making sure you don’t get infected, not doing full physicals every day,” you said with a laugh. “Give me your hand?�� 

He held it out to you and you took it, gently attaching the clip. His hand dwarfed yours and your face warmed slightly as you lowered the hand back to his thigh. Ghost watched you attentively, doing his best to read your expressions. You cleared your throat. 

“So, got anything cool you like to do on leave?” you asked, doing your best to strike up a conversation. 

“No.” Ghost grunted, a little too harshly. He winced and immediately felt bad. You took the equipment off of him when it had finished reading his vitals and tucked it away in the corner again, a little hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a minute as you fiddled with your stethoscope. “I didn’t mean to say that so aggressively.”

“It’s alright. Can I listen to your heart or would you rather me not touch you?” you asked briskly, watching him. 

“S’alright,” he grumbled, sitting forward and tugging his shirt off. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to– that’s okay, I can check your bandages afterward,” you said, your face hot as you took the sight of him in. Scars and old wounds crisscrossed his chest and a large bruise extended from beneath the bandages near his side. 

You put a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaned forward, carefully listening to his heart through your stethoscope. His skin was warm and it made butterflies take flight in your stomach. 

“Can I hear from your back?” you asked softly after a moment. Ghost grunted his assent and bent forward. You leaned over his shoulder slowly, pressing your stethoscope to his back. 

Ghost couldn’t help himself as you leaned over him. Your soft skin practically burned him where you touched him and his heart rate picked up quickly. He took a deep breath and gently wrapped an arm around your waist, steadying his hand on your lower back. 

You looked at him in surprise but didn’t pull away. He met your gaze for a moment before pulling away and sitting forward again. 

“M’ sorry. Should go get something to eat.” he grumbled, picking his shirt up and moving to put it back on. 

“It’s - uh…it’s okay! Can I…change your bandages first?” you asked softly, your voice coming out as almost a squeak. Ghost nodded and waited patiently as you gathered the supplies you needed. The feeling of your touch against him made him shiver when you returned. 

How he wished he could reach out and sweep you up in his arms, press a kiss to your lips, whisk you back to his room, and never leave. As you changed his bandages, he watched and imagined you trailing those delicate fingers up his chest to ruck his mask up and pull him down into a kiss. 

“Thanks,” he uttered as you finished, and that’s all he did. He tugged his shirt on and was almost to the door when he turned around. 

“Soap and Gaz wanted me to ask you if you’d come out with the lot of us before they leave,” he said. You didn’t have to think about it. 

“Of course!”

-----

taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland, @itsmeamysworld, @ghostlythots, @oranoyaora, @keiva1000

[steddieficfind]

Hi! I’m looking for a fic that I think was posted in parts on tumblr. It was a WIP last I remembered.

Steve helps save Eddie in the upside down but he has to create a tourniquet with his belt around Eddie’s arm. He ended up doing it wrong or too tight and the next time he sees Eddie is alive in the hospital with Wayne, missing an arm. This ends part 1. In parts 2-3, Eddie is trying to be positive about being alive but at one point he snaps at Steve and is upset because he can’t play the guitar anymore because of his missing arm. He may have even said to Steve that he wished he would’ve died in the upside down.

Request 1323! Send us an ask if you recognize this fic!

[wiltedboaart]

Although copperheads are mild compared to other pit vipers in the US, they still are a dangerous bite. Bites can result in extreme pain, necrosis, fatigue, etc. I was lucky the snake was a neonate, and only one fang got in.

In the hospital, my whole arm up to my elbow swole up, all my nerves felt like someone set them on fire. I had lung issues as well. They kept me on IV drip, gave me Norco , and 10 vials of antivenom. The snake was my own copperhead I have since then been made to get rid of sadly.

Currently, the swelling has completely subsided, but my hand still is not fully reactive, nor can it grip right. It may be a few months until the full strength is returned. It is all bruising, which is absolutely normal for snake bites. Here's an underside view of the arm now.

The pain is not always present but still comes in waves. The only reason I do not want to draw much, if at all, currently is that I subconsciously use both hands, and I want to let them heal for at least two weeks before doing any large projects.

I am still waiting on the bill and will be requesting an itemized bill. I did not want to get bit, nor did I mishandle. The snake fell off the snake hook and hit my hand in a freak accident. I appreciate all the well wishes and support I've had.

Once again, I got lucky. I was proactive and arrived at the hospital within 10 minutes. Despite it being the wrong thing to do, I fashioned a tourniquet for my hand. The only reason I did this was because it was a small baby snake. Never do that with an adult pit viper.

If I had not received the antivenom as soon as I did, this would be an entirely different and potentially fatal situation. So, props to the staff for following the correct bite protocols. You would be amazed at the lack of such protocols in modern hospitals.

Many don't follow the up to date protocols, or do not have antivenom on hand. Some even use the wrong information, it sucks, in my city there are only a few hospitals with the proper equipment and access to antivenom on site. I have seen people be denied care due to lack of education in the medical staff. There is a whole Facebook group dedicated to this, National Snake Bite support. This also applies to vets.

For instance:

While I was in the hospital, many of the staff came up and asked me the same question "aren't babies more dangerous than adults?" This is false, but kinda true.

In the way they mean it, it is false, as it is said that the myth goes that a baby snake is more dangerous than their adults as they cannot control their venom. This is because people personify snakes, snakes, unlike mammal, babies come out. Fully capable out of the egg and or womb of the mother Snake. What is true is that they can be more dangerous? Certain species of rattlesnakes have shown that the babies have much more toxic venom than the adults. But in now truth, the adult still has more venom that it can inject and is more dangerous, no matter what, but in the amount of toxicity, the baby is probably more dangerous. They were taught in medical schopl that babies cannot control their venom output, which that is not true at all and it is a misunderstanding of a old wives tale.

[three--rings]

Okay so I was listening to Placebo's album Black Market Music today while driving, and...this whole fucking album is like Vegaspete the Album.

I mean there's already so much Placebo on my Vegaspete playlist, but now I need to rethink my choices.

And because I feel like it, a self-ingulgent exercise.

Track 1 - Taste in Men - Already on my VP playlist, very Kinnporsche feeling in general. "Come back to me a while; Change your taste in men"

Track 2 - Days Before You Came

"Days before you came It always seemed enticing To be naked and profane There is no denying Days before you came Thunderbolts and lightning Each day a brand new vein Each tourniquet colliding"

'nuf said.

Track 3 - Special K - already on my VP playlist

"No hesitation, no delay You come on just like Special K"

"I'll describe the way I feel You're my new Achilles' heel Can the savior be for real"

Track 4 - Spite & Malice

"Soft and wet, scarf tied to the bed Jack is all tragic when he stands alone Feeling demonic, harmonic, and in a no-go-zone You look well suited like you came to win Lust, spite and malice your degrees of sin Cruising for pity and looking pretty as fuck Ace take your chance, queen wish you luck"

(Honestly one of the lesser VP songs on the album to me but, see lyrics. Still pretty much The Mood.)

Track 5 - Passive Aggressive

"Every time I rise I see you Falling Can you find me space inside your bleeding heart It falls apart"

Eh not that specific but still a harmonious vibe.

Track 6 - Black Eyed (This is where I started being like oh, this is a Vegas song and then the rest of the album was like oh yeah no the whole thing.)

"I was never loyal Except to my own pleasure zone I'm forever black-eyed A product of a broken home

I was never faithful And I was never one to trust Borderline bipolar Forever biting on your nuts"

Track 7 - Blue American - let's ignore this song I hate it. it's the song that keeps this album from being 100% perfect to me

Track 8 - Slave to the Wage

"Runaway from all your boredom Runaway from all your whoredom And wave your worries and cares goodbye"

Eh again, not super relevant. But not NOT appropriate.

Track 9 - Commercial for Levi

"You're the one who's always choking Trojan You're the one who's always bruised and broken Drunk on immorality Valium and cherry wine Coke and ecstasy You're gonna blow your mind"

Vaguely a Vegas song, though his self-destruction isn't exactly drugs. But I have a lot of personal feelings tied into this song, so it's difficult to associate it with characters.

Track 10 - Haemoglobin - Okay ignoring the actual context of the song, which is racist lynchings, I, uh, get Pete vibes from it.

"I was hanging from a tree Unaccustomed to such violence Jesus looking down on me I'm prepared for one big silence. . .

At the time they cut me free I was brimming with defiance"

Track 11 - Narcoleptic - Pete to Vegas, especially when he's in the hospital.

You'd better keep it in check Or you'll end up a wreck And you'll never wake up Wake up, wake up Wake up, wake up It seemed a place for us to dream

Track 12 - Peeping Tom -Mostly Pete POV but general VP also

"I'm weightless, I'm bare I'm faithless, I'm scared The face that fills the hole that stole my broken soul The one that makes me seem to feel much taller than you are"

Track 13 - Black Market Blood - This one is hard to relate because of all the she/her pronouns. But about impending doom and destruction.

And I HONESTLY don't know what to do about my VP playlist. Definitely adding at LEAST Black-eyed. Might remove one or two other placebo songs in favor of Days Before You Came and Narcoleptic or Peeping Tom? IDK Or just add them all and be damned? It's already SO placebo heavy. Look placebo was the reason I decided I needed to make a VP playlist tho.

[druggeddraccus]

i’m going to list this journal entry by the dates as best i can cause a lot has happened lol

9/11–flight to ireland. actually getting through security and all that wasn’t as stressful as my mind was having me believe. though when i did get to dublin i thought i had just walked past customs i was so confused lol like why isn’t there signage for it but i didn’t i just got worried (the airplane was extremely uncomfortable but i was able to sleep a small bit)

9/12–landed around 11am geoff took a video of me and ash seeing each other for the first time ❤️ we walked around dublin a bit and they took me to a actually authentic mexican restaurant it was really good. geoff pointed out some of the buildings while we were trying to catch buses to take us to wicklow. the bus seats were way more comfortable on the airplane so i slept on that bus for a bit

-that night after we ate dinner cause i think we got to wicklow around 5-6ish we walked around the town and over to the lighthouse. there were so many stars i want to go out again and see if my phone can even pick them up. it was so beautiful. they looked like tree roots you could see lines of light behind them. and if i looked at them long enough it looked like they were moving.

9/13–first full day in wicklow. it’s absolutely beautiful. it started to feel more real that i’m actually here. we took the river walk. and we also took a hike along the coast to bridal’s head. saw some seals! and we had sandwiches out there watching the seals. and there were pups as well. and then we walked back to town and went to the pub and i tried actual guinness (i already don’t like beer and ugggh it was absolutely foul. loved the baby guinness shot though)

and then last night they stayed over at my airbnb till around 130am and we played a bunch of really fun games. UNO, trionimos (triangle dominos) and articulate which is kinda like charades but you can speak—like you get a word and then you have to say or do things to get the person to guess the word on the card. and i’m unnaturally good at guessing what people are thinking on the regular lol so it was really fun and we had some really funny conversations out of it. i wish i had videoed some of it

during all of this my dad got sick back home (his stomach was upset the morning i left). at 815pm as i was boarding my flight—my mom was taking him to the hospital—worried it was a heart attack. she didn’t tell me about it until i landed and was with ashley

luckily it wasn’t he had a small bowel obstruction and they did an ex lap yesterday. and i was so so so worried it was cancer. again luckily he had abdominal fat that had pooped around his intestine like a tourniquet—and they aren’t sure what causes that to happen. but the surgeon was able to take care of it without having to take out any sections of his bowel (they were also thinking they’d need to put a colostomy) but i’m now they are just observing him. he needs to start making bowel sounds and poop/gas. and he’s just so agitated cause he has the NG tube and now he’s feeling better but still can’t do anything. they don’t want him eating till things get moving in his bowel.

[justashadetalkative]

Linast hissed as Archer tightened the tourniquet. Stars — they’d mentioned in some of the emergency first aid sessions that tourniquets were painful, but he hadn’t expected it to register beyond the pain of the stab wound. He dug his fingernails harshly into his opposite wrist, forcing down the urge to push Archer away again.

His laugh this time was more noticeably hysterical. “I wish running worked!” he confided, and his voice cracked. He swallowed. “Fff-fuck, I wish — hah! But. Brought’m’here. I can’t…” 

He was so tired.

Linast drew up his good knee and pressed his swimming head to it, tightening his grip on his wrist as he curled it close to his chest. His eyes burned, so he squeezed them closed; it was just one more distressingly alien reaction to try to ignore. “…matters how I die. Thanks, ff-for… police’d… be bad. Hospital too.”

Archer hovered, wanting to do more but his new guest seemed apprehensive of accepting his help. He couldn't just wait until he lost consciousness to do it. He was bouncing nervously on the haunches of his legs and rubbing his bloodied hands together nervously. Desperate to fix it again.

Then he asked for a tourniquet and Archer had something to do again. "Yes yes I can do that." He dug through his first aid kit and came back with a long piece of sterilized cloth. He began to wrap it and tie it without asking permission and simply moving Linast's arm out of the way as he did.

"I don't know what or who you are running from-" He started with a stern tone. The amount of blood he was losing was making Archer far too nervous to leave him alone, "But you should have no worry that I would call the authorities on you. I'd rather fix you up first and we can discuss all that later. It means nothing if your dead."

[shadowsshowdown]

Deus Ex: Human Revolution Shadow’s Showdown 26

The Red Drop.

Detroit. Laura’s apartment.

Adam didn't have time to ponder the reason that had pushed her into this suicide attempt. He wished very much it wasn't him. His police work had enriched him with first aid skills, and if he had the right equipment he could even perform simple treatments. Jensen swiftly reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, which he used to temporarily stop the bleeding on one of her hands. He began consciously but hasty to look for a first aid kit. Luckily he found it in a cupboard under the sink. He opened the box, from which he took two tourniquets, placed them above the wounds, and tightened them to help stop the bleeding more effectively. With another swift motion, he took his phone from his coat pocket and dialed the emergency number.

"This is nine one one what's your emergency?" he heard a female voice.

"Suicide attempt, female in her 30s. She slit her wrists and swallowed pills. I don't know how many might have been in the package," he informed matter-of-factly, mentioning the name of the drug.

"Please be patient and stay where you are. The ambulance will arrive in about five minutes. In the meantime, please stop the hemorrhage and..."

The Chief of Security dictated all the required information. "Already done, the woman is breathing but has a weak pulse."

"There is nothing more you can do. An ambulance is on its way. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," he replied before the connection was cut.

Only now did he notice he had Laura's blood on his hands. Although it wasn't the first time and he should get used to it, in this particular case he couldn't. With all his might, he tried to blame it on Damien, but he knew the most guilty one was himself. He had abandoned her in a cruel way, for the sake of the cause. Rupert might have been right, and that didn't make him feel any better. Soon he heard sirens wailing, so he went out into the corridor to lead the ambulancemen. Adam heard the clang of metal and the sound of wheels pounding across the floor.

"Well done, Mr. Jensen," one of the ambulancemen praised him. "You saved her life."

Adam nodded slightly but didn't feel any better from it at all. Standing aside, he watched as they took Laura to a stretcher and strapped her. She was pale and barely alive.

"Which hospital are you taking her to?" he asked at the last minute.

"If you're not her relative or husband, I'm sorry but I can't help," replied a man with dark, short-cut hair.

"She has no family," Jensen insisted.

"To the nearest one."

It was a clever answer that normally would have been of little use, but there was only one hospital in the area; the one he and Laura had visited recently. The Chief of Security nodded as a gesture of thanks. Immediately after they had left, he allowed himself to search the woman's lockers. He felt what he was doing was inappropriate, but he wanted to pack a few things that could be of use to her. He didn't know how long they would keep her on the ward. As he tucked her pajamas into the bag, he froze in mid-motion. A thought struck him, and he immediately pushed it away with all his might. What if she doesn't survive? As he walked through the living room, he was stopped by the ringing phone. It was lying on the coffee table, the one at which he had been drinking his coffee only moments ago. Even his mug was still standing on it. Adam glanced at the screen hesitating whether he should answer. The fact that it was Faridah justified his act.

"Hey, Laura! How was the movie? Did you enjoy it? Too bad I didn't make it," the head pilot attacked with a series of questions. "Are you there?"

"It's me, Adam," he said after a moment of grim silence. "Laura's not here... They're taking her to the hospital," the words ran down his throat as if he was spitting sandpaper out of it.

"Don't joke around like that! Give her the phone," she commanded.

"I'm deadly serious!" he exclaimed, but after a few deep breaths he calmed down. "Laura tried to commit suicide," he explained trying to keep his tone steady however his voice was shaking and he couldn't help it. "I'm going to the hospital. Yes that one," he informed when Faridah stopped screaming into the receiver. "I'll meet you there."

The ex-SWAT finished packing Laura’s things, took her phone and charger as well, then left Stalker some food and locked the apartment. Walking down the street, he squeezed the handle of the bag in his hand so hard that it left a red mark on it, and his hand slowly began to go numb. He cursed under his breath again and again. This whole damn turn of events was not the way he wanted it to be. Jensen nimbly ducked in front of a moving car. The driver honked at him, but the ex-SWAT didn't give a damn. He had even forgotten he had adopted that bloody cat who probably had scratched all the furniture by now.

Hospital.

Several minutes later, he was climbing the hospital stairs two at once. This time he was entering through a different entrance that led to the wards. On the way, he was passed by ambulancemen who just arrived with an injured person. In the reception room, he looked around, but Faridah was not there yet. Only a few people were waiting for medical attention. Adam approached a nurse sitting behind a large, semicircular desk.

"Good evening. I'm looking for a patient who should be brought here by now. Werner, Laura Werner,” Jensen felt he was unlikely to learn anything and would have to act somewhat against his beliefs, but it was an exceptional situation.

"Family, relative?" she asked shortly and formally.

"She has no family. We work together at Sarif Industries. I know the rules, but she is close to me, I hope..."

"Yes, I understand, but you should understand me too," she replied firmly.

"Of course..." Adam resignedly sighed moving away from the desk.

"Mr..." the woman waited for him to finish the sentence for her.

"Jensen, Adam Jensen," he replied politely.

"I hope she gets out of this," the receptionist smiled slightly and moved a small, square piece of paper toward the man in a discreet motion. It was blue in color.

"Thank you, I hope so too," he replied with a simultaneous nod.

The ex-SWAT looked at the piece of paper and read from it that Laura was lying in room 109 on the third floor. He walked down a long corridor with doors to different rooms until he reached the elevator. Someone was getting off it, so he did not have to wait. During the ride, he wrote a message to Malik giving her the information from the card. There were hospital staff members in front of the room. Adam was sure they were talking about Laura.

"She's lost a lot of blood. Unless we can find her group at another hospital, the woman will not survive," the doctor said.

"Nurse Thomson is still looking, but there are problems everywhere," the nurse replied in a resigned tone.

"Does Mrs. Werner have any family? Does anyone at all know what happened?" the doctor inquired.

"Unfortunately. We found out that her parents are dead and she has no one close to her here."

Jensen decided he had to interject into this conversation. He can't just stand around and wait. This time, he will do everything within his power.

"Sorry to interrupt," the Chief of Security got their attention. "Adam Jensen, Sarif Industries. Miss Werner works with me, if there's anything I can do to help..."

"You're the one who found her, aren't you?" The doctor asked immediately after reading the notes.

"That's right. I was visiting her. It happened moments after I left. She would be dead if I didn’t leave my coat at her place," Adam tried to explain but he didn’t know the reason for doing this irrelevant thing.

"I'm afraid there's nothing more you can do," Dr. O'Brien sighed in resignation.

"Unless you have a zero negative blood group," the nurse interjected.

"Yes, I do have a zero negative. I can..."

"Please come with me. We don't have time," the woman urged.

Jensen followed her into the treatment room where the nurse ordered him to expose his arm. She put a tourniquet around that limb to better identify a vein that appears easy to access. After that, she cleaned the place with an alcohol pad and carefully inserted the needle. Moments later the nurse took a sample from the bag filling with blood. The woman explained the sample was taken to tests for compliance and whether there were any contraindications to giving it to Laura. Adam didn't wait long for the results, but to him, it felt like an eternity. The short, stocky nurse with long blond hair in a braid was very nice to him. While Adam was sitting in the chair clutching a rubber ball in his hand he stared at the ceiling praying with all his might that it would not be too late. He shifted his gaze to the rubber hose running from his hand to the rectangular container. It was placed on a blood collection monitor next to him and gently shaking. He wanted the blood to flow faster.

"Please be of good cheer and have faith. It's hard to live without it,” she tried to calm him down.

Right after the woman removed the needle from his vein Adam wanted to get up and go to Laura, but the nurse categorically forbade him.

"I have to go there," he insisted stubbornly.

"You will go, but first of all you won't see her for the time being anyway, and secondly it was a huge effort for your body. Please eat a candy bar, breathe deeply and rest for at least a quarter of an hour," she ordered in the tone of a caring mother and nurse at the same time.

Jensen nodded with understanding. The woman was right, he would not speed up anything at the moment, and he might even cause them more problems with his behavior. For more than a quarter of an hour, he sat idly as advised. He was a model patient but only for the sake of Laura's welfare. Too many bad things had already happened because of him. A while later he strolled along the corridor with a piece of gauze clutched in his bent hand, sat down for a few seconds, got up, and strolled again.

"Adam, take it easy," he heard Faridah's voice say. "Keep strolling like this and soon there will be a hole in the floor."

"Good to see you," he tried to smile at least a little but all that came out was some weird crooked grimace that didn't resemble it at all.

Malik looked at his hand. "What happened to you?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Nothing," he muttered straightening his arm and slipping the sleeve of his sweater down.

"Seriously, I don't have the energy for your evasions, escapes, cover-ups and goddamn knows what," she growled in exasperation.

"And I..." he wanted to say that it was none of her business. He didn't need to explain anything and he wasn't going to tolerate a nosy attitude, but just gasped. "They needed blood. I have a compatible type so..." he explained escaping with his gaze to the side.

"Do you know anything? Will she come out of it?" she inquired.

"I don't know anything. Except that it's my fault," Adam bit his lip. He'd said too much, way too much.

"If it wasn't for you, she'd be dead. Think, then speak."

They didn’t count the hours that had passed. Faridah noticed that Jensen was barely conscious of fatigue but didn’t say a word.

"Mr. Jensen, you can see her, but not for more than five minutes. She's weak," the nurse, the same one who had taken his blood, informed him.

The man nodded and disappeared into the room a moment later. He didn't know how to act or what to say. He squeezed the handle of the bag in his hand tighter and tighter.

"I brought you a few things if you..."

"Get the fuck out of here..." hissed Laura, lying with her back turned towards him.

"Laura... I..." he tried to say something but couldn't.

"Are you deaf or stupid?! I said, get the fuck off! I didn't want you to save me! This is why you commit suicide - to die, you know?!"

Jensen left the bag and walked out. What was he even hoping for? That Laura would call him a hero? Faridah tried to stop him but he pushed her away so forcefully that she almost fell. Once he was outside the hospital, he lit a cigarette, then a second and a third. If it wasn't for the cat, he would probably go to the first better pub to get drunk. This barely happened to him a few times in the past. One of them was when he broke up with Megan.

The cat greeted him as soon as he crossed the threshold. She sat down beside Adam looking at him curiously. He heard her long, happy meow and then the sound of her claws while she was walking across the parquet. Adam took out his phone and tossed his coat into the corner. He sat down on the sofa with the instant idea of reaching for the bottle and pouring himself some whisky, but the cat's wise blue eyes looked at him as if to say, "Don't do it, it's not an option." Jensen sighed as he set the bottle down. The cat jumped into his lap, climbed up Jensen's torso, and licked his cheek. He immediately saw her tail sticking up vertically and turned his head away. He was beginning to seriously consider whether to actually keep the pet, but could he afford it with the lifestyle he was living?

Hospital.

Faridah almost begged the nurse to see Laura for a few minutes. After receiving the permission, she decided not to waste a second of that time. The woman was lying on her side with her back turned to the entrance and didn't even speak when she heard her enter.

"Are you going to kick me out too?" she asked cautiously.

"I'll think about it," she muttered.

"Why did you do that?" she asked another question as she sat down on the chair by the bed.

"Because this asshole wants to be a hero by force, he doesn't care at all. He just did it for the peace of his conscience, because that's what he should do," she growled.

"I shouldn't interfere or say what you're about to hear, but I have to," Malik said in a rough tone. "Adam gave you his blood. Do what you want with that information."

"He and his fucking sense of duty," the woman muttered in exasperation.

"Didn't it come to that empty, selfish head that maybe he cares about you more than you think he does?""What difference does it make? I kicked him out the door. "

"You can always call him or text him," Malik shrugged.

"I don't have a phone. I don't have anything at all," she said quietly.

"Adam took care of everything. He brought you a phone, a charger, pajamas..." she listed one by one.

Laura rolled over onto her back, the light blinded her so she closed her eyes. Only now did she realize she had screwed up everything, most notably the trip to Washington.

"I should go now," the Chief Pilot said, seeing that Laura was not very talkative.

The woman was laying without a single motion, trying to digest what she had heard. Jensen had saved her life, which was a coincidence. He had to come back for something, forget something. Laura thought back to his visit, going over the events one by one.

"Yeah, he forgot his coat," she muttered under her breath.

Then he found her, because no one opened the door, and the rest was another link in the chain of reactions. Her thoughts were interrupted by a nurse who came to check if everything was okay.

"I know it's none of my business, but having someone like Mr. Jensen, you've been thinking of killing yourself," the woman said calmly. "You can see he cares a lot, and he wasn't acting out of a sense of duty like anyone who saves another person," she continued, adjusting Laura's pillow. "Now please rest. If something happens, just press the button."

Another person pointed out to her how blind she was to all the gestures and efforts. The problem was nothing was falling into a logical whole. Laura reached for her phone with the intention of browsing the internet aimlessly. Her sutured hands ached along with the throat after gastric lavage. She found that killing herself hurt far less. Then she noticed the nurse must have left a handkerchief on the nightstand. It was covered in blood, and on one of the corners had gold initials A.J.

Jensen's apartment.

Adam played with the cat, feeling they were beginning to share a bond. The animal was very calm, maybe still scared that it had landed in a new place. When she got bored of catching the laser dot, she sat down and started cleaning fur. Jensen smiled slightly, and thoughts of Laura immediately returned. He got up from the sofa and went to the kitchen to brew himself some tea. The phone moved with a loud buzz on the top of the coffee table, and its screen began to rhythmically pulse with yellow light. Jensen poured himself a cup of tea first, and only then did he decide to check what it might be. He wanted to sit down in his seat, but the cat had time to take it. He had no conscience to shoo sleeping furry one away, so he carefully settled down next to her. He lazily took his smartphone and checked its inbox.

"Thank you." - Those were the only words the message contained, and next to it was an emoticon representing a red droplet, which he thought symbolized blood. Jensen sighed heavily already knowing that Faridah must have told Laura everything. On the other hand, it gave him hope that once this whole farce was over, rebuilding a relationship with her would not be as difficult as he had assumed.

The message soothed his thoughts enough that he managed to lie down and take a nap. It was not the kind of rest he had dreamed of, but it was always better than a sleepless night. In the morning he felt a weight on his stomach, unnatural as if it was a projection of his still sleeping mind. The weight moved, it tickled the skin, causing this unbearable but pleasant feeling at the same time. Adam reflexively clenched his stomach muscles, suppressed a laugh, but did not open his eyes. Then a gentle scratching made Jensen's mind start to become more and more conscious. It wasn't a dream or his imagination, a cat was lying on the man's naked belly. It was now looking at him with its wise eyes of deep blue color. After a moment it yawned, stood up, and stretched while piercing its claws into Adam’s skin. The ex-SWAT hissed in pain and leaned back on his elbows changing his position from lying down to half-sitting. The animal showed him mercy by descending onto the bedding. It sat up and after a while, with a loud and long meow, it probably demanded food. Jensen thought it was a pretty good idea, so he got up and went to the bathroom. The cat jumped on the cupboard while he was brushing his teeth and knocked the water cup down with her tail. The Chief of Security was angry with her but decided to be understanding. He picked up the cup, washed it, and poured the water again. When he finished his morning toilet, he wiped the water off the floor, got dressed, and went to the kitchen. Thinking about what he could eat he first filled the cat's bowl with the food Laura had given him. He was worried that the cat would not want to eat, but he was wrong. She ate both dry and wet food with the same appetite. Adam had eggs, some ham, and chives in the fridge, so he fried up an omelet for himself so he wouldn't keep eating cereal all the time. It was only when he sat down to eat breakfast that he remembered when he had eaten the same thing with Laura and he immediately stopped enjoying it. He forced himself to finish it and when he succeeded he looked at his watch. It was about 11 am, the perfect time to visit Laura. He hoped she had already forgotten about what happened yesterday and wasn't telling him to fuck off.

Jensen left the house around half past twelve dressed in the brown sweater he often wore, dark blue jeans, and his usual coat. As he walked down the street, he wrapped a gray scarf loosely around his neck. Today was an unusually cold day. He wondered if he would meet Faridah, but she was not in the hallway. Adam slowly looked into the room, preparing some kind words in his mind. At the sight of the empty bed, he froze bound with fear. His mind was momentarily invaded by the darkest thoughts. He had been standing in the doorway for a long time as if just looking would make Laura appear in the room.

"Mr. Jensen, hello, unfortunately, the patient was discharged this morning at her own request. We tried to convince her not to, but to no avail," he heard behind him the voice of the same kind nurse who took his blood yesterday. "It's good that you are here. The doctor was supposed to call you. He wanted to discuss some important matters. I will ask if he is free now if you have time. "

"Of course. Since it's important I'll take as much of my time as necessary," Adam replied.

Deep down he was furious with Laura for acting so irresponsibly. She barely survived yesterday, what was she even thinking?! He wanted to yell at her, tell her how stupid she was, but it was a very bad idea. Whatever decisions she makes, she's an adult, and he has no right to forbid anything.

"The doctor will see you," he heard the woman's voice again and noticed the invitation expressed with a hand gesture.

He took a deep breath before entering the consulting room. The place was not large and did not stand out from other consulting rooms. There was a glass cabinet with medicines in it, a desk in the middle, and an exam table along the right wall. Jensen sat down in the chair right away in front of a man who appeared to be over forty years of age. He wore a white lab coat and a stethoscope slung around his neck. He was just looking through a file, shaking his head at the same time.

"Mr. Jensen Laura's case is more serious than I thought. Psychological suicide attempt, depressive seizures, cerebral edema in the back right side of her brain. Not large but still something quite serious. In addition, she was discharged from the hospital," the doctor recited with his elbow resting on the desktop, the index and middle finger of his right hand were supporting his temple. "I should order a psychological examination. It's possible it would even be necessary to implement…" the man paused for a moment. "Treatment in a psychiatric ward," he finished, looking intently at Jensen, who tried his best not to show how much the news had shaken him.

"I am familiar with her condition. Unfortunately, before I had time to act Miss Werner tried to end her life," he lied but he had no choice. With his lie at stake and her sight in a straitjacket sitting in the corner of the room, like a vegetable made the decision clear. "I know a great psychologist. I wanted to convince her to therapy, unfortunately, I didn't make it."

The doctor twirled a pen in his fingers, rubbing his forehead in the process. Procedures dictated something other than conscience and common sense. He knew that being locked up in a ward could be more devastating than helpful, which was why it was so difficult for him to make the right decision. "If it's not a secret, could I get the name of that psychologist?" he asked squinting his green eyes.

"Of course, it's Rupert MacKenzie. I used his help myself. I was in serious condition at the time," Adam replied. He was sure the name would work as it should and he wasn't wrong.

The man grunted, raising his eyebrows in amazement. "If this is the same MacKenzie I've heard about then I can rest assured. However, I must make you aware of certain things. If Miss Laura refuses, she will not be allowed to continue working at Sarif Industries or anywhere else. She will be sent to a mental health hospital, and we both don't want that, do we?" He looked significantly at Adam as if to tell him that he was taking a risk by breaking the rules and there would not be another chance.

"I understand perfectly well what you mean. I'll make sure she acts wisely. "

"Please bring the certificate of the course of the therapy to me and do not delay it too long," he punctuated the last words, strengthen their importance.

Jensen said a brief "Goodbye" and left the room. He felt the weight of everything he heard, almost crushing him to the ground. Good thing he didn't accidentally mention what Damien had done to her or that she had been raped. He lit a cigarette as he barely left the hospital. He had to abreact somehow, and he couldn't find any other way. On the way to Laura’s place, he thought about what he should do and say. Meeting her is necessary but risky. How is he going to tell her that she needs to go to therapy? After all, the conversation will end in war. They should be in Washington tomorrow, and suddenly plans are in ruins. He'll call Sarif as soon as possible and tell him what happened. It's the only option.

He hesitated before pressing the bell. It was that last moment to think about the next course of action and to subdue the raging emotions. The moment which will decide about everything that would follow had just come. Adam had waited a moment before Laura opened the door for him. For a split second, he saw on her face the joy most evident in her sparkling green eyes. She was pale and weakened, but at the same time full of inner energy and fury.

"Great! She sent for you too?!" she growled, but allowed Jensen to enter.

The man frowned not really understanding what she meant. He dived into the heavy, stuffy atmosphere that he had never felt in her apartment before. He didn't take off his coat or shoes. Something completely different occupied his attention entirely. Faridah was sitting on the sofa in the living room, looking furious, extremely furious. The fingers of her hands crossed on her chest drummed nervously against her biceps. She was looking to her left toward the window. Her lips pressed into a thin line didn't bode anything good. To piss off Fly Girl was like unleashing hell on earth. There was a mug of unfinished coffee on the table in front of her and a nibbled cookie on a plate.

"I don't understand what this is all about," he uncertainly muttered looking at Laura then at Malik. "Any explanation?"

"Since you're here you probably know that this ungrateful idiot discharged from the hospital at her own request," the head pilot hissed without turning her head.

"I know, and I came to talk to her like with an adult, responsible person," the ex-SWAT said calmly.

"We have nothing to talk about. Now please get out of here and leave me alone," Laura growled standing in the entrance to the kitchen.

Jensen discreetly nodded at Faridah, suggesting to listen. The woman wasn't entirely sure if she should give in on the issue and if leaving Laura with Adam was wise, but she decided to trust him. She slowly got up from the sofa and left without a word. The Chief of Security closed the door behind her, took off his coat, and hung it on the coat rack knowing this was going to be a long, tiring conversation and maybe even a fight.

Miss Werner flitted across the living room like a caged bird when Jensen unhurriedly approached her. He carefully placed his hands on her shoulders while standing behind the woman's back. She didn't shake them off, didn't throw unspeakable curses at him, didn't do anything. She couldn't. He paralyzed her with that gesture and the breath she felt when he gently leaned over her ear. The woman felt like she was about to cry. Just like that, humanly from an excess of accumulated emotions. Adam felt it with his whole being, which is why he allowed himself to forget about Damien’s threat just for this moment. She needed him, so he couldn't ignore it. Not even any crazy ex could change anything. The woman suddenly turned, embracing him tightly around the waist and snuggling her cheek against his rough sweater smelling just as she remembered it. A delicate and mysterious aroma of citrus, slightly tart but broken by a subtle hint of vanilla with a slightly sharp finish mixed with sweat that was now more noticeable than usual. Jensen was nervous. He was afraid of his every reaction, afraid of taking one step too far. Laura was making him forget about the threat. Thoughts galloped through his mind. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to place his hands on her hips again, to slide over her smooth skin and feel goosebumps growing under his touch. It wasn't the first time he'd caught himself wanting her. That strong feeling was arousing excitement within him. He was like a hungry, lone wolf facing prey he must not touch. Prey tempting in every possible way, encouraging him to break the rules. A moment more and he would have forgotten why he came here.

"Why did you do that?" he asked as calmly as he could. "You were barely alive when..." Adam broke off his sentence. "When I found you." he finished. He prepared himself for hearing to fuck off again, but this time he wouldn't listen anyway.

The woman let go of him, took a few steps back, and turned toward the window as if realizing she had done something wrong. "Because I can't leave you alone with all this mess," she replied.

Jensen didn't know what he should answer. If he took the words personally, he might come off like an idiot, and if he stays professional and diverged from the correct interpretation he would offend her. Neither of those options was good. He should look for some neutral words.

"I can't jeopardize the good of the company and your position. Even if things are no longer as they were between us. You can rest assured. I will bring the Washington matter to an end and then you will never see me again," she continued as if she had learned this speech by heart beforehand.

All the muscles in the ex-SWAT's body tense up suddenly, ready to react to what he heard. He wanted to deny everything, to explain. He held back with all his strength. He had to. He was beginning to doubt if he could glue together the shattered pieces of glass that had hurt her too much.

"It's your decision and you'll do as you wish, but you can hand over all the guidelines to Connor," he informed while having a fear that Laura would misunderstand his intentions. "Of course I will personally make sure any credit is not taken away from you. This is your project and you deserve the credit."

The woman crossed her arms over her chest. Adam's face was reflected in the glass. She could see he was tense, that talking to her was like walking through a minefield. She could feel it in his words, too.

"I can handle it. You don't have to worry. I'll try not overexerting myself and such," she replied with a careless wave of her hand.

"There is one other very important matter. I thought you might not want Faridah to know about this, or you might prefer to tell her yourself, but..." Jensen took a deep breath. He knew the atmosphere was about to get worse. "I talked to the doctor. Before you start screaming listen to me fully," he asked, but she didn't start screaming at all so he continued. "He said you're in danger of..."

"Nuthouse?" she asked with a shrug. "So what? I can say no, and I'm not worried about the job."

"I know a very skilled psychologist. He's not like the others and helped me pull myself together after Mexicantown. Think about it, please," he urged. Laura's vision of being locked in the same room with the real madmen resounded with a firm protest and a desire to dissuade her from the idea at any cost.

"Is that the weirdo with the pipe who was with you at Crann Tara?" she asked directly at which Jensen frowned.

"Yes, it was Rupert," he nodded, seeing no point in lying.

"He already had time to judge me? To see me like a rag and a slut, yes?!" she raised her voice without turning away from the glass."No," Adam replied calmly. "MacKenzie has one fundamental rule that he sticks to. Outside of work, he's a normal person, puts his skills aside, doesn't give advice, doesn't judge, doesn't listen to problems," he explained briefly but as accurately as possible. "That's why he's special. If you are so inclined, we can meet him at Crann Tara. No declarations of any kind. You will decide for yourself whether you will give him a chance. That's my suggestion."

Laura strolled thoughtfully along the wall, but she did not look at the Chief of Security. At first, she thought it was some kind of trick, but she didn't see a sensible reason. She felt like agreeing, after all, she wouldn't lose anything on this. She needed help, though she couldn't admit it.

The ex-SWAT decided the woman ignored his efforts, so he waited no longer in pointless silence. "I'll go now," he announced, trying to mask his disappointment. "I have to take care of the cat, give it to the animal shelter," he said, hoping this topic would prolong their conversation.

"I know..." she began the sentence immediately backing off from the rest of it.

The ex-SWAT smiled at the corner of his lips; he wasn't going to let it go. "Don't you know of any good place?" he asked completely casually.

"Hit, sunk," she thought as she looked at the floor and then at her feet. The perfectly played action enriched her with the information that Adam was looking for contact with her otherwise he would have gone home. Surely he would have ignored that broken-off sentence. "I have the place checked out, I'm taking Stalker there right away. My neighbor would probably take him, but I've already abused her hospitality. I'll write down the address for you…"

"Could we... go together?" he asked hesitantly like a teenager who wants to date a girl and doesn't dare to do so.

"Of course, it's no problem," she replied in line with what he wanted to hear. "Maybe in a quarter of an hour in front of my house?"

"Mhm sounds good. See you then," he said goodbye and headed for the door.

"Adam," she stopped him with that one word.

The man froze in place, said nothing but looked in her direction. Laura turned, her gaze meeting his gray-blue eyes. "Thank you," she said. She intertwined her fingers together breaking them off nervously. "And I agree to meet Rupert," she added in an uncertain voice.

"What are you thanking me for?" he suspected what was going on, but wanted to be sure.

"You know very well what for," she muttered.

"You have already thanked me. You don't have to..."

"I have to. I wanted to do it in person," she interrupted him firmly. "You saved my life, and I acted like an idiot."

"Laura, listen to me. I am not angry, I have no grudge against you. I did what I should and could. If it's just for me, you want this meeting, don't do it at all." Jensen left before the woman said anything. He was aware of how important what had taken place was to her. He felt it, so he couldn't stay. He couldn't stay because it was no less important to him.

Laura looked at her bandaged wrists. She should be realistic, after all, it was only blood, a simple life-saving measure. She couldn't dismiss the thought that she now had a piece of him circulating through her with every heartbeat. It was something special and magical, and at the same time, it was a curse. Wherever she went he would always be with her. Adam in his firmness reminded her of Joe, who used similar words. She knew he was right and there was concern behind the harshness, but still, it always ended in a big argument. She remembered that she was supposed to meet the ex-SWAT in a quarter of an hour, so she quickly put on jeans and a sweater, locked Stalker in a cage, then grabbed her jacket and left.

All  chapters can be found: [AO3], [dA], [Wattpad] and [Tumblr]

[vampkillr]

Beware — Matt Murdock

prologue — male! reader — 1.7k words— angst — desc. of wounds — severely injured reader — reader is ftm — no spoilers to the daredevil series — there will be multiple parts in this.

There was a cruelty that came with living in Hell's Kitchen. No part of any day treated its inhabitants well. If you weren't getting hurt or stolen from, someone you knew was, and either way it affected you in the long run. Tonight, though, it seemed to be my turn to get hurt. The fact that there were multiple men pulling me away from my car significantly decreased my chances of survival, but I tried to fight regardless. I thrashed around, scratched, bit, and most importantly I screamed. I cried out to whatever would save me, I begged for help like a fool, I prayed to whatever god would hear my pleas. My voice in my throat never stopped when one of the men clamped his hand over my mouth. I wanted to live. I knew what they were taking me for and I knew I wasn't going to make it out of this. Between the soulless parking garage and the habit people have of minding their business, there wasn't ever a fighting chance for me.

That's what you get when you live a life in the shadows, sneaking around where you shouldn't. Ben warned me, and even though I was careful I still had a target on my back. Catching a meetup of wanted criminals, recording a video of Wilson Fisk speaking to someone on the phone. Tailing the bald piece of shit. I was in over my head, I knew how this was going to end. I knew too much, as a thief and especially as a reporter. Before they could pull me into their van, though, a man pulled me out of their grasp. "Hide." He didn't have to tell me twice. I started running, but unfortunately I wasn't fast enough.

A gunshot was all I heard before I dropped to the floor. It didn't take me very long to realize that I had been shot. The pain in my leg was searing. It felt like a pole of pure fire had been stabbed directly through my knee. The scream that tore itself from my throat was enough to make the man that helped me come down to my level, but Fisk's dogs weren't going to let him or me go that easily. They started fighting, five against one seemed like terrible odds but he seemed to be holding his own just fine. I couldn't focus on the fight, my leg was bleeding and burning and the pressure building in my calf told me all I needed to know about the state I was in. I couldn't afford to die, not with all of the information I had. Not with how far I had come. I needed to apply a tourniquet, but I didn't have a belt, so I settled with pressing my hardest on both sides regardless of the pain it gave me. Tears formed in my eyes as I tried my best to keep myself awake as long as I possibly could. "Please!" I begged, practically screaming. I didn't know who I was begging, perhaps it was my own leg, maybe it was the man who saved me in the first place.

My foot began to feel cold, I was getting lightheaded, there wasn't much else I could do other than hope I made it out of this parking garage alive. The bullet shattered my knee and my artery was cut somewhere. I had minutes left to live, and even less time to savor it in consciousness. If I was going to die, I needed to tell people who killed me. I needed to pray that my blood would be a bitch to wash off the pavement. Hope that it would stain. Wish that someone got to my note before Fisk did. I took a hand off my leg and began carving out the name of the bastard that's responsible for the death of hundreds, using my own blood as my ink.

I had no memory of passing out and no memory of waking up. The next thing I knew, I was sitting up in a hospital bed with food in front of me and an ache that spread like streaks throughout my body. Ben sat right next to me, talking to me about something but I guess I hadn't been listening. None of what he was saying was making sense. "What happened?" I asked. He looked taken aback at my question. As if we had been over this already.

"Let me go get a nurse." When Ben left, I was met with silence. An uncomfortable, and horribly cold silence. When I moved to check on my leg, I noticed the stitches going up and down my arms. My brows furrowed. I held both hands in front of me, looking at the sutures that followed each other in lines down my wrists. Turning my arms, I found the same lines. I moved the small desk that my food tray sat on and my stomach dropped. "Y/n? Are you okay?" Ben ripped my eyes from the bed as he walked in with a woman in scrubs.

"Why is my leg gone?" My voice wavered. "What happened to my arms?" Panic was setting in now. I searched Ben's face for any type of answer, but all that was given back to me was a look of pity. It made me sick to my stomach. The nurse pulled up a chair and sat on the side of my bed Ben wasn't occupying.

"Sir," She started, her voice soft. "you've been in the hospital for two weeks." I began to get lightheaded as panic spread itself throughout my body, the beeping of my heart monitor quickening. "Do you not remember any of that?" I shook my head. "You lost a lot of blood. The man that brought you in saved your life. You were shot in the knee, and your femoral artery was nicked." She was careful in delivering to me the turn of events. "You came in with cuts on your arms, back, chest and legs. Because they cut you after they shot that leg, we had to make a choice. We could have tried to save the leg, but if we did, you could have died. We had no time to spare. You were seconds away from death." I shut my eyes and breathed in deeply, stopping as soon as the pain in my chest got too intense.

"And why can I not remember anything before right now other than when I got shot?" I eyed the food I had pushed aside earlier. I didn't remember receiving it.

"Sometimes, to protect you from trauma, your brain blocks out any painful or scary memories. When you woke up, your brain probably went into shock and sent you into a dissociation to protect you from it." I didn't say anything in response, and she took my silence as a cue to leave Ben and me alone. "Press this if you need anything." She pointed to the call button and left the room quietly.

I observed my surroundings. A white room with the curtains pulled shut, flowers on the table in the corner under a small TV that was attached to the wall. A couch against the windows and a chair in front of it that Ben sat in. My eyes roamed to the blanket that covered me up, and they lingered on the flat space where my right leg should have been. I didn't know how to feel, but I just needed to be thankful I was alive and deal with the grief when I got done healing. "You didn't have to bring flowers." I muttered, dejected.

"Oh, those were from me." The voice that came from the doorway sent chills down my spine. I looked up at the man. He wore a neat grey suit, red-tinted shades and carried a walking stick. If he was the guy that saved me, there was absolutely no way he was actually blind. "Can I have a while alone with him?" He asked Ben, who got up to lead him to the chair he had been sitting in.

"I'll leave to have lunch. Call a nurse if you need anything, kid." With that, he left me alone with the man.

We sat in silence for a moment as I stared at him. There was no mistaking his voice. "Can you tell me what happened?" I didn't bother being very loud. Part of me didn't want to know, but I needed to.

"When they shot you in the leg, and while I was fighting those guys, one of them had taken a knife," He sighed. I could sense the disgust in his voice. "and he dragged it. Across your arms, down your spine, your legs." He seemed angry for my sake. "I thought you were going to die. You're really lucky the hospital was just across the street." My eyes darted to my lack of a limb when he said the word lucky. I didn't feel very lucky. I said nothing and after a while, he spoke again. "My name is Matt."

"Mine's Y/n." I whispered. I felt like shit and I was exhausted. "I'm really tired." He smiled softly at me.

"You can sleep. Urich, a nurse that works here and I are all taking shifts making sure no one comes in to kill you. I'll be staying with you tonight." He told me. My whole body noticeably relaxed at what he said. I hadn't even realized how tense my muscles were until Matt said he'd be watching over me. I rested my head back on the pillow and moved the head of the bed down slightly.

"Are you really blind?" My question made him smile. He took his glasses off and as I watched his eyes, they pierced me. There was no focus to them. He wasn't looking at me, he was looking through me. It sent a shiver down my spine. His gaze was captivating.

"Yes." A simple and short answer. I chose not to ask if he was born blind, or if not how it happened. I figured he got that question a lot, and I didn't need to know. If he wanted to tell me, he would. "You should get some sleep. I'll be here. There's nothing to be scared of." The way that Matt reassured me was something that calmed my emotions. My grief and anger, my panic, everything felt like it would be alright when he spoke to me.

next chapter — likes and reblogs are appreciated

[aggravatetheaxe]

Hi there! I was wondering if I could request an imagine where a victim “escapes” from the slashers and hurts s/o in the process. What would the slashers do during and after? Thank you!!

Hi! I wasn't sure which slashers you wanted for this, so I put my list into a randomizer and went with the first 5!

Walter Sullivan

Thomas Hewitt

Jason Voorhees

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Erik ("The Phantom")

SLASHERS WHOSE VICTIM HURTS THEIR S/O

cw: mentions of suicide, reader being injured/in mortal peril, mentions of torture and killing etc etc

--

Walter Sullivan

Oh no. Oh dear.

You are possibly the only good, pure thing in this world or the Otherworld and someone hurt you? Walter is ... not happy, to put it lightly. The only person who should ever hurt you is him, and he won't do that unless it's for your own good.

This only enforces his belief that the world and everyone in it are monstrous. It drives home the truth he's already convinced of - this existence in terrible and torturous and needs to be destroyed if anything holy is ever going to be allowed to blossom again.

Whether The Victim is pre- or post- Walter's suicide, he's already stopping at nothing to go after them. He doesn't view it as personal, he doesn't hold any particular hatred for most (most) of his victims; they're simply links in a chain. But this person, the one who hurt you ... it's personal. They'll die in absolute agony.

If the victim in question is pre-suicide, Walter will bring them down and find somewhere to keep them for later. This will not be a quick death.

While they're bound/gagged or knocked out, he'll check on you. You're special, possibly even the Mother Reborn, and he can't let you die until the time is right. If you're seriously injured, he'll see to it that you're taken to the hospital, and pray to a dead God if he has to that you'll be alright. If you're not seriously injured, he'll do his best to patch you up - he lived on the streets for many years and had to take care of himself, so he knows basic first aid.

Once he's certain you're safe, he will put you somewhere where you won't witness what he's about to do. Even if you want to see it, he'll insist you stay hidden, saying the sinner doesn't deserve to be in your presence. You'll have to really convince him if for some reason you want to watch.

Their torture will depend on what they did to you. If it was just a few scrapes and cuts, he'll let them feel every ounce of pain before they die. If they really hurt you, their torture will be prolonged. In his mind, and according to his religion, death is a sacred sacrament, and this evil being doesn't deserve its release. If they did something to seriously traumatize and/or sully you ... the crime scene he leaves behind is going to be grisly, to put it lightly.

If the victim in question is post-suicide, the results will be similar, but he has absolute control over the Otherworld - and he will utilize that. He will have his creations take care of you and keep you somewhere safe ... they may be terrifying, but they won't hurt you unless he wills it. As for the victim, he can twist them into their worst nightmares over and over again before killing them. He will make them see their wrongdoings and pay for their evil. They will beg for mercy and there will be none.

After it all, he will simply move onto the next one, with you somewhere safe ... until it's time. Until it's time. You are so perfect.

Thomas Hewitt

Dammit. If he'd just been quicker or smarter, he could have caught them before they escaped and hurt you. He immediately blames himself.

There's no time to beat himself up over it, though. He briefly checks to make sure you're not bleeding from anywhere vital and sends you (or locks you up) somewhere safe before going after the victim. You're on your own for first aid for now - unless you're literally dying, he can't let them leave the property.

If you are literally dying, he's staying and doing all he can to help you. But if Hoyt yells, he may have to pawn you off on someone else and hope they do a good job taking care of you. He'll hold your face and give you tender kisses goodbye - whether you want them or not - because this might be the last time he ever sees you.

He chases the victim in a fever, much more erratic than you would expect from him. He's faster, less careful, more inclined to put himself at risk just to get a swing in at them. It's not generally anything personal when he kills someone - it's something he does for the good of his family, and because he was told to. This one he's not interested in saving for meat. They hurt you. You, his special person. He's going to grind them into the mud, and he's not even going to let Hoyt have a go at them.

Sometimes, sometimes, he struggles to see the animals in his victims. But this one ... he doesn't even feel the urge to twist them into an animal. That's a whole human, an evil one, one he wants to kill. It's a different feeling for him.

Once it's all over and everything's calmed down, he's rushing directly to your side. People don't come around all too often, so he's comfortable putting down the chainsaw for now. He neglects any skin projects he planned and lets someone else do the butchering, focusing on taking care of you, especially if you're seriously injured and put up in bed.

If you're not as seriously injured and tell him you're fine, he's still keeping an eye on you ... and making sure you're well-fed. You've been through a lot and it was all his fault. He doesn't want you to be exposed like that again. Next time someone comes around, he'll insist you hide somewhere.

Jason Voorhees

It's a toss up whether or not he'll actually notice you're hurt. Not because he doesn't care or anything, but because Camp Crystal Lake is a lot of ground to cover and there's a low chance he'll be in the same area as you at any given time.

For this imagine, though, let's assume you've found your way to him or he's sensed you're in trouble and has rushed to you.

You were supposed to be safe in the cabin, so he's a little irritated that you wandered out, but that's completely overshadowed when he realizes you're hurt. He stops everything he's doing and clinically and thoroughly pats you down, identifying every solitary injury.

Just like his mother before him, he is a vengeful soul, so he is not letting this go even if you're just scraped or bruised. If you are critically injured, he'll at least get you to the cabin and get a tourniquet on you.

Otherwise, he leaves you behind. Not very mindful, but you should know that he wants you to get back to the cabin or at least stay out of the way. He is no longer thinking of you - he has established his target and knows what he has to do. He's laser focused and decisive as he stalks after them, using anything at his disposal to get to them.

Their death is quick - he doesn't play around - but he has a lingering sense of irony and playfulness. If there's a particularly interesting weapon nearby, he'll take them out with that; or perhaps he'll hurt them in the way they hurt you, just, you know ... more fatal. And a lot gorier.

After that, he'll move onto their friends, until every last one is dead. Once his objective is completed, he is returning to you directly and finishing the job of patching you up.

He can't help but feel a little guilty that you were hurt. You shouldn't have left the cabin, true, but perhaps he should have been watching for you. He should have locked you up. Pamela might say rude things in his head. Then again, she might comfort him. If she doesn't like you, maybe she'll even wish he'd left you to die.

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Well ... you usually keep him around to scare off other Ghostfaces - something he's very handy at - but you don't usually run into trouble with his victims.

He doesn't really tell you to go anywhere in particular when he's killing. He knows you can take care of yourself. But now he feels stupid for not having a backup plan. Of course some asshole was gonna eventually identify you as his loved one and try to get cute. He should've had something prepared for that.

But, if he's good at anything, it's improvising. He skids into whatever room you're in, drops his weapon, and pulls his mask off right away to check you over. If you're only mildly injured, he's visibly relieved, and tells you to stay put while he deals with whomever hurt you. If you're more seriously injured, he'll grab your phone and shove it in your hand. "Get in the car, get the fuck out of here. Drive to the emergency room if you have to, just leave."

If you're unable to drive, he'll make you call emergency services - or call them for you, if he has to. The game is over, he's done playing; this isn't fun if he's not winning. Everyone in this place is gonna be dead and he'll be long gone by the time the ambulance shows up for you.

The one who hurt you is going to get an extra special surprise. A particularly grisly death, and a bunch of selfies/short videos of Ghostface with the corpse - taken with the victim's own phone, posted to their instagram, tiktok, facebook, sent to any discord groups, and any other social media they have. If he has the time, he'll even make them in meme formats (definitely posting with meme captions, the fucking troll). He'll probably send a copy to you as a "hey, look what I did!"

If there are survivors, especially if that survivor is the one who hurt you, you better believe he is immediately doxxing them. Since he's had a little time to cool down, he might even play the long game, maybe catfishing and blackmailing them. Ruining their pathetic little life even further would be pretty fun. In the end, though, they'll die like all the others.

When all is said and done, he's going to be there for you, helping you recover any way he can. He'd suggest rest (for an amount of time relative to your injury), some movies and candy, maybe some video games. And time spent with your favorite Ghostface, of course, right?

He'll never forget what happened, though. Even though the person is dead, he'll be stewing and pissed off about it for a long, long time. And he won't let something like that happen again, or at least, not without a contingency plan in place.

The hash mark/tally mark he stitches into his costume to symbolize this kill is gonna be twice as long and large as the others, maybe in the place you got hurt as a reminder.

Erik

You already know what's about to happen.

If anyone so much as hurts your feelings they're getting menaced and receiving a strongly worded letter - actually physically harming you? That's suicide.

If he can't immediately kill this person, or if you're seriously injured, his primary objective is helping/comforting you. He has to push down a lot of wrath to do it ... every instinct tells him to immediately dispatch the fiend responsible ... but you are more important to him than anything in this world, even revenge. He will administer any first aid you need and may even drug you with ether to ensure you rest.

Don't think that means your attacker is off the hook, though. As soon as he decides you're well enough, he will put you somewhere safe - lock you away if he has to - and kill them. His preferred method is the Punjab lasso, but if they did something particularly egregious, he'll knock them out and take them to his torture chamber. They have a lesson to learn before they go to Hades.

Another option is, like Deacon, playing the long game ... playing with his food, stalking them, making them live in fear before they die. But he has a lot of wrath in that skinny little body, so it's a toss up as to whether or not he'll actually be able to follow through with that for very long. It depends on his mood, really!

He will keep the killing and torture hidden from you, of course ... unless you express an interest in seeing the vengeance being carried out. He would be worried for you, however, and advise against it. Those sights are not for the faint of heart, and certainly not for someone as beautiful and good as you.

Once all is said and done, it's as if it never happened. As if that person never existed! What a happy thought! Sometimes you even think Erik has completely forgotten the incident ... until he's stalking another victim and he locks you away again, and you remember you are always on his mind. He will never, never let that happen to you again.