whumptimemain

[whumptimemain]

sorry for hijacking this, but i wanna put my two cents in too.

i personally find the dynamic between norman and harry the most disturbing in msm2, because norman reminds me of my own family life.

it is very hard to make a case against someone who is charismatic and cares. the thing that i believe makes this norman so bad, is that as much as he thinks he cares about harry, he doesn't. he thinks he cares that harry is dying, when at the end of the day, he won't listen to what harry is asking for. he doesn't have his best interests at heart, he just doesn't want to lose his wife again, which was never harry's responsibility to take on.

norman's actions to keep harry alive are, in my reading of the material, creepy and incesty and a poor attempt at trying to protect himself from going through another loss. he wants to be in control, because he wasn't when he lost emily. msm2 LITERALLY plays on this by having norman lose control once again once harry gets his own agency back.

idk, manipulative, slimey, guilt trippy norman is far worse in my mind than crazy, possessed, obsessed with peter norman, because how is harry supposed to get help? how is he supposed to reach out when his dad's crime is "loving him too much." they are not functional, nor healthy, norman is dependent on his son for things nobody's child is supposed to, for their fucking psyche, be for their parent

funny that you say insomniac norman and harry are one of the least fucked up versions of them because i feel like there’s plenty to work with if you look into it hard enough

this is true, it’s just that on the surface they definitely seem like the healthiest and most loving version of norman and harry, but i guess that’s not saying much. i do definitely think that insom norman does care about and love (as much as he is capable of what we understand as “love”) harry, but his treatment of him is still questionable. why lock him up away from his friends and the rest of the world while his illness grows worse and worse? why lie to peter and mj about where he is? and how willing even was harry to be subjected to the venom symbiote or treated with devil’s breath? how much of it was his idea and how much of it did norman talk him into? and how is norman’s view of harry impacted by the way harry is very obviously following in his mothers footsteps in insom verse? seeing harry want to be an environmental attorney like his mother, seeing harry take over his mothers research stations, seeing him dying of the same thing that took her? much to think about

[whumptimemain]

Augusnippets Day 6: Plane Crash

Ted Lasso (Fandom) | Dani Rojas | Plane Crash | Guys this is LITERALLY my favourite trope | Anyways |

CW: Plane Crash, Bleeding Out (And associated side effects)

Dani wakes up after the Team's plane crashes. He doesn't quite understand what's going on.

Dani was almost certain it was summer, that's what made the light fall of snow so jarring. He wasn't sure why he was laying propped against a tree. He'd woken up that way.

It was August, wasn't it? Why was it snowing?

He shook from head to toe. A shard of shrapnel was his only source of heat. It radiated a burning sensation from its place imbedded in his leg. That was his good side. Shame.

He laid his head back against the frosty wood of the tree trunk, his hair falling in his face. Dani sighed, then winced. It was pretty cold for August.

He could only hope his teammates were somewhere warmer, somewhere that white ashes didn't fall like snow the beach.

But as his eyes started getting heavier, he wasn't sure he remembered any of their names.

[whumptimemain]

Day 6 @augusnippets : prompt - plane crash.

Whumpees plane crashes.

CW: Plane crash, trapped Whumpee.

The metallic shriek of tearing metal split the air, a harbinger of the chaos that followed. Whumpee's world spun violently, the plane lurching in a sickening dive as oxygen masks dropped from above, swinging like pendulums of doom. Heart pounding, they fumbled for the mask, hands trembling uncontrollably.

"Brace! Brace!" The command echoed through the cabin, distorted by the overwhelming roar of the engines straining against gravity.

Whumpee's mind was a whirlwind of fear and disjointed thoughts. Images of family, friends, and unfinished dreams flashed before their eyes. The plane shuddered again, a violent jolt that threw them against their seatbelt. Pain flared through their chest, but there was no time to think about it.

The ground rushed up to meet them, and then—impact.

Darkness.

When Whumpee regained consciousness, the world was eerily silent. Smoke filled the air, mingling with the acrid stench of burning fuel and charred metal. The cabin was a twisted, surreal landscape of debris and devastation. Whumpee's ears rang, drowning out the distant sounds of crackling fire and the groans of the injured.

Struggling to move, Whumpee realised they were pinned. Their left leg was trapped under a section of the collapsed overhead bin, and each attempt to free it sent searing pain shooting up their limb. Panic bubbled in their throat, threatening to choke them, but they forced it down. They had to get out.

"Help!" Whumpee's voice strained against the thick, smoky air. Each breath felt like swallowing broken glass, the acrid fumes stinging their lungs, "Someone, please."

In the distance they could hear people shouting, screaming, crying. The chaos around them was a haunting symphony of survival. Whumpee's vision blurred as tears mixed with sweat and grime. They tried again to free their leg, wincing as the pain intensified, each movement a reminder of their fragile mortality.

"Stay calm," Whumpee whispered to themselves, a desperate mantra against the rising tide of fear. "Stay calm. Someone will find you."

Their head throbbed, the disorientation making it hard to focus. Every breath drew more smoke into their lungs, each exhale growing weaker. They could see figures moving in the shadows, other survivors trying to make sense of the horror. Whumpee reached out, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the seat in front of them.

"Over here!" they tried again, their voice barely more than a rasp. The minutes dragged on, each second an eternity of agony and fear.

[whumptimemain]

Augusnippets Day 3: Thunderstorm

Zombie Apocalypse Lesbians | Julie & Claire | One Shot | Stitches | Really bad weather lowkey |

CW: Stitches done outside of a sterile environment

**Please note that Julie is a trans woman. Her injuries in this are NOT from gendered violence or transphobia. If reading about transfemme whumpee's is triggering, this is your warning!**

Julie needs stitches and it's raining really bad oh nooooo.

Taglist: @whumpinggrounds @wondero28

Once upon a day, Julie had enjoyed thunderstorms. When they knocked her power out, it forced her to slow down, to stretch her fingers and step away from her sewing. She would stand in the dark, looking through the glass doors of her parents house, her silhouette blazoned by the lightning striking before her. She always returned to her projects rejuvenated, rested, and reinspired.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, you're doing really great."

Now though, thunderstorms were a different kind of distracting.

Julie was chilled down to her bones, her long hair plastered to her face as a rude reminder that having long hair in the apocalypse was a bad idea. Dysphoria be damned, she was one bad night away from shaving it all off.

Claire was working quickly beside her, stitching up a nasty slice on Julie's arm. To her credit, Claire's hands didn't shake, not even when thunder seemed to shake everything around them.

"Ow." Julie meekly complained as Claire finished another stitch.

"I know baby, we're almost done."

But it was never going to be over. The wound may close. The rain may stop washing her blood off the pavement. The sun may shine again, but there was never going to be an end.

Claire's warm hands wouldn't end either though. There were tiny blessings in the new world.

Julie supposed she might've finally learned to be okay with that.

[whumptimemain]

Prompts are out!

plain text and "rules" under the cut

path of hurt:

day 1: gaslighting/hypnosis/brainwashing

day 4: amputation/degloving/vivisection

day 7: waterboarding/drowning/choking

day 10: execution/fake execution/begging for mercy

day 13: drugging/poisoning/cannibalism

day 16: humiliation/dehumanisation/conditioning

day 19: collared/branded/chipped

day 22: captivity/recapture/tearful goodbye

day 25: intimate whumper/sadistic whumper/reluctant whumper

day 28: mind control/body control/betrayal

bonus prompts: forced to watch/whipping/stalked

path of comfort:

day 2: platonic bathing/hair care/make-up

day 5: drunk caretaking/concussed caretaking/feverish caretaking

day 8: reunion/found family/friends

day 11: escape/breaking the conditioning/safe and sound

day 14: toys/gifts/celebration

day 17: forgiveness/grace/resolving a misunderstanding

day 20: homemade meal/quenched thirst/favourite treat

day 23: massage/wiping away tears/gentle touch

day 26: nightmare/warm blanket/snuggling

day 29: singing/first words/inside jokes

bonus prompts: tending to nonhuman whumpee's nonhuman parts/protective caretaker/whumpee wearing caretaker's clothes

secret third path — whumperless whump:

day 3: thunderstorm/blizzard/heat wave

day 6: car accident/plane crash/ship wreck

day 9: hypothermia/overheating/dehydration

day 12: lost/trapped/avalanche

day 15: food poisoning/starvation/throwing up

day 18: apocalypse/infection/self administered medicine

day 21: delirium/vertigo/hallucinations

day 24: animal attack/bear trap/land mine

day 27: migraines/chronic pain/phantom pains

day 30: self-harm/addiction/overdose

bonus prompts: flashbacks/relapse/medical complications

day 31 — bonus day :) write whatever you feel like writing today or have a nice day of rest

AuguSnippets is an event that encourages the short and sweet of the whump genre. Ideally, your drabbles would be under 500 or even under 100 words, maybe even just a dialogue prompt. This, however, does not mean I won't reblog longer prompt fills! Don't stress too much on that limit. I just think it's sometimes nice to challenge yourself to write shorter drabbles, and it can also work as a very good exercise to write daily or semi-daily, and it doesn't need a lot of prep.

As for tagging your work, please use the appropriate trigger warnings. This is so everyone can stay safe and avoid potentially triggering topics while participating. Also, if your work is nsfw, please don't forget to tag it as mature content! If your work is not tagged properly, I won't be able to reblog it! Thank you!

Our special tag will be "#augusnippets day [x]". On the first day that would be "#augusnippets day 1". This is so I and others can find your work easier! You can also tag the blog, that's an even more surefire way to get me to notice your prompt fill :)

Is this a writing only event?

Yeah, this one is exclusively writing focused.

Do I have to use the special tag or tag this blog?

Not if you don't want to get featured on this blog :) It's just so I can find your work easier and reblog it here! If that's not something you're interested in, just scribble away without it.

Is the "under 500" a hard limit for the word count?

No, but I encourage everyone to try and keep to it in the spirit of this event.

Can I submit nsfw works?

Yes! Just please tag it properly :)

Can I mix and match the prompts from different paths?

Yes! Have fun!

What do I need to do to get the completionist badge?

Either you need to complete one whole path, or complete 10 prompt fills altogether while mixing and matching. Those who complete all 30 days (and maybe even the bonus day) will get something extra special!

Can I write fandom related things?

Yes! This event is both for original characters and fandom related writing.

Will there be an AO3 collection?

Yes! Here

[whumptimemain]

YESSSS

God, I love tank characters. The fighters. The ones not afraid of getting handed pain or causing it. "I draw the attention to me so they focus on ME and not my teammates 😋"

[whumptimemain]

The Beginning... Aside

Zombie Apocalypse Lesbians | Claire and Valerie | Missing Scene | Fluff | After meeting Clover and Joan, Claire and Valerie scavenge for toys to test their character.

Taglist: @whumpinggrounds @wondero28

The toy section was near untouched, which Claire supposed should’ve been no surprise. You can’t really carry toys around with you in the apocalypse, but she assumed the boxes might’ve been good fire material. She mused over a fake stethoscope. She’d always wanted one as a kid.

Valerie was wrestling with the stubborn packaging for a beyblade. The two of them had a cart full of beyblade parts. Nobody was tired enough to sleep, so they had to entertain themselves somehow.

Plus, tournaments are a great judge of character. They could all get to know each other better that way.

Valerie groaned and tossed the mangled box into their cart. “They can deal with that. Its parts are only really good for a defensive build, and we wanna go for a hybrid.”

Claire nodded slowly. “Right. Okay, good to know.”

“I love you.”

She smiled. “I love you too.”

“You were not a beyblades kid.”

“Nope.” Claire wrapped Valerie into a hug from behind.

“But today you will be.”

[whumptimemain]

The Beginning

Zombie Apocalypse Lesbians | Claire, Joan, Valerie, Clover | One-Shot | Drowning | Hurt/Comfort | Lots of Comfort | LESBIANS!!! | CW: Drowning How it all began... not the apocalypse though, just the gay stuff.

Taglist: @whumpinggrounds @wondero28

The river was a vacuum. It sucked and swallowed, lapping at the shore like a cat drinking milk. It raged and tore the stones away from the bed. The winds howled along with the water’s roar.

When Claire gasped, her lungs took in the storm. It weighed her down further.

She scrambled under the surface, trying to find anything to regain her footing with. She thrashed her arms around, waiting for air to hit the tips of her fingers so she could find the surface in the deep black of the rushing current. The rampaging pebbles threatened to leave permanent marks on her body, as though the river needed to claim her before it could let her die.

Panic squeezed in Claire’s chest. Her throat protested as more water assaulted her. Her bones stayed chilled.

Something snagged on the collar of her shirt and soundlessly she cried. Her airflow was completely cut off. As much as she hated breathing in the water, not breathing at all was worse. She wrenched a hand on the fabric around her neck and yanked hard, but whatever she was caught on was stronger. With her other hand, she grabbed the thing holding her in place.

It was warm.

It was warm.

With a new sense of direction, Claire fought to follow the warmth. Her shirt loosened. A hand took hers. She let it pull her up.

The air was warm. The overcast sky felt like summer sunlight on Claire’s face. The rocky riverbank was warm against her stomach.

“Are you okay?”

With a single movement, the slightest request of her mouth to form a word, Claire convulsed. Her chest squeezed hard with a coughing fit, water streaming out of her nose as her lungs tried to get rid of as much liquid as possible. A hand landed on her back, rubbing in circles. Weakly, Claire rolled over to lay on her back. The warm air made her cheeks rosy.

The person who’d pulled her out was a stranger, a beautiful woman with her hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Her complexion was rich, like a warmer, more comforting version of the dark water she’d just been pulled from. She watched Claire with an unreadable expression.

“You…” Claire winced at the rasp in her voice.

She cocked her head to the side. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“You saved me.”

The corner of her lip turned up.

Claire shuddered as a breeze went by. “Why?”

“Your fiance is looking for you.”

Valerie.

Claire pushed an arm back to try and sit up.

“Whoa! Go slow, it’s okay.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.” The woman took her sweater off and offered it to her. “She’s with my partner at our base, but she’s worried sick about you.”

Claire took it and wrapped the fabric tightly around herself. “You’re awful friendly, all things considered.”

The woman averted her eyes. “How is anyone supposed to survive if we don’t help each other?”

A weight lifted from Claire’s shoulders. “Claire.”

“So I hear,” she said. “I’m Joan.”

“Pretty.”

Joan’s eyes widened a bit, but only for a second. “Thanks.”

***

Claire wasn’t sure exactly what she was expecting when they arrived at Joan’s home, but it was not a Walmart. Most department stores had been completely ransacked. Here though, there were few windows on the ground floor, and the ones that were there were boarded or otherwise secured. The outside walls were greasy to the touch, probably on purpose. Can’t climb something slippery.

Joan pulled back the sleeve of her shirt to reveal a lanyard turned bracelet with a key. She held it up so Claire could see. “Opening manager. Always went home with a set of keys.”

She opened the employee door and ushered Claire inside. The hall before her was eerily silent, but Joan trekked forward with unbridled confidence. Claire trailed along behind her, still wrapped in Joan’s sweater as she started warming up. Even without working heat, the walls did wonders to block the wind. Her boots clacked along the tile floor. The sound echoed just a bit.

Joan opened a door, and the storefront revealed itself. The shelves were an organized chaos of empty boxes, cans, and pieces of furniture that had been taken apart for supplies. Claire didn’t have any time to gawk. Joan kept a fast pace.

“I’m back!” She called, skirting around the end of an aisle and heading for the clothing section, “and I brought Claire!”

“Claire!” She almost melted when she heard Valerie’s voice.

“Val!”

She turned the corner and they were face to face. Claire scanned her face, counted her piercings, searched for the flecks of gold in Valerie’s eyes, everything to make sure she was really standing in front of her.

“You’re soaked,” Valerie breathed.

Claire tucked Valerie’s hair back gently. “You’re here.”

“Christ.” Another stranger appeared to the left of Valerie. “You’re shaking.”

Valerie pulled Claire into a tight hug. She relaxed into it. “Thank God you’re here.”

“C’mon, let’s get you a blanket.” Joan nodded them further into the clothing section, then glared at the newcomer. “And a fire. That’s supposed to be attended.”

“It’s fine.” The newcomer brushed her off, but scurried back over to a flickering light. Valerie gave Claire a once over, then stepped back and gestured in the same direction. “It’s warm.”

The clothing section had been contorted into a blanket fort, a full fledged childhood wonder blanket fort. There were piles of clothes under comforters to make beds, and sheets created walls that trapped heat inside. In the center, a small fire burned. It lit up the whole space.

Claire sank into a warm, fuzzy blanket, her toes peeking out to bask in the firelight. Valerie’s arm laid across her shoulders.

She finally had a chance to get a good look at the other woman. From the quick glance she saw from her peripheral, she already knew she had short, dark brown hair, but now that she was looking more closely she recognized a strong curl pattern and a high bun. Her visible skin was spotted with freckles, complemented beautifully by the orange firelight. Her arms though…

Wow.

The straps of her tank top showed off her muscular shoulders and beefy arms. Claire had to fight to keep herself from staring.

Joan too glew in the firelight. She’d changed into a loose pair of pajamas, her hair in a satin bonnet. It had felt like forever since Claire had even thought about getting comfortable, but this Walmart was like an elementary school slumber party.

“We have first aid kits, some food, lots of blankets, bottled water, it’s been pretty easy to ration with just the two of us,” Joan explained.

“But we’re starting to hit a wall,” the other woman added, “what we have in resources, we lack in practical skills.”

Claire nodded slowly. “So you’re looking for someone to teach you what you’re missing?”

“Not exactly.” Joan tossed the pair a package of beef jerky. “We’re looking to be a bigger group. More eyes, more ears-”

Valerie raised a brow. “More mouths.”

“More minds.” Joan challenged. “More ideas, more security. Imagine how much safer we could be if we could always be in pairs? A pair holding down the fort while another pair goes out. Nobody’s stuff gets stolen and nobody gets stuck somewhere alone.”

“I like that.” Claire decided. “But that’s a lot of trust to put into strangers. Why us?”

“Because you’re gay.” The other woman said behind a mouthful of apple.

“I’m sorry, what was your name?”

“Clover.” She waved. “Lesbian.”

Valerie snickered. “You wanna form a GSA?”

“I want to have some solidarity, yeah.” Clover used her lips to point to Joan. “And Joan’s right, there are things we just can't do with only two people.”

Claire shifted to whisper to Valerie. “I like them.”

“I do too,” she whispered back, “but let’s ease into this.”

Maybe it was the food, the fire, or the way Claire’s muscles could finally release their tension, but she could think of very few objections. From the calm, small smile on Valerie’s face, she could tell Val wasn’t too apprehensive either. Call her naive, but Claire really did trust these girls, at least for the night.

Clover slipped into a toothy smile. “Let’s get to know each other first though.”

[whumptimemain]

Day 8 Put your head on my shoulder: Migraine

-

Patreon | Ko-Fi

[whumptimemain]

Cracks knuckles, this is my brand of autism, let me go in. I picked the big guy/girl, or what I usually refer to as the tank. I'll get into that in a moment, but let it be known I was SAD to see it as the least voted option amongst the five traditional roles. Regardless, as someone who almost exclusively writes whump in a five man band setting, let me get into why EACH role is great for whump. The hero/leader This role *can* be the main character, though personally I believe they shine the most when viewed from the perspective of another character. The Hero is a self sacrificial character, whether for a cause or for their found family or what, they are decisive. Due to their capacity to lead, the are AMAZING for hidden injuries, exhaustion, and general "brave face" whump. Favourite Tropes: human shield!hero, martyr!hero, hidden injuries On the other hand, the Hero is also an amazing perspective for angst in general, especially survivors guilt. Please write more heroes with survivors guilt, and then tag me cause I WANT TO READ THAT!!! The Lancer/Sixth Ranger

Do I know that these are separate roles? Yes. Do I think that, most of the time, they share the same purpose? Also yes. The Lancer is in opposition of the Hero, while still being a team. They challenge the Hero's actions, beliefs, yadda yadda, and in the end it makes the whole team stronger. Shame is a great tool when whumping a Lancer, whether that be shame in themselves, or an "I told you so" moment after someone (maybe even them) gets hurt. **EXTRA NOTE** Heroes and Lancers get shipped a LOT. They just kinda have that dynamic. Lancers are very fun caretakers too, imo. Like, imagine a bitter Lancer patching up a Hero after they did something stupid (read as: self sacrificial) and then imagine the difference in tenderness when they patch up, say, the Heart. They're also amazing for holding in captivity. There's a really common trope of the Brain getting captured and the angst around that, but personally I think it hits even harder with the Lancer, because all the Lancer does is argue with the Hero (in their perspective), why would the Hero spare any resources to save them? I'm a sucker for Lancer whump haha. Still not my favourite though. The Heart

Listen. It is SO easy to fuck up the Heart, like, character development wise. It is hard to make a character genuinely so likeable that it makes sense why an entire group would fall apart without them. I know this because there are so many Hearts that don't work. This section is about Hearts that do what they're supposed to for the narrative. Easily, the most impactful character death you can implement is the Heart. The Heart is there to get the group through emotional hardship, so by taking them away, you are leaving your characters without their usual coping mechanism for distress, loss, and mourning. I'm not the biggest fan of whumping the Heart themself, moreover I love using them as a tool in the whumping of the other group members, to demonstrate the ways the group needs to grow into the loss. Without the Heart, characters are rash, aggressive, not thinking straight, and that is a beautiful recipe for whumpy disaster. If you're familiar with Dungeon Meshi, Falin is the heart. She is the drive of everything that party goes through. That is where I believe the Heart shines the most. The Brain

Typically, the Brain is not my cup of tea in most sci-fi/fantasy iterations of the Five Man Band, so let me first go over a couple other ways the Brain can manifest: - The one with the most common sense - The one with the niche, but important information - The one with the most emotional intelligence - The one with the most analytical approach The Brain can be anyone from an engineer at a space station to a bimbo who knows everything bit of gossip about everyone. Regardless, their importance to the group is based almost solely in what they can provide, which is ALWAYS a great starting place for angst.

Erase their memory. Hold them hostage for information. Gaslight them. Make them stop believing they're right about anything. On the other hand, throw them into a situation where they are completely out of their element, or expose them to a trigger from their past that completely unravels their logical ways of thinking. Turn them into someone unrecognizably insecure. The Tank

Of course, I saved my favourite for last. Oftentimes, the Tank is depicted as being a very physically imposing character. This isn't a requirement of the character archetype. What really matters is dynamic with the other characters. The Tank is always hit first. The Tank is always hit hardest. This is why, in my opinion, they make for amazing whumpees, because maybe they can handle that at first. Maybe the first few fights, they shake it off. But then they start getting chronic injuries. Then they start taking longer and longer to heal. Then the nightmares from the fights creep in and deprive them of sleep. The Tank is the first to take a hit, and the last person anyone expects to fall, and nobody knows what to do when they *do* fall. It's glorious. Anyways, I was just beyond surprised that the big guy/girl was the least voted for out of the roles, so I had to share!

[whumptimemain]

no no. you don't get it. the reason I injure my blorbos until they can't walk is because that's the only way they'll ever let someone else carry them. the reason I curse them to be sick and feverish is so that they'll finally open up about their emotions while delirious. the reason I force them to overexert themselves to the point of exhaustion is so that when they pass out they can finally rest.

I'm doing this for their own good.

[whumptimemain]

thoughts on a whumperless whump event?

[whumptimemain]

Reblog to boop your whumpees

[whumptimemain]

Whump prompt:

The Team has been captured by Whumper who orders them locked away until further notice.

As the Team is being escorted away, Whumper suddenly stops the procession and points at Whumpee.

“No,” Whumper says. “Not that one. They and I are overdue for a conversation, privately.”

[whumptimemain]

"we're not gonna make it"

[whumptimemain]

The little high-pitched "nonononono" before a gutteral agonized scream of pain>>>

[whumptimemain]

Lips go cold when there's rent to meet

1930s Germany OCs that I literally just made up | Hans and Fritz | Whumptober Day 12 | Red | Gay people idk |

CW: Stab wound. Mentions of the Ringvereine (german mafia)

Hans couldn't pay up.

The old cabaret laid silent, the velvet chairs vacant. The red glow of neighbouring neon signs peeked in the mostly shut curtains. The sign on the door read “closed.”

Hans understood those facts. Usually, that sign was his barrier of protection after he closed. To be fair, most nights didn’t warrant a visit from the Ringvereine. Maybe that was naive. He supposed, as he laid with his back to the wooden set piece on his stage, that this night had been coming from the moment he couldn’t pay anymore.

Still, he shivered. Even under his suit jacket, he couldn’t stop shaking. If he’d had the drive to pull his arms away from his chest, he figured rubbing his hands together wouldn’t do much to warm him up.

It was a warning, one Hans could not heed. He didn’t have the means

Maybe that was why he didn’t stumble out into the street and call for help. He was dead from the moment he bought his beloved cabaret.

So he laid there, bleeding from the slash across his chest, the one that wasn’t supposed to be fatal. The only thing he could’ve-

“Frau Weber!” 

How did he miss the sound of the door swinging open? 

Footsteps pattered over. “You don’t look good.”

It was Fritz. Hans decided his heart was better off not speeding up at his arrival. That seemed like a poor choice when he was already bleeding. Anyhow, Fritz took his hand. “You’re cold.”

“A little.”

His eyes grew wide. “You’re bleeding.”

“A little.”

“Come.” Fritz tore his jacket off and wrapped it around Hans. “I’ve got you.”

Such frank language. As if Fritz’s words were magic, Hans shuddered as a warm flush hit his cheeks. 

“I’ve got you.” Fritz repeated. It was no more than a whisper.