#a little out of the ordinary

[topguncortez]

Day 1: A little out of the ordinary ➢Prompt: "This was never supposed to happen" ➢character: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw' ➢warnings: death, TOPGUN shit, whump, unhealthy coping mechanisms

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Bradley sighed as he fixed his tie in the mirror. He hated this uniform more than anything. The jacket was heavy, and hot. He also had to wear a long sleeve polyester button up that he hated as well. It was just overall hot and uncomfortable. He would rather wear his khakis or his whites, but it wasn’t proper funeral attire. Bradley clenched his jaw and grabbed his white hat, looking at the gold medallion on it, making sure there were no smudges on it. 

“Rooster,” Bradley looked up to see Maverick in the doorway. His brown eyes went from his godfather, to the little girl that was holding on to his hand, “Lily wanted to see you.” 

“Come here, baby,” Bradley said and kneeled down to the ground, as his daughter left her grandfather's side and ran to him. It had been a hard couple weeks for both of them. Lily was only four and trying to grasp what was going on was hard. 

“You look pretty,” Lily said, and gently touched one of the medals on his uniform. 

“Thank you,” Bradley smiled and kissed her forehead, “You understand what’s going on today?” 

“Mommy’s funeral,” Lily said, her brown eyes looking up at him. 

Bradley nodded and tried to keep the tears from falling. It was never supposed to happen, she should’ve never been on that mission too, but she was one of the best, like Bradley, and everyone knew it. They knew the risks of flying the mission, Maverick had said it when he first showed them the plan. She wasn’t picked, not at first, she was going to be on standby, it was Bradley who was going. 

Y/N had heard her husband be shot down, and it felt like a knife had gone through her chest. She was thinking in her mind about how she was going to have to go home and tell Lily that her father and grandfather were dead. Bradley had shared with Y/N what it was like growing up without his dad, how he could remember the day a man in uniform showed up at the front door to tell them what happened. Neither one wanted to have to live that moment, but Y/N would choose a stranger at the door rather than hearing her husband being shot out of the sky. 

She had been called out for backup when Maverick and Bradley became airborne again. It was her and Hangman in the sky when they became overrun with fifth gens. Y/N knew that someone had to go save Maverick and Bradley, and the other needed to intercept one of the fifth gen. They were moving in sync, before Y/N pulled right, leaving Hangman, and taking on the fifth gen. 

“Bradshaw! God dammit!” Hangman yelled out, as he watched his wingman go straight for the fighter. 

“I got this,” Y/N said.  

The last image that anyone had was the shot of Y/N’s plane going straight for the fifth gen, and breaking apart. Bradley had watched it right in front of him, yelling for her to eject, but never saw the chute. Maverick got them back to the carrier, and Bradley immediately went to Admiral Simpson demanding a search and rescue go out. Cyclone and Maverick shared a look, knowing it was not going to be a rescue, but a recovery. Bradley stood on the flight deck for hours, waiting for the chopper to come back with his wife. It took nearly six hours for them to return, medics and officers pushing Bradley away from her body as they took her into the belly of the ship. It was another two hours before Admiral Simpson, Bates and Maverick called Bradley into a room and told him that very familiar message he had heard thirty years ago. 

“Daddy, why are you crying?” Lily asked, placing her small hands on his face and wiping away a tear, “She’s with your mommy and daddy!” 

“I know baby,” Rooster said, and stood up, “We gotta get going okay.” 

Lily nodded, and took her dad’s hand. The drive to the cemetery was silent as Lily looked out the window at the bright blue sky. Rooster was happy that it was sunny out, knowing how much Y/N hated the rain. Pulling up to the cemetery, he could see the large crowd of service members already there. He knew that Y/N didn’t want a big funeral, something small and “to the point” she would say. Rooster helped Lily out of the car, and held her hand as they walked towards the plot. The dagger squad stood behind them, putting up a united front. 

Hangman looked horrible, he had been the closest to Y/N besides Bradley, of course. Hangman and Y/N had gone to the academy together and had flown together for years. According to Phoenix, he hasn’t spent a day sober since the Uranium Mission. Rooster gave Hangman a slight nod, as he stood in front with his daughter. The crowd was called to attention as they brought the flagged covered casket. Bradley closed his eyes, the memories of his father’s funeral flooding his mind. 

“Group, attention!” An officer called out, and turned to face the casket in the back of the hearse. Carole stood up from her seat, and grabbed Bradley’s hand, pulling him up as well. Bradley felt hot in the suit and tie his mom put him in. He held on tightly to the toy airplane his dad had given him three days ago. 

Bradley’s brown eyes watched as they brought the casket over, and set it on the rollers in front of them. He had only seen this happen in the movies, but he knew what it was. He hardly paid attention to the chaplain as he spoke, his eyes never leaving the casket. He was hoping to see his uncle Maverick, but the only person he somewhat recognized was Uncle Ice, but he was wearing his hat brim low, so it was hard to see his eyes. Bradley watched in amazement as they folded the flag that was on the casket and then walked over to him. 

“This is for you, on behalf of the department of the Navy,” Iceman said to Bradley. Bradley nodded and took the folded flag that had a copy of his dad’s dog tags on them. He then watched as Ice stood up, and saluted the flag before going back to his spot by the side of the casket. 

Bradley blinked as he watched as Hangman walked over to Lily, holding the folded flag in his hands. He kneeled down in front of her, and Lily gave him a smile. 

“This is for you, on behalf of the department of the Navy,” Jake said to her. Lily nodded and took the folded flag that had a copy of her mother’s dog tags. Hangman then stood up and saluted the flag, then moved back to his spot by her casket.

Bradley took a deep breath as he took a step forward, walking up the deep mahogany colored wood. He took his wings off his chest, and ran his thumb over them. He lifted them to his lips, placing a kiss on them, before placing them on the middle of her casket. He took a deep breath, 

“This was never supposed to happen,” He said and pounded the wings into the casket. He then looked up at the picture from her TOPGUN graduation, and saluted her.

taglist: @rosiahills22 @Itsyogurl19 @madamemelancholysstuff @creativitybeware

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#whumptober 2022 #no.1 #a little out of the ordinary #top gun fandom #fic #character death #nsfwhump #top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick imagine #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fan fic #rooster bradshaw fan fiction #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw x reader #Bradley Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw imagine #Bradley Bradshaw fan fic #Bradley Bradshaw fan fiction #Bradley Bradshaw x reader #Bradley rooster Bradshaw

[one-piece-aus]

For Whumtober may I please also ask for Day One with Cracker and Day Four with Franky?

Yes, you may! I'll just have to take you for Franky later. Anyway, I got kinda carried away with Cracker's but I hope you enjoy it!

Whumptober Day 1

Cracker x Reader

TW: Violence, blood, addiction and overdose

"Big brother, how did you get that scar?"

"Do you really wanna know?" Cracker questioned as his normal sparky attitude faded into something serious. He sighed as he watched them nod their head. "It was a long time ago, back when I was married."

"You were married?"

"Yes, to the most beautiful pirate in all the seas."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"I hate being weak..."

"[Y/n], you're not that weak," Cracker reassured you as he relaxed back in his chair, putting his feet up. "Unlike my little siblings."

"You don't get it." You shook your head, got out of your chair, and walked to the window. Placing a hand on the paned glass, you stare at the biscuit commanders training outside your manor. "I was a fierce pirate in Paradise but that means nothing in the New World. I can't match up to their strength."

This matter has always been eating your thoughts day and night. You fought tooth and nail to be one of the top pirates on the first side of the Grand Line, you racked up a bounty of 450 million beris, pirates quivered in their boots at the mention of your name, yet that all meant nothing when you stepped into the New World. You were slapped in the face by power you've never seen before and you fell hard. It was a miracle Big Mom took you into her crew because she some potential in you. However, you felt like you were doing jack shit and the ambition you held inside made you anxious to do something to prove yourself.

"So? What does it matter?" Cracker stood up and joined your side. 

Oh, Cracker. You were unsure about Big Mom's decision to pair you with Cracker when you met him, he acted childish. You gave him a chance though, not like you had a choice, and from your guys' daily playful banter, you come to realize there couldn't have been a better choice. The two of you have grown fond of each other and kept on top of each other health. You're still trying your best to reassure the other but are unsure how most of the time.

"You wipe out the newbies no problem when they get close to mama's territory. You're just as badass as ever." Cracker smirked at you. 

"Yeah..." You lean against the glass, giving Cracker a small smile. You did blow up Paradise pirates' dreams of taking over the New World. That's just the newbies though. A frown returns to your face. "I'm still no match for someone from Kaido's or Whitebeard's crew."

"Ah, who gives a shit about them anyway!" Cracker scowled. "They're not your problem."

"That's right, they're not my problem because I'm too weak to face them. If I was stronger then I could fight them." You bawled your fist as frustration burned in your brain.

"[Y/n]!" Cracker turned you to face him. You saw his eyes full of mixed emotion. "Mama trusted me to you, that means it is part of my duties to make sure you don't get hurt. My job as a husband is to take care of you and keep you from danger. You don't need to be stronger, mama already has plenty of strong members to take care of our rivals."

"I just... I just don't want to be dead weight." You looked down to the side.

Cracker sighed, letting go of you and placing a hand on his head, trying to think of what he could do to help you. You couldn't eat a devil fruit because you already ate one. He hasn't gotten many trainers for the Biscuit island since the majority of the guards are his biscuit soldiers, and you hold your own against them just fine so it wouldn't improve your skill. 

"I'll ask mama if there's something that'll get you stronger," Cracker offered.

"Thanks Cracker," you said, leaning your head against his shoulder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're just in luck [Y/n]!" Perospero exclaimed, gesturing to the chess guards bringing a crate to you. "We just raided some marine ships and found they've been carrying cargo that holds science equipment that we believe is the source to making marines stronger in the New World."

Your eyes brighten up at the good news. It is true the marines in the 2nd half of the Grand Line have begun to grow stronger and pirates have been attempting to figure out how this has been possible. If it is through this science then that means you can be just as strong as them, if not stronger. Like a kid excited to open a present, you lift up the lid of the crate when it's placed in front of you. 

The equipment inside doesn't quite make sense to you. There were blood bags with green liquid inside, monitors, tubes, as well as other things you didn't know the purpose of. Your puzzled expression made your brother-in-law laugh.

"Kukuku, not what you expected?"

"Uh... no." You placed the lid back on as uncertainty flowed through your veins.

"Not to worry. Mama has plenty of doctors and a few scientists that will hook you up to this stuff. Of course, we'll have to test it on some subjects to make sure it's safe for yo-"

"Test it on me!" you interrupted, eagerness dripping from your tone. "I can take it. I'll be fine- I'll be better than fine. I'll be stronger."

"I don't think Cracker would want that-"

"Cracker just wants me to no longer be sad about being, with this I can get stronger and be happy. That's what he wants."

"Kukuku, you are an eager one," Perospero chuckled. He then frowned his brows and tapped his lolistaff. "We're only giving you a small dose to start with then."

"Alright!" you cheered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Haha! This stuff is the best!" you exclaimed to Cracker after you kicked three devil fruit users through four houses.

"Glad to see you're enjoying it," Cracker smiled with his biscuit armour before cutting down another enemy.

You felt yourself glowing as you leap over a pirate and bring your boot down to crush his skull. Adrenaline rush through your veins, and your smile grows larger at this newfound power. You side-kick the fallen man to knock five more guys. You laugh, giddy at how much you're able to do now. 

Spinning around, you catch a sword being swung at your shoulder. The man that dared to swing his blade at you pales at his mistake when he sees your eyes. You reverse the direction and have the sword slice himself down, you hear his bones cracking as they're bent in the wrong direction his cry fuels you and fill you with delight. The pirate falls to his side, shaking in agony. You put him out of his misery as you swiftly kick his head off his body.

"I think that's all of them," Cracker told you as he walked over to you. His eyes widen, noticing how much blood you're covered in. "You alright?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm better than ever!" you laugh and pump your arm in the air.

"You should get cleaned up, you're covered in blood."

"Huh- Oh." Now looking at yourself, you see the red substance splattered all over, though you could hardly feel the difference between sweat and blood on your skin. "Yeah, let's go."

"Sure..." Cracker nodded as you strolled by him. He narrowed his non-existent brows, staring as you pridefully stride back to his boat. You were normally a clean fighter. "...she's just getting used to her new strength," Cracker told himself as he began to follow in your footsteps.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey! Peros!" you waved down the eldest Charlotte brother. Perospero waved off some chess guards he had been talking to and went over to you. You grinned and held up a flexed arm. "This green stuff is great! And I've been wielding it like a pro!"

"I'm glad to hear it has improved your fighting skills-"

"I'm ready for more!"

"[Y/n], I do not think taking more is necessary." Perospero frowned, and his tone shifted. "You already match the level of a New World pirate."

"But I can be stronger!" you stated, not catching onto Perospero's mood on the matter. Your mind only focused on thoughts of getting greater power. You felt you had it in your grasp and you lusted for it.

"You don't need anymore," Perospero told you. When you were about to argue, he pointed his lolistaff and narrowed his eyes. "And that's final. Now, if that's all you wanted to discuss with me, I'll be attending to important matters."

Perospero began walking off and you growled, "Fine!" Sour flavours sprinkled onto your face. You kicked a few gumdrops on the ground as a heavy atmosphere swarmed around your form. "Dumb candy addict. Who cares about getting more power anyway." You turned and bumped into something.

"[Y/n]?"

Or someone.

"Cracker? Hey, what are you doing here?" You smiled and swept the sourness out of your system.

"I could ask you the same."

"Just came to thank your brother for finding the stuff that made me stronger," you told your husband. You then link your arm with his. "So what business are you up to here?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, doc give me some more of this stuff." 

You had snuck into the cake hospital and began making arrangements for your next dosage. Bringing the green blood into one of the patients' rooms and now addressing one of the doctors. He hesitated, looking from you to his clipboard and back to you.

"I- I- I'm sorry Mrs. Charlotte but we currently don't have-"

"Then put this shit in needles or pills or something so I can do it myself!" you demanded and shoved the bag in the homie's face. You were done waiting around for permission so you currently weren't going to wait for there to be time.

The doctor homie began sweating under your intense stare. "I don't think we-"

"Now!" You pulled out mama's vivre card with your spare hand. "Do it now."

Pink ribbons of obligation flowed from the vivre card and circled around the homie. They tied his hands to obey if he did not wish to face mama's consequences.

"Yes ma'am!" he nodded and rushed out of the room after grabbing the blood bag.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"[Y/n], enemy behind!" Cracker warned you as he was unable to shake off the vice-admiral to get the guy for you.

You turned to deflect the attack but your reaction was late and you had a haki'd fist blow you right in the gut. You felt pain squeeze your gut and you roared in agony. You coughed and felt something spit out of your mouth. You had taken quite the hit. 

Turning the pain to rage, you swung your fist at full force and punched a hole right through the marine's chest. You pulled it out and punched again, and again. Your vision became blurry, there seemed to be a lot more green than you remembered. You felt your anger rising your adrenaline. Your breaths let out hostile sounds. Your hand became drenched, you couldn't tell by what-

"[Y/N]!" A firm hand pulled you back to reality. You blinked once, twice. Your sight began to clear and display a bloody corpse with multiple holes. You felt yourself being turned around and a hand lift your chin up.

"[Y/n], what the hell was that!?" Cracker yelled, you could hardly read his expression.

"I lost my cool, it's nothing," you stated.

"Nothing my ass! And what's that green shit on your lip?"

'Green?' You wipe your mouth and look at your hand. Sure enough, green liquid was on it but you could barely make it out from the blood covering your palm. You narrow your eyes, trying to think what it could be. 

"The guy had a weird power," you told Cracker and wiped your hand on your jacket. You turned your back Cracker, not wanting to talk right now. You felt pain still lingering in your stomach so you reached in your coat and pulled out one of the green vial injections. "Look, can we not talk in the middle of the enemy's territory right now?"

"Fine, but we're talking about this later."

Cracker went to head into the building when he caught sight of you injecting something in your body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"PEROS!" Cracker shouted after he slammed the door open and marched inside, bringing vines of tension with him.

"I don't have time to deal with you right now," Perospero said dismissively as he shuffled his stack of papers back together.

"Like I fucking care! This is more important!" Cracker spun Perospero's chair around with his free hand. His intense cotton candy eyes were full of anger. "I want you to stop giving [Y/n] whatever it is you gave her. She's losing it out there!"

"What do you mean? I only let her have a small amount the one time."

"Then how the fuck do you explain this!?" Cracker questioned and tossed [Y/n]'s jacket on the table. A few green injection vials rolled out for Peros to see.

"I should've seen this coming," he sighed, placing a hand on his forehead as he felt a headache coming on.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN!?!" Cracker's patience for the matter is running dry. He's sick of not knowing shit.

"It means your power-hungry wife started taking it on her own and is most likely injecting it improperly or/and overdosing that the adverse effects are happening faster than they should be," the elder brother stated as he took out a newspaper from his draw.

"WHY THE FUCK DID YOU GIVE HER THIS SHIT IF THERE WERE SIDE EFFECTS?!"

"I only found out about it recently," Peros informed Cracker as he passed the newspaper to Cracker. "Here."

Cracker's eyes scanned over the article the paper was opened to. His hands began shaking and the ends of the paper started to crumble. A shadow hovered over his eyes as the room grew colder.

"Can we cure her?" Cracker quietly asked.

"We can try to treat her but there's no guarantee if she's too far gone-"

Cracker threw the paper and rushed out of the room. The paper landed next to Perospero's feet and he sighed as he read the title of the article.

『Ex-Marine-Scientist Causes Over 2000 Marines' Deaths from Drug Experiment』

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ah-" you flinched as you injected another green vial into your arm. 

You threw the now empty tube across the hall next to the trail of other used vials laid and let your veins pump the energy into your body. You felt power wrap around you, hugging every last inch. A green hazes the corners of your eyes.

That means it's working right? It means no one can get in your way anymore right? No one can stop-

"[Y/n]?!" Cracker's voice cried behind you. You twitched your head in his direction. He stepped back, disbelief written on his face. "WhAt hapPeNed to yoU?" His voice cracked.

You tilt your head in confusion. What could he possibly be questioning? You obviously got stronger, why, you could just feel it yourself. Unbeknownst to you, you had changed in more ways than one. 

Mere strands of [h/c] hair covered your head now. Your skin has turned pale green and your inhuman muscle mass twitched under it. Your spoon-sized nails were clawing at the ground. Your heavy breathing produced green smoke. Your now green sclera eyes stared in Cracker's direction, but worst of all: Those eyes didn't register any recognition for him.

"[Y/n]..." Cracker uttered, finding it hard to look at you in such a state. He shook his head and stepped forward. "Come on, we're... we're going to cure you. Get you back to your normal self." He began to hasten towards you.

Big mistake.

You flinch at his sudden movement. Feeling as if you were about to be struck by an enemy, you dashed at him and slashed your hand at his face. He closed his eyes and tilted his head away from the hand, but it still got his right side.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"What... what happened to her?"

"...She was put down."

#whumptober 2022 #whumptober #whump writing #whump fic #fic #no. 1 #no 1 #a little out of the ordinary #adverse effects #one piece #violence #overdose #cracker x reader #charlotte cracker #charlotte perospero #one piece x reader #cracker #whumptober2022 #gore

[callaeidae3]

Whumptober2022 Day 1: A little out of the ordinary

Adverse Effects | Unconventional Restraints | "This wasn't supposed to happen"

Yuuki finding Kyle to be far too still to be sleeping peacefully...

Drawn with watercolour graphite pencils (trying something new!). Scene from The Case of Kindall, K. - Chapter 11

#whumptober2022 #no.1 #a little out of the ordinary #this wasn't supposed to happen #kindall k series #art #hypothermia #unconscious #angst #kyle kindall #yuuki takahashi #the case of kindall k #kk1 #watercolour illustration #traditional art #whump art

[karlyanalora]

Rinse & Repeat

Read on AO3

Day 1 Take 2

It’s not like Jim to set Barbara up on a date. In fact, he’s never done it before. But she won’t complain. Walt seemed to be very nice.

-------------------------------

Day 1 Take 5

“I love you, Mom.”

Jim hugged her for a long time, and she hated to break it off, but “Jim I’m going to be late for work.”

Jim pulled away, and there were tears in his eyes. She frowned, taking a moment to wipe them away. “What’s wrong?”

He grasped her hand for a moment and leaned into the touch. “Nothing, Mom. Be safe, okay?”

“Sure, honey.” All through the drive, she can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. He wasn’t like that yesterday.

-----------------------------------

Day 1 Take 10

Barbara felt sick to her stomach and rushed to the bathroom. Things weren’t much better a few hours later, and she called the hospital to tell them she’d be out sick. She’d say she had food poisoning if she didn't know better.

“Where’s Toby?” she asked Jim when he got home from school. 

Jim shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by her apparent illness. “He had to go home early. He wasn’t feeling well.”

Her son seems cold, calloused even. Seeing him wield a knife so expertly makes her shiver as he carves a ham. He’s carved ham before, but it’s different this time. She can’t put her finger on it, but it’s unnerving.

--------------------------

Day 1 Take…

Barbara jerked awake to the sound of the front door slamming closed. She looked out the window to see Jim tearing out of the garage on his bicycle. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, and it was still dark out. She couldn’t tell you why, but he seemed so desperate in that fleeting glance, that it had her chasing after him in the car. Instinct had her pulling the car off the road at the bridge and peering over into the canal just as the sun rose fully. Jim was kneeling in front of a pile of broken stone, shaking, and she could hear his wails from here. Even over the roar of some sort of monster on the underside of the bridge. She ignored the monster and awkwardly stumbled down the canal wall to Jim’s side.

She knelt next to him and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. He sobbed into her shirt, clinging to her tight enough to leave bruises. “I don’t want to do this again, Mom.”

“Do what, Jim?”

There, on the pavement, as the sun beat down on them, Barbara learned about a life she hadn’t lived yet. About love found, lost, found, and lost again. About trolls, wizards, and aliens. About a dead Toby and her brave son’s chance to save them all.

“But it just got worse,” Jim blubbered. “Every time, the harder I tried, the worse it got.”

“So you thought you could fix it all by saving the Trollhunter before you, Kanjigar was it?” Barbara concluded, and Jim nodded.

“But I couldn’t.”

She cursed her future self for allowing him to start this horrible cycle. “Jim, you can’t save everyone.”

“I know, Mom,” he snapped. “And don’t give me that stupid doctor lecture again.”

Well, there went that plan. “Jim, if you go into this trying to save everyone you love, you’ll find yourself doing just about anything.” Jim didn’t go stiff, exactly, but “You’ve made a lot of compromises, haven’t you?”

“I did what I had to.”

She pulled back to look him in the eye with all the sincerity and love inside her. “What you have to do is the right thing. If the world burns, it burns; you did the right thing with the knowledge you had. You have more knowledge now, but that means making harder choices. It means letting people go.”

“I can’t let them die again!”

“We can try to stop it, but promise me, no more forgoing the right thing.” She paused for a moment, staring at the stones. “Your father…when he served, he did that. Foregoing the right thing for the option that saved the most people or those he cared most about. Often those are one and the same, but when they aren’t…well, we both saw the results. I don’t want that for you.”

“I don’t know if I can anymore,” Jim admitted softly. “But I’ll tr-I’ll do my best.”

She pulled him close again, resting her chin on top of his head. How she wished she could take this burden from him, but Jim had learned through hard-won experience it had to be him who wielded the Amulet. “That’s all I can ask for. But…” how to put this gently, “I think I know why you’re failing.”

“Oh? Because I’d sure like to know.”

“You’re trying to have everything.” She felt him try to pull away, but she held him tighter. “Hear me out. Tell me, do you always try to set me up with Mr. Strickler?”

“Well, yeah. You guys are in love!”

“We were in love, in another life. Mr. Strickler and I may have fallen in love before, but right now he is our enemy and he may stay that way.”

Jim yanked out of her arms. “No! I’m not giving up on him. I know he’s good-”

“You know he can be good,” Barbara pressed. “Those are different things.”

“Fine then. What next? You want me to ditch Tobes and Claire too?”

She shook her head softly. “No, don’t push away the friends you have. Besides, I don’t think Toby would let you and you definitely can’t keep this a secret from him. And new friends may come to, like your two troll trainers. But just because they were your friends before doesn’t mean they will be again. People get to choose and they may not make those same choices. Nomura only became your friend after the Darklands, and without that, and that will not happen again, she may never be your ally. You have to let people choose and not assume you know them. If you want to rekindle what you had with Claire, you need to be upfront with her. Her relationship with you, even if it’s just friends, will actively put her in danger. She needs to know the risks.”

Jim dropped against her chest. “I can’t lose Claire. She’s going to think I’m nuts..”

“Being a hero means making sacrifices.”

Sobs shook Jim again. “It’s all gone. It’s really gone.”

“So build something new.” She stood and pulled Jim up with her. “We’ll go home and plan as best we can. You’re not alone in this. We’ll do the right thing this time and leave it at that, okay?”

Jim nodded and shuffled away. “Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?” she tried to say cheerfully. He turned to look at her as she bent to move the stones aside. Just as the blue light peeked through as the last stones fell, they both heard the Amulet speak.

“Barbara Lake.”

The look of horror and defeat on Jim’s face would be forever burned into her mind.

Day 1, Final Take

This story is complete for now, but I have more ideas I'd love to explore in it. So if you want to read more, let me know.

#whumptober2022 #no.1 #a little out of the ordinary #trollhunters #fic #tales of arcadia #toa #jim lake jr #barbara lake #jimtober2022 #the end is the beginning is the end #bernies toatober22 #spell #trollhunter!barbara

[ichoosechoasandbeingqueer]

Chained and Moon Touched

This is Day 1 of Fili whumptober!

Prompt: A little out of the ordinary

Warnings: being chained, cursed, werewolves, blood, gore, broken bones, body horror, isolation,

Word count: 1542

Gandalf warned them they would have hidden enemies if they reclaimed Erebor. Fili had expected orcs and goblins, not this.

Please refer to the warnings of this story. If you go past this point you are consenting to reading this content.

Fili should have heeded Gandalf’s warning much more seriously. All the dwarves of the company should have. He had warned them there were powerful enemies working against them, willing to do whatever it took to keep them from returning to their throne or to punish them for reaching it. Fili had simply thought he meant orcs. He had not.

His chest shook and heaved as he breathed in and out, the golden prince’s wrists bound behind him by chains of mithril steel and diamond. Hidden away in the depths of Erebor’s halls he found himself, the soft clinking of his chains drumming through his head like a thousand forge hammers against an anvil. He could hear, see and smell everything around him to the point of overwhelming insanity and he counted every second he spent waiting for it to happen. Waiting for the light to finally hit and change him.

He wasn’t alone of course, Bofur and Nori were locked somewhere similar to himself, the curse striking a single member of each bloodline that had dared ventured on the quest to regain their homeland from Smaug. Fili could only guess whatever witch or wizard that had created this curse hadn’t realized how many of said company had Durin’s blood flowing in their veins and he was almost grateful it had been him chosen and not his little brother or kind hearted mother. No, it had been him chosen by whatever mysterious higher power to suffer through this torture each month.

“You are a Durin my son,” his mother had whispered to him as his brother slid the shackles around his wrists only a few hours ago, “Your strength will outweigh this curse and we will be waiting for you on the other side of that door in the morning, I promise,”. He had wanted to shake his head and beg her to stay, but his speech had already been stripped from him. He could only give out a pitiful whine as she kissed his forehead and turned her back on him, taking Kili by the hand and leading him out the door without so much as looking back. It was easier on her that way. Fili knew that. But it didn’t stop the sharp sting of pain he felt in his heart as they locked him away and left him to the mercy of the moon.  

Another groan left his throat and echoed through the darkness of his cage’s stone walls. Night had long taken the colours from the sky and through the thin cracks of the mountain’s roof he could see the blinding white light of the moon closing in. He watched it slowly drag itself across the floor towards him like it was clawing and fighting its way to his shaking limbs, despite to touch his skin and take the rest of his mind. The light he once looked at with gratitude during the nights of the quest, that filled him with hope for the future and safety as he tucked himself into his bedroll now make his feel sick, scared and alone.

A strangled howl from somewhere down the cavern made his stomach turn. They were calling to him, the others’ wolves, tempting him to start his transformation and join them in their moon-drunk madness. It almost felt soothing, the way the sounds manipulated his body against his will. It was like being drunk and trying to take your next step. It was the calm before the storm, and what a storm it would be. Fili shook his head and took another shuddering breath to calm himself, to fight the inevitable for as long as he could. He knew what was coming next, and he squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation. The bloodcurdling scream that rang through his head still shook him to his core however.

It was Nori this month, to change first, and the screaming never stopped. The prince could only sob to himself as Bofur’s screams began to mix into the dreadful sound. It was no wonder the rest of the mountain thought Erebor was haunted, no living creature should make a sound as terrible as this.

Fili pulled at his loose hair and scratched at his thighs as he thrashed against the cold stone beneath him. His pre- transformation high was slowly wearing off the more his pack screamed and howled around him, and the familiar burn in his chest was growing unbearable. His fingertips were already bloody from scrapping his hands against stone, ripping and cracking his nails and tearing his fingers at the burn of his claws coming through. He wanted nothing more then the plunge those claws into the center of his chest, wrapping his fingers around his ribcage and pulling on them until they snaped and shattered.

His jaw locked open in a silent scream and the tearing of skin on each side of his lips sent unimaginable pain through his already hurting body, the sharp, ripping sensation making his eyes roll into the back of his head and his throat to close up at the sudden river of blood.

He felt his bones shifting, shrinking and growing under his skin, his heartbeat pounding in his ears temporarily blocking out the screaming, his own now joining the mix. Kili had once stayed with him through one of his earlier transformations (an act they would both come to regret, the younger now sporting an ugly teared scar across his chest and shoulder) and commented that his bones never actually broke or snaped as he transformed, unless he broke them himself. It sure didn’t feel that way, and the amount of blood that pooled around his body could sure fool anyone who questioned it.

The silver steel chains that restricted his movements strained as he pulled on them, the bolts that held them to the stone creaking in protest of their abuse. The cuffs rubbing and digging into the skin of his wrists didn’t reach the ground so he could balance on all fours where he stood, and his hind legs slipped in the scarlet liquid around him. He howled as he fell, ripping his shoulder from its socket and breaking a few ribs as he hit the ground.

Deep down Fili knew they would be healed by the time he transformed back, but as the wolf took over his mind and his cognitive thoughts dwindled and faded, instinctive panic set in and he screamed and bit at his unknown attacker. He bit down hard enough to crack his teeth against the chains, the cold bolt of pain shooting up his nerves and making his jaw feel like it was on fire. His fellow pack sent out their own snarls and shrieks, ever the loyal subjects they were, even under such circumstances.

Like a new born deer trying its legs for the first time, Fili stood on furry paws and tilted his head forwards, letting the blood dribble out of his jaws. He savored in the metallic taste on his tongue, even if it was his own and he was tempted to lap it up from the ground where it had fallen. He tried to take a step away but his brain wouldn’t connect with his body. His thoughts, as strangled and repressed as they were, were still dwarven, and his wolf body wouldn’t listen. He felt like he was being suffocated, still wrapped in the webs of the spiders that had trapped them in Mirkwood, and as much as he tried to shake and move, he remained motionless. Helplessly, he watched himself bend forwards to mindlessly lick at the blood coated ground.

Pain erupted in his mind yet still he held on, despite to stay in charge, to stay conscious. Every second he fought he was hit with sharp streaks of pain and his form began to shake once again. He felt like he was being teared apart and stabbed at the same time.

A low howl echoed through the walls of the mountain, followed by a second. The sound was lulling, soothing against the blinding pain and he wanted nothing more than to block out the sound that offered him such sweet release. Fili had always been a strong-willed dwarf but this challenge was the hardest simple because he know he had no choice in the end. He would give in to the quiet and the calm. He would let the wolf in to take control for even he could not fight such a curse.

He would give in to the dark instincts that he held, the bloodlust that he would pursuit, the desire to run the hunt, to chase and kill his prey, to feel the breaking of bone and muscle under his teeth.  

Another howl called to him and managed to turn his head upwards, the feeling of his wolf and his dwarven mind mixing and struggling against each other. He was losing and losing quickly.

Another burst of pain made his wolf form whimper and he took one last breath before releasing what little grip he still had with reality.

The last thing he saw was the moonlight shining down on him through the cracks of the ceiling before an indulgent sense of peace stilled him to submission.

✨✨✨✨

See full 31 day whumptober 2022 Master List here

#whumptober2022 #no.1 #A little out of the ordinary #werewolf transformation #the hobbit #fili #fili durin #writting #being chained #cursed #werewolves #blood #gore #broken bones #body horror #isolation #my writing #werewolf fili #whump

[alasse-earfalas]

day 1 | fluff-whump-tober

“How many times have I worn your armor?”

Wild sat in seclusion. He didn’t mix well with the others when he was grieving; he’d learned that the hard way. But now his best friend (aside from Zelda) was dying and he was helpless. Potions only did so much. But it was all he could do. 

Wrapped in the familiar clothes, he remembered his wolf companion. Remembered the waking from nightmares, the warm snuggles in the night when he felt so desperately alone. Twilight had been with him through all of it, had been there for him. 

He knew it was odd, but wearing his own hand-me-down version of Twilight’s tunic was all he could to think of to do. He needed his friend back, but his clothing was all he could get. It was the closest thing to a warm Wolfie snuggle he was going to get for a while, it seemed. 

“Wild!” 

He perked up. Who was coming to visit? Did they have news? He got to his feet and approached the call. 

Sky and Four greeted him. “There you are!” said Four. They still hadn’t had a chance to talk. 

“What are you wearing?” asked Sky, a curious tilt to his head. 

“Oh, um…” Wild blushed. “I have a lot of your outfits, actually.” He desperately needed to change the subject. “How is he doing?” 

“The Traveler can’t explain it,” said Four. “He’s healing! He’s asking for you.” 

His heart leaped, and he ran.

@flufftober prompt: Wearing Each Other’s Clothes 

@whumptober prompt: A Little Out of the Ordinary | “This wasn’t supposed to happen” Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42067278

#whumptober2022 #no.1 #A Little Out of the Ordinary #“This wasn’t supposed to happen” #flufftober2022 #day 1 #Wearing Each Other’s Clothes #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu wild #grief #fluff-whump-tober

[geminihurt]

Whumptober 2022 | Day 01

A Little out of the ordinary | "This wasn't supposed to happen"

"Congratulations, daddy. Now both your daughters are killers"

Batwoman 1x15 | Kate Kane - Ruby Rose

#whumptober2022 #no.1 #this wasn't supposed to happen #batwoman #gifs #angst #1x15 #kate kane #ruby rose #whump #a little out of the ordinary #chocking #blood #guilt #lady whump #female whump

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whumptober #1: A Little Out Of The Ordinary

My Fic: [X] - Hurt Cassian Andor / Rogue One: A Star Wars Story

Option: “This Wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Well that wasn’t supposed to happen.” The Crewmate said, standing from their rough landing when the engines gave out. Red lights blared and the report log screamed of hull damage and repairs that would take weeks to complete, if they were lucky.

 “Thankfully A manually calibrated the upthrust engines in time, otherwise we wouldn’t have slowed our decent to even the small percentage we did.” 

”Yeah good job- A?” 

The damage report map flared red from the engine room, accompanied by warning signs of electrical fire and major structural damage. The crew shared a look before racing from the bridge and towards A’s position.

#whumptober2022 #whumptober #a little out of the ordinary #this wasnt supposed to happen #whump #angst #worry #crash #crash landing #ideas #writing #prompts #no.1

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

And Here I Thought We Were Progressive

Happy whumptober!

ao3

Loosely inspired by Blood Thicker Than Silver by the lovely @keepswingin and @rainfallingfromthesky

Prompt: "This wasn't supposed to happen"

Fandom: Z-O-M-B-I-E-S

Characters: Wyatt Lykensen, Willa Lykensen

Summary: Wyatt falls right into a literal trap. And here he thought Seabrook was progressive.

Trigger Warnings: blood, injuries, burning, poison

924 words

Wyatt couldn’t see.

Warm, coppery blood was dripping over his tightly closed eyes, some dribbling past his lips and landing on his tongue as the gash on his head continued to throb .

He had just — just been on a patrol, nothing out of the ordinary, and — fuck . He hadn’t meant to trigger the trap, silver teeth snapping closed around his leg. He hadn’t even seen it.

In his frantic attempt to get it off, he’d fallen to the ground entirely, landing face first into what must have been another one.

His eyes burned. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen, and Willa was going to kill him, but maybe… maybe he could take care of it on his own! That didn’t sound too difficult, he could just carefully tug his leg free, even though he couldn’t really see it—

He howled in pain, claws digging into his leg on reflex, and that only made it worse.

Fuck .

Jesus, Willa was going to end him if he didn’t die of silver poisoning first.

He howled again, knowing his sister must still be nearby. The more prideful part of him almost hoped she wouldn’t hear.

The little brother part of him really hoped she would.

The silver was straight fire , setting the blood still on his insides ablaze. It was a special, hell kind of pain.

He smelled his sister before he heard her. Leave it to the alpha to be quiet as a mouse, even on crunchy leaves and snappable twigs.

“Wyatt?”

“H—ey, Wills,” he said, attempting a lighthearted smile. It probably looked more like a grimace. It sure felt like one.

“Oh my god,” Willa said, horror-stricken. “What happened?”

“Tripped,” he said with an accompanying hiss of discomfort. “I know you’re always tellin’ me to watch where I’m going, but,” he managed a momentary, twitching grin. “In my defense, this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Is it ever?” Willa asked, mostly to herself. 

Her hand landed on his cheek, gently, and she carefully tilted his head this way and that, assumably examining the injuries on his face.

“You think it’ll scar?” He asked, “give the ladies a little something to look at?”

Willa didn’t respond. She just huffed an almost-chuckle, tracing the pads of her fingers gently over his skin. 

“We need to get that trap off your leg,” she finally said, worry stitched through her voice. “But we’re so far out from the den… shit.”

She may have still been talking, but honestly, Wyatt’s head was swimming enough as it was, and with the piercingly loud ringing in his ears that was no doubt linked to the unholy fire the silver was currently trying to set him on, he couldn’t… be bothered to really… listen.

“Wyatt? Hey!” Strong hands gripped his shoulders, shaking him softly. “You’re okay. I’m going to take it off, are you ready?”

“Just make it quick,” he said, digging his claws into the earth in preparation for the pain about to be reigned upon him.

The metallic pressure came off in one instant snap, and he screamed , a howl that must have truly torn his throat with its hoarse desperation. 

He could feel the silver forcing its last touch of poison into his blood. 

For a long, horrible few minutes, he just breathed , panting and taking in grateful gasps of air as tears pushed past his still closed eyes. He couldn’t begin to imagine the pathetic mess he must have looked.

Finally, when the pain was somewhat bearable to exist with again, he slowly, carefully removed his fingers from the dirt, wiping his eyes dry.

Getting his first glimpse of Willa, he immediately frowned. She had torn the bottom of her shirt to wrap hastily around his wound. He was grateful, of course, but a younger, more anxious version of himself told him to feel guilty over it.

His eyes settled on her hands, and the freshly inflicted burns on them. 

Wyatt’s stomach churned. He should have just clawed the damn thing off himself, but now Willa had hurt herself to help him, help him out of a completely preventable situation that he’d just stumbled into, and what kind of a fucking beta was incompetent enough to do that, and fuck —

He sniffled, embarrassed and guilty and in pain and wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and sleep until he was either healed or dead .

“You better not be doing it,” Willa warned, gingerly wiping his tears.

“Doing what?” 

“Throwing a pity party for yourself,” she stated matter-of-factly. His mouth hung open, unsure how to respond. “ Wyatt ,” she said, putting her hands firmly on his shoulders. “I’m not mad that this happened. I’m mad at whatever dipshits put those traps out in the first place. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Your hands…” he protested pathetically.

“What, you think your alpha can’t handle a couple burns? Please .”

The dramatic way she flipped her hair, at least, reached its obvious goal in getting a tiny, genuine smile out of him.

“Now, let’s get back to the den,” she said, helping him to his feet. “And get you taken care of for real.” Casually, she snaked an arm around him in a clear attempt to stabilize him.

“I don’t need help walking,” he whined, despite being absolutely sure that his leg was on the verge of needing amputation. 

Willa just kept helping him along, her firm grip silently saying something along the lines of “yeah right, dipshit”.

Although she probably wouldn’t have said it like that. Right now, at least.

#whumptober2022 #this wasn't supposed to happen #no.1 #z-o-m-b-i-e-s #fic #blood #injuries #burning #burns #poison #hurt/comfort #whump #siblings #willa lykensen #wyatt lykensen #pearce joza #chandler kinney #kat writes #a little out of the ordinary #yes im writing fic for the hit dcom franchise zombies what about it #anyways IM BACK BABY

[locustandwildhoney]

Welcome to the Bliss

#whumptober2022 #no.1 #a little out of the ordinary #unconventional restraints #Far Cry 5 #Faith Seed #implied drug use #Eden's Gate #far cry 5 #seed family #eden's gate #welcome to the bliss #art #my art #bliss flowers #faith seed

[ctrsara]

Storm Safety

Without lights they could see the crazy lightning off in the distance, and see the lights of the city reflecting up through the increasingly heavy rain. It was an awesome sight, but still unsettling.

“Boss, Spiderman is requesting access to the building.”

“What? FRI, what’s he doing out in this storm? Where is he?”

“I’m sure I have no idea why, but he’s on the roof.”

NYC loses power due to a man-made weather event. Tony and Pepper still have power at the Tower, thanks to the ARC reactor, but they're surprised by an unexpected visit of the arachnid variety. What made the kid come all the way to Manhattan in this storm?

Part of the post-Homecoming series "Strands in the Rope," which attempts to show how Tony and Peter's relationship might have developed between Homecoming and Infinity War, but can stand alone, also.

#whumptober2022 #no.1 #a little out of the ordinary #irondad and spiderson #marvel mcu #flufftober2022 #day 1 #prompt: wearing each other's clothes #strands in the rope #post spider man homecoming #tony stark is good with kids #storm trauma #not too whumpy because hasn't peter parker been through enough #fanfic #tony stark and peter parker

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Pets Chapter 17: A Little out of the Ordinary

TWs in the tags

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Extra: 16.5

Adverse effects | Unconventional restraints | “This wasn’t supposed to happen”

It’s been a few days since your punishment ended. You don’t feel good.

Obviously, there’s the physical pain. It feels less like nerves that have been activated and more like a mass of pain sitting inside you. Or several chunks of pain sitting inside you.

You avoid moving so that the pain doesn't move around. As long as it sits right where it is, you can semi-bear it, so you have to make sure the pain doesn’t move.

You can’t really do anything by yourself. Ever since you woke up in your bed with your collar on, all of your injuries bandaged, and your leg in a cast, you’ve needed help doing basic things.

Luckily, it’s been Dollie helping you and not Jane. You don’t think you could handle that.

Emotionally, you feel hollowed out. Kit came to talk to you for a bit when you first woke up, and you asked them to kill you. They paled and left without saying a word, and you haven’t seen them since.

Dollie helps you eat and drink and bathe. She applies clean bandages to your wounds and gives you an ibuprofen pill every once in a while. At first, you talked to her and played card games with her, but lately you just stare at the ceiling and try to be as still as possible.

You’re so tired. You thought you would feel better once the punishment was done, but you’re still in so much pain and so tired all the time. The punishment isn’t over, not really, and it won’t be for months.

You sleep and stare at the ceiling and let Dollie take care of you, and before you know it you’ve lost all perception of time. You have no idea how long it’s been. Your wounds slowly heal. Dollie stops giving you ibuprofen. You’re so tired.

—

Dollie steps into your room with a plate of food and quietly shuts the door behind her.

“Hi.” She says. Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Master said I could talk to you. She doesn’t like it when her pets get too depressed or dissociated. It’s boring. She said this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Her voice is painfully quiet and a bit scratchy. She places the food on your bedside table.

“How are you doing?” She asks.

You huff. Is she serious? “Not great. Why’d she have you talk to me instead of Kit? I mean, I’m not complaining. But I would’ve thought she’d rather keep us from talking.”

“She would. But Kitty failed. So I get to try.”

You blanch. “Kit’s okay, right? They’re not in the basement, are they?”

“They’re fine. We’re all fine. Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?”

“Not unless you know how to stop Jane. Or kill me.”

“Don’t say that. You’re okay. Are you hungry?”

You are, but you shake your head. You’d rather focus on this conversation.

“I’m sorry I drilled you. I wish I didn’t have to. Is that why you’re sad? I’m sorry.”

You sigh and try to explain in a way Dollie will understand. “No, that’s not why I’m sad. I’m sad because I don’t want to be tortured again but I know I will be.”

“Not if you’re good! And we can help you be good. Me and Kitty, we’ll help you.”

“You don’t understand.”

Dollie tenses. “I’m not stupid. I know I’m being treated badly. I know we’re being treated badly. It’s just… the only way to make it better is to be good.” She takes a deep breath. “We were chosen, you know? By this powerful being. And keeping her happy is our job. It’s a shitty job, but you can have a shitty job and still be happy.”

“You can quit a shitty job. We’ve been kidnapped and tortured and we can’t leave.”

“You came willingly. But that’s not the point. What will make you feel better? What did you do before, when you were having a hard time?”

“I don’t know. I’d just… do what I had to do. But I don’t really want to, this time.”

“Don’t say that. Master won't like that. If you can’t think of anything, I can make suggestions. I could convince Master to get us more books or games. And I do the shopping, so I could get something you want next time I go if Master says it’s okay. We could make brownies. That’s what I used to do, when I was sad. And I’d dance. Does any of that sound fun? Like it would make you feel better?”

“I don’t know.” You feel bitter in a way that’s hard to verbalize. She’s only talking to you because Jane thinks you being depressed is boring. You don’t really want to feel better.

“That’s fine. Do you… want to talk about it? About what happened? We don’t have to, but sometimes it helps.”

“Do I want to talk about how I was tortured for a week straight? Not really, no.” You don't actually know how long you were in the basement, but that feels right. You pause. “I’m sorry, though. You got hurt because of me. You weren’t even there when I ran.”

“It’s fine. I should’ve known better, should’ve left you restrained while I wasn’t there to watch you.”

A chill runs down your spine. “Don’t do that.”

“I’ll do whatever’s necessary. But it shouldn’t be. Especially not while your leg’s broken. That’s a pretty effective restraint, isn’t it? Master knows what she’s doing.”

“What the fuck-“ You take a deep breath. “Okay, here’s a tip for you. If your goal is to make me feel better, don’t talk about me being tortured like it was justified.”

“Sorry.” And she does seem sorry, but you know it’s because she’s doing a bad job at what Jane told her to do and not because she thinks she was wrong.

Dollie stares at you for a minute. “I want to help. What would help you right now?”

You think for a moment. “Kit said you might know more about how Jane’s powers work.”

She shakes her head. “How would knowing that help you feel better? I know you just want to know how to plan another escape. That will only make it worse.”

You close your eyes. You’re never going to get out of here.

“We don’t have to spend all our time at the house, you know. We can go on walks. I’m sure Master wouldn’t mind, as long as you're supervised. It would help you to get some sunlight, I think. And exercise.”

“You’re a fucking murderer, Dollie.”

That’s not what you expected to come out of your mouth. You don’t know why your heart is suddenly pounding. “You killed a child. I’m sure you’ve killed more people than you can even count at this point. You’re so fucking weak. You’ve killed people just because she told you to, just to avoid pain. God, what’s wrong with you? Why are you like this? Why’d you let her make you into this? Why couldn’t you be stronger?” Your face is wet and your hands shake and it hurts.

“Oh.” Dollie’s voice is somehow even softer. She gently wraps her arms around your shoulders, barely touching you. But it’s still a hug. You lean on her and sob into her shirt.

“It’s not your fault, Bunny. It’s not. When you’re following Master’s orders, everything you do is her fault and her decision, not yours. You’re just an extension of her. It’s not your fault.” She taps your left arm gently, where your brand is.

You sob harder. You’re absolutely positive that she’s repeating something Jane’s told her.

“It’s okay. You can cry for as long as you want. It wasn’t your fault.”

You cry and cry and cry. It feels different to when you were crying in the basement. Dollie holds you and rubs circles into the back of your neck, over your collar.

It’s been so long since you’ve had actually comforting touch. It’s not like when Jane holds you, when it’s to prove how much control she has, and it’s certainly not like when Kit and Dollie hold you down to stop you from leaving. Dollie holds you loosely, and you know that she would let go at the slightest sign that you wanted out. She carefully avoids putting pressure on any of your wounds, which she knows the locations of intimately after helping you with bathing and applying bandages.

“I’m a murderer.” You choke out. Dollie doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t go. Stay, please Dollie. Don’t go.”

“I won’t. Not until you tell me to.”

She’s lying, of course. She would leave in an instant if Jane asked. But you let yourself believe it, for just a moment, and you feel safe. Protected. Loved.

“I could’ve gotten you water. You sacrificed it for me and I could’ve paid you back but I’m too weak.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t do it because I wanted something in return.”

That just makes you feel worse. “Why are you and Kit so much stronger than me? Why can’t I sacrifice for you the way you can for me?”

“It comes with time.”

You don’t want to be here long enough to be able to take pain willingly. You cry and cry and cry.

At some point, you must’ve fallen asleep. When you wake up, the light from the window of your room has faded, and Dollie is still holding you. You don’t feel like only sleeping and staring at the ceiling anymore.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @ghostsinthecloset

#whumptober2022 #no. 1 #a little out of the ordinary #adverse effects #unconventional restraints #this wasn’t supposed to happen #oc #original content #fic #discussions of torture tw #death mention tw #murder mention tw #death wish tw #suicidal ideation tw #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #nonhuman whumper #multiple whumpees #pet whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #2nd person pov #jane’s pets

[anmylica]

Chapter 8: The Price We Pay

Tagging the Usual Crew: @kmomof4 @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @sotangledupinit @snowbellewells @tiganasummertree

Want to be added? Ask me!

Read on AO3

Catch Up Here: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07

Rumple slunk into the library just before 7 o’clock and glanced warily at the shadows in the stacks. He didn’t see the boyish figure of his father anywhere, so he looked around him as he waited. Everything in the library was covered in a fine layer of dust, as if no one had been around to take care of anything. He supposed that the only librarian Storybrooke had ever had would have been the only one worthy enough of being the librarian here. He really missed Belle.

Rumple perused the titles as he waited, but nothing of interest caught his eye. He was beginning to think that this was a waste of his time. Just as he was debating the merits of leaving and still managing to screw over his father, the door opened. In walked Peter Pan in his dark, charcoal gray three piece suit, looking as youthful as ever. Rumple saw through the lie of the facade, that underneath the outward appearance of devil-may-care self-confidence, there was a coward who didn’t want to face what his unfinished business was.

“Ah, Rumple! I’m glad to see you’ve taken my deal.” Pan smiled a cold, unfeeling smile.

“Well how could I pass up information on the whereabouts of my son? You drive a hard bargain, Papa,” Rumple replied, his voice dripping with thinly disguised oil.

“Indeed I do. I hope you won’t be too offended that I’ll need some assurance that you won’t engage in any unsavory business.” Pan shrugged. “It’s not that I don’t trust you son.”

Rumple nodded once. He had expected this when Pan approached him to offer a deal. He had written this “contract” as carefully as he could.

“Of course.” Rumple pulled out a rolled-up parchment that had a red ribbon tied around it. “I trust it will be to your liking?”

Pan rolled out the parchment, reading over it for a moment before smiling widely. Rumple let no outward emotion show on his face, but inside Rumple was relieved. If Pan fell for this ruse, then it would solve several of his problems.

“I do believe we have an accord.” Pan signed the parchment and once the signature was complete, the scroll disappeared.

Rumple waited. Pan shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose you want my part of the bargain now?”

“Indeed. Where is my son?”

Pan shrugged again and shook his head. “I haven’t seen him.”

Rumple sneered. “You lie.”

“Oh, I’m telling you the truth. I haven’t seen him. But word on the street is that Hades has him working some dead-end job that he absolutely hates. I’m sure you’ll see him around if you stay in the Underworld long enough.”

Rumple pointed his finger at Pan. “Our deal was that you would tell me exactly where he is.”

“And I don’t exactly know. I only know what I’ve heard, and that’s that he’s here sentenced to working a dead-end job.”

Rumple scowled. “What dead-end job?”

Pan shrugged. “Who knows? I certainly don’t. I’m not the one in charge of this place, Rumple.” Pan smirked and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “This isn’t Neverland. I can say that I’ve heard he was sentenced to providing help and support to newly departed mothers who have left behind a child. Or multiple children, as the case may be,” Pan added as an afterthought after considering his statement.

Rumple narrowed his eyes as he considered just what his father was up to. Whatever it was, he knew that it only seemed to be nothing more than a game. This time, Rumple was determined that he wouldn't be the one playing.

“And there’s nothing else?” Rumple asked shrewdly.

“There’s nothing else I know.”

Rumple slowly nodded, seeing what Pan wouldn’t reveal outright. “Then I will see you when the next part of our deal comes about.

Pan grinned broadly. “See you around, laddie.” Pan turned and left the library, leaving Rumplestiltskin by himself, with only his thoughts for company.

Peter Pan never failed at getting what he wanted, and what he wanted was to be restored to life. Hades was no fun, always all work and no play. Malcom had given up all that adult nonsense when he became Peter Pan, and he loathed even the thought that this upstart of a God would keep him from being who he wanted to be. He’d show Hades what he thought of the audacity of making him work an adult’s toil. To make sure that he would get what he wanted, he just had to make sure that his son didn’t find Baelfire.

He hadn’t lied when he had told Rumple that he didn’t know where Bae was, exactly. Before this moment, he had only heard a rumor of who the new counselor was to bereaved mothers. He had deliberately waited until this moment to come and see his grandson and lay the foundation to getting what he most desired, and if he had to manipulate Rumple to do it, well, hadn’t he been doing that for all of Rumple’s life? So really, he wasn’t doing anything that he hadn’t already done. None of this was wrong.

He opened the door softly to Bae’s office and peeked inside. Bae was sitting at a desk, writing something in what looked like a file. His appearance was disheveled, his shirt untucked and his hair having that certain kind of greasy wildness it had had for as long as Pan had known the adult version of his grandson. He had a frustrated visage as he wrote and flipped through pages in the file.

“It looks like you could use a break,” Pan said, taking a small sort of twisted pleasure at the jump Bae did. Upon seeing who it was, Bae scowled and turned back to his work.

“Just what are you doing here?” Bae asked, not bothering to acknowledge Pan’s words.

“Can’t I come see my favorite grandson?” Pan countered, not answering the question on purpose. Just because this wasn’t Neverland didn’t mean they couldn’t all play a game, right?

Bae sighed. “You’ve never particularly cared about me before. Why start now?” Pan didn’t acknowledge the truth in this statement.

“Do you ever think about him?” Pan asked. When Bae didn’t answer, he continued. “Henry, I mean,” Pan clarified.

Bae looked confused. “What?”

“I mean what with you abandoning him and his mum. Then dying. It seems to me you would miss him.” Pan shrugged and sauntered over to a bookshelf, picking up a random knick-knack and weighing it in his hand.

Bae glared at Pan as he retorted, “That isn’t yours. And besides, I’ll see Henry again.”

Pan cocked his head to the side. “How do you know?”

Bae shrugged. “Faith.”

Pan was silent for a moment. “What if I told you there was another way?”

Bae looked up through his lashes at Pan. “A way for what?” he asked.

“To see him again. This is the Underworld version of Storybrooke. Everything there is here.”

Bae sighed and put his pen on the desk. “Can’t you ever give a straight answer about anything?”

Pan smirked. “What would be the fun in that?” Bae had no idea, but everything was falling into place. He was doing exactly what Pan wanted. Rumple was going to be in for a treat when he learned of what his father had done to his beloved son.

Bae ignored the question. “Either tell what you know or get out.”

“You’ve grown up to be rather boring.” Pan scowled for a moment. “All work and no play,” he observed. After a moment when Bae didn't respond, Pan sighed. “Have you ever heard of the Wishing Well?” he asked. At Bae’s slight head shake, he explained, “It’s a dormant portal. It’s one of the links between this world and the living, the same as it’s the link between Storybrooke and the Enchanted Forest in the Living Realms. You can communicate with the other side using it.”

Pan paused for a moment, waiting on Bae to catch on to what he was implying. Bae was silent as he took in the information.

Then Pan continued. “You can send him a message. Just drop it into the well and it’ll make its way to him.” Pan turned to leave, but turned back as if he had forgotten something. “And when you do, give this to him from me.” Pan tossed Bae a bottle with a rolled up message inside. Bae only just caught it in his hands, surprised by the action the pseudo-boy had taken. “And tell him I said ‘No hard feelings,‘ will you?”

Pan left the office, closing the door behind him and smirking as he thought about the trap he had just laid for his grandson. Let Rumple double cross him now.

“Answer me, now! Where is he?! How did you come to find him?” Emma demanded, not allowing herself to pause for even a breath.

Meg nodded, a little frightened by how forceful Emma was being. “He’s down in Hades’ dungeon. I’m afraid he’s getting the ‘welcoming treatment.’”

“‘Welcoming treatment’?” David echoed. “What does that mean?”

Milah cleared her throat. “It’s what happens to all newly arrived souls. He prepares them for life down here. Usually through some sort of mental or emotional torture for the wrongs you committed while living, as a bit of a preview for what awaits you if you try to move on without resolving your unfinished business. And then he assigns you a job to do while you wait in a sort of purgatory state.”

Meg nodded in agreement. “The thing is, though, that you can never resolve your unfinished business. Most people don’t even know what theirs is. It would take a special kind of magic to be able to point the people of the Underworld towards knowing it.”

Emma blinked for a moment as the oddity of those words struck her, but she had a more pressing question. “Can you come here without unfinished business?”

Milah shrugged. “I’ve never known anyone to be here without unfinished business. I think those people just usually move straight on to Elysiam.”

Emma blinked and then turned to Meg, trying to put aside the niggle of doubt in her mind at what could possibly be Killian’s unfinished business. She very carefully tried not to look at the brunette who had been Killian’s first love and the woman whose death he had cheated time in order to avenge. “So he’s roughing him up a bit or what?”

“I’m afraid what he’s doing to him is worse than that. It’s not safe for you out in the open,” Meg grimaced in apology.

Although it felt as if her heart was being crushed anew at Meg’s words, Emma knew she had to put it to the side for the moment and take care of the immediate needs, which was finding someplace safe for them to regroup and come up with a different plan. She nodded in agreement and looked at everyone. “How safe is the loft?” she finally addressed her parents.

Snow’s face fell and David took her into his arms. He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We encountered something, we don’t know what, and it…” David trailed off. “I just don’t think the loft is safe for us to use right now.”

Emma’s brow furrowed at the vibe she was picking up off her parents, but she decided to let it slide for the moment. “Alright. Regina?”

Regina shook her head. “I don’t trust that my home is open for us. It’s technically the mayor’s residence, and I don’t know who the mayor is down here.”

Emma nodded her head again. “Then I guess there’s only one true option for us.” With a wave of her hand, the group all disappeared in a haze of thick gray smoke, reappearing just outside of the Underworld replica of her Storybrooke Victorian. Milah and Meg gaped at her, shaken by their sudden relocation by magic. The rest of the group didn’t look as if they had noticed.

They all stared up at the front door, no one moving or saying anything.

“Do you reckon it’s safe?” Robin ventured to ask, hesitating like all the others after everything that had happened in the Land of the Dead thus far.

Emma took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Only one way to find out, I suppose.” She climbed the steps slowly, the rest following her lead, and she opened the door and stepped slowly inside, observing the front rooms for anything dangerous.

Her living room was in disarray. Her old crib from the castle in the Enchanted Forest and the unicorn mobile took up a large portion of the room, and every inch of the floor was covered in the toys that she had seen from visiting her parent’s castle in her first visit to their kingdom. Emma heaved a sigh. She knew what this was about. She moved to the center of the room and folded her arms, glancing around sadly as the others filed in, staring at the scene before them as well.

“What’s all of this?” Milah asked, a confused look on her face.

“This stuff was in my room in the castle in the Enchanted Forest. It was part of the life I was supposed to have had before the Dark Curse was cast.” Emma picked up a stuffed pirate toy and gave a soft, pained smile.

“Castle? Dark Curse?” Milah echoed.

Emma nodded, but said no more.

“I can fill you in later, Grandma,” Henry added easily, taking the changing situation in stride as only Henry could. Milah looked at him wide-eyed. “You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?” Milah shook her head in amazement.

Regina cast a detection spell over the house, waiting for the red light to reveal any other people that might be there, too. Nothing happened; the house was empty.

“It looks like we’re safe here for now,” Regina announced. Everyone began shuffling the toys and baby furniture around, making room for them all to sit. The couches were draped in canvas cloths to keep the dust off, and they removed those as well.

Emma moved deeper into the living room to grab a sheet off the back of a chair, but she stopped short of reaching it, a strange look on her face. She felt a tugging pull at her navel, heard a strange tinkling sound, and she cocked her head to try and detect it better. Everyone else stopped what they were doing to stare at her worriedly, for no one else knew what was happening, but she didn’t notice. She listened harder. Not a sound could be heard except for the tinkling. It almost reminded her of bells or possibly even wind chimes.

Emma took a step forward, instinct propelling her to move, though she didn’t know where she was going. She couldn’t explain this sensation. It felt like her heart was being pulled out of her chest by some invisible hand, but it didn’t hurt. It didn’t feel like when Cora had tried to take it; that had felt as if she were in the throes of experiencing a heart attack, the horrible feeling stopping only when her magic had rebuffed Cora’s attempts. No, she felt as if her heart was trying to return to a place… a place almost like home…

Lost in her trance as she was, she didn’t realize where she was going until she stopped just in front of her basement door, her hand outstretched to open it. She hesitated, some sixth sense ringing her alarm bells in her head as she beheld the door, and she stood indecisively in front of it. What was down there that was pulling at her so?

“Emma?” Snow called, worried for her daughter. Emma has just gotten rid of the Darkness, and she feared that her daughter was possibly experiencing some lingering effect that the Darkness might have left on her soul.

Emma visibly jumped at hearing her mother’s voice, blinking rapidly. She stared at the door a moment more, but the tugging sensation had ceased and the pealing bells had subsided. She shook her head as if to rid it of her thoughts and turned away from the basement door.

“Yeah, let’s do this. Let’s figure out what we’re going to do next!” Emma moved to sit in the chair she had just uncovered, looking at everyone else nervously. She hoped no one asked her about what had just happened; she didn’t know if it even made any sense to herself.

“Are you sure you want us to help? I don’t want to get in your way or make you feel like I don’t want to help you,” Snow responded softly, a concerned look on her face.

Emma looked at her mom confusedly. “What do you mean?”

Snow swallowed and David grasped his wife’s hand as he realized what Snow’s concern was about. “When we were at the loft, you came to me and told me you were better off without us, that we were holding you back, to put it mildly. I just don’t want you to feel that way,” Snow assured her. Everyone just looked at her in even more concern.

“Oh, Mom, of course I don’t feel that way!” Emma exclaimed, her face falling in misery and sympathy.

Snow sniffed and smiled a watery smile. “Well, I just wanted to be sure.”

Henry piped up, “Wait, you said she came to you at the loft? That’s impossible. Mom and I were together the whole time!”

“I think it might have been whatever magic is at play here,” David replied. He proceeded to tell him what Mary Margaret had experienced. Once David was finished, Emma crossed the room to where her parents were.

“Mom, I promise, I don’t feel that way at all.” Emma hugged her mother tightly, and Snow returned it with equal fervor. “And I promise that my little brother doesn’t feel that way either. He has no reason to.” Snow nodded her head, the tears that had gathered in her eyes falling down her cheeks in relief. Emma and Snow shared smiles, and Emma stood and faced Regina and Robin. “So what happened with you guys? Did you find anything important?”

“I saw my parents in a magical fire in my office. They looked like they were being tortured by Hades,” Regina sniffed. “But we’ll get back to that in a moment. We saw Roland die.”

Emma whipped her head to stare at Regina. “You saw Roland die? How? When?”

Snow and David started, and then they exchanged looks of disbelief and horror. Milah’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t say anything otherwise. She crossed her arms and waited; Meg looked between them all, confused.

“It was Hades,” Robin said. “He came to us after Roland ran into a fire. Said that was my punishment for coming here.”

Emma frowned. “Did he say how Roland got here?”

“No, just that his death was our price,” Regina answered.

“He did say something about wanting us to lose hope,” Robin added.

Emma furrowed her brow and bit her lip. Something didn’t feel right about this situation. There was too much magic in the air around them; she could feel it tingling and prickling her skin. It felt eerily similar to how the Darkness felt when she had been the Dark One, only more primordial and unearthly. And more unyielding.

Meg visibly hesitated. “Well, that’s exactly what he wants.”

Everyone’s eyes turned to stare at her.

“Come again?” Emma asked. “What does who want?”

Meg swallowed. “Hades. He wants everyone to be hopeless. That’s why he’s going after all of you like this.”

David’s brows furrowed in concern. “Do you have any idea why?”

Meg shrugged. “I don’t know why he would want that now. The last time I faced him, it was with my True Love. We barely defeated him the last time, but we died in the process.”

“Was he as horrible then as he is now?” David asked sardonically as he crossed his arms.

Meg smiled a little. “He’s actually gotten worse.”

“Well, then we try to lay low,” Emma said after a moment. “We need to have somewhere safe established. Did you guys get to actually check the loft out, or did Hades keep you from it?” she asked her parents.

David nodded. “I went in there and retrieved Mary Margaret’s bow and quiver. I got my sword too. There was no sign of Hook.”

Emma nodded, half in acknowledgement and half in disappointment. “We just keep looking. For now,” she continued, facing Robin and Regina as Snow, David, and Henry moved to take off the sheets of canvas that were draped all over the furniture in the living space of her house. “Are you sure that Roland is dead?”

Robin sneered, “I saw my son burn with my own eyes! Just what are you trying to insinuate here?”

“Nothing!” Emma exclaimed, holding up her hands. “I’m just trying to figure out what we’re dealing with!”

“Well, there wasn’t anything I could do! I couldn’t get to him fast enough to stop it! He was everything to me, and now he’s gone!” Robin fell silent as heavy, bereaved sobs wracked his body. Regina hugged him, trying to offer any bit of comfort she could.

Emma grimaced in sympathy, but she wasn’t deterred from thinking that something was amiss in this whole scenario. She wondered if she could use the mirror magic and maybe check in on how things were back in Storybrooke. Perhaps she could check just to make sure Roland really was gone? She wandered over to an elaborately carved full-length mirror that was shrouded by the sheet. She pulled it off, concentrated, and waved her hand. Storybrooke appeared within the glass.

By now, she had the attention of everyone. She ignored them and used her magic to try and locate Roland. She finally found him through a mirror in the original Granny’s, and everyone gasped. Robin stood from where he had collapsed to the floor and moved to the mirror, standing so close his nose nearly touched the glass. Roland was there with Little John and a couple of others within the band of Merry Men, slurping a milkshake and smiling as Little John spoke to him. He looked happy and healthy (and very much alive).

“How is this possible?” breathed Robin. “I watched him die; I saw his ashes!”

Emma stepped back a bit from the mirror, making sure to keep the connection stable for the father to look his fill. She said grimly, “I think we need to be wary of how things seem down here. And we should be on our guard in regards to Hades and what he wants to present as real to us.”

Meg stood suddenly. “I should be going. I’m not sure how much longer it will be before the demons down here sense that I’m out of the Labyrinth. I don’t want to put you in any more danger.”

Emma frowned. “Are you sure we can’t do anything more to help you?”

Meg smiled. “It’s fine. I’ve been down here for eons; what’s a few more, anyway? Just… Can you do something for me?”

“Anything,” Emma responded.

“If you happen to find Hercules, tell him I love him? And that I miss him terribly?” Meg smiled a sad smile.

Mary Margaret gasped when she heard the name, but the only one who paid her any attention was David, who sent her a questioning look. Mary Margaret shook her head slightly, and David accepted it. He knew his wife would tell him later.

“Of course,” Emma replied. “But how do you know he’s still here, that he hasn’t moved on?”

Meg shook her head. “The Underworld doesn’t work that way. You can only move on once you’ve completed your unfinished business. Reuniting is our unfinished business. He can’t move on without me, and I can’t move on without him. That’s what it means to be True Love down here.”

Emma nodded understandingly. “Then don’t let us keep you. Good luck getting back.”

Meg reached out to take Emma’s hand into her own, though Emma hadn’t offered it, and clasped it firmly. “Thanks.” With that, Meg walked out of the apartment, intent on heading back to the Labyrinth and her cell within the dungeons. For the first time in a long time, Meg had a funny feeling in her chest. It felt an awful lot like hope.

Killian’s voice cracked as he cried out once more, the pain of the lash he was at the end of becoming almost repetitive. His wounds were bleeding freely, the blood turning that brownish black that it always did in the places where it was beginning to dry to his clothing and skin. Hades had been at this for so long that Killian had lost count of the time that had passed since he was dragged back to Hades’ throne room. His only thought now was about whether or not Meg had overcome her fear and reluctance at leaving her cell to try and deliver his message. He hoped that Emma got it.

He lay trembling against the pillar he had been chained to, his body threatening to give out at any moment. He lapsed in and out of consciousness and was unable to track what Hades was doing. Hades had his hook, and he had used it on Killian in between lashes, carving lines of shallow cuts in a cross-cross pattern that went perpendicular to the lash marks. Killian’s jacket was nearly torn to shreds in parts, offering no protection against Hades’ sadistic cruelty.

“You just have to resist me, don’t you?” Hades drawled as he took a break, looking at the hook, the surface marred by the blood stains covering nearly every part of the metal. “You’ve brought all of this onto yourself. I hope you’re satisfied.”

Killian’s head swayed slightly as he tried to focus on Hades, fighting against losing consciousness once more. He was determined to stay awake as long as he could. “I’ll be satisfied when it’s you on the receiving end of my hook,” Killian grunted out, the effort of retaliating against the god costing him what little bit of energy he had. He slid further down the brick pillar an inch or two, nearly lying prone on the floor.

Hades laughed. “Considering I have your hook, I think it’ll be you on the other end of it. But I have better uses for your handy appendage.” Hades held the hook in the palm of his hand and it disappeared in a puff of smoke. “I do hope your Savior loves gifts.” Hades smiled a sadistic, twisted grin and his hair erupted into blue flames, twisting his expression even further.

Rumplestiltskin didn’t like making any sort of deal with his father, but he knew that he had to in order to make sure Pan’s plans didn’t come to fruition. It vexed him that his father twisted the information of Bae’s whereabouts, but he didn’t need Peter Pan to find Baelfire. Not when he knew where Emma Swan was in this hellhole.

Resolved to coercing her to help him find his son, he poofed out of the library and back into his shop with a wave of his hand. Before he enlisted her help, he had to have something of value to offer her. He needed to nail down the whereabouts of the pirate (or at least determine the most likely location Killian Jones was being kept). It wasn’t good to go into a situation without any sort of leverage, and if there was anything Rumplestiltskin was good at, it was acquiring leverage.

Many of the magical objects he had in his possession were back in the Land of the Living, and thus useless, but he might still be able to find something to help him get a hold of Jones’ location. If only he had something of the pirate’s that he could use for a locator spell…

Rumple shuffled through some of the books that were there on the magical arts, varying shades of darkness inscribed within their pages. He finally pulled one off the shelf that he hadn’t seen before. He opened it to find it was written mostly in Greek. While he had made it a point to study all the most common languages in which spells were written during his centuries of life, Greek was one of those that he had spent very little time on. He didn’t know how to read most of it.

Feeling a small sense of frustration, he flipped through a few pages, peering disinterestedly at some of the illustrations that appeared. It seemed like this was nothing but another dead end. He flipped to one last page and moved to close the book when an illustration caught his eye. It was of a long woven tapestry hanging in a hall. Smirking, he realized just what he was looking at. Though it wasn’t going to provide him with leverage, he might be able to use it to convince Emma to help him anyway. After all, they had to get out of this hell hole once they had the pirate back. This bit of information would help them be able to do that. Waving his hand again, he disappeared in a puff of smoke to try and convince Emma Swan that they each had something to offer the other.

#The Fields of Asphodel #once upon a time #captain swan #captain hook #killian jones #emma swan #ouat #anmylica writes #Csff #season 5 fix it #whumptober 2022 #no 1 #A little out of the ordinary #Adverse effects

[viva-la-whump]

I'M BACK, Y'ALL!!!!

I know it's been forever, but I'm finally getting back to writing! WOOHOO!!!

All of my Whumptober fics this year will be for Star Wars: The Bad Batch because I fell in love with it and there are soooooo many opportunities for whump!!

Hope you like these! ;)

#whumptober2022 #no.1 #A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY #Adverse Effects #Unconventional Restraints #“This wasn’t supposed to happen” #star wars #The Bad Batch #star wars the bad batch #fic #mind control #programming #ptsd #angst #fanfic #my work #whump #hurt/comfort #h/c #Echo #Tech #Hunter #Wrecker #Crosshair

[geminihurt]

Whumptober 2022 | Day 01

A Little out of the ordinary | "This wasn't supposed to happen"

"You were not supposed to be on this flight. So I'm improvising" - when there's only enough power to save two people from a plane crash, and his wife surprises him on the flight, it's time for a self-sacrifice sequence.

Travelers 1x09 | Grant MacLarren - Eric McCormack

#whumptober2022 #no.1 #this wasn't supposed to happen #travelers #gifs #1x09 #grant maclarren #eric mccormack #self sacrifice #whump #a little out of the ordinary

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #1

xxx a little out of the ordinary

Clint watches as Spiderman paces restlessly around the room wearing pajamas and an old Hulk mask that he insists on wearing to protect his secret identity. They’re in an old Avengers hideout. Nothing fancy, but there’s only one way in or out and Clint is sitting directly in front of it. He’s known this kid for, like, two days, but he knows he won’t try and physically move Clint in his injured state. He’d probably die of guilt.

“You may as well get settled, kid, you’re not going anywhere. That guy almost killed you. And me!” It’s why he’s stuck on babysitting duty. The bastard, Poindexter--Bullseye he thinks is what people’ve been calling him--had caught one of Clint’s arrows and hurled it back at him. Clint had moved enough not to get killed, but not enough to avoid getting hit altogether so here he is with an injured shoulder and a nineteen year old menace with a death wish. “He took out your little web-shooters no problem and was tearing you to shreds with a deck of cards before I showed up. And you’re gonna go fight him completely unarmed wearing that?” He gestures at the mask.

“Hey, man, this is your mask, not mine! Look, I’ll admit the web thing is a…bit of a setback, but that guy is too dangerous for Daredevil to try and take down on his own!”

“He’s not on his own, he’s got Rand with him."

"Who?"

"Iron Fist?" The kid shrugs. "He's been out of the country, looking for--it doesn't matter, the point is nobody’s taking anybody down tonight, Spidey. They’re just trying to figure out what happened with this Poindexter guy to make him so…Terminator-like.”

“Then why can’t I go?” Spiderman whines, throwing his hands up in the air as he wanders toward the bathroom. “Wait, no, I’ll answer that--it’s because they think he’ll show up again. And if that happens, I should be there.”

“Not happening!” 

“You’re gonna have to pee eventually,” he calls.

“Kid, do you know how much coffee I drink, and how many stakeouts I’ve been on? People say I don’t have any powers and they’re all wrong because my bladder has super-strength and endurance.”

The toilet flushes and the kid wanders out, sulking toward Clint, shoulders slumped and head hung in defeat. He sits criss-cross on the floor in front of him with a loud sigh. “Fine…Did you say you fought an evil clown?” Clint can see his eyes widen behind the plastic mask. “Is Pennywise real?” 

Clint snorts, shaking his head. “Uh, no, he’s no--” 

The kid moves lightning-fast and Clint lets out a surprised yelp, looking down at his arm where it feels like he’s just been stung by a hornet.

When he looks back up, the kid is staring at him with a syringe in his hand. The bathroom was a diversion, then. It was the infirmary he was after. Clint glares, knows he should do something, but he can already feel the effects of whatever he’d just been injected with taking effect as his heartbeat quickens and his fingers start to tingle. “What’d you do?”

“I’m so sorry Mr. Hawkeye, sir, I didn’t know what else to do! If he’s going after them then I have to help, it’s just a mild sedative it should wear off soon! I’m so sorry!”

He's gentle and surprisingly strong as he moves Clint away from the door and settles him against the wall.

"Don' do this kid," Clint slurs, the words coming out clumsily over his newly swollen tongue. The world is starting to tilt and spin.

"I'm sorry!" Spider-kid cries as he opens the door. 

"Wait!" Clint lunges after him--or, he tries, anyway. He just ends up flat on his face, his shoulder sending shockwaves that are only somewhat dulled by his altered state. He lets out a groan that's equal parts anger and pain, and that quickly evolves into a sound of concern. His heart’s hammering and he’s having trouble catching his breath, and it’s not just because he’s angry.

Something is wrong.

He can feel the labored sound of his breathing, loud wheezes that rattle his lungs and scrape through his windpipe. His throat is tightening, chest aching as he desperately tries to get enough oxygen and Clint almost feels bad for Spider-nerd, because if the kid felt too guilty to even fight Clint, he’s gonna feel really shitty when he finds out he killed him…

What a stupid way to go, Clint thinks, blinking heavily. He lets his eyes fall shut on the second blink, since everything’s going black anyway…

And then there’s a familiar, high voice saying, “Ohgodohgodohgod!” and he’s being turned onto his back. His injured shoulder barely feels the movement, as most of his attention is being focused on trying not to asphyxiate. He manages to open his eyes, though, to see those brown eyes, wide and watery, staring out from behind that stupid Hulk mask.

“Oh good you’re awake! You--you’re having trouble breathing, and--and…Are you itchy or tingly in your hands or lips?”

Clint manages to nod once.

“Shit, okay. Okay! Just--just wait here, okay I’ll be right back! Please don’t die!”

Clint does his best. It’s not like he has much say in the matter, but he does try, prying his eyelids open each time they flutter shut (it gets harder every time) and forcing as much air as he can through his rapidly closing airway. He can feel unconsciousness encroaching on his mind, and he knows it’s only a matter of time…

And then there’s a sharp jab on the outside of his thigh, and…He can breathe. He takes loud, greedy gulps of air, closing his eyes to fully revel in the feeling of his lungs filling with oxygen. 

“M-Mr. Hawkeye?”

The kid’s voice is quiet, and Clint opens eyes to see him crouched a little ways off. He points at the epipen still in the kid’s hand.

“‘You’re…pretty good with that thing,” he manages between breaths, and promptly throws up, curling up onto his side as his stomach roils before rolling back onto his back with a groan. 

“I’m sorry, I am--I am so, so sorry.” Spider-kid’s voice is tight, and Clint quickly realizes with dismay that he’s crying. 

“That was…really fucking stupid,” Clint says, pausing partially for effect and partially because he’s still catching his breath. “But you--you came back, you thought fast, and…You made it right. All of us make mistakes, kid.” When that doesn’t seem to make the kid feel better, he adds, “I won’t tell Daredevil.”

“You…you promise?”

“Promise.”

xxx 

#whumptober2022 #no.1 #a little out of the ordinary #adverse effects #“this wasn’t supposed to happen” #hawkeye #fic #clint barton #allergic reaction #anaphylaxis #whumptober #my writing #my fic #whump #comics!clint