#whumptober day 24

[smilesrobotlover]

Whumptober day 24- alternate prompt, aftermath of a failure

Revali and Zelda are a criminally underrated duo that I had to write something for them. As much as I hate the idea of this Zelda being a fighter in any way, she DOES fight with the bow of light in AOC, and I thought it’d be cool if she asked Revali for help since he’s a master archer. This isn’t written very well or very interestingly but whatever it’s fine. Another super short one, but don’t worry, tomorrow will be very long lol.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Revali watched unamused as the princess of Hyrule struggled against the bow, pulling it back as hard as she could, only for it to barely go a few feet when fired. Zelda let out a frustrated huff as she went to collect her fallen arrows, glumly gathering them in her hands.

“Alright, let’s try again,” he said as Zelda returned to her spot. She gave a defeated sigh and tried again, straining as she pulled the bow back. She released it and it didn’t reach the target. Revali waited for her to try again, but she instead walked away, sitting on a log. Revali looked at her in surprise, and he wandered over to where she sat.

“What are you doing?” He asked, and she shrugged.

“I— I need a break,” she huffed, clutching the bow in her hands. Revali let out a sigh and joined her on the log.

“I know you’re not tired, not physically anyways,” he muttered, and Zelda stiffened. “I know it’s frustrating, but you need to accept that you’re not gonna be good at it immediately. You’re gonna fail.”

Zelda shook her head. “I don’t have time to fail. I’ve just awakened my power, with the bow of light, I can be strong enough to save Hyrule from the calamity. But,” she angrily put her bow down, resting on her head in her hands, “I’m not good enough. I never am.”

Revali scoffed. “Goddesses Zelda, will you ever give yourself a break? You’re asking yourself to do the impossible! Sure you have the goddesses' blood in you, but you’re still a person!”

Zelda shriveled up, not looking at him. He sighed and got up, grabbing his own bow and arrow.

“Your form is sloppy, maybe it’s making it harder for you. Watch me.” Revali aimed for the target and hit the center with ease. He couldn’t help but feel pride with how quickly he did it, but he returned his attention to Zelda, who was watching him solemnly. “Stand up straight, have the arrow line up with your elbow, and don’t be afraid to pull as hard as you can. These bows are built for this. It won’t break.”

Zelda didn’t say anything, and she watched as Revali set his bow down, and invited her to try again. She didn’t move.

“C’mon your highness, you wanted me to teach you archery, I need you to listen to me.”

Zelda looked down. “You make it look so easy.”

Revali paused, then shook his head. “Yeah, I do make it look easy. You want to know why? Because I’ve been training in archery for fifteen years. I’ve worked harder than any other Rito so that I could be the best. It’s almost second nature to me.” He walked up to Zelda and grabbed her bow. “How can you expect yourself to have fifteen years of experience in just a couple of days?”

Zelda shrugged, so Revali continued.

“You won’t. It’s a harsh reality but you won’t.” Revali handed the bow back to her, his gaze softening. “But it doesn’t hurt to try now. You may not be good now, but you will get better. I know it.”

“You…” Zelda pursed her lips. “You really believe in me?”

“Tch, I always have. Come on.”

Zelda smiled slightly, resting her hand on her bow. “I’ll never be as good as you.”

Revali hummed. “No, you won’t. No one will ever be as good as me.” He let go of her bow when she held it and he leaned forward, a teasing smile on his beak. “But I think you could be as good as Link, maybe even better.”

Zelda stared at him in shock, then started giggling. He smirked and stepped back as she laughed, chuckling quietly to himself. She had a contagious laugh he had to admit.

“Alright Zelda,” he said when she slowed down, “let’s try a few more times, then we can continue training tomorrow. We don't want you to overwork yourself, ok?”

Zelda nodded and got up, holding her bow reluctantly. She got into position and pulled the string back, and Revali walked over to her, deciding to be more active as a teacher. He studied her form, helped her pull the string back further, and then told her to release. She hit the outside of the target, not making it inside the target itself, but it was a major improvement from the last few times. Revali felt pride swell within him as Zelda cheered over her accomplishment.

“I hit it! I hit it!” She shouted excitedly. Revali chuckled.

“That’s one step in the right direction, princess. Good job,” Revali gave her a nod of approval. She beamed and grabbed another arrow.

“Let me try again,” she said quickly, and got in position, pulling the string back. “How do I look?” She called out in a strained voice, and Revali studied her.

“You’re good.”

The arrow was let loose, and that afternoon was full of arrows hitting and missing the target, but everytime Zelda was getting closer and better. Eventually, Revali had to pull her away so she wouldn’t overwork her arms, and he had her do some stretches to help with soreness. Zelda was much more motivated though, and she was excited to work on it again tomorrow. Though she wouldn’t be a master archer by the end of this battle, it was good that she believed in herself again.

#I hate endings I hate endings I hate endings I hate endings #AUGH #smiles writes #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #whumptober day 24 #age of calamity #hyrule warriors age of calamity #revali is a softie

[finn-m-corvex]

Whumptober Day 24: Neglect

DAY 24! THE BRUISE ANGST IS HEREEEEEEEE! I'm so proud of how this one turned out, but it is definitely one of my more rambly pieces, and that's saying something for me. I am also eating chocolate chip cookies at 3 am and realizing that the chocolate chips taste a lot like m&ms and I hate m&ms. Anyway-

Taglist: @splinnters @abigailxoxo @tornoleander @mondothebombo @ghostwalloper @toastingpencils37 @lightning-chicken

Words: 2.3k

Tears dropped onto the crinkled sheet of paper, and Jay was quick to try and wipe them away before they could smudge. He didn’t have the energy to try and write this note again.

First Master, has it really only been two weeks?

The hole in his chest felt like it had been there for decades, growing and festering and burning with a longing that nothing could fill. Not anymore. It ate at him from the inside out, and Jay wondered how there was anything left of him at the end of each day. Sometimes, he thought about how every inhale must’ve just gone right through the hole, because he could never seem to catch his breath. He doubted that he ever would again.

She left him breathless in more ways than one.

Walking through the monastery was like walking through a crypt. His dufflebag thumped against his back with soft sounds, Jay trying to make as little noise as possible. The building, normally alive with energy and practically vibrating with their presence now lay silent; more than one person had died in this place. He wasn’t going to be the one to disturb it.

Jay ran his fingers along the walls, glancing at all of the scuffs and the burns and every mark that they managed to leave on this place. There was the dent in the wall from when they were trying to move in the new couch, and there was the scuff on the floor from when Zane froze it over and the team had a sledding competition indoors. Master Wu had been so mad at them, but that didn’t stop him from trying to join in.

But there wasn’t any of that anymore.

It had been far too long since he saw Kai. The last time he saw the fire ninja, it was with a packed duffle bag on his way out after declaring that he needed a break from everything, from all of them, but Jay knew the truth. His grief was loud, and the others couldn’t even go an hour without hearing it, and Jay could tell that they were getting sick of it, sick of him. Jay couldn’t say that he blamed Kai for leaving, because if he had to be around a crying and blubbering mess 24/7 then he would want out too.

Why did everyone always leave? Why was it always him?

He could handle one of his brothers leaving, but Jay thought that he had started to truly reach his breaking point when his little brother left too. At least Lloyd looked regretful as he did so, only silently showing the team the acceptance letter for his new job as a window washer. Jay didn’t shed any tears when Kai left, mostly because he knew that the red ninja wouldn’t have appreciated it, but he couldn’t stop them from falling when Lloyd walked down the stairs and didn’t look back.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.

Zane shut his emotions off not even a day later, and Jay knew that he was part of the equation. The ice ninja had been one of Jay’s biggest support pillars, especially with Cole off and doing First Master knows what, but there was only so much emotional turmoil that Zane could take. Emotions were hard enough for him to process, but processing Jay’s on top of that? Jay should’ve known better.

Jay felt his brother’s absence now whenever he tried to confide in him, only met with a cold and biting indifference instead of Zane’s warm comforts. And the hole in his chest only grew even larger.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to no one in particular, fingers tracing over a group picture that they had taken years ago. Zane was smiling, and Jay hoped that one day his brother would be able to have his smile back. Maybe the emotion meter didn’t suppress him forever.

Pixal thought the same thing. She had faith that one day Zane would feel the urge to turn his emotions back on, to come back to them again, and she was perfectly content (at least on the surface) to wait until the other half of her heart was ready to be with them. Jay wished that he could share in her optimism, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. Not when he lost his other half, and his dumb and stupid choices cost Pixal her other half too.

There was so much grief.

He didn’t blame Kai for leaving. He didn’t blame Lloyd for leaving either. But he did blame them for leaving him alone.

And the worst part? Jay blamed himself over everyone else.

Because the only constant in all of these equations was him. He had never been great at math in school, mostly just getting by with passing grades and enough know-how to make his engineering skills work, but he knew how to read the signs. And he was the only common denominator, which meant that he was the first thing to go.

Jay felt like he was stuck in a math problem trying to be solved by a young child; here the blue ninja was, the one puzzle piece that didn’t fit, and yet the child kept taking away all of the numbers that actually needed to be there. First, they divided his Yang by her own element, then they subtracted his brothers away to the other side of the equal sign. Zane was split in half for whatever reason, likely to try and mitigate Jay’s mere existence, and whatever child was playing with them couldn’t decide where to keep Cole switching from one side to the other and then the other. Jay himself was being divided into something smaller and smaller and smaller, and he didn’t think that he was going to get any of those parts of himself back.

First Master, was he really comparing his grief to a goddamn math equation? Was this how far he’d gone down the rabbit hole?

Maybe Kai was right. Maybe Jay was starting to lose it.

It was a good thing that this was going to be his last night in the monastery for a long time.

Opening the front door felt more like a death omen than anything else, but Jay couldn’t bring himself to care. His hoodie was heavy on his shoulders, and Jay took a deep breath of the chilly air to try and freeze his lungs. The map was in his bag, even though he knew the way to where he was going like the back of his hand. He made sure to memorize it all those years ago, just so that he wouldn’t fail her again. So much for that.

He put the note up on the wall next to the door with a spare pushpin, making sure that it wouldn’t fall before stepping back and shutting the door behind him as he walked onto the stairs. Here’s to hoping that it was legible enough for one of them to be able to read it; his handwriting tended to get worse whenever he was upset. At least it might be somewhat entertaining to try and piece together his goodbye like a Ceasar cipher.

Chuckling humorlessly, Jay stepped down, walking directly past the dragon statue in the middle of the courtyard. Maybe if Master Wu weren’t so caught up in all of his scrolls, then he would’ve noticed Kai and Lloyd’s absences. If he didn’t miss one of his prized pupils or even his own nephew, then why would he ever notice that Jay had gone missing? The problem child, the one who always had to be looked after.

The last stringer.

Not this time.

He refused to be the last man standing this time. Not when she wasn’t here to stand with him.

“Jay?” someone called, and Jay’s heart jumped into his chest. His brother wasn’t supposed to be home tonight; that was why the blue ninja chose to leave on this night and not during the day when he would actually be able to see.

Feeling like a deer in headlights, Jay turned around, well aware how suspicious it looked that he was dressed in simple jeans and a hoodie rather than his gi. Wu hated it whenever they walked around in anything but their gi in his presence. Cole looked his brother up and down, and Jay knew that he probably looked horrible. “Cole?”

Eyes narrowed, Cole stepped down the stairs and onto the stone floor, his boots heavy. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving.” There. Keep it short, simple, sweet, everything that would keep the conviersation as contained as possible so he could scram before Wu or, heaven forbid, Pixal found out about what he was doing. Although Jay was pretty sure that Pixal already knew. “You weren’t supposed to be home tonight.”

“The stakeout fell through, and the police said that they would take care of it,” Cole explained, “were you planning this?”

He stayed quiet. Cole stepped forward, Jay trying and failing to hold back his tears as his brother snagged his arm. “Jay—”

Jay whipped around and crashed into Cole, locking him into a bearhug even though the blue ninja had to stand on his tiptoes to make it happen. Cole reciprocated, crushing his brother against his chest and burning his face in Jay’s curly hair. He inhaled the sweet scent of Jay’s shampoo, and Jay knew that Cole knew.

“You can’t leave too,” Cole whispered, grip tightening on Jay’s hoodie. Jay tucked his face into the corner of his brother’s neck, trying to ingrain the scent of warm earth and cinnamon in his mind. “What am I going to do without you?”

“I-I don’t know,” Jay admitted, “but I can’t stay here, Cole. I just…I just can’t. There’s too much of her here.”

“But doesn’t that make it better? To be surrounded by the people you love?” Cole was grasping at straws, trying anything that he could think of to convince Jay to stay. But both of them knew that once Jay made up his mind, he wasn’t backing down.

“Except I’m not,” Jay said, and he was regretting every word that was coming out of his mouth. Why didn’t he just walk away? “Lloyd and Kai are gone. Zane’s emotions, what made him him are gone, you and Wu are never around and Pixal is barely keeping it together. I-I can’t keep waking up in an empty house, Cole.”

“Wherever you’re going is just as empty, Jay.”

“At least at the lighthouse,” and he was surprised at how comfortable he was letting his destination slip; maybe it was because his mind realized subconsciously how close Jay was to giving up. Not just on everything else, but on himself, “I won’t have to worry about driving any of you away anymore.”

Cole lifted Jay off the ground, bringing back memories from when they were younger, before they ever had to fight and certainly before anyone had to die. “You could never drive me away.”

“I can’t take that chance, you know that. I need to leave.”

“No you don’t!” Jay could feel Cole’s tears starting to soak into his sweatshirt. “Jay, please, we can get you some help and we can figure this out—”

“There’s no figuring this out, Cole,” Jay sobbed. “She’s gone because of me. Kai and Lloyd both left because of me. Zane turned off his emotions because of me. I am the problem here, Cole, and I can’t stay here and keep being a burden to you and Pix.”

A large inhale. “I love you, Jay.”

Jay didn’t know if he could say it back. The last time he told one of his family members that he loved them, he never saw them again. She died. No matter how hard he tried to make the sounds, moving his jaw and bumbling like an idiot, Jay couldn’t form the words; he couldn’t remember ever feeling so ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

Cole just repeated it and held him tighter. Jay didn’t know how long this hug was going to last, but he wasn’t going to be the first one to let go.

His brother finally pulled back, and Jay noticed the black eye blossoming on Cole’s face. When did Cole get in a fight? How did he not notice it before? Reaching up, Jay tenderly brushed against it, making sure to be careful. Cole exhaled shakily, bending down and grabbing up the duffle bag that must’ve fallen off of Jay’s shoulder in the hug.

“If I let you go, you have to promise me something,” Cole said, his tone grave.

“What?”

A deep breath. “If you ever, ever, start feeling like you’re going to hurt yourself you call me or Zane immediately. That is an emergency. I will be there in a heartbeat. I’ve lost a lot over the years, Jay, and I will not lose you.”

There was a look in Cole’s eyes that Jay hadn’t seen in a long time. “I will.”

Jay hated that they both knew that it was a lie.

Handing him the duffle bag, Cole’s lip started wobbling; it was something that Jay hadn’t seen since they were still teenagers. He rubbed at his eyes, and Jay copied the action before turning on his heel. Jay knew that if he looked back now, he would never leave.

Why did this feel wrong?

Maybe he wasn’t the last man standing now, but who was going to take his place? Would it be Cole, or Zane, or Pixal? Was he really okay with damning them the same way he had been damned all those years, walking away from a burden that he knew how to carry when the others didn’t?

None of it mattered. It didn’t matter. Not anymore.

And Jay let the monastery doors slam shut behind him, metal crashing against metal with a shrill sound that made the hairs rise on the back of his neck. He started the trek down the stairs of the monastery, and he couldn't help but feel like he was starting to descend into the pits of hell as he went.

#ninjago #ninjago jay #ninjago cole #finn's writing #whumptober day 24 #whumptober 2023

[serickswrites]

Head Full

Warnings: kidnapping, head injury, blood

Caretaker's ears were ringing. Caretaker's head was full of cotton. They felt woozy and the room was spinning. Whumper had done a great job hitting them in the head, hard enough to daze and confuse Caretaker, but not hard enough to knock them unconscious.

Caretaker lay with their eyes closed on the floor as they tried to will the room to stillness. It didn't work. They could feel blood drying in the hair, tacky and cold, but they didn't have the energy to try and probe the wound. Teammate One and Whumpee would be here soon anyway. What did it matter?

"Caretaker? Caretaker--oh!" Teammate One's voice sounded far away and yet impossibly loud.

"Can you, can you tone it down a bit?" Caretaker screwed their eyes shut against the brightness of the room.

"How bad is it?" Teammate One whispered as they knelt next to Caretaker.

"Not bad, I'll have a head ache for a while, but as far as injuries go, I've had far worse. Where's Whumpee?"

Teammate One frowned. "What do you mean where's Whumpee? I thought they were with you!"

Caretaker wrenched their eyes open and regretted it immediately. They gritted their teeth against the pain. "Find them. Now."

Teammate One nodded and raced off. Caretaker lay back on the floor, trying to breathe through their pain and panic. Whumpee was fine. Whumpee probably got distracted in the other room. Whumpee was fine.

"Caretaker," Teammate One said as they returned far more quickly that Caretaker was expecting. "Whumpee isn't here."

Caretaker's heart sunk with dread. That only meant one thing.

"I'm pretty sure Whumper has them."

#serickswrites #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #tw kidnapping #tw head injury #tw blood #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #whumptober day 24 #“i've got a head full of chemicals mouth full of ridicule” #prompt: “i thought they were with you” #queue

[basicallyjaywalker]

Whumptober Day 24

Little Bit Longer

Character: Misako

Prompts: goodbye note, neglect

Length: 876

Anyone order Misako angst? No? Too bad! Enjoy a short bit of me blatantly pushing my Give Misako a Personality Agenda

#ninjago #lego ninjago #misako garmadon #ninjago fanfiction #whumptober 2023 #whumptober day 24 #goodbye note #neglect #whump #whump fic #also a little bit of the trans lloyd agenda in here #was originally gonna be the luna agenda but i refrained

[comfort-questing]

24. goodbye note

he'd made it more or less halfway down the mountainside, trudging along with his head down and the rain dripping off the edge of his hood, when the sound of a hard-ridden hill pony on the trail behind him startled him out of his dreary haze.

he hadn't expected anyone there, so he had his hand on his sword as he turned and squinted into the half-darkness of the woods, the switchbacks criss-crossing up towards the fortress on the hilltop. no enemies this close, he suspected. a messenger, going out to the valley farms for some reason or other, perhaps? but at this hour of the not-quite-morning? it seemed an unusual amount of efficiency from what he'd learned of them during his stay.

but it wasn't even a proper messenger horse. just one of the unshod shaggy ponies, taking its quick clumsy way down the rough trail, with a rain-soaked figure on its back bundled in a cloak. no lantern, no pack, nothing.

"stop right there, mister."

oh, blast. it was the kid.

"and why would I do that?"

they were close enough upon him that he could see their face now, pallid and tear-streaked in the half-light. they slowed their pony, tugging back both handfuls of its mane, and glared down at him.

"why are you running off without saying goodbye even?"

"I left you a note, didn't I?" he sighed, taking the moment's opportunity to lean against a tree at the pathside, his sore leg throbbing ever so slightly. "this isn't some kind of fun adventure, you know. you should know, you saw what kind of state I was in, back when your folk found me."

they dropped off the pony's back in a single graceless motion, boots splashing in the muddy runnel at the center of the path. "yeah, I saw your dumb note," they said. "it was very nice, and very noble, like something in Caed's ballads, y'know? but when we said we'd help you take your lands back, we weren't just joking. I certainly wasn't, and I don't think Father and the knights were either."

"my troubles are my own." his knuckles hurt as he clenched his hand around the hilt of his sword. "I - I don't want to get you and your folk mixed up in the whole filthy business. there's been enough death already, and enough pain."

"so you're going to go back there on your own, and challenge the others, and get beat up again and end up lying somewhere out in the woods again like last time, yeah?"

he had had his mouth open to say yes halfway through but shut it instead, shivering suddenly in the dawn chill.

"that - wasn't really the idea."

"guess not." they smiled suddenly, putting an open hand out, rainwater plastering their scraggly hair to their forehead. "so c'mon back up with me and we'll talk to Father and Orn about everything, and you can get some breakfast anyway before you run away, because Cook really would never forgive you for missing breakfast."

he hesitated, wavering, glancing between the high fortress and the sweep of the valley now coming clear in the early rain-washed light below. somewhere there lay home, so far away now it seemed. so very far away, and separated from him by false report and slander and betrayal.

if he was ever to return there, he knew he would need help, like it or not. even though the idea of bringing this bright brave youngster and their crew with him was as starkly terrifying as it was exciting.

"anyway," they said, behind him, "I fed your note to the chickens, so if you want to say thanks to everyone you're going to have to say it yourself."

"you," he said, "are an incorrigible brat" - and straightened up with a sigh, reaching for their hand. "I call the pony for the ride up, then."

their grin widened.

"deal."

#whump #emotional whump #hurt comfort #whumptober day 24 #whumptober 2023 #i LIKE these two #i think they deserve a real plot #watch this space etc

[lady-wallace]

Sentiment and Other Sins: Whumptober Day 24 (Spy x Family)

Loid angst for today’s @whumptober fic!

Prompt: Fight, Flight or Freeze (blood covered hands, “I don’t want to do this anymore”)

Fandom: Spy x Family

Character: Loid

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

Masterpost

~~~~~~~

There was blood on his hands as he slid his key into the lock. He swore softly under his breath, swiftly wiping away any trace with his already dirtied sleeve. Loid was not at all unfamiliar with blood—or rather, Twilight was not unfamiliar with blood, but how he hated to track it home.

Tonight, though, there was no avoiding it. The mission had been swift, brutal, and necessary. And he was tired, very tired.

Not for the first time recently, Twilight felt the pure relief of stepping through the door into the apartment. He should not be feeling this way, just as he should not feel the comfort of knowing that somewhere within these walls, two others slept, oblivious to his own inner turmoil, safe from the world that was growing only more dangerous by the day.

When had Twilight's priorities gone from protecting the country, the people at large, to protecting only two? When had he stopped truly thinking of himself as Agent Twilight outside of missions, and started thinking of himself more and more as Loid Forger, husband and father?

It had not happened overnight, certainly. In the beginning he had been solely driven by his mission, going so far as to even manipulate those around him in order to see it through. He used to not have any care for how many people he had to use to complete the tasks appointed to him, but it was within the depths of Operation Strix that, somewhere along the lines, priorities had started to change, against his better judgement.

Twilight crept through the dark house toward the bathroom. Soiled clothes fell into the hamper as he reminded himself to take out the washing tomorrow before Yor found them. He turned to the sink and turned the tap with his wrist before running his hands under the hot water, watching as the blood stained the sink red before sliding down the drain in a crimson stream.

How often had he washed blood from his hands? He found it miraculous sometimes how they never stained. This time there was physical blood, but he was covered in enough metaphorical blood to have drowned three times over. All the innocent lives lost in the name of duty. Of the Mission. He used to tell himself that it was better the few than the millions he knew would lose their lives if it truly did come to war, but there came a point where it didn't seem to matter so much anymore. A river of blood was still a river of blood and Twilight was responsible for enough to fill one. He just wondered how much more blood he could stand to spill.

His hands started to shake as he turned the water off, clenching his fists as he stared up at himself in the mirror. A couple scrapes on his cheek, dark sunken eyes from lack of sleep; eyes that had seen too much, and for all that they lied to everyone else, they could not lie to the man staring into the mirror.

He knew what lay behind them, of course.

The fact was, he was scared of one thing more than war, and that was being the cause of anything happening to Anya or Yor.

If their blood was on his hands, then Twilight was certain that would be the day he would lose himself for good.

No, it hadn't happened overnight, but it had happened, against his direct orders, feelings had crept in. Twilight had tried to push those all too human emotions down. He was a machine, a tool, he was not meant to feel things, or to live the lives of normal men. But the more he taught Anya, protected her, cared for her, the more he felt like he was actually her father. That sometimes he had to remind himself of the truth. And the more time he and Yor spent together, getting to know each other, opening up about things neither of them had ever had anyone to confess to, their feelings had gone from the fake marriage for show to genuine feelings and affection. An affection they had started to act on more and more until the marriage felt less like a sham and more like what marriage was intended to be.

It had happened, and Twilight, for all his skills, had been helpless to stop it. It was a dangerous game he was playing, and yet, he couldn't quite bring himself to care. If he could wake up tomorrow to a world full of peace, he would happily go on as Loid Forger for the rest of his days.

But the truth, he reminded himself as he swiped a wet hand across the mirror to distort the image, turning for a towel, was that that dream could never be. And despite his selfish fantasies he would still be Twilight tomorrow, living only to see his mission through.

Making sure the last traces of blood were gone, he switched off the light in the bathroom and crossed the hall to Anya's door, turning the knob as gently as possible.

The light fell across the small, sleeping figure, sprawled in the bed with a large white lump at her feet. Twilight's lips curled up despite himself as he stepped inside, bending to retrieve Mr. Chimera from the floor where he had fallen in the night, tucking him and the little girl safely under the blankets. Bond's eyes opened and his tail thumped once against the bed. Loid ruffled his ears before he turned to readjust Anya's blankets. He stroked a gentle thumb across Anya's cheek as she murmured something in her sleep, and silently left the room, feeling the weight in his heart only increase as he shut the door behind him.

Would there be a day that he was not around to tuck Anya in at night? To help with homework, or protect her? If he was taken out before this war was over, would she even have the luxury of living to miss him?

Twilight swiftly banished those thoughts, blinking hard against the images of violence and blood that had been with him his whole life. He clenched his hands hard enough for his nails to press into his palms, reminding himself there was no blood on them now. None that could be seen.

He slipped into his room, seeing that Yor was thankfully fast asleep, hair a dark veil over her face. Twilight sat on the other side of the bed, elbows on his knees as he lowered his face into his hands.

Going through life with nothing was easy, it was when you had things to lose that the burdens became too heavy to bear.

"I don't want to do this anymore," he whispered to himself, out loud, into the darkness of the room.

Yor stirred behind him. "Loid?"

He glanced briefly over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asked.

Yor sat up, sliding over to wrap her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. "Are you all right?" she asked, eyes wide in the darkness, full of genuine care and concern.

And Loid smiled wanly, throat suddenly so tight that he could do nothing but swallow thickly.

"Oh, Loid," Yor whispered and he suddenly had his arms wrapped around her, pressing his face against her shoulder. Yor seemed slightly surprised at first, but simply held him and after a while, eased them both down, coaxing his head to rest in the crook of her neck, his nose pressed against her throat. Her fingers soothed through his hair and down his back, tracing scars she had never asked about, just like he had never asked about hers.

They didn't say anything. There was nothing he could confess that wouldn't destroy everything. Yor didn't ask, she simply held him as he clung to her desperately, begging for the chance to be able to stay like this for the rest of eternity.

Knowing that tomorrow he would be back to work, stopping a war, making rivers of blood, just Twilight again. Caught between the day and the night, a fleeting passage of time that would be gone as soon as the sun set.

But tonight, he could pretend he was just Loid Forger, a husband, a father, a doctor, an upstanding citizen who did not have blood on his hands, and for now, that would have to be enough.

#whumptober2022 #whumptober day 24 #no.24 #fight flight or freeze #blood covered hands #I don't want to do this anymore #emotional hurt/comfort #angst #inner monologue #doubts #established twiyor #twiyor #loid forger #yor forger #loid x yor #loid/yor #spy x family #fanfiction

[dotcolorful]

No. 24 FIGHT, FLIGHT OR FREEZE

Blood Covered Hands | Catatonic | “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Read it on AO3 here!

That damn sickening crack. 

It was all Luke could hear now. The revolting crunch of the man’s neck snapping in half, his quiet gasp, the thud of the lifeless body hitting the floor. 

The buzz of the Force still coiling around his fingers. The sound of someone keening - or maybe it was just the high-pitched ringing that had taken hold of his ears.

His own breathing, erratic, uneven. Scared. Disgusted at himself. 

He had--

He-

Force, he had--

He had killed that man. 

Taken his life. Choked him to death. 

Watched his innocent form crumple to the floor. 

His father had made him do this. 

His father was, in fact, talking to him now. He couldn’t hear what it was, though - couldn’t make out anything from the rumbling nonsense of sounds and words and that fucking ringing in his ears. That rumbling voice became louder; was his father getting angrier, or was it the ringing getting quieter? He couldn’t tell. 

And still, his father kept talking.

And still, Luke couldn’t understand him. 

His body felt so numb. It was buzzing, too, buzzing like the Force in his fingers, and he wanted to move, to at least force his eyes away from the man’s dead body on the floor--

“You have done well, Luke.”

That single sentence cut through his haze like a knife, and he finally got the strength to move his eyes. 

“Look at me, Luke.”

But Luke looked down. 

Looked at his hands, numb but shivering, expecting them to be covered in blood. But there was no blood on them, only the dark-red scrapes and cuts, dirt under his fingernails and bruises on his palms, those simple reminders of the harsh training with his father. 

“Look at me.” The words were angrier now, more demanding, and still Luke refused to do so. He couldn’t bear to look at his father now, to hear his fatherly praise, to listen to how well Luke had done for killing a fucking innocent man. 

“He was not innocent,” Vader replied to his thoughts. Was he shielding? Probably not. “He was a Rebel.”

And Luke was a Rebel too. 

Until Vader had captured him and turned into whatever he was now.

“Enough.” Again, the harshness in his father’s voice. “Stop looking at him now. He is dead; he does not concern you anymore.” 

He did, though, because he was dead, because Luke had killed him--

His lashes fluttered again; it felt as if he was losing consciousness. His vision blacked out for a second, before light bled into his eyes once more. Again, the sight of that man on the floor. Again, the sight of the lifeless eyes, frozen in horror. Again, the slightly parted lips, forever congealed in a desperate gasp. 

“Enough, Luke. Look at me.”

It was time to look. 

He couldn’t look.

He couldn’t move. 

His legs, his toes, his knees, his elbows, his stomach, his torso, his neck and his lips, even his teeth--

I can’t! He wanted to scream, wanted to wail, wanted to cry. I can’t move! I can’t!

But the Force was frozen.

“Look at me!”

Harsh, gloved hands grabbed his shoulders and shook him. In an instant, Luke recoiled, the stiffness melting away from his bones, arms flailing to push his father’s monstrous form away. His fingers clawed at the black armor, trying to scratch it, to hit it, to punch a hole through the suit and punish his father for making him do it, for making him kill that man--

But it wasn’t his father’s fault, was it? It was Luke’s.

“Cease, Luke.”

Gloved hands grasped his wrists, pulling them above his head, restraining him, and still, he struggled, pushing against them. There was a sharp stab of pain as something tore at his shoulder muscles, and he cried out, heedless of the pain he was causing himself. 

“Stop this. You’re only hurting yourself.”

But Luke couldn’t stop. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, and he kept struggling and pushing and kicking and--

Thud. He was pushed against the wall, head cracking, wrists pushed to his sides. He was trapped - restrained - against his father and the wall, held so that he couldn’t move. His father’s mask was inches away from his face, the mechanical breathing too loud in Luke’s ears, but at least the Sith’s enormous bulk was blocking the sight of the dead man on the floor. 

The hands on his wrists tightened, and Luke gasped. “Please,” he choked, breath hitching in his throat. “Let me go, let me--”

His father didn’t let him go. 

Luke raised his gaze, looking at the mask pleadingly, eyes wide in an expression of utter terror. “I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered again, shaking his head. “I can’t do this anymore, I can’t-- I can’t keep doing this-- please-- I can’t… I killed him-- enough-- why did you-- make me do this-- please--”

“To teach you,” his father replied calmly. “To show you the ways of the Sith.”

“He was innocent!” Luke cried at that, straining against his father’s hold on his wrist. Once again, Vader didn’t let go, instead pushing him further against the wall. “He was a good man! I knew him-- We shared-- at the Rebel base-- we shared a barrack--”

Tears fell from his eyes at the memory; thick, fat droplets of despair. Drey, was his name. He was older than Luke, but not much, only a few months. He was… twenty-three? Twenty-four now?

He was dead. 

Luke killed him.

“I killed him.”

It sounded wrong to say it out loud. 

“Yes, my son. You killed him, and I am pleased with your--”

“My what? My murder? You’re pleased that I’ve done this? I-- I can’t-- I don’t want to be like this! I don’t-- please, please, please-- I can’t do this--”

He tugged at the hold on his wrists, again, and again, and again, until those gloved hands let go, and Luke fell to the floor, to his knees. They banged against the polished tiles, sending pain through his joints, but Luke didn’t care.

He wanted to feel the pain. 

He wanted to die for what he’d done. 

“Please,” he whispered, not knowing what he was pleading for. “Please, please, stop this--”

Red filled his vision again, red like blood, red like pain--

“I couldn’t have-- I couldn’t have done this--”

“You have.” His father was merciless. 

“Please,” Luke begged again. “I didn’t-- take it back--”

“I can’t take it back, Luke. He is dead.”

A wail, animalistic and agonized beyond measure, tore through Luke’s throat. 

“NO!” He cried, banging his fist against the floor. “No, no, I couldn’t have! He’s not-- I didn’t-- I can’t! Please, please, please, please, please, please-- NO!”

If he were not so absorbed in his own self-hatred and despair, he might have noticed Vader stepping back suddenly, in shock at his son’s lashing out. He could feel his own movements, wild and animalistic, as he banged his fists against the floor in an attempt to redirect his focus away from the dead man. Bang. Bang. Bang.

His knuckles were turning red, blood beginning to seep from the bruised skin.

“Please!” He cried, he wailed, he begged his father. “Please, tell me it’s not true, please tell me I didn’t--”

Mindlessly, frantically, he grasped a fistful of his hair and pulled at it, needing to do anything to distance himself from himself, to not be the Luke who had killed that man--

Oh Force, he was going into shock. Or maybe he already was in one. It was difficult to tell, because the world kept shaking, and his ears kept screaming--

“Luke, stop! You are hurting yourself.”

Was he? Ah, yes, the blood on his knuckles, and it felt like the bones in his hand were about to shatter from the repeated banging…

He shook his head, sending a spray of tears to his sides. “NO!” He wailed, still guilty, still angry. “Tell me I didn’t--”

And still, he kept on shaking.

“...at once…send in…medic…crisis…team…restraints…”

Only single words filtered into his consciousness, single phrases from a long, rumbled order that his father was giving into his commlink. Luke was aware of it, was aware of his father speaking, but couldn’t understand anything, save for the guilt weighing down on his mind. He didn’t know how much time had passed before suddenly, there were hands on his arms and legs, immobilizing his struggling form, keeping him from lashing out. 

“No!” He cried, kicking uselessly, fighting against the strong grips. “Let me go!”

But those hands held him mercilessly, lifting him, up, up, up, and then put him on a surface - a medibed? He was lying on his stomach, and they were pinning him down, gloved hands - but white gloves, not black - was it the medics? - putting his wrists and ankles in leather restraints. His father’s figure was somewhere in his line of vision, but he couldn’t exactly tell where, for his eyes were filled with tears of self-hatred and rage. Everything was blurry, and still, he kept kicking, kept screaming and pleading for all of it to go away.

“Keep him still!”

“All restraints are in place.”

“I need Vutalamine, now.”

Something sharp slid into his neck and immediately, a cool tide spread through his veins, bringing a heaviness into his limbs that he’d never experienced before. At once, he slumped, giving into his restraints, allowing the medics to reposition his body and secure him better to the medibed. His eyes slid close, nose burying into the white sheets, and he smelled in the sickly odor of disinfectant and sweat. 

At least he could smell. That man - Drey - would never be able to do so again. 

This was fucking absurd. The medics were here for him, and not the man who was dead. 

“...My Lord…” More words filtered into his consciousness. “...distress…psychological break…reason?”

A rumbling voice, now. “...not your…concern…treat him…”

A sharp tug on his hand, then an apologetic murmur as he winced in pain. His hand - his knuckles - were on fire, all skinned raw from the banging, and he couldn’t help but cry out. 

Something else was injected into his neck, then. It took his pain away instantly, along with his senses, and he didn’t struggle again when the medic continued examining his hand. 

“...sedated…need to…”

“...we recommend…observation…”

The medibed started moving, and Luke jostled, instinctively opening his heavy eyelids and trying to see what was happening. His bed was now being pushed through the corridor, he realized, and his gaze frantically searched for the figure of his father.

His lips parted. The effort was enormous - he had little control of his muscles after being injected with--

…Vutamine? Valutine?...

--Vutalamine! 

Still, he forced air to pass through his throat and a quiet sound to leave his lips. “...father…” he whispered.

A black figure moved into his line of vision, keeping up with the pace of the medibed pushed by the medics.

“...please…’ Luke begged him again. “... I don’t want… to do this… anymore…”

A gloved hand took hold of his own - the injured one, with the knuckles bloody and raw - and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I know, my son.” And then, brushing his thumb against the back of Luke’s hand, “I will never make you do it again.”

Luke wished he could believe him. 

#whumptober 2022 #day 24 #whumptober day 24 #blood covered hands #I don't want to do this anymore #catatonic #whump #tw: self-harm #whumptober #angst #luke skywalker #darth vader #luke skywalker and darth vader #luke and vader #mywriting #star wars

[boowhumps]

Whumptober 2023

Day 24

(@whumptober)

By - B.W

⚠TW⚠

~ Swearing

~ Mentions of Death

~ Mentions of Blood

~ Implied Suicide

~ Slightly Suggestive Themes (If You Squint)

~ Mentions of Possession

Enjoy!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Opening the front door proved to have been a draining task, but actually seeing the remnants of how Karyme spent her last days in Eris.. it hurt.

Kaiden sighs, shutting the door behind him. He looks out the window, seeing the light snow that covered the neighborhood.

He frowns. Karyme always loved to see the first snowfall.. even though she hated winter.

This was the first she missed.

Along with.. so.. many other things..

Kaiden still can't fathom that she actually.. intended to leave without saying anything to anyone, apart from Violet..

Speaking of Violet, that's why Kaiden was here, instead of by Karyme's bedside in the ICU.

Kaiden couldn't shake the dread of when Violet told him what her and Karyme spoke of..

How Karyme intended to.. end it all.. only to be attacked two days later as she was about to leave..

Kaiden shuts his eyes in a poor attempt to shut out the memories of when he found her..

He could still feel the blood.. her blood on him..

How she was still conscious enough to push him away..

How she cried out in a mix of agony and grief, hallucinating from the intense blood loss..

Kaiden couldn't forget.

Kaiden wouldn't ever forget.

He continues to step deeper into the house. He trails through not finding anything useful to either prove or disprove what Violet said.

Its not that Kaiden didn't believe her.. he wanted to pretend that his actions didn't drive Karyme far enough to try and take her own life..

Kaiden feels himself stop as he reaches a closed door.

Karyme's old room.

If there's any answers, it's in there.

Kaiden grasps the doorknob, seeing his hand tremble. He takes a deep breath and opens the door.

The room is tidy, unlike the rest of the house. The bed is made, papers and books are stacked neatly on the desk, and the closet is organized.

Kaiden's eyes travel over to the bed, where a plush rests. A gray cat, clearly one who's been loved for a long time. The eyes are mismatched buttons hazily sewn on, and the color is faded, but it's still in one piece.

Kaiden frowns. Karyme wouldn't have ever left something of that much value here..

He shifts his attention to the desk, where a familiar old book sits. Kaiden feels his heart speed up at the sight of it.

The Myths of Demonics and Celestials.

The book that tore him and Karyme apart.

He turns his head away, and his eyes finally land on the nightstand.

There's a framed picture of a man and a child. The man has dark hair and light eyes, and the girl looks a bit similar.

Kaiden can't help but smile at it. He recognizes Karyme as the little girl in the picture.

She's smiling big, showing a few missing teeth, and she holds the cat plush in her arms.

Kaiden sets the picture down and draws his attention to the letter sitting next to it.

It firstly read 'To whoever may find this,' but it's scratched out and replaced with, 'To Kaiden, an explanation.'

Kaiden slowly grabs the letter, opening the envelope.

He slowly begins to read it..

__

Hello, if you’re reading this, then I’m already gone.

I’m sorry this is all you’ll have left of me, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m so fucking tired. I’m tired of Eris. This place is nothing but evil. I can’t spend another minute here.

Everyday is a battle within myself, or it’s a battle against what I thought was good.

People turning their backs on me when all I ever did was protect them. Fight for them.

It’s so hard living like that. But I didn’t have a choice. I have a title to hold up, no matter how weak I become. I’ll be there until I can’t hold it up anymore, and once I’ve been stripped of anything I ever had, I'll be discarded.

Well I say fuck that. I’m done. I won’t be used, or mistreated, all for the sake of people who don’t even care about me.

I never wanted to be your hero, you know. I wanted to be normal. I know what they say about me. I’ll always be the emotionless freak after all, no matter how much I cover it up. They’ll never see me as one of their own. They are not worth fighting for. All of you are not worth fighting for.

And don’t get me started on the “Traitor” bullshit. We all know there was never a traitor. You all went crazy, pointing fingers at everyone to settle the paranoia in your heads.

It’s not surprising that it all came down to this. I was the hero, the one who was a mystery, the one who was dismissed when I tried to warn others of danger. “It’s all in your head.” You would say.. and look at what happened. Leony was attacked.. Kairo was killed.. And I was tormented. All because of you and your goddamn "Hero" bullshit.

There was no one to be untrusting of. Not me, not anyone, and you all know it.

And you Kaiden.. How could I forget about you? You gave me purpose. You gave me reason. You were the main thing I swore to protect. Everything I did was for you. You were the one I thought of first.

When I got ahold of that book.. I was petrified. My first thought was what I would do to ensure your safety.

I was determined to keep you safe. I went to you with my concerns for your life, and what did you do?

You dismissed me.

Out of everyone, I thought at least you would have my back, but you’re just like everyone else. You’re just like Krystal.. just like Jay.. just like Destiny..you’re exactly like them all.

And guess what you all have in fucking common?

You all are against me.

My trust in you died that day. You were the love of my life.. And then you changed.

You became angry.. annoyed.. hateful..

I don’t recognize you anymore. You took everything out on me. Yet, you never laid a hand on me. Sometimes I wish you did, then it would’ve been easier to leave..

I never knew how someone who I once loved so much became one of the people I ached for the most. Even after I left, I yearned for you.

Your touch.. your lips on me.. Your hands on my body.. I miss it. I want you back. The old you.

You never called. Never texted. It was as if I was never anything to you. If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have let me go so easily..

And even after all that, a small part of me still loves you. I would still protect you from harm, even if you don’t care about me anymore. In a way, I get it. You got tired of me. Everyone eventually does.

You don’t know how much you hurt me, or maybe you do and just don’t care. I like to think that the old you is still there somewhere, but it’s just false hope.

And now.. for the first time, I’m putting myself first. I need out. I won’t make it anywhere here. I’m leaving, and going to a better place.

Don’t bother looking for me. I’m not coming home. It’s time for this to end, once and for all. Even when I’m long gone, the world will continue to spin, days will pass, and soon you will realize that this is for the better.

I have no purpose here, not anymore.

And as I leave this cursed place to die, Karyme Estelle Sain-Santos will die along with it. Goodbye.

__

Kaiden grasps the note tightly. Everything clicks. How he doesn't remember the week things ended between them.. the headaches.. the nausea..

Possession.

That's what happened to him..

Someone was.. trying to get him away from Karyme..

..so they could strike.

Karyme's attack wasn't self-inflicted.. nor an accident.

Someone did that.. and they sure as hell meant to..

..a demon..

Only they can possess..

..but why would a demon go after Karyme..?

Kaiden tales a deep breath, trying to clear his head.

His arm falls to side, and the envelope drops something.

Kaiden immediately looks down, spotting a glint among the carpet.

He kneels down and grabs the necklace, lifting it up to inspect it..

It's a crystal shaped like a star, hanging off a silver chain..

Karyme's necklace..

The one she would never go anywhere without.

Kaiden sighs. Karyme had always said it was like a good luck charm.. it had saved her from so much..

Kaiden clutches the necklace, pushing it into his pocket for safe keeping.

He could bring it to Karyme's room.. it could help her..

Before leaving, he grabs the cat plush plus the book, stuffing both into his bag.

He steps out of the room, closing the door behind him, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

He hadn't gotten much sleep this week..

But Kaiden didn't have time for things like that.

He had a lot of research to do..

For his sake..

..and for Karyme's.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

#whumptober #whumptober day 24 #whump writing #RAHHHHHH #yall ive been waiting for this prompt since i started whumptober. #and it turned out great #it was pretty easy tho considering that the entire letter bit i had sitting in my google docs for months so i just copied and pasted #but i did edit it a littttllleee bit #also ima make up a new hashtag rn for this OC: #saveC!Kaiden #there we go #my dude's traumas finally get recognition even tho he aint the MC #anwaysss i aint tryna bore yall to death with these tags so that's all #and as always #enjoy! :)

[fletcherwilbury]

@whumptober Day 24: "I don't want to do this anymore."

Warning for illness, bronchitis, physical injury, physical abuse, overworking, stress, and exhaustion.

#I don't want to do this anymore. #whumptober #whumptober 2022 #whumptober day 24 #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 donnie #tmnt 2012 leo #tmnt 2012 mikey #tmnt 2012 casey jones #tmnt 2012 splinter #jonatello #Illness #bronchitis #physical injury #physical abuse #overworking #stress #exhaustion #fanfiction #archive of our own

[calinaannehart]

Day 24: Fight, flight, or freeze

Blood covered hands | “I don’t want to do this anymore” | Catatonic

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Eddie poses as she slams his locker shut and picks up his duffle bag. “The last time you had dinner with them it didn’t exactly go well.” It’s hard to forget the fallout that came with the revelation of Daniel and Buck’s origin. The Buckley parents had swept into town, the bomb had exploded, and then they had packed themselves back off to Hershey without a second thought.

#whumptober 2022 #whumptober #whumptober day 24 #whump #buck whump #evan buck buckley #911 fox #911 on fox #fanfiction #911 fanfic #911 fanfiction #eddie diaz #soft eddie diaz

[princessallura052]

Chapter 1

Prompt for @whumptober : Blood-covered hands

Prompt for @flufftober : All the hugs

#flufftober2022 #flufftober day 24 #whumptober2022 #whumptober day 24 #vld kallura #light smut #asexual paladins #asexual positivity #angst and smut #angst and fluff #voltron legendary defender #voltron shipping

[whoopsmorewhump]

Chapters: 20/? Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson, Steve Harrington & The Party Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Jim "Chief" Hopper, Eleven | Jane Hopper, Billy Hargrove, Dustin Henderson Additional Tags: Whump, Hurt Steve Harrington, Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Period-Typical Homophobia, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Drug Use, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Past Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Anxiety, Sexual Content, Angst, Dubious Consent, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Babysitter Steve Harrington, Parent Jim "Chief" Hopper, Protective Jim "Chief" Hopper, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Slow Burn, Steve Harrington Has Panic Attacks, Sick Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is Not Okay, Period Typical Attitudes Series: Part 6 of Hard to Hate (aka Steve whump fic thread!) Summary:

Eddie edged close enough to spot Steve’s bruised lip, the blood streaking one side of his face. “Jesus, what happened to you, man?” Steve’s knees buckled, and he slumped heavily onto them. Eddie indulged in a split second of indecision—he could just run away. Then he caught Steve, clumsily, before Steve crumpled face-first into the mud. So, there Eddie was, arms wrapped around platinum dickhead, Steve Harrington. He nodded toward a log. “Okay, big guy, do you think you can make it over to that luxurious couch?” Or, When rumours run riot that Steve is gay, his life falls apart. Completely by accident, Eddie picks up the pieces, with help from Hopper, who hires Steve to (secretly) babysit Eleven. Trouble is, Steve's still breaking... WHUMPTOBER prompts chp 15 onward.

#whumptober2023 #steve harrington whump #steddie #whump #whump writing #hurt/comfort #whumptober day 15 #sorry for being late #whumptober day 24 #whumptober day 29 #please be kind #i am new to tumblr #steve harrington hurt/comfort

[serickswrites]

Blood in the Cut

Warnings: blood, gunshot wound, caretaker and whumpee, hospital, unclear character status

Caretaker sat in the hospital waiting room, wringing their hands over and over. Hands that were covered in blood. Hands that had tried to keep blood inside the person that mattered most. Hands that had tried and failed. 

Everything had gone so wrong so quickly, they weren’t even sure how it had all gone so wrong. It was supposed to be a simple day. A simple, pleasant stroll through the park. That’s all it was supposed to be. 

But it wasn’t. Whumpee had noticed Whumper first. Had placed themself between Caretaker and Whumper. Had shoved Caretaker to the ground as the shot rang out. And had collapsed on top of Caretaker as Whumper ran from the scene. 

Whumpee had coughed and sputtered around the blood that was filling their mouth. Caretaker had screamed for help as they pressed against the wound. Had begged Whumpee to stay with them. Had prayed that help would make it in time. And hadn’t let go of Whumpee’s limp hand as paramedics took them away. 

And now Caretaker sat in the hospital waiting room to hear about Whumpee. So they prayed. And they wrung their hands in endless loops. Hoping to hear the words they longed for. Needing Whumpee to be alive. And to be ok. 

#serickswrites #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #tw blood #tw gunshot wound #tw hospital #tw unclear character status #caretaker and whumpee #whumptober 2022 #whumptober day 24 #prompt: fight flight freeze #blood covered hands #queue

[fanfictasia]

Whumptober Day 24

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from The Wrong Time-Travellers

His heart feels rubbed raw, empty, burning more often than not – he understands the physical feel just as well as the emotional one. he would have felt it in the future enough when Sidious had the med droids cut his chest open. It still hurts though, and he can’t help it when he can’t hold back his tears any longer. “I know. I know.”

Obi-Wan approaches him, slowly. He seems uncertain, and Anakin isn’t sure if he wants the proximity, either. He hasn’t been touched in a long time, unless it’s to inflict harm, and… he can’t handle that from Obi-Wan. Not his master. “Ahsoka is struggling,” he says finally, “I am to complete her training, and she is making progress, but her attachment holds her back.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. They told him that, but he didn’t want to believe it, because Ahsoka was always so strong, and if she’s struggling, it’s because of him. It’s because he should’ve been there to take care of her, and he didn’t.

“What about – everyone else?” Anakin inquires. It doesn’t feel like he deserves to know this, but he can’t help asking. “I imagine they are… better without me.”

“I have not spoken with Senator Amidala recently, if that is what you mean,” Obi-Wan replies.

He killed her. He doesn’t deserve to know that. Except really, all he’s doing is delaying the inevitable. He can’t deny the very dark part of his mind wondering if Obi-Wan is really here to… see or if it’s something else. He’s too scared to ask though. He doesn’t want to speed it up, and Obi-Wan isn’t hurting him right now. Not… yet. He feels unsteady on his feet, but he doesn’t dare trying to sit down. Moving like that… hurts.

“What are you so afraid of?” Obi-Wan inquires finally.

Anakin tenses; he can’t help it. Either his master is asking because he’s genuinely curious, or this is about to get… bad. He wipes his face off on his sleeve to buy a moment of time to gather his scrambled thoughts. “I know what I deserve,” he answers carefully – he should just stop talking, because for all he knows this could get worse, “I… know I deserve it, but I can’t live with it forever. This – it – hurts too much. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #whumptober #whumptober 2022 #whumptober day 24 #day 24 #anakin skywalker #anakin #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan #anakin and obi wan #day twenty four #whump #i don't want to do this anymore #anakin needs a hug #anakin needs therapy #obi-wan is anakin's father #angst #remember what I said about how we need to stop bullying Anakin

[comfort-questing]

"blood-covered hands"

they waited until the door shut firmly behind them, and then stumbled blindly down the hallway, muddy boots leaving prints behind on the polished boards. the stair was empty, mercifully, with the afternoon light falling pale and brilliant through the high narrow windows. their sobbing breaths were loud in the echoing stillness.

they sank down on the landing, reaching for the bannister, tugging their hand back at the last moment and lurching down unassisted. for a long empty moment they stared down at themselves, the dark-stained mess of their coat front, the layers of dried and drying blood on their upturned palms.

that was when they cried, at last, wordless silent sobs shaking their shoulders, eyes pressed tight against the sunshine and their bloody hands alike.

"Pen?" they'd missed the sound of steps behind them, and the gentle voice made them jump and startle. "oh, dear. they'll be all right, please don't cry. you did great, you got them home and everything - "

they turned and buried their face in their comforter's open arms, then. they didn't know if they believed their reassurance, but at least - it felt better not to be alone, after all.

#whump #hurt comfort #whumptober2022 #whumptober day 24

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 24: Neglect

The prompt is kinda funny cause a lot of this fic centers around being cared for but anyway here it is

Read on ao3

Warnings: injuries galore, blood, a little vomiting, removing arrows and a broken bone

————————————————————

Sky doesn’t even have time to feel overwhelmed.

The moment the last monster is cut down, he’s running back towards the others, none of them in fighting shape anymore. It had been Sky alone who’d defeated the last several infected monsters, and the screams of the others as they’d fallen still rings in his ears.

He drops to Hyrule’s side first, the traveler clutching a hand to the side of Warriors’ neck. Blood streams through his fingers as his hands glow blue, but he seems heedless of the blood dripping off his own forehead and arm, and his face is pinched in concentration, even as he shakes.

Legend is next to him, holding Warriors steady, but one of his arms is held tightly to his chest, and his face is pale in the light from Hyrule’s magic.

Sky looks between the three of them, wondering where he should even begin, but then Hyrule exhales, and lifts his bloody hands.

“H-He’ll, he’ll live,” he croaks, hands shaking uncontrollably. Sky has just enough time to catch him as he collapses backwards, unconscious.

“I got him,” Legend says as he reaches over, but Sky shakes his head, scanning Warriors’ neck and face. He’s unconscious, but Hyrule was right that he’ll live, the slice that had slipped past the captain’s defenses and sent him plunging to the ground in a spray of blood now almost fully healed. He has other smaller injuries, but they’re less pressing right now.

“Drink this,” Sky says, handing a potion to Legend after rifling in his pouch. For once they’re actually well-stocked in healing supplies, and Sky thanks Hylia for it.

“Give it to Four, he’s almost passed out over there,” Legend says in a mutter, and Sky glares.

“We have plenty of potions and your arm is a disaster, drink it,” he says firmly, then gently sets Hyrule on the ground next to Warriors before getting to his feet. Hyrule’s injuries will have to wait until he’s awake, or they can find a fairy. “Besides, Four needs care before he drinks one.”

Sky doesn’t wait to see if Legend obeys or not, rather slides himself over to the smithy himself. Four is curled over himself, his leggings ripped and legs scraped, and shakily trying to remove the arrows stuck in his upper arm.

“Here,” Sky says gently, placing a hand on Four’s back. “Let me.”

The smithy looks at him, his face drawn with pain, and nods weakly. Sky gives him a smile that hides the unpleasant feeling in his stomach, and quickly gets to work, the familiar motions of pushing the arrows through or snapping them in half born from bitter experience.

Four clutches at Sky’s arm the whole time, the Skyloftian patiently letting him hold on so tightly he’s sure the smithy leaves bruises. He murmurs comfort as Four bites back cries of pain, holding a hand firmly over the holes he leaves, and finally he pulls the last arrowhead out.

Four breathes in a shaky breath as Sky wraps up his arm, then gives his hand a grateful squeeze.

“Go help the others, I can handle myself,” Four says a little shakily, and Sky hesitates, then nods as Four starts to fish in his pouch. He trusts Four not to cut corners.

Sky gets up and looks around, and runs over to Twilight’s side just in time to help him turn over and throw up into the grass.

Sky swallows and looks away, but he doesn’t let go until Twilight is done, panting for breath, sweat and blood on his forehead. He lets out a quiet whimper, and Sky gently brushes the hair back from his face, trying to get a good look at his eyes.

Twilight blinks at him, looking the very definition of concussed.

“Sky..? Wh... wh’ happened?” Twilight slurs, and Sky sighs, patting him on the shoulder as he studies the blood pouring down the side of his face. There’s a lump under his hair, and several nasty gashes all along his temple.

“You got hit, buddy, right in the head with a spiked club,” Sky reports, and Twilight blinks at him like he’s having trouble focusing.

“...R’lly?”

“Really,” Sky replies. Twilight had been one of the first to go down, and the noise the club had made as it had hit his skull wasn’t one Sky would easily forget. He squeezes Twilight’s shoulder as he props him up, and tries to coax him into drinking the potion he has.

“Not thirsty,” Twilight huffs, turning his head away, and Sky patiently turns his head back.

“It’s a potion, Rancher. You got hit really hard, you need this if you’re going to be healed,” Sky says, and Twilight squints at him suspiciously.

“‘M not a potion rancher...” Twilight mutters, but he finally drinks the potion, Sky careful to give it to him slowly. Twilight doesn’t seem to change much once it’s in his system, but he seems a little less dizzy, and Sky studies him to make sure that the blood is actually slowing from his head.

Once he’s sure it has, he wraps a quick bandage around his head to stop any more blood from escaping, then moves over to Wild.

Wild is sitting up against a tree, his eyes closed as he takes in quick, shallow breaths. His tunic has several bloody gashes torn into it, and he’s clutching at his leg, Sky quickly looking away when he notices the angle his knee is pointing.

Legend is sitting next to him, talking quietly, and when Sky comes up, Legend makes eye contact with him.

“We’ve got to get his leg back in the right spot before we can give him a potion,” the veteran says a little quietly, and Wild’s breath stutters. “And I... can’t with my arm.”

Sky swallows, the sick feeling in his stomach returning. He’d been lucky so far not to have dealt with anything too horrible, the arrows in Four’s upper arm the worst. But shifting a broken leg back to the correct position...

He breathes out and nods, shoving away the lurch in his stomach. Somebody has to do it.

“Just tell me what to do.”

Legend does his best to explain as Sky bandages the gashes on Wild’s chest, and once he’s finished, he feels like he’s steeled himself enough to deal with it.

“Ready Wild?” Sky asks gently, and Wild gives him a faint nod.

Legend grabs his hand with his good arm, and Sky moves Wild’s leg before he can think about it.

The champion screams, and Sky nearly throws up as bones shift under his hands, noises he never wants to hear again coming from under his hands. Legend does his best to help hold Wild steady, but there’s only so much he can do, his face nearly gone white. Sky ends up nearly sitting on Wild as he thrashes and cries out, but he finally gets his leg and knee back in the right direction.

Wild sags, tears on his face, and Sky runs a hand through his hair.

“There you go buddy, you’re alright,” Sky says in a soothing voice, and Wild doesn’t resist when he and Legend put a potion bottle to his lips.

Sky forces himself to watch his leg right itself, the bit of blood and odd shape slowly smoothing out. The gashes on his middle seem to still be there, the potion having mostly gone to his leg, but the color has returned to Wild’s face.

“Thanks,” Wild says in a trembling voice, and Sky smiles a little weakly before going to the only heroes he hadn’t given any attention to yet.

Time is holding Wind to his chest, what of the sailor’s tunic Sky can see looking burnt in several spots. Time himself has claw marks dangerously close to his good eye, and looks like he’s not breathing the easiest, but the older hero is already wrapping bandages carefully around most of Wind’s left arm, the sailor shaking a little as he works.

Time at least seems reasonably functional, considering the states of some of the others.

Sky hasn’t seen exactly what had happened to either of them, but he’d seen fire, and heard a scream that was way too young. Time had shouted, and there had been enemies running around, but Sky had been busy trying not to be killed himself at the time.

“Here,” Sky says as he hands Time a potion, and the older hero shakes his head.

“Wind already had one.”

“This is for you,” Sky says sternly, and Time ignores him, shushing Wind when the sailor lets out a pained whine. “Old man, those scratches need healing, and I’m pretty sure they aren’t the only thing you’re dealing with.”

“His breathing is a little funny,” Wind whispers, squeezing his eyes shut as Time fixes the bandages. “He got hit in th-the ribs.”

Sky puts a hand on his hip, ignoring the sore feeling he gets for his trouble, but Time ignores him as he continues to help Wind.

“Come on, we have enough potions for you to have one,” Sky says firmly, and Time finally looks at him, blood on his face like a mockery of the tattoos on his opposite cheek.

“Please Time,” Wind says quietly.

The older hero looks at the sailor, then silently takes the potion, his face more worn than usual.

And so it continues.

Having given everyone initial treatment, the job still isn’t done, and Sky runs back and forth between the heroes for most of the afternoon and evening, replacing bandages, settling people into more comfortable positions, and scrounging up some dinner as well.

Even the more functional ones of the group are worn out from their injuries and the fighting, and though Sky aches to rest, he keeps going, heedless of his body begging for him to stop.

When Twilight throws up the potion he was given, Sky patiently gives him another, and when it turns out Legend has a nasty gash on his leg he thought he could walk off, Sky is there and helps him clean and bandage it. Warriors wakes up with a choked gasp much later, and Sky calms him down, offering him some dinner, and Four falls asleep on top of Sky’s sailcloth, his face still pale from blood loss.

It’s the early hours of the morning before everyone is sleeping, at least somewhat peacefully (though Hyrule is still sacked out from magic loss). Sky does his rounds yet again, and realizes suddenly that there isn’t anything else for him to do.

The adrenaline and stubbornness that have so far kept him afloat began to drain away, and Sky quickly sits down, exhaustion weighing on him, pain shooting up from his—

Wait, what?

Sky turns his head around to look at his hip, and sees a tear in the fabric of his tunic, mostly-dried blood soaking most of his lower tunic and upper part of his pant leg.

Sky blinks.

He’d forgotten he’d even been injured, right at the tail end of the battle. He remembered the dark knight swinging at him, and the pain that had torn up his side, but he’d ignored it in favor of finishing the fight and helping the others until eventually it had slipped his mind altogether.

Though that would explain why he’d begun to feel rather dizzy as the evening had worn on.

Sky carefully lifts his bloody tunic out of the way, breath stuttering when it sticks a little. The wound underneath is unpleasant to look at, reasonably deep with half-dried blood stuck all over it. Peeling his tunic away made it begin to bleed again, though sluggishly, and Sky can only stare at it for a minute, the sudden urge to cry sweeping over him.

He’s exhausted, from the battle earlier, and from running around all afternoon and evening caring for the others. He hadn’t been planning to sleep (somebody had to keep watch), but he’d still thought he would get some rest, and now there’s a gash in his side that’s bleeding all over the place.

Maybe it’ll just... be fine for the night, he thinks with a sinking feeling. It’s nearly morning anyway, and there’s no—

He leans over to take off his boots, and gasps, stars glittering at the edges of his vision.

Four shifts where he’s curled up next to him, and before Sky can get a hold of himself, the smithy is sitting up and blinking at him. He stares at him for a moment as be wakes up, then his eyes catch on his side, and they widen.

“Sky! You’re hurt!” he gasps, and Sky shushes him, looking at their lighter sleepers.

Nobody stirs, and he looks back at Four.

“Smithy, I wasn’t—”

“You can’t neglect yourself just because the rest of us are hurt!” Four says more quietly, but his voice is still equally dismayed. Sky shakes his head, feeling that same urge to cry come back even stronger.

“I didn’t realize it was that bad, I... I forgot about it,” he says in a small voice, and Four looks at him, his eyes looking almost red in the firelight.

Then he puts his good hand on Sky’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“Sky, you’ve done enough for today,” he says softly. “Let me help you.”

“But...”

“You deserve care as much as the rest of us,” Four says firmly. “You don’t have to do everything yourself, Sky. You did a good job healing us up, and come tomorrow most of us will be in working order.”

He gives Sky a little smile, and lightly knocks his head against his.

“Helping you after everything you did today is the least I can do. And I know the others would agree.”

Sky can only nod in response, his throat tight as he turns away. Four gives his shoulder another squeeze, and gets to work on his side, grabbing a damp cloth to clean it with, and wrapping it up once it’s cared for.

And after he’s finished, he scootches himself over next to Sky, leaning on his shoulder, and pulling the sailcloth over the both.

Neither of them say anything further, and if Sky sniffles once or twice as he finally lets himself relax, Four doesn’t acknowledge it aside from a gentle squeeze.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu Sky #lu chain #all the links #lu Four #linked universe fanfic #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #day 24 #tw injury #tw blood #neglect #writing from the floor #Sky: surely this pain in my side is from running around all afternoon #oh and that blood? it’s gotta be someone else’s. no way it’s mine. #*nearly passes out* #anywho #bleh I don’t love how this turned out but at least it’s done #now I can work on today’s hehe