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addsalwayssick · 1 month

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Day 26- Amortentia word count: 489- @wolfstarmicrofic

“You’re supposed to chop the hippogriff toe! Not mince it!” James told Sirius.

“Is it not the same?” Sirius exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“No!” Lily snapped from beside them. She pushed both of them out of the way, and fixed their potion.

Once the bubbling had gone down, and it started to smell a bit enticing, Sirius knew they were close. “Thanks, mate.” Sirius nodded at Lily.

Lily smiled, continuing to work alone. She was waiting for Remus.

“So what’s next?” Sirius asked James.

James looked in his potions book, adjusting his glasses. “I guess it’s just cloves, then it should smell like our one true love.” James said, sprinkling in the cloves.

Sirius sniffed as a smell started coming up. “Is that chocolate? And it smells like-“

“God, Sirius. Did you drown this place in your cologne?” Remus said, walking into the potions room. Remus had a rough moon, so he had to stay the night in the wing. Madame Pomfrey had let him sleep.

Sirius felt defensive. “No! I didn’t even have time to put on- Holy crap.”

“Holy crap.” James echoed. Lily, from the next table over, banged her head on the table.

The class went silent before settling into a quiet chatter. Remus walked up next to Lily, setting his bag down.

“What do you smell?” Whispered James. Sirius still shocked, grinned.

“It smells like chocolate and Moony’s shampoo.” Sirius said. “Does this mean he likes me back?” Sirius asked, excitedly.

“I think it does, Paddington.”

Sirius smiled softly.

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

“What are we making?” Remus asked Lily, looking into the cauldron.

Lily looked positively exasperated. “Do you want to know after the fuss you made about it smelling like Sirius?”

Remus furrowed his eyebrows. “Yes?”

“I’ll give you a hint. It smells like Mary for me.” Lily said, glancing over to where Mary and Marlene were arguing over who gets to dump in the rose petals.

Remus thought for a moment. “But you like- No. You’re taking the piss. Stop it.”

Lily grimaced. “Sorry, mate. You’re out of luck.”

Remus groaned, glancing over at Sirius. Sirius was whispering with James, and he knew that Sirius probably hated him by now.

~^~^~^~^~^~

“Should I ask him out?” Sirius asked grinning. From a little bit over, he heard Remus groan. “Oh my god. Does he even like me? What if he likes you? You sometimes use my cologne!”

James rolls his eyes and turns Sirius to face Remus. “Rem!” He says.

Remus look over at them, face pulled tight.

“Go on, ask.” James tell Sirius.

Sirius goes red before squeaking out, “Will you go to Hogsmeade with me?”

Lily and Remus look at each other, before Remus smiles a bit and says “Yeah, sure.”

James runs over to Lily, giving her a high-five, before returning back to his cauldron. While Remus and Sirius giggle to each other, he sniffs it. Broom polish. Huh.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Look, i know that the 26th was yesterday, but i really was excited to do this one. i even set a countdown 😭

but in my defense, i was delirious yesterday because of how sick i was. But! you get two oneshots today! one for amortentia and one for james bday!! be excited. anyways love you mwah

#sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #sirius #jegulus #sirius x lupin #wolfstar #regulus and evan and barty #sirius and regulus #remus and regulus #wolfstar drabble #wolfstar microfic #cuties #i was delirious #so sorry bout that one mate

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whumpshots · 10 months

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Whump Snippet Saturday #35

"N-no, go away," whumpee mutters, eyes only half-open as they try to push caretaker away. Their fever has gone up since the last time they checked on them, but caretaker is still surprised to see them like this.

Eyes glassy and unfocused, huddled in the corner of the room, trying to make themselves smaller than they already are.

"I don't know where they are," they continue and shrink away even further, ignoring the pain these movements must cause. Their hands are shaking from fear, the rest of the body probably from exhaustion.

Caretaker crouches down next to them, giving them as much space as possible. "It's me, kid," they say softly and wait for a reaction, but whumpee is too out of it to notice.

Caretaker sees the tears on the other's cheeks and puts their fingers gingerly on the their hand. "It's me. I won't hurt you, kid."

#whump #whump writing #whump drabble #whumpee #caretaker #worried caretaker #feverish whumpee #delirious whumpee #delirious #scared whumpee #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #whump trope #whump prompt #whump snippet #whump snippet saturday #whumpshots

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nyxthejinx · 2 years

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𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 - 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐭. 𝟐

A/N: Woah there, I must admit I wasn't too inspired but at the same time I was? Ask my 7am brain lmao. Anywayss, maybe it's not how you imagined it but I caved and wanted some ruthless reader who doesn't take anyone's shit. For those who're looking for a pacific/civil confrontation... 👀 who knows

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏. | 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞.

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: When they take everything from you, you can either rebuild or steal in turn. You make the easier choice and watch your past go down in flames. Along with your brothers.

𝐓𝐖: Angst with no comfort, graphic description of violence (reader clutches Diluc's face and slightly jabs his neck with a knife ops), slight swearing, let me know if I'm forgetting anything.

𝐅𝐭.: Diluc, Kaeya, Dottore (mentioned) (all platonic ofc) - GN!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k

𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨: I'll let it burn - Kanaya

𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠, it shouldn’t have gone this way.

You shouldn’t have returned to Mondstadt clad in Fatui uniform, its emblem sitting mockingly on your hollowed heart. You shouldn’t have looked so comfortable with Dottore by your side, quiet and firm in a way you’ve never been.

You shouldn’t be looking at them as though they were the monsters here, not when those you’re siding with who killed your father and started this domino of excruciating suffering.

But Diluc left you, by what right was he expecting something different?

By what right did he gawk with such horror at the scars he left?

Diluc knows his faults. Knows all too well what eroded the remnants of his heart in the past three years. He’s familiar with the flames of shame and regret, with their relentless torment. They’re the only ones he's never subdued to his will, flames that his vision can’t reach.

And yet, who could imagine that the fire he set three years ago, in a stormy night, would've raged into this?

That he would have ruined everything, everything with his own hands.

He should’ve imagined it. It was only the beginning.

“Well, what do you think of my work?” You asked, nestled at the top of the statue’s hands in the plaza. It’s almost like you prefer looking at your nails than spare them a glance, as you dangle your legs, careless of the fall underneath. “It took me three years of preparation, you know?”

Diluc doesn’t doubt it. The size of your work extends to the entire city. A net of withered small lamp grass and dead vines dripping incendiary oil and spangled with pyro slime charges crawls amongst the streets and up the houses.

Everything culminates there, in the square: the plants climb up the structure like a grotesque floral dress, and right in its hands -where you’re sitting- they weave further together in a singular, deadly fuse.

You hold a match in one hand.

He feels like clutching his heart.

Diluc wonders if this is how a heart attack feels, a slow and atrocious implosion that never ends. A handful of daggers that stab deep and writhe like devils in front of a god. A choked flame that tries to escape its unavoidable destiny 'til the last wisp.

And yet these examples seem far from fitting, not even the brightest genius would be able to describe such pain.

Your ex brothers stand petrified right in front of the statue, the bard's music and citizens' joyful choruses a distant memory now that it's covered in dead plants.

Diluc doesn’t understand how Kaeya is keeping such a straight face whereas his strength barely prevents his body from crushing under the thick, oppressing atmosphere.

He feels so weak in front of you.

"[Name]!" Kaeya’s shout breaches his eardrums and Diluc's unsure whether his brother is screaming out of desperation or to be heard "[Name] think of this, this is not what you want! We can talk about it, fix-"

Your thunderous laughter cuts through the frigid breath of the night, hysterical, laced with a poison only you can withstand without decaying. You laugh and laugh like a broken record, to the point where you can’t sit straight anymore and lean back in the statue’s hold.

You laugh so loudly, but he's never heard an emptier sound in his life.

"Oh, really?" You ask breathless after what feels like an eternity, as you dry your tears from your hardened face and caustic smile. A ghost of what you once were. "Tell me, what do you know, you fucking traitor?"

Kaeya flinches.

"I don’t think you’ve been there enough to know how the story goes. It's beyond repair.” You sit again, stoic, your legs dangling as if nothing at all had happened.

You draw out a dagger from the sheath strapped to your leg and start playing with the tip. Uninterested, bored in their actions and words. “You see, your brother killed me, that night."

Kaeya’s brave face falls at that. He snaps his head to the side, stares at Diluc with an intensity that burns a hole through his eyepatch. He's not stupid, he's more than capable to put together the pieces he's been given.

How kind of him to doubt your words, though, even in face of the bare truth.

"...Tell me they're lying, Diluc." He begs with disarming honesty. "Tell me they're lying please."

But Kaeya's imploring gaze falters when his brother diverts his eyes to the ground.

Diluc never thought he could break what was damaged already, but apparently there's an abundance of pieces that are yet to be broken.

"Oh no, he’s telling the truth." You beat him to answer. "Diluc Ragnvindr killed his sibling and left the body in the mud, in the middle of nowhere. ‘I’m not your brother, you’re not my sibling. You’re dead to me’ and blah blah.”

You grimace at the memory. "You had fun, didn't you?"

Then you push yourself off the edge.

Diluc's heart clings to his throat at the sight of your free fall. He's ready to sprint, catch and hold you tight to his chest, beg for forgiveness until his soul leaves his body, but a gust of cold wind slows your descent in a show of eerie grace.

Only now he notices the anemo delusion hanging from your waist. A false promise of freedom, just like the one Dottore made you all those years ago.

Or maybe you consider it a true freedom, as long as they're not in your life?

"You're the 'Darknight hero' and the 'Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius.'" You spit the words violently, as if they were poison. But you seem so fragile, drained, while your figure becomes clearer with every step taken. And so do your scars.

Your eyebags are as deep as the night and your muscles so taut they could break any moment. "You're the heroes around here. Who cares about your... Silly mistakes? No one."

Diluc can't breathe.

"Well I do, because I am your mistake."

Diluc feels like he's dying.

"They haven't seen the behind the scenes of this... Little show you've put on. And they don’t want to." You go on, a couple of metres separating you three. You point at them with your dagger again, and only now Diluc realises it's your mother's stiletto, as it shines under the moonlight.

Crepus gave it to you after you snuck out secretly for the umpteenth time and got hurt in a dangerous, unprotected area. He chose to teach you, rather than ground you as a punishment, because 'it would be impossible to snuff out that untamed spirit of yours, and also a crime' in his opinion.

You’ve always worn it, but never tried to defend yourself that night.

To think of the catastrophe you're all facing now that your father is dead. He might be rolling over in his grave.

"That's why I say that even the good guys deserve a punishment from time to time."

A wave of elemental energy suddenly quakes the ground. It morphs into chains, tight like nooses and cold like death. They cage the brothers' limbs and necks, forcing them to their knees. Diluc can't help but notice the familiarity with your father's technique, as his body thrashes in vain.

It makes it a little more painful.

You ignore Kaeya completely just like he did that night, as you inch closer to Diluc’s frame. Your visage is so peaceful compared to everything else, to this hell of a situation, to your clearly overexerted body. Your eyes flat, devoid of that very same fire your father encouraged to feed.

You've gone somewhere he can't reach, and it kills him though he feels dead already.

"What did he do to you…?" He's mumbling absentmindedly, not even sure who he's referring to. And you laugh in response, as if he just told you the best joke ever. As if you were drunk and couldn't do anything but laugh and laugh and laugh at your own madness.

"Him? Oh, no no no no, Diluc. Don't even try." Your hand glides through your hair, now dyed, he notices. The typical Ragnvindr red choked to death just like your soul. "The Harbingers have shown me much more kindness than you could ever."

Then you're gripping his jaw and his eyes widen at the strength behind your grip, his movements frozen as the blade of your dagger presses under his chin. "They taught me the pursuit of revenge at its finest level."

Diluc doesn't speak a word. He can't. He's not able to. He side-eyes Kaeya, not even sure of what he's looking for in his brother's crumbling face, in his slumped figure. In the resignation pooling in his eye. Resignation for what he helped create with his noncurance. For what is lost.

Seeing the last fragment break destroys Diluc a little bit.

"Eyes on me, you pathetic piece of shit." You yank his face, pressing the blade harder enough to break his unfairly immaculate skin.

A rivulet of blood streams down the length of his neck and Diluc’s sure you’ll skin him alive right then and there. But he looks at you in the eyes, no matter how impossible it feels.

That’s what he owes you.

"You took away everything from me," His shoulders sag. "And I'd dare to say you have nothing left either." His back bends under the weight of your words. "Dad died," He swallows endless bitterness. "Kaeya is nothing more than a sad, lonely survivor paying for only part of his mistakes…" He holds his breath.

"But you still have a home, in this miserable, wretched city of yours, don't you?"

Diluc thinks he just died.

"We gotta fix that, right?" His head falls forward like a withered flower as soon as your hand leaves his face, the bruise of your hold marking his skin. He feels another gust of wind and he knows what you’re about to do.

"What kind of show would it be if we didn't play the final act properly?" Your voice echoes from above, so ephemeral it sounds from an ancient past, or a forgotten dream.

But it’s just a nightmare.

"Enjoy."

And you let the match fall.

Y'all had fun being arsonists when the game was released, huh? And now look what happened

DON'T copy/repost my work. REBLOG instead! ©nyxthejinx

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livingforthewhump · 1 year

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8 - "O-oh god - " :)) -🎶 req.

yesyesyes I was going to do this for Whumptober hello writers block so I combined it with the prompt “Forced to Watch”

—

The chains clinked every time Caretaker moved, and it was getting annoying. Really, they were a lot more annoyed that the chains were there at all. They connected to the wall close to the floor, requiring Caretaker to sit since they were unable to stand up all the way. Whumpee was chained to the wall opposite them—a mirror image.

“We’re going to get out of here.” Caretaker spoke it into the echoey silence like a vow. Or a wish.

Whumpee’s head raised off their knees. “I imagine we’d have to, eventually.” Their voice only trembled a little, but it was amplified by the empty walls.

Caretaker was trying to think of a reply, but they didn’t get the chance. The door swung open, and Whumper waltzed into the room.

“I hope you two have found your stay enjoyable so far,” Whumper began, looking them over. Their gaze lingered longer on Whumpee, making them squirm.

Caretaker shifted protectively in their restraints. “What do you want from us, Whumper?”

Whumper glanced back over to them, lips quirking upwards as though at a silent joke. “Right now? Some entertainment will do.”

Something lodged into Caretaker’s chest; something suspiciously like foreboding.

“What does that mean?” they snarled.

But Whumper’s attention was on Whumpee again. They were walking towards them, eyes lighting up when Whumpee tried to cower away even as they glared.

“I think it would be fun,” Whumper began slowly, smile ever growing, “if I took Whumpee here, and I made them scream. Right here in front of you. Doesn’t that sound fun, Caretaker?”

“Don’t touch them,” Caretaker growled in a low voice, pulling against their chains.

“Defensive, are we?” Whumper smiled at them. And then they reached towards Whumpee. “Good.”

“Whumper—Whumper! Don’t you dare—” Caretaker thrashed, trying to move towards Whumper despite the fact that they were chaIined down.

Whumper ignored them, slamming Whumpee’s head into the wall before they unclasped their wrists, effectively disorienting them so they had no chance of fighting back as they were dragged down the room, even further away from Caretaker.

“What should I do to them first, do you think?” Whumper mused as they dropped the limp Whumpee to the ground. Whumpee's head lolled. They were blinking rapidly, squinting to try and refocus their eyes.

“Let them go,” Caretaker snarled, fear melting into the anger to create one red-hot ball of emotion in their chest.

“The whip is more fun when the recipient is actually aware of their surroundings, so that rules that out.”

“Stop.”

“But with a knife, the most fun thing is the fear. Dragging it out, you know? And I don’t think they’re aware enough for that either.”

“Stop.”

Whumper nudged Whumpee’s head with their boot, grinning when Whumpee hitched a gasp and screwed their eyes shut, still so distant from it all. “I mean, they’re so cute like this—I want to find something that complements them. The taser, maybe? How loud can they scream?”

“LET THEM GO, YOU BASTARD,” Caretaker screamed, digging deep indents into their wrists with the way they struggled and convulsed in fury.

Whumper regarded them for a moment, then a very slow smile spread across their face. “I know what we’ll do.” And they stepped away, back turned to Caretaker. They heard the clinking of chains.

When Whumper turned back around, they had fashioned a loop into the thick chain in their hands that was fed from a place in the ceiling. They worked quickly as they circled the chain around Whumpee’s neck. Then they pulled it further through the loop in the ceiling, dragging Whumpee up to their knees, pulling just enough to leave them straining.

“Whumper, you’re going to strangle them!” Caretaker watched as they swayed on their knees, caught in a cycle of beginning to crumple only to be snatched upright by the chain digging into their airway.

Whumper just hummed, pulling something out that was sleek and black and made Caretaker’s heart stop in their chest.

“No.”

Their thumb clicked a button, and electricity spring to life across the little prongs they held. Whumpee choked again, oblivious. They had blood dripping down the back of their head now, but even that major concern vanished in the rush of panic Caretaker felt when Whumper pressed the taser into their side.

Whumpee convulsed. For a moment, their weight buckled out from under them, and the chain snapped tight on their neck. They let out a breathless cry, still distant eyes foggy with tears by the time they got their legs stable under them again.

“Whumper, don’t.” Caretaker’s voice was strained by tears. Whumper’s lips twitched and they did it again, longer this time, raising their eyebrows when Whumpee braced for it. They kept their weight under them this time, though they were still swaying from their concussion.

“Well, that’s not as fun,” Whumper muttered under their breath, looking Whumpee over. A second later they kicked them hard in the chest. Whumpee doubled over on instinct, a strangled yell torn from their throat when the chain dug into their neck again, cutting their air off and setting them off balance. That was the instant Whumper pressed the taser against them again, this time on their neck.

Whumpee threw their head back in a silent scream, tears tracking down their cheeks. It didn’t matter, though. Caretaker screamed for them.

It happened again, and again, until Whumpee’s face was slack and dazed, and they were closer to dangling from the chain than kneeling. Whumper paced around them, smiling at their work. They ran a hand through Whumpee’s hair, grinning at Whumpee’s disjointed yell when they found the wound from earlier. Instead of letting go, they tightened their hand in their hair, pulling them upright by it.

“Look at them, Caretaker,” Whumper said softly, almost teasing. “Isn’t it precious, how weak they are like this? I can see why you’re so protective—I’d never want to let them go either.”

Caretaker’s stomach lurched.

“Ah ah ah, don’t look away,” Whumper warned, jostling Whumpee’s head and drawing out a sharp gasp. “I want you to remember them like this—although I certainly plan on doing worse to them while you’re here. Maybe I’ll even keep them.”

Caretaker jerked against their restraints, voice caught in their throat. After holding Whumpee up for another moment, they released them and paced towards Caretaker. Whumper grabbed their chin tightly, smearing Whumpee’s blood across their face. They smiled when Caretaker flinched.

“See? I told you this would be fun.” With a squeeze of their chin, Whumper left. The lock clicked shut behind them.

In the sudden silence, the room seemed so much emptier. Tears finally filled their eyes as they looked over to Whumpee, all but sagging in the chain. They pulled at their own chains again, but it seemed like all of the strength had been sapped from their arms in the horror that filled the room. No more anger, fear, shouting—only a sense of blank shock.

The room echoed the sound of their first sob: “O-oh God.”

—

General whump taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @twistedcaretaker @lonesome--hunter @poppys-writing @endless-whump @multifandoms-multishipper @shadowylemon @utopian819 @whumpkitty @journey-the-panda @freefallingup13 @prettyboysinpain @1becky1 @temporary-whump-sideblog @chartreusephoenix @thelazywitchphotographer @mylifeisonthebookshelf @badluck990 @lockedupuniverse @luna-rein @broadwaybabe18 @pinescales-whumps @silverwhisperer1 @embersalive @the-bloody-sadist @batfacedliar-yetagain @nicolepascaline @whump-angst-fluff-repeat @susanshinning @didieatyourdog @corvid-voidbur @insane-writing-things @thebaffledtiewriter @morning-star-whump

#whump drabble #forced to watch #electricity whump #electrocution #protective caretaker #concussion #delirious whumpee #ah shoot i’ve forgotten how to tag again #and write #like is this even good??

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purple-heart-x · 1 year

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“Whumpee?” They stood. Looking at the body tossed carelessly on the ground. It laid motionless, not even a hint of movement or life.

“What did you do to him?!”

Blurred words. Murmured phrases meant to appease them. They dodged as one of them tried to attack from behind, hitting them furiously with balled up fists.

The others had moved closer. Calling their name oh so deceptively. They weren’t going to let him go. Not this time. Never again. They’d promised the last time they’d been ripped away from Whumpee.

They flailed and kicked, desperate to escape the grasps of their captors, but five on one wasn’t a fair fight. With a broken sob, they panted, held by their waist- by the arms and legs, too.

With a heave, they crashed all their body weight into those hands. Collapsing to the floor with a wail as the pain in their ribs flared. They immediately squirmed to Whumpee. Begging them through numb lips to wake up. Move. Anything. Please.

There was a long silence, and then something covered them. They thrashed for a moment, before realizing it was a blanket.

One of the group members crouched down, a pained look in his eyes. “Caretaker, it’s okay. My name is Rescuer. I’m here to help both of you. He’s still alive, but he needs help quickly, okay?”

They shrank back, holding Whumpee as tightly as they could. They wanted to scream “NO”, to fight Rescuer off. But what if it was true? What if Whumpee really could be saved?

They couldn’t leave Whumpee. Not again. They’d promised. They’d promised.

“Hey. Caretaker. Can you look at me?”

Their eyes obeyed.

“Right over there is the ambulance. The EMT has his license if you want to look at it. You might recognize it. Do you remember your own license?“

License? EMT? They were going to take Whumpee away. They clutched their limp body tighter. But even as they did so, they remembered. They were one. They helped people. Their license was what made them real, right?

They nodded, almost timid as Rescuer retrieved the card. When they touched it, the plastic was cold. The mark on it made their skin feel rough. They hated that feeling. Caretaker was cold, too. They wanted to be warm again. Whumpee used to be warm, but now they were colder than Caretaker.

Rescuer was looking at them, concern in his eyes. “Can they put Whumpee in--”

“N-n-no,” Caretaker stuttered, eyes darting around. Everything seemed new. Changed. Why were they sitting down? Why was their hand cold?

“Do you want to go with Whumpee?”

With Whumpee. That was good. They wanted to be with Whumpee. They didn’t want to leave. They nodded, looking at their hand. What was that card...?

Rescuer gave them a smile. “Alright. I’m going to give the nice EMT his license back, okay?”

A few moments later, Rescuer returned. “Alright. You’re doing great, Caretaker. Can you take a deep breath for me? Good. Another? Good. Alright, you’re going to keep doing that as I pick you up. Then I’m going to pick up Whumpee. You’re still together, okay?”

Their head was spinning. They wanted Whumpee. They wanted to sleep, too, but Whumper was close. Whumper was always close. Their eyes blurred with tears as they felt themself laid on something soft. Immediately reaching for Whumpee, lying back once their friend was safe nestled in their arms. Their eyelids began to flutter.

“M-Mr. Rescuer?”

“Yes, Caretaker? I’m here.”

“Can- Can we go home now? I- I want to go home.”

Rescuer’s eyes softened, and he found himself hoping that Caretaker did not see the way he turned to quickly swipe at the two trails of moisture that slipped down his cheeks at their words. “Soon, darling. Soon, just rest for now, okay? I will watch over you.”

Caretaker had no strength to argue, nor to do anything more than stare up at him, begging him silently to please, please not let them down.

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balladetto · 4 months

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Once, when Link was even smaller than he feels, he'd knocked his shoulder out of its socket in a terrible fall.

Terrible in that he'd cried about it, ashamed and at the then-height of pained, not that it was a particularly horrific tumble. He'd just landed wrong, he remembers someone telling him — frantic and almost apologetic in their reassurance. Too much has happened for him to reconstruct a face for the memory, but Link can still recall the stutter in their words. You're g-gonna be okay. Y-you're gonna— gonna be f-fine.

And he was. Someone had gone to fetch a healing fairy while others came to keep him company. It'd been the right shoulder, burning at the joint and numb all the way down to his fingertips, but he'd found a spot of hurt he could grit his teeth through; then breathe through; then eventually speak through. By the time the fairy was brought over, Link had been so deep in the rhythm of holding himself together that he'd nearly slapped her away when she broke it.

He remembers her, he thinks, the most out of everything. There's a distinct clarity associated pain will give you with any recollection. She was rose-pink, a little darker than he was used to, and she'd bristled when he whimpered through a fresh wave of tears and pushed at her with his pinky.

"Stop that," she'd said. "Bones aren't easy, you know. It'll only hurt for a pinch, it has to for me to fix it. You're already being so brave! Can't you be brave a while longer?"

Outside the memory, Link lays crumpled on cold tiles, eyelids like crushed butterfly wings and the cave of his chest barely moving as he looks up and up and up. He thinly wonders, for a fixing like this, how long he'd have to keep being brave for.

Neither of his shoulders took the landing this time, but he knows many things are wrong with both of them. By extension, many things are wrong with all of him. He should take stock, a part of him understands. He'd like to take stock, another part realises, if only he had the capacity to. Each breath shifts the slivers and splinters his bones have shattered into. Agony twists through every vein like a replacement for the blood he imagines paints his trail from platform to windows to the far below floor. He can't feel his fingers, which twitch as if to grip something — his left hand, mangled, rests as if in graveyard dirt.

There is no amount of searching in this sea that will land him in a place where this might be bearable.

"Link!" Navi yells, a trilling bell that drowns out the sound of dying. His heart threads an extra thump, like he still has it in him to be scared alongside everything else, before it fades back into a whisper of a pulse. She wheels above him in panicked, powdery circuits: hair to boots and back. "Get up! You have to get up!"

He does. He does have to. Link doesn't get to think he's gonna die now. He doesn't get to be tired enough — small enough — for that. He draws a rattling inhale, head practically cracking open with how the air presses against its seams. He's sixteen. The world will end if he's nine. He's sixteen, sixteen, sixteen.

He chokes on liquid rising in his gorge, coughs it up, and closes his eyes when gravity brings the blood down in blotches on his skin. It's— really gross, and that's such a mundane thought in the face of what he has to reckon with that his chest starts spasming with strangled laughter instead.

"Link!"

Navi, he replies in his head, 'cause that's all he can do. He traces over more names: Sheik, Zelda, Saria, the Sages, the Kokiri, the list goes on as his voice dips into hitching, searing gasps. It's an awful thing to realise — that's all he can do. Link has to get up, has to be Courage, has to be more than what he is.

And he can't.

Sound drifts down from above, mocking. Cruel. It's a laugh getting louder and louder, and Link prises his lashes apart with the sheer will borne from a unique dread. A kind of fear, if you felt it not in sensation, but in the dizzying spiral that is the certainty of where this will all end.

A kind of fear — and a kind of fury.

Link is nine, thrown to the ground, battered and muscles stinging with a magic he tastes as something crackling on his tongue. He glares up at the tall man on the tall horse, smouldering so brazenly with protective, frustrated outrage that he shakes with it. He is not unafraid of the sneer that answers him, but he does not look away.

Link is nine, broken over the ground, near dead and stuck in a body he's tried to make his. His eyes are cold as he watches Ganondorf descend, burning with tears dyed red from failure. The brand on his left hand glows, resonating with a magic he no longer has the nerves to feel. Navi doesn't leave. There are a thousand things he wishes he could scream.

Large fingers fold around the wrist of his gauntlet, deliberate in their ignorance of the softness a joint that bent must be afforded. As his arm is lifted, the pain dragged along every passing second like some horrible, continuous song-note that eclipses even his fears, he pretends none of the noises coming from him are his and thinks everything that could mean: I hate you.

He thinks everything that could mean: I'm so sorry.

The man raises his other hand, palm closing in, and Link forces another entire earth on the child he can't be even here — even now. He does not look away. Navi, oddly muffled, rings something wordless.

Link waits for the end of this story.

#* lionheart / study.#( so uh. down.fall timeline drabble! [pops a party popper]#i don't usually write on full workdays because i /can't/ write on those days (head fuckening. empty) but god. god #Inspired!! i hope it reads well <3 #thinking about. an ending where li.nk turns out more kokiri than hylian (yay?) in that he's a spirit that no longer ages who takes on the #image of a child most times because that's what his core mainly reflects. but it's like looking at smth you aren't supposed to #in the itchy brain sort of way -- and sometimes the borders of his form blur so entirely that he's the image of what he was when he. y'know #do you get me. do you see the vision < delirious with sleep deprivation #i'm sure i'll find something to regret about this when i wake but i am sending post i can't look at this anymore flksjdf )#* lionheart / ic.#* ic / para.#* v / a story that can't be changed.#death implied #ask to tag /#* intermission / queue.#long post cw

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jordanstrophe · 1 year

Text

CW: Blood loss, cold whump, collapse, open ending capture

Whumpee gritted their teeth as they collapsed their shoulder against a tree. They huffed a breath of fridge air and looked down at the bloodstain on their shirt. It had grown since they last looked at it, blood was running down and tacking in the snow around their feet.

They bit down on their folded sleeve and tried to stop the bleeding, hoping the pain and pressure was worth it. They had lost so much blood already...

Before they could catch themselves, they slid down the tree and collapsed into the snow. They could barely feel the cold, it was only a sting crawling up their skin.

Suddenly, a hand came from around the tree and clamped over their mouth before they could shout.

"There you are. Snow really brings out your blood trail."

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delirious-donna · 2 years

Text

Nightmares [NaLu]

an: this is a short story that my mind conjured for Nalu week which is themed bittersweet/angst. Today's prompt is nightmares, hence the title. Angst is not my favoured genre to write for as I am far too soft-hearted to want to see beloved characters in pain but it is always fun to work on new ideas so I hope this has come out okay? @thenaluarchive

pairing: Natsu Dragneel x Lucy Heartfilia

warnings: SFW, angst, nightmares, mentions of violence and death, dark imagery and themes, regrets and worries, Natsu just needs a hug, Lucy is his guiding light, Zeref isn't a villain (I will die on this hill), minor spoilers for 100 Year Quest

Masterlist

Dreams – warm and golden.

Fragments of long-forgotten memories that he shouldn’t possibly be able to recall, yet they played out in the calm space of his subconscious. To him, this was reality and not the concoction of his overactive brain. The tall, lush grass tickled against his bare toes, the scorching heat of the midday sun beat down upon his pink hair and a black haired boy chased eagerly after him.

Joyous laughter rang merrily through the vibrant blue cloudless sky. His heart felt so full that it might just burst right out of his tiny chest. The sweet sound of his brother calling his name through gasping giggles only spurred him on to run faster, sure that he could outrun him if only he kept going.

A small house came into view as he turned in a tight arc, hoping to find some place to dive behind cover and change the game from chase to hide and seek. Curls of snow-white smoke spouted from the rickety chimney, the roof tattered in places but despite the scruffy appearance, the home was filled to capacity with love.

The young boy couldn’t see the patched paintwork walls, the crumbling bricks of the chimney stack or the window frames that were loose and rotten in places. All he saw were the smiling faces of his family; the tall figure of his father with hair the same cotton candy pink as his own, the warm arms of his mother that would embrace both her sons each and every time she could and the black tuft of hair that dared to defy gravity on his older brother’s head.

Things were perfect for the Dragneels and little Natsu didn’t have a care in the world…

A raven flew from its branch with an ominous caw. Gusts of wind whipped from out of nowhere, enough force behind them to make the small boy falter in his pace and it was all that was needed for his pursuer to grasp his shoulder. A hand that was much too large for a child rested heavily, dried blood caked beneath the fingernails and skin as pale as a ghost.

He was no longer a boy, Natsu stood tall in the ruins of a building that he knew all too well.

His chest heaved with each breath he took whilst burning pain raced along his ribs. Skin coated in a grimy mixture of sweat and blood, he felt unclean and broken. So utterly destroyed by the sight that lay at his feet; the bodies of two lovers entwined, it was enough to send him crashing to his knees.

Natsu worried over the fate of Zeref’s soul, would he be damned for the rest of eternity in a place he did not belong? Destined to writhe in agony as flames far superior to those of the Dragon Slayer licked at his flesh? His stomach roiled with that unpleasant thought and tears fell freely.

This was his nightmare.

The place his mind took him to more often than he wished to admit. For how long he would spend grieving the loss of his brother as well as the frail-looking First Master, he did not know. At times it felt like he would spend days here, watching as the corpses rotted before him, unable to do anything about it. Other times the ghosts of Zeref and Mavis would appear to taunt him, throwing accusations at him for letting them die.

He wondered what he was in store for tonight, pain laced his mind and made him whimper from the incessant barbs of a thousand venomous wasps. Each one was a reminder that he could not keep everyone alive, and wasn’t strong enough to prevent the death of his brother.

Zeref had made mistakes, but who hadn’t? He had come to terms with the machinations of a mind warped by the cruelty of a God that demonstrated no mercy or understanding of human curiosity. How wicked a fate it would be to endure eternal life whilst all those he loved around him turned to dust – a result of his love.

Indifference and hatred were the only way to keep others alive and centuries of those emotions had taken their toll on his dear brother.

Now, as he wiped at his tear-filled eyes and quietly sobbed for the missed opportunities, he braced himself for the onslaught of pain.

Lucy became aware of the stilted movements by her side over the period of several minutes. At first, she had fought against the rush of consciousness that tried to pull her from the adorable dream she was having, but it seemed a fruitless endeavour.

She felt cooler than normal, and that was the first indicator that things were not as they should be. The absence of the warm embrace of her beloved was enough for her eyes to snap open, lids blinking rapidly as she adjusted to the pitch-black room. It was clearly the middle of the night, no time for her to be awake but she was needed, desperately so.

Low whimpers met her ears and sent the wings of sorrowful moths to flutter against her insides. The blonde rolled as cautiously as she could manage, to find where in the bed Natsu was. Her heart panged anew as she spied him curled into a fetal position by the very edge of the mattress, bare from the waist up and trembling.

She worried he was cold, but the gentle touch of her fingers confirmed the opposite – he was slick with sweat and burning as hot as a furnace. Even the softest of touches caused him to cower, even more, burying his head further into his chest with his arms raised protectively around him.

Her fierce and courageous Dragon Slayer was suffering through a nightmare and she had to bring him back. Only she could coax him to return to her side, the lit candle that burned bright in the void of the darkness and directed him to safety.

Lucy scooted closer to his back and wound a protective arm over his middle, all the while she cooed in his ear – not words only reassuring noises much like a mother would hush her baby. It was hard to be the big spoon when she was so much smaller in every way than the male she called her partner.

Yet, she managed it.

Given his curled posture, her knees rested against his butt and her front curved against his spine. Lucy folded a pillow beneath her head to raise her up enough to press her chin against his shoulder and speak directly into his ear.

His hand swatted at her like she was a pesky fly, frightened whimpers sounding into the perfect black void. She merely chuckled at his lame attempts to protect himself, it was laughable. If Natsu Dragneel wanted to dislodge her, he had the power and then some to do so.

The laughter died in her throat as realisation hit her like a bullet between the eyes. This was reminiscent of other times she had awoken to his bad dreams, specifically the times when Natsu seemed to be trapped within the mindset of his younger self. The occasions were few and far between – or so she thought – but they were never easy to get him to rouse from them.

“Natsu,” she cooed, “can you hear me, baby?”

A little grunt was the only response, but the shivering halted and his breathing evened out slightly. Her fingers slid to the hair that fell across his face, still mostly hidden by the arm that obscured his eyes, nose and mouth but his brow was exposed. The locks were damp at the edges but the majority felt as soft as downy feathers as she lazily brushed through the strands, pushing them back from his face. The scrunch of his eyebrows told of his mistrust and wariness.

“Can you speak to me?” she asked on a whim.

“Don’t wanna,” came the timid yet petulant reply.

The blonde hummed reassuringly as she contemplated her next move, wondering how she could gain the trust of a scared little boy that likely did not recognise her for the important person she was to Natsu the adult. She settled against his back, nose running along the curve of his shoulder blade.

“Hmm, I can tell something is wrong. Wanna tell me what is scaring you?”

The silence gives way to snuffles, the arm covering his face moving only enough to allow him to speak without sounding muffled. His lips are tipped down, chin trembling gently as his lips part.

“Want my brother back.”

“I know baby,” she soothes, fighting back the first well of her own tears as she listens to the innocent confession of the childlike soul that resides within Natsu.

Lucy had lost count of the conversations she and Natsu had had discussing this very matter. The Dragon Slayer was wounded more gravelly than he often let on in regards to the demise of Zeref. It had taken longer for Lucy to be swayed over the reasoning behind the Black Wizard’s motives. She had struggled to overlook the threat he had posed to the entire Kingdom of Fiore, and specifically to Natsu.

“He – he’ll be lonely without me,” he continues and the quiver in his voice is enough to make Lucy feel like she swallowing past glass in her throat.

“Natsu, my sweet boy. Remember where he is? Where his soul resides now? You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

His body relaxes a little, the tight curl of his posture loosening up to allow Lucy the opportunity to more completely wrap herself around him in hopes of offering him solace from her own body and soul.

“W-where?”

The soft lilting hum that she has been maintaining between the short exchange of words pauses once more. Her fingers stroke along his forearm and rest over the top of his clenched fist.

“Zeref is happy in the Heaven you created within your heart. You love him so dearly that you ensured he had a special place to go to when he died. Your compassion is limitless, and although you may appear hot-headed to others, those who know the true Natsu, know that you are the very best of Fairy Tail.”

The words are lumpy and rough as the blonde loses her grip on her own sadness. Salty tears drip upon the searing skin of his shoulder and run in rivers towards the sheets below their cocooned bodies.

For the first time, the sequence of his nightmare shifts to an outcome he has not seen before. The ruined Fairy Tail guildhall dissolved before his eyes, the remaining bricks and mortar rising into the air and slipping away into nothingness. The corpses of Zeref and Mavis, which he had been forced to witness rotting, frozen in place with eyes unblinking and stinging from his torture, disappeared instantly.

Finally, he could blink and when his eyes reopened, he found himself in a place he had only seen once before. Filled with fluffy clouds, brilliant sunlight and light breezes that swept the sound of joy and laughter around freely.

Someone tapped on his shoulder and Natsu whirled instantly with his heart racing and defences lifting. The sight that met his gaze was one of sheer ecstasy. Zeref – happy, whole and smiling. For a moment he didn’t know what to do and his brother seemed to sense this.

Zeref’s arms opened wide in invitation and Natsu needed no more to fall into the brotherly embrace. Their relationship may have been strained to the point of almost snapping, but in the end, they were still family and Natsu refused to give up on his family.

For a moment he felt like his younger self once again, tiny fingers clutching into the robe of his older brother, refusing to allow him to back out of the hug. Zeref chuckled against the crook of his neck and smoothed his fingers through Natsu’s messy locks.

It seemed like an age that they stood there in the brotherly hug as the young Dragon Slayer wept for all that he had endured in this dream and every previous iteration. He didn’t know what had caused the shift from nightmare back to dream and it seemed that his elder sibling heard his internal question.

“You have someone very special to thank for bringing you back here,” he said softly.

As they broke apart, they were adults again and Zeref stepped back as a healthy and whole Mavis slotted herself against his side and placed her hand tenderly upon the black haired male’s chest.

Natsu could think to do nothing but smile, his grin wide and toothy as always but a hint of melancholy still lined his eyes. He could hear soft humming that sounded like it was coming from within his own head, it was familiar and comforting.

“Lucy found you suffering in the darkness and brought you back into the light. My dear brother, do not worry over my fate. I have much to atone for but your loving heart has given me a place to dwell in happiness whilst I do my best to keep Mavis here happy in turn.”

The second Zeref spoke Lucy’s name, her beautiful face shone within his mind’s eye and it was as if she were giving him a hug from behind, yet he could not see her. Warm breath tickled his ear, familiar vanilla filled his nose and ghostly fingers carded into his hair right down to the scalp.

Heat enveloped his heart and he knew that she was there with him – his guiding light.

He nodded at the sincere expression on Zeref’s face, the soft radiance of love that emitted from the couple and it reminded him of his feelings for his own blonde beauty that continued to save him over and over again. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes to clear away the remnants of his tears, swallowing thickly to clear his throat.

“You gonna – gonna be okay?” he asked the man once thought to be the most evil mage that ever lived.

Zeref tsked whilst Mavis giggled, walking off to give the boys a moment of privacy. She waved cheerfully at Natsu. His vision was beginning to haze over as if he was looking through a smudged window, he blinked trying to clear it but failing.

“I don’t need you worrying over me, Natsu. You still live and have many adventures to come. Send Lucy my love and thank her for being such unwavering support for you,” he replied.

“It’s time to go home baby brother,” he whispered, lifting a hand to give a final squeeze to Natsu’s shoulder, “you will not return to that nightmare vision, understood?”

Even in death Zeref was not to be denied and for once, Natsu nodded in agreement rather than argue.

He was fighting against the hands pulling at him, tugging him into consciousness. Knowing that he would return to Lucy but wishing but a moment longer to look upon his brother’s face. A face not known for warm smiles but things change, as do people and he was glad of the happiness that shone within his obsidian eyes.

“Goodbye nii-chan,” Natsu murmured only loud enough for the recipient to hear and beamed at the look of joyous shock that struck upon Zeref’s face.

Lucy continued to hum her endless tune, fingers moving in repeated patterns through his hair and over his cheeks and occasionally cooing words of incitement to return to her. At long last, his body stiffened and all at once, relaxed.

Natsu stretched out his limbs that had been locked in the protective posture as Lucy scooted back to give him some space. She had barely moved an inch before she was pulled back, a strong arm winding around her waist and hauling her half across his torso.

Midnight eyes swam with tears despite the half-smile playing on his lips. Worry gnawed at her insides yet it did not linger for long.

“Thank you, Lucy, for finding me in the abyss and leading me out. Zeref sends his love and reminded me to stop worrying over things already played out.”

A calloused thumb ran the length of her jaw until he cupped her cheek and lifted his head to kiss her lips. It seemed he poured every ounce of his gratitude and love into this one sweet, lingering kiss.

“Anytime, Natsu.”

Lucy allowed herself to sink into the sensation of being draped over his body, arms and legs entwined as their heartbeats fell into a synchronised rhythm. Soothing hands rubbed at her spine as if she were the one in need of comfort, and yet she knew he needed to be seen as doing something for her, never content with being passive.

“Can we talk about my – my nightmare?” he asked quietly, his voice hushed by the way he spoke directly into her golden hair.

Her heart tugged as Natsu looked to her again for solace, willing to open himself up and show her his deepest fears. The blonde squirmed herself around until she was comfortable, earning herself a moan of pleasure from the Dragon Slayer in the process.

“Of course, I’m all ears.”

#delirious drabbles #nalu angst week 2022 #nalu #the nalu archive event #fairytail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #zeref dragneel #fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail #natsu x lucy

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jump-in-the-whump · 1 year

Text

Home

Their hooded eyes squint at the glimpse of light. Their trembling body is resting against the sweaty bedsheets. Labored pants escape their rattling chest.

Their heart skips a beat when they notice the person sitting beside their bed. They look closely, and they sigh with relief when they notice that the person is sleeping soundly. Good, they need to be quiet if they want to escape this hell.

With their shaking arms, they try to sit up, panting with the effort. Their body is too weak, but they refuse to give in, and finally they manage to sit, breathing heavily.

They look around and feel the whole room spinning around them, and their vision dangerously swims, but they shrug it off, they need to get to safety as soon as possible.

They move the bedsheets off them and a shiver run down their spine, their body is too feverish to get used to the chilling air that fills the room. They slowly breathe in and out, in an attempt to wash away their dizziness. Then they finally stand up, and step after step they head towards the door when a voice freezes them in place.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The person behind them thunders.

They slowly turn around to face the person, with tears already streaking their face. “i-i...” They mutter under their breath as they see the person standing up and walking towards them.

They gulp as their body starts trembling even more, they don’t know if it’s out of cold or out of fear. They quickly bow their head down and start apologizing. “i-i’m sorry... pl-please... i won’t... d-do it again... i’m sorry... i’m so s-sorry...” they kept their head down, sobbing desperately, their legs threatening to give out at any minute because of the strain. “i-i... just wanted to go h-home..” They muttered under their breath.

“Home?” The person said softly and then sighed, passing their fingers through the sweaty hair of the feverish person in front of them. “But you’re already home...”

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #whumpee x caretaker #whumpee caretaker #whumper #whumpee whumper #whumpee x whumper #whump scenario #whump prompt #whump community #whump drabble #hurt/comfort #sickfic #fever #sick #delirious #jump-in-the-writing

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scratchandplaster · 1 year

Text

Stack The Deck - Siege

CW: injury, delirious Whumpee, fever, paranoia

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Stuck between dishwasher and pantry, Elliot didn't move. Even as the day drifted on towards the late afternoon hours, the only strain his muscles could manage was uncomfortable twitching, tired of waiting for a man who would be here any second.

Just a little longer, he promised himself, any further thoughts pushed far away to the back of his head, which was tightly pressed against the plastic. Any minute now.

Knife in hand and with less than a speck of courage, he sat and waited. But the man he so desperately expected to change his mind didn't appear; unbeknownst to Elliot, he was busy scrubbing anything he could manage out of the carpet flooring of a crack den, ten miles outside the suburbs.

Elliot hoped he would do it quickly this time, these games that came before only ever left him more on edge. He wouldn't win this, and should never have been naive enough to try in the first place.

An angry stomp brought him back for a second, away from the fuzzy heat he was caught in. The gray-brown ball leaning against his lap brought her foot down on the kitchen floor, unimpressed by the endless self-loathing.

He wouldn't pass alone, and in the lowest of his moments, this thought was more terrifying than any thug threatening to bash in his door.

Come on!

Help was unacceptable, he supposed. However, Morris allowed, nearly begged him to go to the ER. Maybe this was the only loophole he could allow himself, lying could wait after the sticky aftermath on his body was rinsed away.

His parents, oh god, they would never stop asking, never believe his story.

A sting in his left ring finger let his body erupt with a blinding flash of pain, squeezing a shaky breath out of his lungs. The aftershocks let his body helplessly writhe on the tiles, legs kicking out, and chased Ginkgo to the far end of the room.

Caught between numbness and torture, Elliot wished to drift back into mindless ease. Panting like a dog, he couldn't let go of the knife in his right fist, as if his last breath depended on it.

It would end anyway, disease or else. Whoever would help him had one problem more to worry about, though. They, too, would have to keep an eye on their locks.

Elliot wouldn't call his mother, even if she was the one person he longed to speak to right now. Hearing stories about the neighbors, a new recipe she found online...

"I am going to slit your mother open from her chin down to-"

He gagged, stiff and burning on the kitchen floor. Not her, never her. Blood on the floor, salt in his mouth.

Brooke maybe?

They needed a replacement asap, even in his delirium the venomous knowledge of his situation became evermore clear. He needed to break the news to her first, to hush the rest of his colleagues. She was always composed, not letting the stress get to her. No, he decided at last, they wouldn't find another violin on such short notice.

The only question left was who he could risk it for.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Elliot needed someone, just anyone.

Moving slowly, so very slowly, his left hand began its careful journey upwards. The coat pocket on target, his index finger and thumb fished for the phone inside, always careful to avoid any unnecessary bumps on the way.

Like a claw machine. He burst out in a breathless laugh, just for a second.

Slipping between his fingertips, the steady pinch on the screen helped him pull it out and down on the spotted tiles. Were the stains new? When was the last time he cleaned this mess?

Come on, just a bit further.

A pressure inside his chest spoke to him like an old friend, an ancient force pushing him forward in such a hopeless situation. It wanted to live.

So Elliot abided: vision swimming, dead focused on the screen. It took only three digits to hear ringing and then the voice he so desperately waited for, asking its questions behind a static hiss.

What his emergency was, his name, his location... Everything swirled together in a maelstrom he couldn't wait to drown in.

Still, he wouldn't lose a word about Morris.

"Help me," he whispered instead, numb to his bone-deep aches.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername

#stack the deck #elliot ribera oc #christoph morris oc #whump series #captivity #kidnapping #death mention #whump #whumpblr #creative writing #whump community #whump drabble #fever #delirious whumpee #injury #broken bones #this is just a short snippet to pass the time #elliot is chilling (in a bad way)

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