#description of injury

[gallifreyanhotfive]

#big finish does it like no one else #👌 #doctor who #dw #dr who #classic who #new who #big finish #big finish doctor who #big finish audios #dw eu #doctor who eu #doctor who expanded universe #eighth doctor #ace mcshane #fifth doctor #peri brown #scherzo #natural history of fear #graphic #tw: graphic depictions of violence #description of injury #polls

[jasmines-library]

Lazarus Rising

WHUMPTOBER DAY 27: Prompt ‘scars’

Fandom: Batfam

Summary: after an accident takes your life, your brothers manage to find a way to bring you back. But it leaves you with a set of prominent scars that you struggle to come to terms with. But your brothers are there to help you realise that you are beautiful just the way you are.

Warnings: Death, description of wounds and scars, self hate.

Word count: 1.6k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

It was a nasty accident.

An accident that had cost you your life. Your brothers had raced towards you, trying to haul the debris from the exploded building off of your body, but they were too late. You were dead. Still chest, blank stare, stone cold dead.

For a while, no one dared to move as Bruce cradled your bloody body. Not one of the boys attempted to hide the tears that rolled down their cheeks as you lay there devoid life in a pool of your own blood. The shrapnel had embedded itself if your back, and had sliced into other parts of your skin. You could see from the gash on your hand and on your cheek where you had tried to protect your face in vain.

The sight made Damian queasy and so he was the first to turn away, trying to burry the thought that he would never see the way you smiled with your eyes or simply hear your voice again.

Jason was the last to move. Long After Bruce had hauled your body away and his older brother had tried to pull him away gently by wrapping a strong arm around him. But all he could do was stare blankly at the crimson that stained the ground. It should have been him. He was the one who was supposed to be on patrol that night. But he bunked off and you took his place instead. His stomach knotted, tightening around him like a noose. He promised himself that he was going to find a way to bring you back.

And he did.

He didn’t want to tell his brothers what he was trying to do at first. But they caught on quickly after Jason was unable to hide the dark bags under his eyes any longer and they threatened to tell Bruce if he didn’t let up.

They were hesitant at first, but soon the four of them spent their free time delving into books and research. For a short while, their efforts seemed in vain and there were more frustrated sighs drifting across the room than words. But in one glorious moment, the words finally floated into Jason’s ears.

“The Lazarus pit.” He read from the screen what illuminated his small face in the dark. He had managed to find it after getting in contact with his mother and wracking his brain for something she had accidentally mentioned in passing. Talia was reluctant at first, but with Damian’s charm she was quick to give in. “My mother knows where it is. We can bring y/n back but…”

Tim, who had crowded round his little brother squinted. “But what?”

“She’s not going to be the same. The pit it-

It messes with your mind. And it might not work at all… there’s a time frame.”

Jason shook his head and pulled on his coat. “It’s better than nothing.”

~

The four of them carried your body gently towards the swirling green liquid. The pit was hidden in some sort of cave that had been dug out into some sort of lab.

“So this is it, huh?” Dick asked as they lay you down gently next to the pit. He could hardly bring himself to look at you. Your beauty was still obscured by the nasty gash that still hadn’t closed. He was so gentle as he manoeuvred your fragile body, as though just his fingers grazing along your cold skin would hurt you.

“Yeah.” Tim sighed.

“Keep your guard up. We don’t know how she’s going to react when she wakes up. She might be scared and confused.” Headed Damian who had practically recited his mother's words after committing them to memory.

There was little else said as they eased your body into the green liquid, watching as you floated just below the surface. It didn’t take long for the chemicals to take effect, stitching your skin back together and bringing more structure back to your bones and more life back to your skin.

Suddenly, you sat up with a gasp, flailing and splashing the substance of the edge of the pool as you dragged yourself out of it. Your clothes clung sticky to your skin. Your eyes were wide and didn’t settle on anything long before they were darting to the next thing and the next after that.

When Tim reached out to you your instincts kicked in, and you gripped his hand to flung him over your shoulder which caused him to let out a grunt as he collided with the stone.

Your mind was racing at a million miles an hour. You were scared. You didn’t know where you were or why every inch of your body was drenched in a dull but persistent ache.

“Y/n?”

You froze calming down for just one brief moment. You knew that voice and its gentle lilt. It was a voice you could picture a face with. Dark haired with stern eyes, but behind the facade was really a gentle boy with a soft spot for his little sister. You turned, tilting your head at the boy.

“Jason?”

~

You couldn’t bear to glance in the mirror anymore because they were all your gaze could settle on. Pale and spidering the scars crawled up your back and along your neck to your cheek. The pit had worked to some extent and although your mind was seemingly recovering and readjusting, the pit had failed to completely heal your skin, leaving a scar in its wake. Damian said it was something to do with the time scale. Something to do with the fact that the Lazarus put worked better on the dead the shorter they had passed.

You still couldn’t quite come to terms with that word. Dead. It sat in your mind like a weed. No matter how many times you plucked it, it always wormed its way back through the cracks.

For the first few weeks of being back at the manor, you spent a lot of your time trying to cover up the angry lines. The ones on your back were easy enough. You had just resorted to wearing a hoodie. Usually one of the boys’. They gave you a sense of comfort. But after a while, you began to miss wearing your own clothes. You missed being able to express yourself without it feeling wrong. So, there you were, standing in front of your full length mirror in your favorite top, staring at the scar.

There was a soft knock on the door before it peeled open, whining on its hinges and Jason saw you standing there. He couldn’t help the small grin that ebbed onto his lips.

You immediately tried to cover yourself. “Get out.”

“I-“ Jason didn’t want to move. He often feared that it he took his eyes off of you for too long then you would vanish again. Which meant that he was checking in on you much to your dismay. He was so proud of how far you had come in just a few short weeks. “You look beautiful, y/n.”

You recoiled. What? “Jason. Don’t look at them.”

You were about to pull on a hoodie when Damian’s voice peeped round the corner. He had grown impatient and set off with Tim to drag you to movie night. Dick went with them too, unable to shake his worry. Since you came back the four of them were constantly on edge, even if they didn’t care to admit it. “Is she coming or- whoa.”

Tim nearly squealed at the sight of you. “I thought I’d never see that top again.”

Your skin flushed as you sank down onto you bed.

“All of you. Out.”

“Why?” Damian implored.

“Because…I don’t like people looking at them. They’re disgusting.”

“Why the hell would you think that?” Jason was practically outraged at your words.

You couldn’t help it when your eyes brimmed with tears and your voice wavered. “Look at them, Jay!”

“I don’t see anything wrong with them.” Dick shrugged coming to sit next to you. “Do you?”

The rest of your brothers shook their heads.

You gave him a look.

Dick rolled up his top to reveal a long scar along his solar plexus. “Do you see anything wrong with this one?” He asked. Jason then pulled up the hem of his red top and shifted round on the mattress to show you the ones that littered his back. They were pinkish and resembled various different shapes. Or those?”

You shook your head. “No…it’s just. They’re everywhere.”

“So? They’re beautiful y/n. You’re beautiful. Does having a scar make Jason any less of a person that he was before?” Tim asked. You shook your head meekly. “Your scars don’t define you. No matter how much you think they do. You’re still the same gentle girl you were before.”

“Besides,” Damian chimed, “I think they’re really cool. Like lightning.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that thought. Your brothers always had a way of bringing light to a dark situation. It was just something that they did; they helped without thinking no matter the cost. You were glad to have them by your side, even if they did get a little annoying at times.

Although it took a little while, and a bucket-load of tears, your slowly began to embrace the scars. You began to express yourself in new ways that you hadn’t done before. In ways that brought a beaming grin to your face. And to your brothers. They were unbelievably proud and their hearts swelled. But it was one thing that you had learnt that really stuck out to you. That they loved you, just the way you were.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 26 ⛤ DAY 28 ->

Taglist:

@deans-spinster-witch

@senjoritanana

@amaryllis23

#whumptober #whumptober 2023 #whumptober 23 #no.27 #scars #batfam x reader #Batfamily x sister reader #batfam x sister reader #scaring #character death #resurrection #Lazarus pits #self hate #blood #injury #description of injury #Jason Todd x reader #Jason Todd x sister reader #Damian Wayne x reader #Damian Wayne x sister reader #Tim drake x reader #Tim drake x sister reader #dick greyson x reader #dick greyson x sister reader #Batfamily #batfam #x reader #fanficion

[celtic-crossbow]

Whumptober 2023

No. 1: “How Many Fingers am I Holding Up?” | No. 5: Debris

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (pre-relationship)

Setting: Prison era

Warnings: Head injury

‘Please, don’t be dead. Please, don’t be dead!’ The railing on the stairs wobbled— a testament to the poor solidity of the building— as you hurried down the two floors separating you from the archer. The both of you agreed to tread carefully when entering the old hospital, the look of it not inspiring confidence but the probability of what it could contain overpowering any hesitance. Medical supplies were scarce in this world. Two Tylenol tablets and a pack of gauze would mean everything in what used to be the simplest of situations. 

“Daryl?” You called as loudly as you dared after shoving open the heavy metal door to the ground level. The hole in the flooring was easy to spot with the beam of your flashlight, several feet wide with dust still rising from the collapse. Your stomach twisted when there was no immediate reply, but another call was not necessary when you saw a piece of debris shift. A low groan followed the movement. You would swear that the moisture in your eyes was from the dust in the air. 

You had to hold the light in your mouth to help move the rubble covering him, but there he was. A little worse for wear but in one piece and blinking up at you with a dazed expression. The flashlight was propped against some of the wreckage so that your hands were free to help him sit up. 

“Are you okay?” He blinked a few more times and pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. He didn’t answer, minutely swaying where he sat. “Dixon, are you with me?” 

Daryl finally seemed to realize you were speaking to him and met your eyes, more than a little disoriented. “Huh?” 

Worry gnawed at your heart. “Are you alright? How do you feel?”

“Like I jus’ fell through the floor fer a half full bottle’a meds.” His speech was a bit slurred, his movements slow and jerky. He held up the aforementioned antibiotics and shook the bottle lightly. “Still got ‘em though.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Let me look you over and then we’ll get out of here.” You left no room for argument. The archer quickly squeezed his eyes shut when the flashlight was pointed toward his face, swatting at your hand lazily. “Stop it, I need to look at your eyes, you big baby.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He slowly peeled open one and then the other, keeping his hand in front of them while they adjusted to the light. After a few seconds, he dropped his arm so you could see two evenly sized, reactive pupils. 

“Good. That’s good.” Lowering the light, you reached for the back of his head before he could think to stop the unwanted touch. Your fingers quickly probed at a wet, raised area. 

“Hey! Tha’ hurts, woman!”

“You’ve got a decent sized bump on your noggin, Dixon. How many fingers am I holding up?” You had perfected the art of ignoring his griping over the span of months you’d spent with him, a feat that the others in your little apocalypse family wished they all could achieve. Or maybe he just wasn’t as grumpy with you to begin with. Your hand hovered between you, three fingers wiggling to get his attention. 

Daryl scoffed and began preparing himself to stand, nonchalantly flipping up his middle finger. “How many m’ I holdin’ up?” 

You sighed with a fond smile, dropping your hand to his arm to help him get to his feet. “Yeah, you’re okay enough to get back to Hershel.” It was a bit of a struggle getting him upright, and he swayed a little before you settled his arm over your shoulders. “I’m driving.” 

“Hell no, ‘ve been through ‘nough today.” His tone was gruff but not angry. 

“And I’d like to make it in one piece. I bet you see two of me right now, don’t you?”

“Wouldn’t be such a bad thing, don’ reckon.” 

You could feel your cheeks burn. You ducked your head when you felt him staring at you and pinched his side playfully. 

“You must’ve really hit your head, Dixon.”

#whumptober2023 #no.1 #no.5 #“how many fingers am i holding up?” #debris #the walking dead #fic #head injury #description of injury #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixion x reader #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon whump #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon the walking dead #murda writes

[aealzx]

Don had been quick to rush out of the plane to get the infirmary ready, but Leo found it was hard for him to put too much urgency into his movements. Twice now Donnie had reacted better to slow, careful motions than abrupt ones. So Leo found he was continuing to be a lot more gentle and careful than strictly necessary when picking him up. He was completely limp, even after having had two and a half hours of sleep. But at least a little bit of color had returned to his skin now. At least Leo thought he looked a little less pale. When both teens were asleep Don had shown Raphael and Leo the video of what Augustine had ordered to be done, and through it they had learned the assistants had taken nearly a liter of blood from Donnie, along with cutting tissue samples from him. It had been enough to get Raphael rapidly walking the length of the plane several times to calm down, and gave Don more of an idea on how to take care of Donnie. Leo just understood a little more why Donnie had reacted defensively towards him, and hoped the teen didn’t wake up in the middle of them treating him.

“Thank April,” Leo found himself saying distractedly to Mom April as she welcomed them home. It was always nice to get a hug from her, but Leo found he was too anxious to stick around and fully catch them up on everything. “I’m okay, can we talk later? Maybe over dinner? You guys might be able to meet the kids then too.”

“...Sure thing, Leo,” Mom April relented, noting how absent he seemed and not wanting to stress him out more. He always had been the one to worry a lot. Even when they were kids.

Leaving them with Mikey, Leo moved quickly to the infirmary to find Raphael sitting near the surgery table with Lil Mikey in his lap, and Don scurrying around the room to gather the supplies he needed. “Over there, Leo,” Don directed, pointing to one of the beds he’d already started gathering items next to. Obediently following the directions, Leo gingerly lowered Donnie to the soft mattress, silently praying that he didn’t wake up just yet. At least they were all breathing better after each getting at least one dose of the antidote. Leo could only wait patiently for Don to finally stop at the bedside, slipping his tactical sleeves off in the meantime, and by then Raphael had managed to convince Lil Mikey to accept treatment and was casually chatting away with him.

“Okay, I think I got everything. Can you support him so his back is to me? I need to figure out how to get that device off,” Don directed, sounding just slightly breathless. Wordlessly doing as he was directed once again, Leo pulled Donnie upright to lean forward against him, looking over the metal backpack from his angle as well to try and help Don figure out how to safely remove it.

“Hey!” Lil Mikey’s voice suddenly grabbed their attention while Don was running his fingers over the cool metal. “Don’t take that off! He needs it!”

The scolding caused Don to flinch, and turn to look over at the other table. “...Needs it as in it’s physically attached to him and offering some sort of life supporting function?” he asked, wanting clarification on what exactly Lil Mikey meant so he could judge if he actually needed to obey his demand, or explain that it was necessary to remove it. He didn’t want to ignore Lil Mikey’s concerns, but he wasn’t sure if they would hinder treatment for Donnie despite being in good will.

“N-no… Nothing like that. It’s just… it’s not safe for him to have it off. Especially when away from home,” Lil Mikey faltered, having not thought his choice of words would make the others think Donnie was some sort of cyborg.

“...Mikey, it’s okay. You’re both safe here,” Raphael assured, reaching out to rest his palm on Lil Mikey’s shoulder.

“Even if it’s a prosthetic, it’s not safe to wear one while sleeping. And I need to check him for injuries. We saw evidence that Augustine’s people may have done something to his back…,” Don explained gently, understanding that Lil Mikey was still wary despite everything that had happened. He couldn’t expect the teens to trust them fully just yet.

It seemed that mentioning that something may have happened to Donnie’s back was enough to get Lil Mikey to completely flip his stance, sucking in a tense breath and wiggling his feet as he considered. “...There’s a button on the inside of the right shoulder,” he relented, frowning miserably. “Just make sure to be super extra careful, okay?”

“We’ll be extremely careful. Don’t worry,” Don assured, grateful for the tip on where to find the trigger to release the device. Once he knew where to look Don quickly found the button and pressed it, marveling as the shoulder pieces flexed outward with a slight hiss, and the belt went slack. “Fascinating…” he breathed, earning a chuckle from Leo as he hefted the metal aside, distracted by trying to get a quick analysis of it while he moved it away..

As Don took the equipment a short ways away, Leo adjusted his grip to keep Donnie supported against him, resting his hands on the teen’s back. But what he felt caused him to stiffen in shock, suddenly afraid to move. His fingers were able to push into what should have been a hard keratin shell, and when his gaze snapped down he saw a significantly flatter shell with four jagged marks across the surface. “....Donnie get back here now,” Leo blurted rapidly, flexing his fingers just slightly to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

“What is it- Oh!” Don rushed, semi dropping the backpack device the rest of the way to the floor and rushing back over to them. What he saw caused him to freeze as well, but then he gingerly reached out his fingers to brush against Donnie’s back. “...Oh wow…”

“It’s soft right? What does that mean? Is that bad? Shells aren’t supposed to be soft,” Leo rambled, his concern overflowing and pushing his bubbling thoughts to words before he could fully consider them. What had Augustine’s people done? Was it shell rot? Was it some crazy experimental garbage Augustine had infected him with?

“He’s a softshell you idiots. Stop manhandling him!” Lil Mikey blurted irritably, offended on behalf of his brother for the other two curiously running their hands all over his back. “So rude,” he huffed, creating small chains to wrap around Don’s wrists and pull them away.

“Sorry!” Don gasped, snatching his hands back as the orange chains broke him from his stupor, and not minding Lil Mikey scolding him. “Sorry- Let me just… do some quick research- I thought you were both box turtles like us…,” he rambled, pulling his phone out to access the internet.

“Ohmigosh- He’s not an alien. Just treat him like me, but be extra careful, and make sure you clean your hands and everything you use. Leo- my brother says he’s prone to infections. He’s always using antibiotic stuff on him and making sure he gets washed up properly for even small cuts. Otherwise he does everything else pretty much the same,” Lil Mikey huffed again, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

The interaction caused Raphael to snicker despite the situation. He didn’t want to admit he was curious to head over and take a peek for himself, but he figured Lil Mikey would probably throw him across the room with his chains if he did. So he decidedly remained where he was and continued to be amused from afar.

Don listened to what Mikey said, but also sped read through a few sites and different search parameters before he grew more relaxed and sure of his thoughts. “Infection… right, that would explain the fever,” he spoke, mostly to himself, then nodded firmly. “Okay. I got this. Leo, go ahead and lay him back down, then get some water and antibacterial soap. They both need to be cleaned up, and I’ll check the incision sites…”

Leo wasn’t quite as sure of himself as Don was, but at least he had directions now. What Don said made sense to him. If Donnie got infections easily then getting him cleaned up from the grim on him was a priority. Resting him back on the bed, Leo darted off to fetch a soft rag, soap, and water so he could wash off the debris from Augustine’s facility. Don had returned to his focused state after he started peeling the bandaids off, carefully inspecting each injury as he did so. He could at least count it a small blessing that Augustine had apparently ordered only the smallest possible samples be taken. The cuts were only 15 millimeters wide, and less than a millimeter thick. But it looked like they were pretty deep, and Don gingerly cleaned each wound again before rubbing antibiotic ointment on them and getting them covered again.

It didn’t take long before Don had finished addressing the injuries, started an IV with a small amount of antibiotics added to it, and strapped a heart monitor to Donnie’s finger just in case. When he began pulling a blanket over Donnie and tucking him in, Leo knew the treatment was done for now, and asked what he’d been wondering for a while now. “Is he going to be okay?”

Don paused for a second to think, but nevertheless nodded. “I think so. Aside from the bloodloss there isn’t anything incredibly concerning. I think he’s just incredibly exhausted, and that’s why he hasn’t woken up yet. We’ll need to keep an eye on him of course, but at this point I think it’s safe to just let him sleep. The IV fluids will help until his body restores the blood he lost, and we’ll need to get him a good meal when he’s up. But he’ll be fine.”

The explanation, and plans for what to do later, earned a sigh of relief from Leo. It could have been much, much worse. He was glad that, aside from Lil Mikey’s gunshot wound, nothing seemed to be critically serious. “I’ll go check what Mikey is cooking then. And let Master Splinter know we’re all home safe, in case he’s still up.”

“You know he is,” Don gave a small grin, and slight shake of his head.

Leo just laughed quietly, rising to his feet to head to the exit. “Yeah, I know.”

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the fun thing about adding drawings to these is that I can throw in random lil details without derailing the story X'D

Also after seeing some of the comments, don't worry, they're all gonna be fine. I don't believe in hurt without comfort =3= Donnie is just taking an extreme nap to process all the overstimulation and stuff.

#my art #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2003 #rise + 2003 crossover #cross dimension kidnapping #writing #long post #lookit these dummies being confused about a softshell #medical treament #description of injury

[mckiwi]

Heat of the Moment

To Read on AO3

"Heat of the Moment": Asia, 1982

Something is invading and killing the villagers of Jotunheim. Now sitting as king of Jotunheim, Loki reluctantly summons Stephen to help him save his kingdom. Stephen gets to prove magic isn't the only thing he's good at.

Genre: Comedy/Adventure/Murder Mystery

Characters: Stephen Strange, Loki Laufeyson, and Thor Odinson

Words: 3,191

"You mean you can't just 'abracadabra' your problems away?" Loki asks with feigned shock. 

"Oh, please. First, Thor doesn't understand how e-mails work, now you apparently don't know what the term 'kidnap' means. Allow me to explain it to you, Your Royal Highness. 'To take someone away illegally by force.'" Stephen defines sassily. 

"I have no concern for your Midgardian laws, Wizard," Loki says. 

"You used the Bifrost to take me from my Sanctum! That's an invasion of privacy." Stephen chides, then adds, "And the preferred term is 'Master of the Mystic Arts.'"

"I didn't even want to summon you, initially!" Loki argues back. 

"Well I'm here now, and it better be for good reason!" Stephen snaps. 

"Trust me, it'll be worth your time." Loki says,  ignoring Stephen's unimpressed look at 'trust me,' "you're a doctor, or at least was one, yes?"

Stephen, baffled at why that particular detail of his life was being brought up, asks, "Correct, but what does that have to do with you rudely kidnapping me?"

"And you are the current Sorcerer Supreme as well?"

"Actually, that would be Wong. Though I'm a sort of unofficial second-in-command," Stephen explains. 

Loki didn't look as if he fully believed him, but carried on regardless. "I need your– your duty as a sorcerer– your assistance would be," he softly growls in frustration at himself, "you would be doing Jotunheim a great service if you would be willing to assist us in our time of need." Loki nods, satisfied with his request. 

As amusing as it was seeing the silver-tongued god struggle for words, Stephen wasn't that cruel. "Fine, I'll help. What exactly is the problem?"

His agreement seemed to at least ease some of the tension off Loki's face, "You see, two villages have been invaded, all civilians either killed gruesomely or reported missing. And we have no information on the creature suspected of these crimes. No trace of them to identify. Rather impressive, I must say."

Any irritation Stephen was holding turned into intrigue, "Yeah, I'd say that justifies as a problem."

"To put it lightly," Loki agrees. "Oh, and I did also ask Thor to assist. As much as I hate to admit it, we'll most likely be needing him."

"No arguments from me," Stephen says with a nod. "Why do you need my help, anyway? You're intelligent. A fairly decent sorcerer, too, despite how much you seem to love daggers."

Loki sighs, "You and only one other have ever managed to trick me. Surely for an accomplishment such as that there's something to be of use from you."

"Thank you," Stephen says with a small smirk. 

"That wasn't a compliment." Loki retorts.

"Sure it wasn't." 

"It wasn't!"

"Brother!" That was Thor, striding into the room. "Strange! You will be accompanying us on our journey as well? Loki, I see you finally decided to get help!" Loki narrows his eyes at Thor's word choice. "The more the merrier! How does life treat you these days?" He sets a hand on Stephen's shoulder with such force he nearly stumbles over like a bowling pin. 

"I'm doing pretty good. What about you?" Stephen asks. 

"I'm also doing well, thank you. Brother, how's your reign been so far?" Thor turns his attention to Loki. 

"All has been settled nicely with hardly any misgivings, our current predicament excluded of course. What of yours?" Loki asks with a hint of a prideful smile curling his lips. 

Thor answers, "New Asgard is coming along nicely. Stark has been kind enough to help us get settled as our own establishment." 

"I'll have to come by and visit soon, then. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to figure out who's killing my people now."

—————————

He had seen disturbing injuries in his time working at the ER, ranging from point-blank GSWs to a drunk man falling into a bonfire. (Charred skin is one of those smells you will never forget.) Never has Stephen seen something quite like this, however. The fire casts shadows across the walls as he crouches down to get a better look at the body. The Frost Giant man, albeit taller and bluer than the average male, has surprisingly similar anatomy to a human. "Even my interns at the hospital would've been ashamed of a Krocher incision like that," Stephen comments, hovering his hand over the sloppy gash. "About a 20° downward slope starting just under the rib cage. I'd say about 8 or 9 inches wide. I suspect an organ might be missing, too. You see the way the stomach caves in a bit more there?" He gestures to the area right under the ribs. 

"Do you have any ideas of what could've caused a cut like that?" Loki asks, crouching down on the other side of the body. 

"The stomach wasn't cut open, it was ripped open. I once had to treat someone who was mauled by a black bear. Looked a lot like this. It could've been caused by a claw, or dull instrument of some kind." Stephen explains. 

Thor asks, "You suspect one of the other villagers could have done this?" 

Before Stephen can answer, Loki chimes in, "They've invaded two villages. Surely a single person wouldn't be able to do this much damage." 

"Probably a creature of some kind then. How many do you think?" Stephen asks. 

Loki puffs his cheeks in exasperation, "How am I to know?"

"Not only were you born here, you're the king of Jotunheim. I assume you know what creatures live around here and if they come in packs."

"Oh what, so you knew what animals were around the place you were born?" 

"I was a farm kid, so yeah, actually, I did. Had to know what to protect the cattle from." Stephen stands up with a huff to stand beside the lit furnace, watching the flames devour the wood inside, and lets the silence sit for a moment. 

"Amazing how quickly fire can destroy," Loki comments, also watching the wood curl and flake away into the glittering coals below. 

"Or preserve," Stephen challenges, "I don't know if Asgard or Jotunheim has the same custom, but on Earth, we sometimes choose to cremate our dead. The flesh will decay, but the ashes, however... the ashes allow us to keep them close without smelling quite so bad." Loki snorts softly at that. "Should we cremate this body?"

"We have our own customs that I'll see to after we get things settled," Loki says. The trio watched the flames in silence for a few moments. The fire crackled and ashes rose to land on a nearby dusty shelf. "What're you doing?" Loki asks as Stephen approaches the shelf. 

He runs a finger across the wood, inspecting the layer of dust now coating his finger. "Did you know that dust is largely composed of skin cells?" At Thor and Loki's questioning looks Stephen announces, "I've an idea." With a sweeping of his hand, he gathers the dust into a loose but small golden cylinder. As he explains, the cylinder spins around rapidly, "this spell will act as a sort of centrifuge. It'll keep the skin cells in and kick the other particles out." As said, the spell released and only a few particles remained. Stephen draws the particles into his palm and slides his other hand over them. A thin, golden line follows. He pushes the spell forward and the line shoots out past the building, far past what they could see.

"Woah," Thor breathes.

Stephen allows himself a small, prideful smile. "No trace of them to identify, huh?" He asks, quoting Loki. 

"Shut up," Loki says as start to follow the line. 

—————————

As a Master of the Mystic Arts, Stephen is expected to have at least a basic knowledge of the nine realms, but he somehow underestimated just how frigid the place actually is. He's slightly jealous of the two æsir. Both Thor and Loki only wear their normal armor, yet still look completely unfazed. The snowflakes clinging to their hair is a mere fashion accessory to them. Meanwhile, Stephen is shivering even with four layers of thick clothing and the air itself hurts his face. His hands ache something awful, too. He can feel the cold metal beneath his skin and the way his blood vessels constrict around them. Thor's higher body temperature allows him to not feel the cold so harshly, and Loki's biology thrives in the cold. Goldilocks got it wrong this time. Being in the middle wasn't just right.

"The spell ends here," Loki breaks him from his thoughts. He didn't even realize the brothers had stopped walking. Stephen looks up from where he had been absent-mindedly stepping in Thor's larger footsteps in the snow, only to face the opening of a cave. The mountain range they had trekked the edge of hid the mouth like it was a sacred treasure to be kept secret. He probably wouldn't have even noticed it if Loki hadn't pointed it out. 

"Where is 'here,' exactly?" Stephen asks.

"I would imagine this is the pests' place of residence. Perhaps the villagers that have gone missing were brought back here." Loki answers. 

"Seems like a safe bet," Stephen concurs.

Thor says, "All-Father grant us strength and protection. Let us go, then."

"Wait, we're not coming up with a plan or anything? Loki, back me up here." Stephen cautions.

"What is that phrase you people of Earth use? 'Expect the unexpected'. That's our plan." Loki explains flippantly. 

"That is not a plan. That's just... going with the flow." Stephen scoffs.

Loki smirks, "Let's hope you're a good swimmer then, Strange." Loki starts walking towards the cave's entrance with Thor at his heels. 

"Oh for the love of–" Stephen sighs, but follows. These two idiots are bound to get themselves killed at this rate. 

The cave was dark the further they went in. Stephen had cast a night vision spell on the trio so they could explore without drawing attention to themselves. At least by light, that is. Sound is another issue. 

Loki hisses, "Could you possibly walk any louder?"

Thor huffs in a whisper, "I'm only walking as I normally do."

"We're trying to sneak in here, you big oaf. Key word there being 'sneak.'" Loki says. 

"I am well aware of that!" Thor insists, and at least attempts to soften his footsteps. 

Stephen matches his pace to Thor's, "Hang on, watch me. Roll your feet like this. Heel hits the ground first, then you roll to your toes." He demonstrates and Thor tries to copy his movements. "My father used to go fox hunting when I was a child and would occasionally bring me along. He taught me how to walk through the woods without scaring the animals."

"I never took you for a hunter, Strange," Thor comments. 

"I never did shoot anything. I would mostly just watch the birds and squirrels. It was peaceful out there. I would just tell my father nothing was out." Stephen whispers.

"Do neither of you understand the concept of being quiet?" Loki whispers back, giving the pair a side-eye Michelle Obama would be proud of. The ground beneath them starts to rumble slightly, only lasting a few seconds. A low groan echoes from the other side of the cave, which quickly leads to various more groans. 

The three stare into the darkness. The darkness stares back at them. 

Then blinks. 

"Run!” Thor leads the way, with Loki in the middle and Stephen trailing closely behind. They maneuver through the tunnels as hound-like creatures with long claws chase at their heels. Stephen turns around briefly to cast the Flames of the Faltine, leaving a barrier of flames between the trio and the creatures. Much to Stephen's confusion, the creatures aren't deterred from the flames, instead, they seem to bathe in the warmth. It almost stops him in his tracks, but a hand grabs him around the wrist and pulls him along. He hears Loki mutter something under his breath, probably an insult, before the two are off to catch up to Thor. 

They run through the tunnels until Thor comes to a sudden stop. He and Loki almost plow into him. Thor backtracks quickly from where he almost falls off a small cliff. Down below is a large ravine. The entire hoard of creatures scamper across small ledges alongside the walls. The floor is made of black, rough stone, and orange light leaks through cracks spreading throughout the stone. What catches their eyes though, is the giant creature in the middle. Over ten times the size of the other creatures, this one lazily has it's mouth open while the other creatures come by and drop small chunks of meat into it. He hears Thor suck in a breath beside him and follows his eye-line to see a Jötunn body tucked away into a crevice, its stomach torn open as one of the creatures roots around in his guts. It pulls out an organ. Smaller creatures, possibly the children, come and drag the body away, munching at the body's sides while doing so. 

"They're eating the livers," Stephen says, lip curling in disgust. 

Loki blanches, "No, Strange. They're feeding the livers to the Queen. The rest they eat for themselves.”

A pebble rolls across the ground, causing the three to whip around. A creature prowls closer, eyes dead set on Thor. Stephen casts Mandala shields at his fists, and the creature's attention diverts to him. He narrows his eyes in thought and dissipates the shields. The creature's attention is back on Thor. Stephen summons a heatless light in his palm, yet the creature’s attention remains on Thor. Stephen huffs a laugh, "They see in infrared!" The creature pounces at Thor, but Stephen uses the Bands of Cyttorak to contain it. It struggles and writhes in its clutches, but almost immediately calms when Stephen ignites flames around it. Thor and Loki circle as Stephen inspects the creature. Now that he had the chance to get a good look at it, he could see how its eyes were similar to that of a fox. "See, Loki? It does good to know the predators in your area. This one evidently seeks heat. That's probably why they sought out the liver. It's typically one of the hottest organs, and it matches with the type of cut we saw in the other victim."

Loki either doesn't hear him or ignores his comment, most likely the latter, and comes closer to the creature. "Varmesøker," Loki announces. 

"Bless you," Thor says. 

Stephen gives him a questioning look, "Varme-what? Is that what it's called?"

"Norns if I know. I just imagined it would need a name. Varmesøker means 'heat seeker.' Seemed appropriate." Loki explains. Stephen hums with approval while Thor nods. 

"Now to address the Varmesøker in the room, what're we going to do with them?" Thor asks. 

Stephen starts, "We could-"

"No," Loki interrupts. 

"You didn't even let me finish!" Stephen protests.

"You didn't need to. You were going to suggest we lure them all to one place and kill them with the thing they love so much. Fire." Loki says. 

Stephen gapes at him for a moment, "First of all, that was a bit morbid. Secondly... yea, kinda."

Loki sighs, "And that's why I said no. Your plans historically aren't the best."

"My plans have defeated the likes of Dormammu and Thanos, for your information. Do you have a better plan?" Stephen raises his voice slightly.

"Umm, guys?" Thor says.

"To lead them away we would need a heat source," Loki argues. 

"Good thing we have three right here with us," Stephen counters back. 

Loki raises a brow, "you're not suggesting we use ourselves to draw them away?"

"Loki?" Thor alerts. 

"While using my magic, I have the highest heat signature. I'm suggesting I lead them away while you figure out where your people are." Stephen explains.

"That would never-" Thor's hand slaps over Loki's mouth. 

"They know we're here!" Thor exclaims in a hushed whisper. Sure enough, one of the Varmesøkers is entering the cave while two more climb onto the cliff they are arguing on. Loki pulls the hand away from his face with a glare. All three creatures stare down Thor until their attention is brought to the fire encircling one of their companions. 

Stephen whispers, "Thor, blast the floor in the ravine. You need to break it." Before either has the time to question his request, Stephen summons the Flames of the Faltine once again, except this time, he keeps it on his person and takes off running. The Varmesøkers are quick behind him. 

"I'm going to figure out where they're storing my people," Loki tells Thor once Stephen's out of earshot then disappears with a gleam of green. 

Thor huffs, "Guess I'll just stay here, then." 

—————————

Thor observes the floor of the ravine carefully from his perch on the cliff. From what he could tell, the floor was composed of cracked obsidian, so the orange glow beneath it must be magma of some sort. He knew from his studies as a child that obsidian was a type of glass, so theoretically if he were to strike it with lightning, it would completely shatter. His main problem, however, was the Queen and other Varmesøkers still occupying said floor. As he prepared himself to unleash a bolt, he heard snarls and growls from at least three dozen Varmesøkers and running footsteps from a nearby tunnel, "Thor, do it now!" Strange yells.

With that, Thor let lightning surround his body.

—————————

"Thor, do it now!" Stephen yelled at the god. He didn't know why Thor hadn't yet opened the floor to the magma chamber below, but he needed it done now! He kept running through the tunnel, flame in hand, with the Cloak swatting away jaws that got too close. He was rapidly coming up with a plan B, but Thor must've heard his call and Stephen saw how lightning started to surround his body. It crackled around him, and the attention of every single Varmesøker in the area turned to him. Lightning blasted the ground below, and the obsidian fell away into the magma. Stephen ran up to the edge of the cliff edge, increasing the intensity of the ball of fire in hand, and dropped it into the chasm. The Cloak lifted him above the stampede of creatures as they fell after the fire, one after one, and into the firey pits below. 

Thor and Loki join him on a nearby cliff edge, watching all of the creatures fall into the magma-like shooting stars. Loki speaks first, “I found a few surviving villagers. I freed a few of the less injured ones to help the others with the promise to return after dealing with the threat.”

“I’ll help you bring the others back,” Thor says. Stephen makes a noise of agreement. 

Loki clicks his tongue and sighs, "I suppose that takes care of our murder problem, then. Looks like your plan did work this time, after all, Wizard.”

Stephen chuckles a bit to himself and does jazz hands with little effort, "Abracadabra!"

#mckiwiwrites #stephen strange #doctor strange #loki laufeyson #thor odinson #medical doctor stephen strange #jotunn loki #murder mystery #attempt at humor #alternate universe #post engame #nobody dies #background character death #description of injury #marvel #doctor strange fanfic #stephen strange fanfic #fanfic #marvel fanfic

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Whumptober Day 1 (Aaron Hotchner and male reader)

No. 1 A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY

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

Word Count: 2443

WARNINGS: Bear traps as restraints, barbed wire as restraints, blood, description of injury, gore (not too bad but just in case), injured reader, injured hotch, creepy unsub, creepy whumper, a lot of hurt

I’m lowkey amazed I managed to write this all in one day? 

@whumptober-archive

You groaned as you woke, head pounding painfully. What on Earth happened? You remember walking with Hotch back to the hotel - it was only a block away - talking over details of the case and then a yell and then nothing. Hotch, where was Hotch? Despite the sharp pain behind your eyes, you forced them open, you couldn't see much. It was dark, annoyingly dark. You weren’t quite sure where you were, there was nothing that you could see that you immediately recognised.

Your eyes drifted to a figure laid on the floor. Hotch! You moved to stand up, to help him, pain flooded through your foot. Curiosity getting the best of you, you looked down. Your heart dropped to your stomach. A bear trap, your foot was trapped in a bear trap. 

“Oh god,” You whimpered, “Oh god, Hotch? Hotch! You need to wake up! Hotch?! God, Hotch, wake up! Please!” You gave a loud sob, not caring that you were supposed to be a hard-ass FBI agent. No, right now you were twenty three year old (Y/N) who was scared out of his mind because he was trapped in a fucking bear trap.

“God, will you just shut up?” You froze at the voice. Someone else was there too? “Thank you, about time too.  Now, make another sound and I’ll give you something to cry about, okay?” You nodded quickly. “Good. And, stop worrying about Mr Boss over there, he’s fine - well, all things considered.”

“Is-  Is he-” You paused, not sure how to continue.

“Stuck in a bear trap?” When you nodded the unsub laughed, shaking his head, “No, that’s just for you. I was only expecting one of you, so I had to improvise with him,”

"What did you do to him? When's he going to wake up?" 

"You know, I'd be more worried about myself, if I were you. Hotch isn't the one stuck in a bear trap," You gulped at the reminder before mentally shaking yourself out of it. You needed to focus on something else (Hotch) to take your mind off it. 

"When is he going to wake up?"

The unsub scoffed, "Do I look like a doctor to you?"

"I can't actually see you," You snapped back, causing him to chuckle. 

"You're funny," He replied dryly. "We'll see how long that lasts," 

A moment of silence passed, you focusing on a way to get you and Hotch out of this situation as quickly as humanly possible. 

“I’ll be back later, when he’s awake and the fun can really begin,” You strained your eyes, trying to track the Unsub’s movements despite the darkness. You heard footsteps and the door open (which annoyingly didn’t let any light in), more footsteps, the door close, and then nothing. You breathed a sigh of release. He was gone. Good, now you could figure out how the fuck to get out of this situation. Okay, bear trap first, then wake Hotch up, Hotch could take over from there. 

Your hands hovered over the trap, trying to gain the courage to pull your foot out. You drew in a deep breath, settling your hands on the cold metal of the frame. Drawing in another deep breath, you shut your eyes, preparing to pull when your hands were yanked away from you. 

You gave an expected cry as your hands were forced behind your back, you pulled against the hands as hard as you could, not knowing what was going to happen. The unsub growled, backhanding you across the face, taking the time it took you to recover as an opportunity to grip both of your wrists in his hand, you didn’t have much time to ponder why the unsub was wearing gloves before you heard fumbling behind you. 

You wiggled feebly in his grip, which simply tightened as a warning and you stopped. Even if you did get out of his grasp, then what? Hotch was still unconscious and your leg was injured, you wouldn’t be able to leave him and you couldn’t carry him in your condition. 

You shut your eyes, hoping to pretend that instead you were simply having a nightmare and would wake up any moment. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case. You shivered, feeling cold metal being wrapped around your wrists. Metal? The confusion was short lived, when the unsub wrapped the wire around your wrist a second time, you felt multiple spikes prick into your skin and you gave a yelp. Barbed wire? This prick was using barbed wire!

“Make another sound,” The voice growled into your ears, you shut your eyes tightly, “And I’ll shove it down your throat,”

Before you knew it, your wrists were tightly tied together with a long piece of barbed wire. You felt sick. Apparently the bear trap on your foot wasn't enough. Oh god, what if that's what he used with Hotch? You flicked your eyes over the body, trying to see if you could make anything out, huffing when you couldn't. How the fuck were you going to get out of this?

“Perfect!” The unsub chimed, crouching down in front of you, he gently wiped away a tear from your cheek, “Don’t cry, (Y/N), we’re going to have so much fun,” He gently kissed your forehead before standing. “Now, no trying to run away while I’m gone,” He chuckled, “I’ll see you soon,”

You shut your eyes until you knew for sure he had left, breathing deeply, trying your best to think of anything else but the pain. Hotch, think about Hotch. You strained your ears, managing to pick up on the older man’s breathing, your eyes snapped open when you heard a quiet groan. “Hotch?” You whispered, scared that the unsub was still in the room.

There was another groan, this one louder than the last, “(Y/N)?” 

Relief flooded your veins, “Hotch?” You asked timidly, “You awake?”

You heard him huff a small laugh, “Yes, I’m awake,”

“Okay, good, that’s good,” You said with a nod. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Hotch said, “He used barbed wire to restrain me though. What about you?”

Hotch had become a surrogate father to you since you joined the team six months ago. You were the youngest member of the team, Reid included (who was twenty eight), and so everyone had quickly become protective of you - which you secretly loved (not that you’d tell them that). Pretty much all of them had all become like your siblings. But Hotch, Hotch had mentored you, checked up on you, protected you, he had become everything a father is. 

“(Y/N)?” He asked, “Are you injured?”

“Um…” Your voice was higher than you cared to admit - a telltale sign you were lying. You heard Hotch shift, probably turning towards you. 

“(Y/N)? Are you hurt?”  

“Er, sort of,”

“‘Sort of’? What do you mean ‘sort of’?” Just as he had asked the question, the lights flickered on, causing the pair of you to squint your eyes shut. You forced your eyes open, trying your best to fight against them trying to flutter closed. No. You needed to see where you were. 

Hotch pried his eyes open, stomach sinking when he saw the small puddle of blood that had been collecting under foot. Then his eyes focused on the bear trap and he felt nausea flood through him. Oh God. This was not good. He flicked his eyes to yours, trying his best to seem unworried. You were staring at your leg, face pale, chin quivering from the adrenaline, “(Y/N)?” When you turned to him, your eyes watered further, something about seeing the man who had become your source of comfort (not that you were going to say that out loud either), a few spilling down your cheek. “Hey, listen to me, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to get out of this and we are going to be okay,”

“Now, now, Aaron,” A voice from the corner of the room made you jump, it was the man from before. You couldn’t see his face, just a white mask, he was leaning against the wall, looking bored. “Don’t lie to the kid,” He turned to you, “You’re both going to die here,” 

You shook your head. No, no you weren’t. You weren’t going to believe some idiot over Hotch. Not after the month you had known each other - he had never lied to you and you trusted him completely, and that wasn’t going to stop now. “No, Hotch doesn’t lie,” You insisted, Hotch found the corner of his mouth turning upwards, glad that you still trusted him after he led you into this situation. 

The man in the mask laughed, “It’s sweet that you think that, really it is,” He snorted, “But you’ll see the truth soon enough,”

You didn’t answer, focusing all your rage into a glare aimed at that stupid mask. He kicked himself off the wall as he walked closer, “It’s alright, soon you’ll realise that I’m the only one you can trust,”

You huffed a laugh, despite your pain. “You’re funny, really, you’re funny,” The eyes behind the mask flashed with fury, storming up to you, he grabbed you by the collar, lifting you up, and slamming you against the wall, causing you to cry out in pain - both from the barbed wire, and the jolt on your foot it caused. Aaron gave an enraged yell as he struggled against his restraints, not caring as they dug further into his skin, as his blood slowly cascaded down his hands.

“Well? What do you say after you hurt someone’s feelings?” When you don’t answer, the unsub rolls his eyes, slamming you into the wall again. “Well?!”

“S-sorry!”

“Good, just don’t let it happen again,” He said, letting you drop to the floor in a heap, “I wouldn’t want to hurt you. Understood?” You nod. He bent down, leaning close to you, “Just to make sure you do…” He stood, walking over to Hotch, he kicked him to the ground, you watched with wide eyes as the steel toe of the unsub’s shoe repeatedly landed itself into Hotch’s side. 

“Stop!” The word was so rushed it felt like you weren’t the one saying it, “Stop! Get off him! Stop! Leave him alone!” You fought against the wire sat on your wrists, ignore the warm blood that dripped down your wrists to your hands, you pulled against the trap on instinct, not caring for the pain it caused. You needed to stop him. You needed to help Hotch. 

The unsub turned on his heels and left, shutting the door behind him. He took most of the light with him too, dialling down the setting to it’s lowest possible whilst still producing light. 

"Well," You mumbled, face pale and clammy, "I think it’s safe to say that this wasn't supposed to happen," Hotch huffed a laugh, wincing at the pain it caused in his chest. You frowned, eyes focused on the floor in front of you, "I'm sorry,"

"This isn't your fault, (Y/N)." His voice was stern, you looked down at the floor. "I promise you, this isn't your fault." 

“I should have been more aware of my surroundings,” You slurred, “‘ll be more aware n’xt time sir,”

“(Y/N),” Aaron responded sternly, “This isn’t your fault, neither of us knew this was going to happen. The team will find us, and we will both be okay,”

Unsure of what to say, you gave a short nod. It must have been hours. Your leg throbbed dully to the rhythm of your heartbeat and it was slowly driving you crazy. You just wanted to sleep, but Hotch wouldn’t let you. Everytime he noticed your eyes beginning to droop, he’d ask you a question about a previous case, or your opinion on a technique, or your favourite thing. Just anything to keep you awake. 

“(Y/N)?” Hotch said, “What’s the best interview technique to use?”

“Depends,” You hummed.

“Yeah? What’s it depend on?”

“Factors based on the witness,”

“What’s Morgan’s favourite type of interview?”

“Cognitive,” You said with a small chuckle. 

The door swung open, your head snapped towards it. The blood loss might be getting to you, you blinked slowly, hoping that your double vision would go (although, it was more like triple vision). 

One of the figures went to Hotch, you followed the figure, you had to make sure Hotch was okay. Two of the figures approached you. God, you hoped this was just a bad dream. One crouched by your leg and you instinctively tried to pull it closer to you, whimpering when it caused a wave of pain to ripple through your body. The other figure crouched in front of you. 

“Hey, kid, you’re okay,” His voice was soft. You knew that voice from somewhere. Where did you know that voice? You blinked sluggishly before it clicked.

“Morgan?” You asked, blinking up at the figure in front of you, trying your best to stop it from blurring. You had to see who it was. You had to make sure Hotch was okay. He was the team leader, he was needed. You blinked again, the face of Derek Morgan coming into view. “You here?”

“Yeah, I’m here kid,” He answered, “We got the bastard, we’re just going to get you and Hotch to the hospital, okay?” You hummed, fighting back sleep. “Hey, hey, I need you to stay awake, okay?”

You nodded. Stay awake. You could do that. “Okay,” You replied.

“Good, that’s good, kid,” He answered, “I’m just getting this wire off you’re wrists, okay? Then we’re getting your leg out of that trap okay?”

“‘T’s still there?”

“Yeah, kid, it’s still there,”

“Huh,” Morgan’s eyes flicked up, sharing a concerned look with Rossi, who was currently cutting the wire that bound Hotch. Hotch was oddly quiet, eyes trained on (Y/N) with worry, watching his every move. “This whole day’s been wild man,” 

Clipping the wires, he managed to pry them from your wrists as gently as possible before he sat behind you to ensure you wouldn’t fall back. He nodded at Spencer, who inched closer to the contraption on your leg. You gave another whimper, trying to edge away. “I know, kid, I know, it’s going to be okay, you’re gonna be fine,”

“We’re here now, (Y/N), you’re going to be okay,” You turned your head, meeting eyes with Hotch, who gave a soft nod and a small, comforting smile. You relaxed in Morgan’s arms, finally allowing your body to rest. You were safe, your team was here. You were going to be okay.

#No. 1 #whumptober 2022 #criminal minds fanfiction #x male reader #male reader #aaron hotchner #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #hotch #derek morgan #morgan #david rossi #rossi #blood #gore #creepy whumper #creepy unsub #injury #description of injury #hurt #bear traps #barbed wire #spencer reid #reid

[wiggog-y-wrath]

[There seems to be static as it stares ahead, still chained to the chair. It shakes slightly as it wants to help. It wanted to do something as Tinky was being.. tinkered with. It can't say anything, the wires painfully pulling at its skin whenever it even tries to move its arm or mouth. It stares at tinky, tears still slowly dripping into the floor as they're inside of its head. It doesn't want them to be hurt. It doesn't want them to even be here.]

#wiggly's wonders #tw implied torture #description of injury

[arecaceae175]

Whumptober Day 10: Adrenaline Crash (Time)

Read on AO3 or here. Alternative prompt 10 today bc the actual prompt was scary. Trigger warnings: violence, description of injury, bloody imagery

His chest heaved, breaths coming out in measured gasps. His grip on the Biggoron sword was strong and sure. Black blood ran down the blade in rivulets; it coated his clothes and puddled around his feet. 

Time scanned the carnage before him, searching for enemies still alive. Blood, guts, and severed body parts littered the field, painting the otherwise scenic landscape in harsh, dark colors. Dozens of bodies were piled around him. Some were beginning to fade into black dust, some were still choking on their own blood. 

Time swiftly stepped through the piles, driving his sword hard through each monster’s chest. Breathe in, stab down, pull out, next. He repeated it until every monster fell away into dust. Twilight’s pained cry reverberated in his mind, spurring him to move faster, hit harder, leave no survivors. 

A stick broke behind him. Time whipped around, sword slashing at the sound. It clashed against metal, the sound ringing in his ears and bouncing around his head. Time blindly pulled his sword back and slashed again.

“Woah, Time, stop!”

There was no stopping, he couldn’t stop. Not while Twilight was bleeding out behind him with a sword through his stomach. He had to eliminate the threat. 

The Fierce Deity mask sang. Time’s vision swam, but he resisted its call. Not this time, not again. Adrenaline surged through his body, and Time brought his sword down hard.

“Sprite, stop!”

Time paused. Sprite. He hasn’t heard that name in years. Not since…

“It’s me! It’s Warriors!” 

Time’s vision cleared through sheer force of will. He blinked rapidly, then Warrior’s face swam into focus. Warriors had his sword held in a defensive position. His eyes were wide, locked on Time’s face. Time felt himself swaying on his feet, so he readjusted his stance. This wasn’t over, yet.

“Twilight,” Time choked out. Warriors’ brow furrowed in confusion. He looked over Time’s shoulder, and his eyes widened. 

Time spun on his heel and hurried over to Twilight. He heard the clank of Warriors’ chainmail close behind. Time crashed to his knees. Warriors knelt down beside him, hands immediately going to Twilight’s wound. Four and Sky knelt down, as well, and Time blinked in surprise. He hadn’t noticed their approach. Had they been there the whole time?

Four and Sky quickly set to work. As Four pulled potions and bandages out of his bag, Time let himself fall back on his heels. Twilight was safe. 

“Hey, Old Man, why don’t you drop the sword,” Warriors said softly. 

Time blinked, and let his gaze fall to his sword hand. It was shaking, and the sword clattered against a rock. Warriors’ hand closed around his, and guided him to set his sword on the ground. 

“Are you hurt?” Warriors’ asked. Time’s mind raced, his blood felt like it was vibrating inside his body. Everything looked out of focus, and Warriors’ voice sounded like it was coming through water.

“No, Twilight,” Time said forcefully, shaking his head. Wasn’t that obvious? Warriors nodded, frowning.

“Sky and Four are taking care of him right now. He’ll be just fine. Are you hurt?” Warriors asked again. 

“No,” Time said. No, Twilight had taken the sword meant for him. Twilight, his successor, his family, had taken the hit and was bleeding out, and Time had to protect him-

“Twilight, he was stabbed, I have to make sure he’s safe,” Time said.

Warriors’ frown deepened. “He’s right there, Time. Look, he’s safe. You did it.”

“Is he okay?” Four asked, glancing between Warriors and Time. Twilight wasn’t okay, that’s why they were all kneeling here, wasn’t it? Time had been sloppy, Twilight had taken the hit, and Time had to make sure he was safe-

Warriors snapped his fingers in front of Time’s face. Time flinched, blinking up at Warriors’ face. Warriors peered into his eye. 

“Does he have a concussion?” Four asked. Before Time could answer, Warriors held up his hand. 

“Follow my finger with your eye,” Warriors instructed. Time did so, easily. He felt his irritation rising.

“No, I think he’s just crashing. He probably had an adrenaline rush,” Warriors said. 

“I’m right here,” Time added. He wasn’t completely sure, as his head was swimming and his body felt miles away, but the others didn’t need to know that. 

“Okay, Twilight’s going to be fine. Just needs to rest, now,” Sky said. Time started at Twilight. The sword was gone, his midsection was wrapped, and some color had returned to his face. Four was holding two empty potion bottles, and Sky was wiping down his hands. 

Time’s gaze found the pool of blood beneath Twilight’s prone form, and stuck on it. His body shook with the need to move, to protect, to make it better.

“Hey, look at me,” Warriors said. Time didn’t react. HIs hands clenched into wobbly fists.

“Sprite,” Warriors said quietly. Time’s gaze shot up, emotions he couldn’t bring himself to place surging through his body. Warriors met his eye and leaned his head down, blocking Time’s view.

“He’s fine, you did it. Now let’s get back to camp so you both can get some rest,” Warriors said. Time blinked, hesitated, then every so slowly nodded. Warriors flashed his signature smile, the one Time knew was a sham, then helped Time to his feet. Time swayed slightly, feeling incredibly light-headed. Warriors held his upper arm with a strong grasp. 

Sky grasped Time’s other arm. Time blinked at him as his legs shook.

“The captain’s carrying Twilight back to camp,” Sky explained. Time tried to move forward, but Sky’s grip on his arm pulled his back.

“I can do that-” Time began.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Warriors said as he deftly lifted Twilight into his arms. He grunted, and flashed another smile.

“See? Nothing to worry about,” Warriors said. Four shook his head and moved to the front of the group, sword at the ready. 

Time closed his eyes, trusting Sky to lead him. He took a deep breath to calm his racing mind, his rapidly beating heart. Everything was fine, now. Twilight was safe. All his boys were safe. He could calm down. The Fierce Deity mask gave one last whisper as Time turned his back to the battlefield. 

Sky gave Time a gentle nudge, and then they were on their way.

#whumptober2022 #altprompt 10 #adrenaline crash #linked universe #fic #linkeduniverse #lu fic #linked universe fic #lu time #lu warriors #lu twilight #tw: #violence #description of injury #bloody imagery #ace writes

[messyyythoughts]

chaos walking , part 3.

star wars: the bad batch x female chaos magic user

summary: after your first adventure with Clone Force 99, Kenobi needs your help. the Bad Batch step in to help when it’s clear you’ve pushed yourself too far this time. warnings: descriptions of physical injury, reader in pain as per usual tbh mando’a translations (http://mandoa.org/) jaro - death wish, insane act of reckless stupidity mesh’la - beautiful

part 1 part 2

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

“Kenobi, do you particularly need this damned cruiser?” You asked with a tight voice. The strain of trying to slow down an entire Republic cruiser starting to crush your body, and you knew you wouldn’t hold out much longer. You’d been called in by Kenobi to help save this cruiser from imminent destruction, and when one of the engines gave out, you took a hold of the entire ship, trying to help the pilots steer it. It hadn’t worked, and you’d ordered Kenobi and any non-essential personnel off the cruiser as you tried to save it. Right now, it wasn’t working, but you were still determined to try. The only thing that was driving you was the fact that there were still men on this cruiser who needed to evacuate before the whole thing crashed and burned at your hands. If you felt any of those connections go out, you’d never forget it.

“Well... yes, I do.” He replied, his voice tense. You could tell he was absolutely overwhelmed on his end. With a final moment of peace, you replied.

“I’m not making any promises. Evacuate the rest of this cruiser, give me a space to land on that planet.” His immediate protests came over the comms, you ignored them. He didn’t want you to do this on his own, but there was no other way. His voice was drowned out by the groaning and shaking of the cruiser. How you were managing to hold this weight… you didn’t even want to think about it. You’d be sick if anything other than the mission on hand came to mind. You didn’t even want to think about what the recovery was going to be like for this one, all you knew is that it was going to be grisly. You felt the evacuation pods leave the cruiser, and then concentrated all of your energy left into altering the path this cruiser was about to take in order to reach the nearest planet.

You went down to one knee, letting out a grunt as another wave of hot sweat and strong nausea overtook your body. Your hands were cramping up already, but you flexed them and the feeling subsided slightly. You attacked once more, putting everything you had into changing the path of the cruiser. You were fighting against gravity and physics and it was killing you. Every tiny movement, from an intake of breath to a shift of your knee, was putting you into agony for longer and longer. There was blood running down your face from your nose and mouth, you wiped it away clumsily, only to smear it across yourself. You had never attempted anything like this, you weren’t really sure if you could do it. If you managed to pull this off, you’d go down in the history books, if not, you’d lose an entire Republic cruiser and your life in the process. There was no mistaking it, you simply had to win.

There was a noise coming from behind you, something repetitive and vague. You focused in, trying to get your senses to cooperate. Everything was becoming blurred and hard to understand the longer you exerted yourself. Finally, you heard it. “Come in!” It was Hunter’s voice from behind you. Your head whipped to follow the sound, and you felt a burning sensation down your neck, and spine. “Damn it, will you say something?!” You stumbled over to the comms and used one shaking finger to hit the button. “Hunter?” You asked, with barely enough breath to speak. “What are you doing? There’s no possible way you can save that cruiser.” Tech butted in, you could practically hear him elbowing Hunter out of the way.

“I can do it,” You sputtered, “trust me.” Blood spilled from your mouth and you coughed, near to vomiting blood.

“We’re on our way to the ship, hold her steady for us.” Hunter said with a hard tone, meaning it was final. You’d learned that after your first mission with the Bad Batch, and they’d learned plenty of things about you too. It had been a whirlwind experience, but you felt like you’d do it again tomorrow if they asked you.

“No! You’ll die—” You started, but you were cut off by Wrecker’s voice.

“No, we’re coming to help. We’ll be there before you know it.” Your head slumped forward onto the desk and your powers went out like a light, before you quickly gained a hold of them and pulled the cruiser back on course for a crash landing. You had to crawl back to the bridge to get a central hold of the cruiser and feel the balance set back in. Your magic came back, and you had a steady hold on the cruiser once again. You took deep steadying breaths to align yourself, before closing your eyes and visualising the path to the planet as clearly as you could.

It was then that you felt a ship land on the cruiser, and you realised that they were here. Images flashed through your head of them, and you tried to not let it distract you. A glimpse of the future was not what you needed right now. What could only be called relief flooded through you, and you felt that nausea subside as four pairs of footsteps came rushing to you. What felt like hours of waiting had really only been five minutes before they burst onto the bridge. Tech made a beeline for the front control consoles and started pressing buttons and reading screens, as Crosshair and Hunter followed. Wrecker stood by your side, like a statue.

“Wrecker, I need you to get behind me and support my arms, it’s gonna be a lot, but you can do it.” You wheezed, as Wrecker knelt behind you and put your arms on top of his massive ones. You rested all of your weight on him, and he took it like a champ. “Maker, thank you.” You sighed in relief, almost brought to tears. Tech had the controls working together and the ship’s engines worked double time to steer towards the planet.

“I need to check your vitals, you’re bleeding enough to fill a bathtub.” Hunter broke off from Tech and Crosshair, putting his hands to your pulse on your neck and wrist. He was directly touching the chaos magic that was surrounding your hands, and didn’t flinch or pull away. He took your pulse, then started to wipe the blood from your face. “Her pulse and temp is sky high, we need to land this cruiser sooner rather than later, Tech.” Hunter called out. “You try steering a Republic cruiser that has one dead engine!” Tech retorted, meaning well, but coming off as heavily sarcastic, as always.

“I’m fine, just help me out will you?” You cried out, nearly collapsing onto Wrecker, but he stayed steady behind you like a foundation of a good house. Tech and Cross went haywire on the controls, setting them to this and that. The ship’s comms were suddenly alive with chatter, as the clones stationed on the planet were giving advice to Hunter on how to navigate the atmosphere and complete the crash landing. As Hunter relayed the information to Tech and Crosshair, Wrecker took on every bit of weight that you were dumping on him. It was a tense few minutes of loud noises, shouting orders and blood running until you broke the atmosphere. The cruiser started to shake and rumble as it broke the planet’s atmosphere, sending everyone on the bridge tumbling about with nothing to hold onto. You felt Wrecker grab onto a nearby console to hold your position, and you strained to stay in place. Your body temperature was getting higher and higher, you momentarily thought about making your clothes disintegrate, but then decided against it. You started to slow the descent of the cruiser by pulling back on it with all of your magic, your hands almost cramping into place with the force you were exerting. Chaos magic was spilling from your hands as bright as the stars, and had completely enclosed the cruiser, taking over all directional control of it. Wrecker’s massive hands carefully moved into place behind yours, and he held on, despite the rampant chaos magic coming from yours. You were holding back the most unhinged scream as the cruiser finally made contact with the planet’s surface, sending a reeling shockwave through you. You didn’t falter once as the planet’s debris flew up and collided with the cruiser, in fact it actually helped to slow the crash. The lights went out, leaving you in the dark, but you kept going with only the light from your hands to guide you now. You pulled and pulled until you were sure the cruiser was at a slow enough speed that it wouldn’t move on its own anymore. The screeching sound stopped, and it was replaced by a stark silence. Nobody moved. Your hands stayed in place, now totally still but empty of magic. Each member of the Bad Batch turned to look at you, no words at the ready, just a variation of stares. Kenobi’s voice came over the comms. You got up, every single inch of you about ready to implode, and pressed the button to answer.

“One cruiser, slightly used, but still in good condition.” You heard his chuckle in reply and smiled, blood dripping from your mouth. “You are never doing that again, I didn’t even ask you to save it!” Kenobi attempted to tell you off, but you shook your head, knowing that there was no way he could punish you for this one.

“Kiss my ass, General Kenobi, I’ll see you when you get down here.” You then let your head roll backwards and gave your body the signal to shut off for the recovery. Wrecker caught you, holding you to him in his arms, which hurt like nothing else from being in contact with your magic. Hunter’s hands also hurt, as if they’d been burned, but there was no damage done to them. You weren’t trying to actively harm either of them, so they’d escaped with minimal injury. Sometimes you had control over the magic, and it seemed like you had won today in more than one respect. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. The Bad Batch loyally guarded and stubbornly stayed by your bedside for weeks. You’d fallen into a coma, of your own doing, and this wasn’t the first time either. It had happened on a few rare occasions before, as witnessed by both Kenobi and Skywalker, but they’d never seen you in such a bad way this time. Each of them came to visit, both having to convince the Bad Batch that they knew you and meant no harm, which proved more difficult than they expected. Being Generals of the Republic’s army meant nothing to the Bad Batch, as it so happened. Kenobi was stopped at the door for being the one who ordered you to save the cruiser, even though you’d done it of your own accord, and once he had explained this he was allowed entry. He dutifully brushed out your hair as you lay there asleep, and braided it slowly to make sure there were no knots or tangles. The Bad Batch watched him with a veiled interest, Tech especially, as he had never seen you wear your hair like this before. Kenobi updated you on all of the clone battalions that he knew of, some were stationed too far away to receive any real updates on, so he promised to check on them for you when he had a spare moment. After Kenobi had sorted out your hair, he washed your face and neck with a cloth and warm water. He made sure to get every spot, gentle as ever, talking to you the entire time. He knew that you could sense his energy nearby, and that you’d be thankful he’d been there when you finally awoke. He then told the lingering Bad Batch that after your first coma, you’d awoken in fits of screams and delirium, claiming that no one had sat with you and talked to you the whole time you were out. It was true, apart from the odd visit from Skywalker who’d been the closest one to you when it happened. Kenobi and Ahsoka had been too far away to come and visit, but they were just as horrified when they heard the news through Skywalker. So, from that moment, the Bad Batch had one of them sat by your side. Tech made a habit of reading out his notes to you from when he’d studied you, and once he got through those, he moved onto hefty textbooks of theories and hard science. It bored the others to sleep without fail each time, but inside you were clinging onto Tech’s voice like it was a rope and you were dangling above a dark pit. Even though you would never fully understand what he was saying, it made you feel like you weren’t totally alone. When it was Hunter’s turn to sit next to you, he took to drawing on your arms and palms. He used a washable ink pen and would decorate your exposed skin with whatever was in his head at the time, he’d even talk you through the meanings of the drawings, no matter how nonsensical it sounded. He always made sure to put the names of the Bad Batch in there somewhere, and yours. It was often the medical droid’s job to wash the ink away after Hunter had been sat by your side all day. Wrecker liked telling you his favourite stories of battle, and he had a new one each time he sat by you for the day. Some of them were so outlandish that even Tech questioned him sometimes, but you were enjoying the stories regardless. Wrecker was a great storyteller, using his tone and strange sound effects to bring the story to life for you. He knew exactly how to create tension and suspension by waiting a few seconds before telling the climax of the story, or a twist to the plot. Crosshair always criticised Wrecker’s stories for being inaccurate to the truth, but you didn’t care. When Crosshair sat next to you, however, he struggled to do so much... talking. He tried reading something out once, but it sounded bad, and he stopped abruptly. He found something else to do instead, he would draw out battle plans on your arm with his fingers. He could see it all in his head, it just needed finalising on your forearm or the palm of your hand. He’d explain some parts to you before grumbling and starting over again because he wanted to try something else. He even used little paper clones once to really simulate the battle for you on your arm and hand, which made the others smirk, but Crosshair paid them no attention. Skywalker’s visit had been a tense one. He nearly scrapped on the spot with Crosshair trying to gain entry to your room, but Hunter let him through. When he saw you, his face went icy, and he took a seat next to you. The words he spoke were too low for anyone but Hunter to hear, but he chose to ignore them when he got the idea of what Skywalker was saying. Skywalker stayed there for a while, holding your hand in his, eyes closed. An eerie quiet had settled in your room, and the Bad Batch soon found themselves finding excuses to leave. They didn’t go far, only down the hallway, but whatever mood Skywalker was in, they did not feel like tussling with him right now. Kenobi had been somber, but respectful, Skywalker was fuming and looking for a reason to fight. Someone needed to get him back out to the battlefield soon otherwise he’d start going for his own men. But, after an hour or so, he up and left your room without a word to the Bad Batch. They came back in to see you unmoved, asleep just as you had been when they left you. Now, they just had to pass the time until you woke up. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. “That woman has a jaro, I’m telling you.” Hunter said with a shake of his head. The Bad Batch had been discussing your other greatest feats, and Tech was readily compiling a list for further debate. “Who just decides to stop a cruiser like that?” Hunter carried on, “no one but her.” He scoffed. Crosshair watched the conversation in silent interest, having already found a new respect for you after witnessing you successfully crash land the cruiser. “I think the cruiser is my favourite one, I helped with that one.” Wrecker announced from your bedside, having paused his wild story to give his opinion. “Wrecker, your personal involvement does not contribute to the greatness of the feat.” Tech sighed, tapping away at his pad. Wrecker shrugged before continuing his story. Crosshair was about to interject when the ship’s internal alarms started going off, signalling that the enemy was approaching. A rush of footsteps from the clones going to their stations went past, and then a rumble went throughout the ship. They’d been hit. “We need to get her ready to move if this ship goes down.” Hunter shot out of his seat, only to find that your eyes were opening, and you were sitting up in your bed. “Maker above...” “Are we seriously getting attacked right now?” You sighed, getting out of bed and heading for the door with renewed energy. They all watched on in absolute disbelief, before scrambling out of the door to follow you. You moved fast at full health, they had to jog to keep up. You reached the bridge, being greeted with applause, which you quickly silenced with a single finger to your lips. “I can’t be in a coma for more than a few weeks and we’re getting bombed by the enemy? Really, guys?” You shook your head. Your messy braid was coming undone where none of the Bad Batch had dared to take it out after Kenobi had so carefully done it. “Give me a visual someone.” You called out, body positively thrumming with the need to get out there and rip some people apart. “Uh, excuse us,” Tech pushed past the crowd of clones on the bridge, and tapped you on the shoulder, “are you quite alright?” You nodded with a wink. The clones had identified the oncoming enemy pilots for you. With little more than a bent finger and a wisp of chaos, you sent the ships tumbling through space into balls of flame, veering off course and missing their shots entirely. You got a rush from this, no matter how many times you did it, because the clones around you were safe and you were taking out the very thing that would kill them. “Mesh’la...” Wrecker said behind you, as he watched the firework display of ships exploding and plummeting to their demise. You didn’t even need both hands, just one finger. The first wave had been entirely demolished, and the second wave was already retreating, much to your disappointment. Maybe you went too hard on the first ones, scared them off. It wouldn’t be the first time. You lowered your finger, smiling in satisfaction as the clones cheered. Nothing made you happier than seeing them alive, and winning. You turned to leave, and when Hunter asked where you were going now, you told him that unless the new uniform was a hospital gown, you were getting a change of clothes. .·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。. messyyythoughts © 2022 do not translate without my permission, give credit if you repost, support always welcomed <3

#messyyythoughts #injury detail #description of injury #chaos magic #chaos magic reader #female!reader #chaos witch #chaos walking #chaosmagicuser!reader #chaoswitch!reader

[elismor]

Not one, but TWO versions of the Separate Beds prompt for @codywansleepbingo. BINGG!

Choose your own adventure.

Intensive Care (do mind the tags please) Rex POV as everyone's favorite space husbands duo recovers from a LAATi crash.

and

The Paradox of Relaxation (fluff. Pure and true fluff.) This is either the strangest covert op in the history of the Republic or…a vacation?

Technically, all of my fills go together to form one story arc. It goes like this: Forty Winks, Pillow Talk, Whiskey Tango…Foxtrot?!, Intensive Care, The Paradox of Relaxation

But they are not so tightly tied that they can't stand alone if you're not up for the ride.

#codywan sleep bingo #the tags on intensive care are things like: #description of injury #broken bones #graphic description of crash #etc #help me jesus did i just write my first whump? #codywan #seriously though #the second story is FLUFF #there's a flower crown for fuck's sake

[voidindite]

I let my hope wither away as you look on

Whumptober 2022 Day 24: Fight, Flight, or Freeze Blood-Covered Hands | "I don't want to do this anymore." | Catatonic

Last Life Series Life Theft AU Characters: impulseSV, Tango Tek Warnings: Description of Injuries

----------

The fear was real, now.

It had been for a while.

The fear of dying. Of being trapped. Of betrayal and curses and red names and traps that could trigger at any moment.

Impulse lifted a hand to touch gingerly at the skull that floated above his left shoulder. It took everything he had not to flinch as he dabbed harming potion at the nasty crack running from one of the sockets. It ached and his vision still hadn’t returned in that socket.

With two pairs of eyes occupied, his right skull remained alert so no one could walk up behind him.

He hated how vigilant he—all of them—had to be. It was supposed to be a game. They were supposed to be able to go home at the end of every week. Sure, be alert and cautious about staying alive. But not like this. Not to this horrible, horrible extent of paranoia and stress so bad none of them slept anymore.

He grimaced again, and wasn’t sure if it was the pain of the potion attempting to stitch the skull back together, or that the image of meeting Skizz in the Nether—and growling at him with a wither skull already in his hand—flashed through his mind. They were best friends! And Impulse had been moments away from killing him before Mumbo’s hesitant reminder that he wasn’t a red name, and even more cautious “...or cursed, right..?”

Impulse swallowed and set the potion aside, wiped his hands on his shorts, and huffed a sharp breath. Grian was working on a fix for the glitched server, but…

But what?

The others said they couldn’t feel it, when the theft mechanic was used. But it always left a tight feeling deep in his chest, an uncomfortable pull, like a summon he could neither turn down nor accept. Just…there, to leave him agitated and distracted.

The others really couldn’t feel it?

The wither closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair, though his right skull kept its eyes locked on the doorway. His claws caught in loose tangles that made his tail twitch with a twinge of irritation.

He hated that he was so on edge. He felt like he hadn’t laughed, smiled, in weeks.

He hated that he couldn’t let himself trust his oldest friend. Countless duo survival worlds, spending so much time together when Impulse could get away from Hermitcraft for a while, trusting each other through everything, and all he’d felt when he unexpectedly met Skizz was caution and anger for being snuck up on (he still couldn’t understand how Skizz did it, considering Impulse could watch three directions at once).

…He hated the way Tango was eyeing him through the doorway.

The blaze hybrid was worrying his lip like he wanted to say something, and even his crown of blaze rods was rotating his head more slowly than usual with his hesitation.

When Impulse pushed himself to his feet, Tango straightened.

The wither knew that look. The knit brows, the lip moments away from bleeding as he chewed it with too-sharp fangs, the hands that tried and failed to find something to do. He could hear the words before they even left Tango’s mouth.

“Hey, Impy… You good?”

Impulse swallowed. The cautious part of him that Life Theft had planted firmly into place wanted to put up the walls, tell an easy lie, and turn away without another word. The Hermit part of him, just…wanted to talk—really, truly talk—to Tango, to Skizz, Bdubs, or Grian, anyone. Without scheming how to kill someone else, without fearing who would overhear, without clipping his words to cut the conversation as short as possible so as not to keep his back exposed for too long.

Just… Talk. Laugh. Smile. Build and mess with redstone and gawk at other Hermits’ incredible builds.

He wanted the good-natured scheming of the Soup Group back. He wanted Hotguy Scar accidentally stealing his elytra after killing him and sheepishly returning it later. He wanted Ren the King fumbling about and coming up with dumb laws and Cleo egging Impulse, Gem, and Pearl on to overthrow him.

He didn’t want Pearl eyeing him with distrust and a readied weapon when they managed to cross paths. He didn’t want to see the snarl on Scar’s lip as he aimed his bow with the intent of stealing a life for himself so he could outlive another. He didn’t want Ren acting so subdued with his tail hanging low and Cleo risking her life to defend him and the rest of her people.

“I—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, mentally cursed BigB’s damned wolves for the way it still felt scratchy and raising his voice was almost painful after they’d torn his throat out to take one of his lives. “I don’t wanna do this anymore.” I want to go home.

He didn’t have to say it. Tango—every single player trapped in that server—would know what lay hidden behind his words.

Tango’s tail drooped; Impulse’s mirrored it.

“Where’s everyone else?” Impulse asked in an attempt to steer the conversation in another direction.

Tango shrugged. “Jimmy’s caving. Dunno about Ren and Cleo.”

“We shouldn’t be splitting up.” That was how they got picked off by red names or cursed. It was how they got ganged up on by mobs, or fell to their death when they didn’t watch their step and didn’t have a companion to yell at them to step back.

Impulse glanced down at his hands, flexed them and watched the cracked, floating segments of bone that were his fingers. For a moment—just a brief moment, he knew Tango would have missed it—the poison that was wither magic darted between his claws as he imagined the exploding skull that had killed Bdubs.

Just about everyone had killed someone else so far.

Actually…

Was there anyone who didn’t have blood on their hands? Impulse had only killed one, and that was early in the game, but he’d still killed someone and stolen that life to add to his own collection. He…he couldn’t think of anyone whose hands were clean of someone else’s blood.

Even Grian, who’d never outright killed someone this game, had been the cause for…had it been Martyn who’d lost a life to a trap in his base? Or maybe it was Scar. He couldn’t quite remember. It didn’t matter.

The swish of Tango’s tail caught his attention enough to pull him out of his thoughts.

Impulse sighed. So did Tango.

“We’ll get outta here.”

The wither wanted to believe those words. He really did!

Would they? Would they get out, before someone screwed something up so badly they wouldn’t be forgiven? Before a serious injury was taken that wouldn’t go away when they left the server?

“And if we don’t?” Impulse challenged.

Tango’s heart rate picked up with that question; the sound echoed in Impulse’s heads, stabbed at the back of his eyes and beckoned for wither magic to snuff it out. He swallowed and shoved the feeling down. It was just the stress bringing forward wither instincts, he told himself. That’s all.

“…Impy? Did you hear me?”

Impulse grimaced.

“I…need to go lay down. We can talk later.”

The worried crease of Tango’s brows deepened and he couldn’t find it in himself to look the blaze in the eyes. When Tango’s tail drooped it felt like a stab to Impulse’s chest.

He pushed it aside.

It didn’t matter.

He just wanted to go home.

#traffic life series #traffic life au #trafficblr #life theft au #impulsesv #tangotek #wither impulse #blaze hybrid tango #tales from the void #whumptober2022 #no.24 #description of injury

[shireentheunburnt]

♠️ (jamie)

Send ♠️ For my muse to almost die in front of yours

@notenoughmuses

The blade, intended for Jamie, pierced the princess instead as she moved to shield her knight, her friend, from the blow. Crumpling to the ground, clutching her side to ease the bleeding, Shireen smiled up through the searing pain to see that Jamie was all right. The rest of the fight played out in a fading blur above her head as she began to slip under, her breathing slowing down...

She realized, distantly, she might not wake again. Still, it was better than burning. Already, the pain was easing, flowing out of her as blood fled from her wound. And Jamie was still standing, she could hear him. Even if she faded here, the knight would be able to return to his son. That was what mattered...

Her smile remained and, the last thing she was aware of before losing consciousness all together, was Selyse wrapping her arms around her and holding her with her mother’s habitual tightness.

All would be well, one way or another, she just... she just knew it...  

#notenoughmuses #thank you :-) #Nearly Dying Meme #Description of injury

[quality-on-a-patch-of-awesome]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: SEAL Team (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jason Hayes & Trent Sawyer, Jason Hayes & Nigel Wickham, Nigel Wickham & Rufus, Jason Hayes & Rufus Characters: Jason Hayes, Brock Reynolds, Nigel Wickham, Rufus, Trent Sawyer Additional Tags: Swearing, Blood and Injury, Injury, Blood, Stitches, description of injury, Teasing, Febuwhump 2023, Febuwhump, Brock's ability to injure people extends to more than himself now, Minor Violence, medium injury Series: Part 13 of Universe of Trios, Part 11 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Navy Base Summary:

The continuing saga of Jason’s misadventures in football-

Jason is unimpressed, Brock gets to injure someone other than himself, Nigel is a little shit, Rufus is an even bigger shit and Trent is just trying to keep things together. Literally.

#seal team #jason hayes #brock reynolds #nigel wickham #rufus #trent sawyer #tw blood #injury #medium injury #stitches #description of injury #brock gets to injure someone other than himself for a change

[terrifyingly-bi]

Let’s Break the Ice (Eddie Munson)

Summary: Eddie’s at the ER for his broken leg

Warnings: description of pain, description of injury, scared of pain,

Word Count: 562

A/N: Eddie baby! I just want to be there and hold him and tell him that everything is going to be okay!!

『••✎••』

Eddie didn't know what was worse; Steve dropping him off at the ER by himself - to handle another emergency - or him having to sit and stare at his awkwardly bent leg while he waited for a doctor to come and see him. Did he imagine it or did it hurt more the longer he looked at it?

The pain around the bruising was sharp and burning, like being poked by a branding rod. The rest of the leg pulsed with a dull but persistent ache. He wondered if it would feel better or worse if the leg simply fell off.

"Munson?" A doctor stepped around the screen with a clipboard in one hand and a pair of glasses in the other. "How are you doing?" He asked.

Eddie wanted to roll his eyes. "Been better, doc," he mumbled.

The doctor nodded and eyed the documentation he had. "On first glance it seems to be some kind of fracture," he said. "The nurse in the reception has alerted your family, and assures us that they'll be here shortly."

"My uncle is going to be pissed," Eddie said. "So what now?"

"Now I take aproper look at that leg and see exactly what we're dealing with," the doctor said with a gentle smile. He put his glasses on and put the clip board away. He gestured for Eddie to move back on the examination table. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

Eddie had to avert his gaze as the doctor began to prod and examine his leg. "Tripped and fell. I think I must have landed weirdly 'cause there was this loud crack," he explained, gulping as the pain shot up and down his leg. His voice pitched higher and higher as he spoke and the pain intensified. "Loud crack. Might 'ave landed on something. Ground was hard." His words failed him. "Ow."

"Sorry," the doctor said. "Yes, I know it hurts, but I have to do this."

"Is fine," Eddie said, although he could barely breathe because of how hard his heart beat in his chest. Even his vision became blurry as he stubbornly avoided to look at anything but the pale, white wall.

The doctor wrote something down. "Are you feeling alright, Mr. Munson? Are you feeling faint?"

Eddie was feeling faint but had a hard time admitting that. He hated pain. He didn't mind being in pain by himself, nor with someone he trusted - like Steve - but he hated being in pain around someone he didn't know. He felt like a kid n front of the doctor and despite trying very hard not to, tears began to prick in the corners of his eyes.

"It's alright," the doctor said soothingly. "Would you like anything to drink? If you'd prefer, we could wait until your uncle arrives?"

"No," Eddie squeaked. "Just get it over with. Whatever it is you need to do. I just want it to be over with." Before he could help himself, he sniffled. He swiped the back of his hand over his face, rubbing tears away. He wished Steve had stayed.

The doctor gave him a compassionate look. "Very well. I'll be right back with something for the pain. You make sure to rest your leg just like that. Try not to put any necessary pressure or strain on it."

"No worries," Eddie said. "I'll be fine."

#whumptober2022 #no.18 #let's break the ice #just get it over with #stranger things #eddie munson #fic #description of pain #description of injury #scared of pain

[anxioussailorsoldier]

captain link!! (introduced back in this comic but more info in tags)

#captain link #loz #oc #linksona #leeroy #so cap is a loz OC not a linksona like leeroy #he's captain of the hylian royal guard and trains up soldiers #I've rp'd as him for many AUs and tens of thousands of words #and im struggling with condensing how much love I have for this character into a short description #the love of HIS life is the most beautiful man in hyrule called nereus #and they're couple goals #hhhh cap..........CAP......... #ummmmm he is stern and behaves like a grumpy old man a lot of the time and has an old knee injury that still bothers him #but he is a huge softie and a great teacher and so so caring #also serves up bde and daddy vibes

[the-magpie-archives]

Like many of you, I am fascinated with the state of Jonathan Sims head archivist of the magnus institute London... In particular, his ribs! Many focus only on his missing two, but there are many more things to consider!

Jon's a fragile guy, I mean it's pretty much his whole canon appearance! For a man like him to be thrown around like a ragdoll for pretty much his entire time as archivist, he'd certainly have suffered more than a few broken ribs!

To contribute even more to the damage, after the unknowing, Jon was found with no pulse and not breathing, meaning he would have undergone CPR for at least 20 minutes. And trust me, THAT BREAKS RIBS.

Aside from bones, I can't imagine Jon's lungs are in the best state either. He's a long time smoker, was exposed to dangerous amounts of CO2, and survived a massive explosion followed by a collapsing building. Needless to say, these sort of things make it hard to keep lungs healthy!

Despite all the pain and horror, I like to think that Jon managed to stay looking at least relatively put together, so picture this:

A polite, slightly awkward office worker comes into your clinic. You decide that to diagnose properly, you'll need to do a chest X-ray! He's distracted, but readily agrees. After the brief wait, you get the images back, and see THE MOST FUCKED UP CHEST YOU HAVE EVER SEEN. A horrifying amount of healed fractures, warped and re-broken; two ribs are just straight up gone, both lungs scarred beyond survivability, and somehow this guy is just sitting there. Alive, as far as you can tell.

The man remains composed, and smiles politely as you stare at the X-rays, and you begin to think that maybe those aren't acne scars across his face.

#Overall I would just love to do a full medical examination on him... God it'd be fascinating. #Man's using otherworldly life support to keep his corpse up and walking #But seriously Google 'healed rib fractures' if you don't already know what they look like‚ shits interesting. #tma #the magnus archives #the magnus institute #Jonathan Sims #the archivist #The unknowing #jared hopworth #tma the flesh #tw injury #tw doctors #tw graphic description