#esp in these whumptober days

[boolger]

Listen. Listen. I need some sort of macgyver mamma Mia au. Ty for coming to my ted talk

#macgyver 2016 #macgyver #macgyver fanfiction #macgyver fic #angus macgyver #I’m just saying #imagine it #I’m not saying they need to sing #but a ridiculous plot like that #esp in these whumptober days

[comfort-questing]

"lost voice"

"what happened? are you all right?" Kirr been waiting at the edge of the campsite for longer than they'd like, and seeing their friend stumbling out of the damp woods they couldn't help shouting a bit as they approached. "should I... oh."

under the rain-soaked cloak they had just barely seen the movement of their friend's hands in the quick signs of "fight, safe now."

"sure. sure. all right. help?"

"help please." the decisive motion of their hands was clear, even aside from the glimpse of dark bloodstains on their uniform as their cloak parted. "find captain."

"of course." Kirr hurried forward to help their friend along, back towards the tents and the smoky awnings where the campfires burned sullenly into the damp.

"someone get the captain!" they shouted as they drew closer. "Tam's back, they've got reports."

Tam grinned narrowly at them out of the corner of their mouth, and signed "thanks" with one hand, the other slung over their shoulders for support.

*

it didn't take long to get Tam settled in one of the tents, and Kirr rubbed their arms in long repetitive strokes to soothe them as the healer saw to the sword wound in their side. Tam leaned into the comfort, their face tight with pain, holding their breath at each stitch.

"do you need a moment?"

"go on." their fingers barely moved, face gray. they gave a small silent cough as the captain strode in, and glanced over at Kirr for assistance.

"I tell, you say." their hands did not falter in the signs this time.

an old drill, for the moments when mouth-words were harder for Tam; ever since they'd both been kids running around the farmlands at home they'd done this, for strangers who didn't know Tam's signs or those didn't care to learn.

Kirr kept their eyes on Tam's hands.

"a group of the enemy by the north hills, thirty or forty, with five or six dragons too. they're making camp. one of their scouts and I fought at the base of the hill. I led them away."

the captain nodded. "thank you. we'll keep watch."

Tam nodded, then leaned back into Kirr, burying their face as the healer finished the bandages at last.

"thank you," they whispered into Kirr's ear, by and by. "ow."

Kirr rumpled their hair.

"always."

#whump #hurt comfort #whumptober2022 #whumptober day 25 #I don't see a lot of signing characters esp those who use it part time... #it takes a lot to make me nonverbal but sometimes signs are just NICER.

[aro-aizawa]

Okay I know it's very last minute but I have some requests for Whumptober 🥺 Day 6, ransom video, Edward Elric - Day 7, shaking hands, Zuko - Day 8, back from the dead, Marinette. And no pressure if any of them don't vibe with you/are too last-minute because I will for sure have more requests soon and I'm sure something will 😂 plus I'm already very excited for what I see has already been chosen, especially 4 and 28 👀 Anyway good luck with it this year!! I'm going to try too but probably w/ original stuff so it won't be up on AO3 or anything. But I'm going to be commenting on everything for sure (at least everything for my fandoms, so ATLA, MLB, & FMA, and maybe possibly DP too) and I can't wait to see what you do with the prompts this year!!

ooo these are something!! and dw abt it being a bit late, i've been seriously getting behind on working on my prompts lol. it's amazing i've even managed to finish three of them (so the first three days are looking good lmao)

i have no idea if these'll end up getting used as i have a p full block already and my writing inspo is always as random as spinning a wheel like fifty times and throwing out all the options that don't feel right before giving up and coming back another day lol

the only one that i know i won't be doing (sorry) is day 8!! im currently working on that one now bc i had a big galaxy brain breakthrough on that last night and im excited for this one ahah

#shut up danni #wwjacksparrowd #whumptober 2022 #but you are right to look forwards to 4!!! #im really gonna be going all out on my ml whump huh? #i have NO clue if im gonna get round to day 28 rip #i'd definitely like to!! ideally i'll be able to get through all of it or at least the prompts that spark ideas #idk why but i've mostly been so proud/excited for my ml whump esp #day 1 is a whopper i swear #obligatory tumblr mobile sucks for alerting to asks apology

[aria0fgold]

Whumptober day 14 prompt: Water Inhalation

Character: Replica

With blurred vision and body heavy from exhaustion, numb from pain, and uncooperative with her inner desperation, a woman held her breath as she helplessly sank to the bottom of the ocean she was cruelly thrown in. People in neat suits and white coats, people that heartlessly ripped her life away from her, stolen like a precious gem yet discarded like a toy they no longer found joy to play with.

She wondered where it went wrong, was it when she desperately tried to survive in an unforgiving world where one's status is determined by birth? Was it when she tried to crawl her way out of that life at the lowest of the lows? Was it when she went to and fro, doing odd jobs just to keep a roof on her head, food on the table, and clean clothes to wear? Or was it the moment she was born?

She doesn't know, and the more she thinks, the more her memories slip away from her, as if an invisible force is slowly taking it, just as the people that stole her life. Would she came to forget who she is, even in death?

The woman's tears mixed with the ocean, the stinging of his eyes were the only indication she was even crying. She tried to get her hand to move, even just her fingers, yet her body refused to listen. She merely continued to sink, deeper, and deeper, until her back reached the ocean floor, until all she could she of the skies above is the light from the sun.

The woman's mind went blank, she doesn't know why she couldn't move, doesn't know why she was in such a situation to begin with, doesn't know why she felt so hopeless and sad. She just continued to hold her breath until her lungs ached, continued to cry even without knowing the reason for her tears to keep flowing.

And though the woman doesn't why, she prayed to the heavens she could no longer see, a prayer she felt compelled to repeat in her head.

Please let me live. Let me move, let me breathe, let me escape from this fate.

The woman closed her eyes and opened her mouth. She repeated that prayer, over and over again, until her consciousness left her and all that she sees is darkness.

… … …

A woman opened her eyes, sitting at a sandy beach, she looked up at the sky and a single tear fell from her eyes, though she doesn't know the reason for it. She felt relieved and grateful, as if a wish was granted, although she has no memories of having made one. In fact, she had no memories at all, yet she didn't mind that, all she wanted to do now, is to live.

#ariawrites #whumptober 2023 #ariaoc #ariaoc: Replica #whumptober day 14 prompt #no age again cuz this is during that time lady got turned into an unknown. shes around 20+ here too #also didnt get to say her name as well boooo but thats how it be with the transformation aspect of em from human to not so human #somehow... looks at nightmares snippet... replica got a gentle-ish transformation huh? #also i think i can say it in tags cuz it aint thaaat long to say #but her in the beach isnt the her in the ocean #her name replica refers to the fact that a main body replicates herself into several copies so its like cloning! #the woman at the beach is her first clone! while the main body is stuck in the ocean so well... its still kinda sad aint it? #esp since she doesnt have any memories of who she is anymore. another husk-like situation of being a shadow of your own self #also i say its like cloning but it also isnt cuz replica can also replicate other ppl's appearance for a diff clone #so even tho her first clone looks exactly like her. the next one could look like someone else entirely

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

Making a post to keep all my @whumptober stuff together. All of this is subject to change (okay I guess some of it not all lol). I’ll add links as I post each day. Still working on ideas for the blank slots. The rest are at least WIP stages and some are done ✔️

Feel free to share any prompts or ideas of what you’d want to see! Esp on the blank days.

Jamie gets a concussion falling out of a tree trying to save Dauphine the cat.

Jamie is sick and Dani takes care of him.

Ted helps Rebecca through a migraine.

Jamie is injured during the decoy play (Part 1/2)*

Jamie and the team are caught in an earthquake while spending a night out. (Part 1/2)

Jamie finds out the real reason for his father’s sobriety (Fuck Jamie’s Dad)

Jamie is jumped in an alleyway. Sam takes care of him.

Part 2/2 of Jamie is injured during an earthquake.

Jamie is injured during that first rough practice when he returned to the team, hides it and doesn’t handle it well when it’s discovered.

Jamie breaks his phone hiking.

Jamie has a nightmare at an away match and Declan comforts him.

Mom City introspective.

Roy gets an appendicitis.

Jamie, Isaac and a few others take a boat trip that almost takes a turn for the worse.

Jamie hides an injury post first West Ham match so he doesn’t lose more ground to Zava (Part 1/3)

Jamie hides an injury post first West Ham match so he doesn’t lose more ground to Zava (Part 2/3)

Jamie sprains his neck attempting a trick on a playground to impress Phoebe.

Ted steps in when he sees Jamie with his Dad in the season finale but when Jamie goes back to Manchester that night his father isn’t happy at being interrupted.

Jamie hides an injury post first West Ham match so be doesn't lose more ground to Zava (Part 3/3)

Jamie has a minor slip down the stairs and thinks he’ll miss celebrating his birthday. (Happy Birthday Jamie Tartt 🥳)

Jamie doesn't show up for training in 1x06 after James paid him a visit after he was pulled from the match (as requested by @vigilanteavengerqueen and part 1/3)

Jamie & Roy are in a car accident. (Part 1/3)

Jamie is injured during the decoy play. (Part 2/2)

Roy hadn’t meant to hit him, he really hadn’t.*

Jamie doesn’t show up for training in 1x06 after James paid him a visit after he was pulled from the match (Part 3/3)*

The car had come from nowhere and disappeared just as quickly.*

Jamie has his tonsils out.*

A look at Roy Kent and his sister’s relationship from her marriage through her divorce, the first Uncle’s Day and his retirement.

Roy reflects on the end of his career and Richmond’s relegation.*

Keeley faints from overworking and Roy & Jamie are there to take care of her thanks for the request!

in the morning i’m bulletproof chapter 8/epilogue aka Rupert Mannion takes Jamie out before the final game of the season.

* means I used an alternative prompt so could be moved around

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #ao3 #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfiction #whumptober #whump #jamie tartt fanfic #roy kent fanfiction #pinned post #whumptober2023 #whump writing #Jamie Tartt whump #roy Kent #whumpblr #whump whump whump

[finn-m-corvex]

Masterpost!

Brand new and shiny masterpost! Let's see what I can do!

Ao3 Fics

Would You Like To Enter Prime Empire? - My rewrite of Prime Empire! Words: 53k Chapters: 4/16

Survivors - Jay and Lloyd bonding over survivor's guilt Words: 17k Chapters: 3/3

Blue Goes Boom - Rewrite of the later parts of S4 if Jay had actually gotten injured when the mech blew up Words: 14.1k Chapters: 2/?

Even the Earth Trembles - Cole angst involving touch starvation after DotD! Words: 6.7k Chapters: 1/2

Hugs When You're Blue - Collection of smaller things involving Jay getting hugs from the others! Written for @/sharksandjays based on his incredible artwork here! Words: 6.7k Chapters: 1/1

Tumblr Fics / Snippets

Sounding Sea - Jay angst revolving around Edgar Allan Poe's poem Annabelle Lee! Very proud of this one! Words: 1.8k

Someone You Loved - songfic with Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi and Jaya mixed together. Has the MondotheBombo seal of approval! Words: 2k

Shopping for Wires - Snippet from Ch3 of my rewrite! Probably won't understand unless you've read it. Written as a request for @/juniperjellyfish! Words: 1.4k

Lightning in a Cubicle - My take on what happened to Jay after the Merge in Dragons Rising (very much an AU) Words: 6k Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Aftershocks - 5+1 series involving Jay and his sensory issues! Words: 3.7k Cole | Nya | Kai | Zane | Lloyd | Jay

Falling Sleeves - Cole fluff and angst over MotO! Words: 4.3k

Headcanons

The hoodie headcanons used to be here but I'm going to redo them so soon to come!

Moodboards

Would You Like To Enter Prime Empire? - here!

Chapter 4 - First Contact Beta Jay-137 | Dee-Jay 081 | Talon - 066

Chapter 5 - Forest of Secrets The Father

Challenges

Jaya Week 2023 - Days 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 Words: 17.6k Find the full version on ao3 here!

Whumptober 2023 - Days 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 Words: 68.5k Find the whole version on ao3 here!

Memes

Office Jay memes!

WYTYAA memes! Made for @/mondothebombo

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

PLEASE let me know if I'm missing something super important. I know there were a couple things here and there (esp art-wise) that I'm missing but I either don't have it or I'm going to rework it. This should be all of the fics though!

#finn...themself? #finn's writing #finn makes memes #finn' makes art #masterpost tag

[go-to-the-mirror]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Doctor Who (2005)

Relationships: Tenth Doctor & Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor & Jenny (Doctor Who: The Doctor's Daughter)

Characters: Tenth Doctor (Doctor Who), Donna Noble

Additional Tags: Whumptober, Whumptober 2023, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Time War Angst (Doctor Who), Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - C-PTSD, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Has C-PTSD - Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Trauma, War, Child Death, Doctor and Dalek Comparisons (Doctor Who), Mentioned Jenny (Doctor Who: The Doctor’s Daughter), Grief/Mourning, Soldiers, moral of the story: war is hell and trauma can cause lasting personality changes, esp complex trauma like say being the victim of a genocide, POV Donna Noble, The Doctor & Donna Noble Friendship

Words: 549

Summary:

The Doctor and Donna talk about what happened with Jenny, and the legacy of the Time Lords. --- The Doctor takes a bite out of his biscuit and dunks it again. “I was a lot angrier back then, bit more recent to all of it.” Donna nods like she understands, but she doesn’t, how can she understand? He burned its own planet, lost his own kids — whether to the enemies, the Daleks, it’d called them — or his own actions. How’s Donna supposed to understand trauma from warfare? How’s Donna supposed to empathise? --- Written for Whumptober 2023 day 9, using alt prompt 2. Prompt is aftermath of failure.

Warnings:

Character death (referenced) (inc. child)

Genocide (referenced)

Grief

Pet death (mentioned) (inc. cat)

Torture (mentioned)

War (referenced)

“I think I would’ve killed him,” the Doctor says.

He’s leaning against the TARDIS’s control panel, cup of tea next to him, along with a plate of Jammie Dodgers that he’s slowly nibbling at. Donna wasn’t expecting him to have such a well stocked kitchen, with his skinniness and being an alien and what have you, but he actually had a lot of biscuits — and cakes, because apparently Jaffa Cakes are cakes — in his cupboard. A lot less tea than she would’ve expected, but she supposed that in all his travels it’d’ve found something better. There was a lot of stuff she didn’t recognise.

“Yeah,” she responds, because what else is she supposed to say to that, really.

“Not me, now,” he clarifies, picking up a biscuit and dunking it in its tea. “The regeneration before me, he would’ve killed him.”

Again, Donna doesn’t know how to respond, so she settles for a, “Huh.”

The Doctor takes a bite out of his biscuit and dunks it again. “I was a lot angrier back then, bit more recent to all of it.”

Donna nods like she understands, but she doesn’t, how can she understand? He burned its own planet, lost his own kids — whether to the enemies, the Daleks, it’d called them — or his own actions. How’s Donna supposed to understand trauma from warfare? How’s Donna supposed to empathise? Oh, yeah, when I was a kid, my cat died. This is in any way similar to your grief and guilt over losing your entire planet.

“Not that I’m not angry now,” he continues. “It’s just that… I’ve got a better handle on it, really.”

Donna tries her best not to think about Christmas, not to think about the cold, hard fury in his eyes.

“Better handle on it,” Donna repeats.

The Doctor scoffs. “Fine, I haven’t actively tried torturing anything to death recently, happy?”

“That happen often before?”

The Doctor scoffs again, then is quiet for a moment, before speaking. “I told her,” the Doctor licks his lips, swallows. “I told her that she wasn’t a Time Lord, that Time Lords are a shared culture, shared knowledge, shared suffering. And she told me that I was a soldier, and so was she.”

Donna takes a drink from her mug of tea, letting it continue.

“And she’s right. I’m all we are now,” his voice is emotionless, matter-of-fact. “All that’s left of the Time Lords, just a soldier. That’s all Jenny was, that’s all—“ the Doctor cuts itself off, steadies himself. “It’s all we are, it’s all I am, and— and every part of me that wasn’t a soldier died in the war, and I’ve been trying to grow them back, but I’m never going to be the person I was.”

The Doctor picks up his mug, takes a sip.

“Thank you, Donna.”

Donna is momentarily taken aback. “What for?”

“Letting me be a dad to her,” he smiles, softly in comparison to his usual smiles. “It was nice to have that back, just for a little bit.”

Donna moves closer to the Doctor and nudges him with her shoulder. “I told you,” she says. “You need people.”

The Doctor closes the distance and leans his head onto her shoulder. And for now, despite what they’d just been through, it’s alright.

#whumptober2023 #no.9 #altprompt #aftermath of failure #doctor who #fic #doctor who fanfiction #tenth doctor #tenth doctor fanfiction #donna noble #donna noble fanfiction #the doctor's daughter #episode: the doctor's daughter #my lonely writing #doctordonna #doctordonna fanfiction

[whumptober]

Hello! I love this event and look forward to it every year, so thank you always for running it (and with so many options for every day! means I can pretty much always find something to inspire me/that I'm comfy to work with). ♡ I do have one question:

I'm assuming (esp. since I saw the answer that other lines from the same songs are okay as inspiration) but is it fine to use the quoted line of lyrics as a general inspiration rather than directly quoted dialogue/thoughts/narrative?

For example, “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.” from Day 2, if the story is centred on a character having the feeling it describes (that if he calls out to his precious person she won't answer, etc.) that falls under the prompt even without his saying/thinking that line?

Thank you!

I'm so glad you're looking forward to whumptober!

And yes, using the lyrics as the general inspiration for your work absolutely falls under the the prompt! You don't need to directly quote a prompt within your work for it to count; just using it for the overall theme/vibe of your fic is valid :)

#asks #mod surro

[caffiene-fueled-fuckery]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 2: MASH (Father Mulcahy H/C)

Hiiii. Yes, I know it's no longer October. But October was midterm season for me and I barely got a minute to myself so I decided to keep writing the prompts anyway. I've done a few out of order already, but this is from prompt/day 2. I decided to write this one with my OC Della in it as well :)

Note: The prompts I used for this day were thermometer and delerium. Before anyone comes after me saying this isn't what it's like to hallucinate, realize that different people experience things differently. I'm not just writing this out my ass, my step-mom has schizophrenia, and I've watched my dad help her through episodes enough times to pick up on some things that help her. But again, things that help her may not help someone else. So yes, I used personal experience and research for this (esp for Della's advice to BJ and for some of what Della says to Father Mulcahy). His reactions were also partially based on experience and research and some of it based on headcanons, etc. People don't act like themselves when they're scared and hallucinating, so as much as pieces of this may seem OOC, just keep that in mind.

TW: mentions of past abuse and sexual assault, hallucinations, illness

Summary: When Father Mulcahy came down with hepititis, Della can't shake the feeling that he's worse off than the doctors make it seem. Only Hawkeye and BJ are aware of how high his fever has spiked, but they weren't prepared for trauma-based hallucinations he's experiencing. It isn't until Hawkeye and BJ can't calm him down that they decide to get Della, hoping that she'll know what to do to help her best friend.

Fic Under the Cut!

She’d nearly scrubbed her hands raw with how long she’d stood there, hot water cascading over agitated flesh. The scrub room was empty—it had been for at least twenty minutes. All the other nurses had left, including Kellye, who had also been assisting BJ with his “by-the-book” surgery. And yet, Della still stood over the sink, staring without seeing into the basin below. 

The whole camp had been tested and immunized against hepatitis and thankfully, there was only one positive case, but that didn’t put her at ease. She’d known something was up with Father Mulcahy as soon as she’d seen him that morning, but hadn’t been able to put her finger on what was the matter. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to lose his appetite if there was something bothering him, and she had attempted to shrug it off, but there was something that still nagged at her. It wasn’t until both Potter and Hawkeye asked him if he was feeling okay that she started to really get worried. Mulcahy wasn’t someone who liked others noticing when something was up—he’d much rather be the one to help them.

Della continued to absentmindedly scrub her hands, lost in thought. When she’d began her shift earlier in the day, he’d been isolated to his tent with only moderate symptoms. Fatigue, joint pain, loss of appetite, jaundice… and the beginnings of a fever. But over the course of her shift she found herself continuously cracking her knuckles and the unease in her stomach grew into a heavy knot. Repeatedly, she’d tried to shake the thought away, which garnered her a few confused looks, but in the end her nerves just wouldn’t settle. Something just didn’t feel right.

“Hey, Della—”

She jumped, flinging water across the floor as she whirled around. “Huh? What?”

“Geez, you okay?”

She blinked at BJ, thoughts reeling to form a straight line. “Yeah. Why?”

“Are you gunna turn the water off?”

“Oh!” She huffed a curt laugh as she twisted off the tap. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Something on your mind?”

“No! No. Just got lost in thought. Memories from home.”

“While washing your hands?”

“…Yes.”

BJ narrowed his eyes back at her. “I’m not going to push you, mainly because I have something important to ask, but next time try not to scorch your hands alright? You kinda need those.”

“Right. What was it you needed to ask me?”

BJ started to cringe, but quickly forced his face to be a blank slate. “Do you have any advice about how to reassure a patient that’s hallucinating?”

“Hallucinating? Sure. I mean, it really depends on the content of the hallucination, though.”

“Right…”

“Do you know what it is? Are they seeing things? Hearing things?”

“A bit of both, I think.”

“Have they said anything?”

“Nothing that I could make any sense of, no.”

“Have they been responding to you?”

“Uh… not exactly.”

She lifted a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s confused. I don’t think he knows where he is or why.”

“Ah, well that complicates things a bit. He’s not really coherent, eh?”

“No, not really.”

“You could try getting down on their level. Sit next to their bed and talk to them, try to reassure them that they’re safe.” She paused, pursing her lips. “The patients I dealt with back home who hallucinated were mainly the psychiatric patients, so the approach was a bit different. But I’m assuming your patient is having hallucinations because of a medication or an infection?”

“Fever.”

“Exactly. Actually, do you want me to try and talk to him? It would probably be easier for me to feel it out first and then tell you.”

“Oh, uh, no. No need.”

Della furrowed her brows. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Alright… Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

“You’re the closest thing to a psychiatrist we’ve got here, Dell. Don’t sell yourself short.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a psychiatrist, Beej. I don’t even have any formal schooling towards being one. I just worked in the psych ward because we had no nurses.”

“From what I heard, they put you there because you were good at it.”

She shrugged. “Supply and demand. They had more veterans than they could care for that needed psychiatric aid.”

“Well, either way, you’re a hell of a lot more qualified to deal with this type of situation than any of us.”

“Whatever you say,” she chuckled, watching BJ head for the door. 

“Thanks again. Go get some dinner and some rest, yeah?”

“I will. Don’t worry.”

----

“What are you doing? Wake up!”

Fog clouded his conciousness, but the voice reached him anyway. It roused him from an unsettled sleep. He stirred with a groan, attempting to turn on his side only to be met with a pool of sweat, which dragged another dismayed sound from his throat. Even with his eyes closed his head pounded mercilessly, and attempting to straighten his jumbled thoughts into a line only made matters worse. 

“Wake up, boy!”

He clenched his eyes shut harder. Not today. Please, not today.

“He’s awake again.” It was a voice he recognized but couldn’t quite place. Not his Father. Not one of his brothers. Someone from seminary, maybe? He shuddered at the thought.

“Should we try what she said?” Another familiar voice, but again one that he couldn’t place. Fear floated in his semi-conciousness mind, nearly tangible enough to grab, like the heat that enveloped him or the knot in his stomach. What she said? What who said? His Mother? One of the Sisters? Please, not his Mother. Anything she suggested would be—

A hand landed on his arm. He gasped, rolling back only to hit the wall. A dull ache took over his head, his vision swimming as he looked up at the hand hovering above him. It belonged to a tall, brown-haired man with a thick mustache. Shaking his head, he gulped, and shut his eyes again, willing for his abuser to disappear. 

“Geez, Beej. What did you go and do that for?”

“I didn’t mean to, Hawk. He just… threw himself back against the wall.”

The disapproval in that voice… A quiet whimper left him without permission, along with an internal mantra of ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…’ 

“You should be.”

“I’m sorry.”

“When has sorry ever been good enough?”

“I’m sorry, please don’t hit me.”

One of the voices was back, tentative and soft. “Why would I hit you?”

His mind reeled. Father wouldn’t want anyone to know of his punishments. But if he was here… Mulcahy shuddered, opening one eye. The voice had belonged to the mustached man. No—belonged to his Father. But the other voice sounded more like him. The one that—

“Why wouldn’t he hit you? You’ve been nothing but a burden on them.”

He curled in on himself further, protecting his vitals. “Anything but the poker. Please.”

There was a moment of silence while he shivered against the wall before the sweat-soaked blanket was pulled from his arms. He tensed, trying to keep his last line of defense in his grip but found that he was too weak to do so. The voice spoke again. “Father? What’s wrong?” 

Father? Why were they speaking to his Father? How mad was he? He couldn’t open his eyes—the fear kept him paralyzed, even his breathing seeming to stop. The pressure in his chest grew while he waited in silence to hear his Father’s answer, but still after a while there was no response. Until once more a hand landed on his shoulder. 

“Father?”

Mulcahy jumped, a startled noise torn from his throat. “Please don’t,” he croaked. “Please. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“You’re weak.”

“I know.” It was almost a sob. “I’m sorry.”

“Who do you keep apologizing to?” The other voice spoke again. 

“Why aren’t you hurting me?”

“Hurting you?” his father asked. “Why would he hurt you? Why would either of us ever hurt you?”

The ache in his head worsened and heat grew behind his eyes. What was this, a trick question? Why did he have to play games with him? Why couldn’t he belt him and just get it over with already? “I don’t understand…”

“Understand what?”

“Why aren’t you hurting me? Why, Father? Can’t you just…” He gasped for air, his body trembling. “Why must you make me think you won’t when I know you will? Please…” His voice trembled too, thick with suppressed tears. “I can’t take it.”

“I’m not your Father.”

“You never considered me your son.”

“No, I mean, I’m really not your Father, Father.”

“Yeah, Father, it’s us. Open your eyes.”

He shook his head with a shiver. “N-no.”

The other man spoke again. “We won’t hurt you.”

“Yes you will.”

“No we won’t.”

“You both do. I-I don’t like it.”

“Father.” Another hand landed on his arm, but the grip felt different than the other one. 

Instinctively, his eyes flew open. Through unshed tears appeared a black-haired man hovering nearly overtop of him. “No! No, please! Don’t touch me!”

The hand retracted. “Father, I—”

“Don’t touch me, please! Please!”

“Father, please. We want to—”

He jerked away from the hand reaching for him. “No! No, please! Please!” We want to. I want to. You want to. You want to. “I don’t want it, please! I never wanted it!”

Both figures retreated. Both voices muttered to each other, which he could barely make out over his own harsh breathing and the chattering of his teeth. He strained to hear them. 

“Should I go get Della?”

Della? He had Della? He’d do something even worse to her than he did to him… “No,” he croaked. “Don’t hurt her. Don’t.”

“We’re not going to hurt, Della, don’t worry.”

“Don’t hurt her, please. Please.”

“I won’t hurt her.”

“You’ll do what you did to me to her, too.” His voice trembled. “Don’t do that. She doesn’t… She doesn’t deserve that!”

“Father, I’m not going to hurt her. I’m going to bring her here.”

“Here?”

“I’m going to bring her to see you.”

He shook his head, unable to comprehend what was happening. Why would that man… that despicable man, bring her to him. All he’d ever done was brought him pain, shame, and agony. Why now would he bring him someone warm and familiar when he’d never been allowed it in the past? And why would his Father allow this?

“You don’t want to see her?”

His voice broke, laced with confliction. Of course he wanted her there. He needed her. But wouldn’t that be dragging her into his mess? Would they really not hurt her? “Della.”

His father cleared his throat. “Go get her.”

Della. Della. Della. He repeated her name over and over. She’d always stood by him and he by her, and he longed for the feel or her arms around him, though he could never admit it when he was of sound mind. She meant safety. Security. A kind of love and care that he never dreamed he’d be worthy of until he met her, and it could be taken away in an instant if that malicious man inflicted pain meant for him onto her. But Della was strong, no doubt more fearless than him and fiercely protective—she could handle them. She had no qualms standing up for others; it was a trait he’d always admired about her. And maybe, while he was indisposed and too weak to fight back, she really would protect him. Her love could shield him from the men that he could never be rid of. A tear slid down his cheek as the conflicting emotions warred in his head—the longing for her presence and fear of her being hurt. Mulcahy covered his face with his arms, calling out without ever realizing he’d spoken. 

“Della.”

----

The tent was quiet, save for the noise of flipping pages. Della laid on her stomach on her bunk, immersed in the novel her father had sent her in the mail. Honey coloured eyes scanned the text, not even noticing as stray curls fell in her face or the same damn fly landed on her hand for the dozenth time.  Crickets chirped beyond the canvas, mingling with muffled voices from far-off conversations and the odd crunching of footsteps from a tent to the latrine. It seemed that most of the camp had settled in for the night, even Kellye who often danced the night away with her in the O-Club was settled in her own bunk with her nose in a book. Nurse Able sat together with Nurse Baker on her bunk, the two of them fingering through a Sears catalogue with only the odd mumble here or there. The four of them could be chatty, but it was nights like these where they could pretend to forget about the war. Forget about how close they were to the front line, about choppers, about the uncertainty of their situation—

“Della!”

She jumped, nearly tumbling over the railing of her bunk. “Huh? Yes?” She steadied herself, focusing on where Kellye held the door open. Her brows shot up, heartbeat skyrocketing. “Hawk? What’s wrong?”

“Please, we need your help.”

“With what?”

“BJ tried what you told him but we just can’t get him to calm down. Actually, I think we made it worse.”

“I can try but like I said to BJ, I’m not a psychiatrist.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

Della furrowed her brows as she hopped down from her bunk. Able steadied her when she swayed while tying her boot. “Then what’s the problem?”

“He needs you. I don’t think there’s anyone else here who would know how to calm him down. He’s one of my closest friends and even I can’t figure it out.”

“Wait wait wait, I thought BJ said this was… oh my God.” She finished tying one boot and started on the other, her fingers fumbling the laces. “You didn’t tell me it was Father Mulcahy who was delirious!���

“The fever made him delirious?” Baker piped up.

“How bad is it?” Kellye asked.

“105 degrees and rising.”

“105??” Della stumbled, catching herself on the ladder to her bunk.

“Damn hepatitis,” Able muttered. “He’ll be okay though, right?”

“Once the fever breaks. But right now he’s sicker than a dog and hallucinating like Frank on anesthetic.”

Kellye frowned. “Poor guy…”

“Poor guy is right!” Della finished tying her boots and straightened. “If you’ve come to get me that means he must be really distressed by whatever he’s seeing, which also means it’s probably something that only I know about. You should’ve told me!”

“We couldn’t tell you, Dell, you would’ve worried.”

“I was already worried!”

Hawkeye ran a hand over his face. “Come on, let’s go.”

Della followed Hawkeye out into the night. Gravel crunched under her boots, some pebbles skidding across the ground as she hurried down the line of tents. “How bad is it, really?”

“Dell, I have never seen him like this. Not even close.”

“Like what?”

“Just… terrified.” When they came upon the tent at the end of the row, Hawkeye stopped in front of it. “I knew you’d be the only one who could help us at this point. You’re his best friend, Dell. And he needs you.” 

He yanked the door open and Della stepped inside, turning to survey the room. BJ stood against the wall of the tent furthest from the bed. “Man, am I happy to see you.” 

She sighed, crossing to her friend’s bed. Father Mulcahy laid curled up on the mattress with his hands over his ears, shivering and slick with sweat, his chest hitching with uneven breaths. “You should’ve come to get me sooner.”

“I’m sorry, Della. I tried what you told me. I really did.”

The rough of BJ’s voice caught her off guard. She looked up, only then noticing the pain etched into his features. “I’m sorry, Beej, I didn’t mean it like that. I just…”

“Think I sucked at it?”

“No, no! You did your best! It’s just, when it comes to him, I…” She sighed, unable to put the overwhelming feeling in her chest into words. 

Behind her she heard Hawkeye give him a gentle, “I told you.”

Della sat down on the chair beside Mulcahy’s bed. His eyelids fluttered and his teeth chattered despite the sweat pouring down his face. “BJ, in the shelf behind you are his other sheets. Pass me one, please?” While she waited for them, she turned back to Father Mulcahy and gently rested a hand on his shoulder. He jerked away from it with a gasp, rolling back into the wall. “Easy, John…” She reached out again, tentatively touching the back of his hand before pulling it away from his ear. “It’s okay, it’s just me.”

He cracked open one eye and the sight of her pulled a strangled sound from his throat while his eyes flooded with tears. “Della?”

“Mhmm.”

“You’re really here?”

“I’m really here. See?”

He closed his eyes again as she took his hand briefly, stroking his knuckles with her thumb. “And you’re okay?”

“Of course, I’m okay.”

“Dell.” Her curls bounced as she glanced over her shoulder at BJ, feeling Mulcahy tense up at the sound of his voice. She stroked his knuckles with her thumb again before letting go to take the worn-in linens. Della unfolded the sheet as she watched Mulcahy curl back in on himself, hoping its presence would be comforting and familiar as she draped it over his shivering body.  However, it seemed to have the exact opposite effect, causing the cleric to gasp as soon as the sheet made contact with his skin and attempt to pull away from it. He shook his head, keeping his eyes clenched shut. Della rubbed his shoulder. “It’s alright… You’re cold, aren’t you?”

Father Mulcahy shook his head.

“You’re not cold?”

Another shake.

“Are you sure? You’re shivering. There’s a sheet—”

One more shake.

Della pressed her lips together for a moment, thinking. “There are enough for you to have one if you’re cold.”

Mulcahy shook his head again, but his teeth chattered still as he spoke. “I don’t need it.”

Della lowered her arms, pulling the sheet off of him and letting it drag on the ground. She frowned, thinking over her options again before Hawkeye piped up. “What’s up with that?”

“He thinks he’s back home,” she answered automatically, “sharing a bed with his brothers.”

“But still… why not take the sheet?”

Della bit her lip. She knew exactly why: during his childhood his family didn’t have enough money to heat the house, so he would routinely give up his chance at warmth for his siblings and then risk being punished if he as much as shivered. “I’m not sure.” She knew that even though he was at MASH with them and not back home in Philadelphia with his family, it still seemed real to him. His past and present were meshing together, and it likely wasn’t with his family alone.  “Hawkeye?” “Yeah?” “Can you go back to my tent and grab something from my bunk for me?”

“Now?”

“Yes. My sister sent me this light blanket she made. I don’t know if it smells more like me or the camp, but either way it’s something other than a thin sheet that could remind him of home or seminary school or anything else. Bring it here for me, please, will you?”

Hawkeye furrowed his brows at her mention of seminary school but didn’t question her. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

Della scooted forward on the chair, reaching out to Mulcahy again. She rested a gentle hand on his arm where it covered his ears again, letting her thumb stroke his feverish skin in an attempt at comfort. “Beej?”

“Mm?”

“How was he before I came in? I noticed you were standing against the wall.”

“Frantic. Wouldn’t let me anywhere near him.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

Pain flickered in the man’s eyes. “Yeah. He kept asking me not to hurt him. I would never.”

“Did he address you by name?”

“No. Not once.”

“He didn’t understand who he was seeing, Beej. He thought you were someone else.”

“But who? Who would hurt someone like him?”

Della sighed, shaking her head. “Did he react the same way to Hawkeye?”

“Yeah.” BJ swallowed hard. “It didn’t seem to matter what we said or did, it only seemed to freak him out.”

“Dammit.” Della shut her eyes. She let out a long, shaky breath. 

“What is it? What’s—”

“Just… Stay back for a few minutes, okay? And try not to take it personally. I’m sure in his right mind he knows that you and Hawk would never hurt him, but in this state, he thinks everyone and anyone could, especially when you look like two very specific people from his past to his scrambled brain.”

“I—”

“Just let me handle this.” She lowered her voice, her thumb finally stilling as she heard Hawkeye approaching outside. “Please.”

BJ nodded, then looked to Hawkeye over her shoulder. He held up a grey blanket that seemed to have been crocheted out of a thin wool, adorned with a pattern of pale blue flowers. Not only was it something familiar to now but it was thin enough to not cause him to overheat. “This it?”

“Yes.” She reached out for it. “Thank you.”

BJ tugged on Hawkeye’s arm, pulling him to the other side of the tent with him. They spoke in hushed voices, no doubt discussing how to break the man’s fever once he’d calmed down. 

Della slid onto the edge of Mulcahy’s mattress and draped the blanket over him. At first touch he flinched, but she quickly spoke up. “It’s still me. It’s Della.” She tucked it around him, rubbing his arm. “Is that better?”

He nodded, but kept his eyes clenched shut. “Dell…?”

“Mhmm?”

“Are the bad men gone?”

Those words knocked the air from her lungs. The innocence in that question—in that voice. And the fear… “What bad men were you seeing, John?” He shook his head and she gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “I can’t tell you until you tell me, hun.”

BJ and Hawkeye exchanged glances. It wasn’t unusual for her to use terms of endearment, but it wasn’t often, if ever, that they heard anyone use them on the Chaplain. Most people didn’t even call him by his first name. But then again, if anyone would, it would be Della. 

“My father,” he mumbled.

“No, I haven’t seen your father. Who else did you see?”

“He… He…”

Della rested a hand on his hair, brushing sweat-soaked bangs from his forehead. “Easy… Take a breath for me, alright?”

His attempt was futile. “He used to come into the dorms… there were so many boys, but he always chose me…” 

She closed her eyes momentarily, taking a long, silent breath. “John, was it Rector O’Malley that you were seeing?”

A tremor ran through him at the mention of the man’s name. He hugged the blanket closer to his chest. “I don’t want him to touch me.”

“We’re in Korea, hun. He can’t hurt you here.” Della looked over to BJ and Hawkeye, both of whom stared back at her, slack-jawed and horrified. “I don’t see him. Do you still see him?”

“I don’t want to.”

Della frowned as Mulcahy clenched his eyes shut tighter. She brushed his hair from his forehead again. “I know you don’t.”

“Please don’t let him touch me, Dell. Please.” His voice crescendoed in volume and desperation. “Please. Please, don’t let him—”

“Hey…”

Mulcahy wrenched away from her, crying out as he did so, only to once again roll into the wall. Hawkeye and BJ jumped up, but Della held up a hand. Their presence would not help the situation, that she was sure of. Her hands hovered over his trembling form as he continued to plead with her. “Are you hearing him?”

“Please don’t let him touch me. Please don’t touch me, please don’t—” A sob ripped from the Priest’s throat as he tensed, tormented by something no one else could see. “Let go! Please, let go! Please!”

“John—”

“Please don’t hurt me!” His body jerked this way and that in an attempt to escape the grasp of invisible hands, ramming his shoulder into the nightstand and nearly punching the support of the tent. “Don’t touch me, please! Please!” Mulcahy threw his head to the side, eyes still clenched shut and brows pinched. He curled in on himself, protecting his vitals. “Leave me alone… Please…”

Della winced at the pain in her chest. She slid a bit closer to him, letting one hand very gently rub his side. “Are you hearing the Rector or your Father?”

“I don’t know,” he sobbed. “It’s dark. I just don’t want him to touch me again. It hurts.”

“Hurts? Are you in pain?”

He nodded, stopping only briefly before crying out again. “No. No! Please!”

“Hey—”

“Please, not that! It hurts!”

“John—”

“Please, don’t,” he begged, choking on a sob. “It hurts. Don’t touch me there.”

“Hey… It’s only me touching you.”

“It’s not.” Mulcahy shook his head, drawing his elbows in closer and burying his face. “Please help me.”

“He’s not here, John, he can’t hurt you,” Della said, still rubbing his side to remind him that she’s there. “The only hands on you are mine, hun.”

“N-no! No!” 

Mulcahy’s sobs only grew louder and more pained. Desperate. Della stared at him trembling beneath her touch, scared and delirious. What should she do? Hell, what could she do? The only options that came to mind weren’t conventional for a patient and certainly not for a priest. But in that moment, Mulcahy wasn’t either of those things to her. He was her best friend, one of the people she loved most in the world, and he was terrified. She set her jaw, intent to make him feel safe regardless of what Hawkeye and BJ thought, or anyone else for that matter. 

“Hey, hey, hey, shh…” Shifting further onto his bed, Della pulled Mulcahy into her arms in an attempt to both comfort him and stop him from flailing. 

He fought to break free from her grip. “No! Don’t hurt me! Don’t touch me!”

“It’s only me, John. I’m not going to hurt you…” 

“N-no! Please help me, Dell. Don’t let him do that to me again, please. Please.”

“Shh, he can’t touch you here, okay?”

“It hurts!” Mulcahy’s whole body tensed as he tried to curl in on himself further, shaking violently. “It—Hurts—”

Della closed her eyes, her lips pursed as if she felt the pain inflicted on him by his feverish state. She thought over what could possibly be of comfort to him but came up short. In this instance, anything related to the bible could bring him back to seminary school, and regardless, she didn’t know anything off by heart. Then there was Hawkeye and to a slightly lesser extent BJ, but both of them had only furthered the man’s panic. The only other thing she could think of that could bring him any sort of comfort in a state like this would be Kathy, the only other person he’d ever mentioned showing him any sort of love or affection. But Kathy was halfway across the world… 

Della adjusted her arms around him, pulling Mulcahy closer to her chest. She rested on hand on the back of his head, the other wrapped around his waist, idly rubbing his back in the vicinity of her hand. “Shh… it’s only me. I won’t hurt you.”

“I—Don’t—Want it—”

“I know you don’t.”

“I didn’t then either, but he… he…”

“I know, hun. I know you didn’t. It’s not your fault.”

“It must be,” Mulcahy sobbed into her neck. “Or else he—NO, NO!”

Della tightened her arms around him. “No, no, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“He’s—hurting—me—” He tensed up again. “Why won’t you—stop him—”

“I can’t.”

“Please, Dell!”

“John, I can’t, honey, I’m sorry. I can’t see him.”

“Dell, please. Please.”

The sound of his sobs made her chest ache and she found herself wishing she could fight off this imaginary figment of a very real man. “I know you feel him and hear him, hun. I know he feels so real and you’re scared and confused… I know. But I’m the only one touching you, honey, I promise. You’re safe.”

His body jolted again. “No, he’s—he’s—”

“He’s not here, John. You’re safe.”

“But I feel him…”

“He’s not real. He’s not real…” 

“But I s-saw him! I can still hear him. I can still feel him… touching me.”

“The person you saw was Hawkeye, not O’Malley.”

“Hawkeye…?”

Della smoothed his hair. “Hawkeye Pierce. Tall, black hair, blue eyes, a bit of a smart-ass but a fantastic doctor. You met him here in Korea before you met me. Ring a bell?”

“Korea… Yes. Hawkeye.” 

“Yes. He would never do what O’Malley did. It was only him you were seeing.”

“But he was with my Father…”

“He was with BJ. Not your Father.”

“BJ…” Mulcahy shuddered. 

“BJ Hunnicutt? Light brown hair, blue eyes, ridiculous mustache… Always talking about Peggy and Erin.”

“Erin…” He sniffed. “His baby girl?”

“His baby girl,” Della hummed. “Good. See? You’re safe. Neither Hawkeye or BJ would hurt you.”

“But I could hear O’Malley and my Father. I could feel them—” 

Della tightened her arms around him when he tensed, a sob being dragged from his throat as an unpleasant sensation ran through him. “Shh… It’s not them. BJ and Hawkeye are standing across the tent right now. They’re in my field of view. I promise, neither of them are touching you.”

Mulcahy flinched again, curling further into Della’s embrace. “Then how are they here…? How come I can feel them?”

“They’re not here. There’s no way they could be here in Korea. You’re safe.” It felt bizarre to say those words together. Safe in Korea… Though she knew it was true. Mulcahy was safer here than he was back home, either with his family or the other authorities in the church. 

Mulcahy curled further into her, uncharacteristically clingy. His voice remained tight and thick with tears. “Then why… Why do I feel this way?”

She cringed. She hadn’t wanted to try and differentiate the men and cause more confusion for him, but his distress called forced her hand—she couldn’t calm him down unless he believed that he truly was safe. “You’re hallucinating, sweetie. You have a high fever.”

“Hallucinating? Why? How can I make it stop?”

“We have to wait for your fever to go down, hun. That’s about all we can do.”

“You can’t make them stop?” A violent shiver ran through his body, accompanied by an involuntary whine from a pain she didn’t dare imagine. “There’s nothing you can do?”

“I’m sorry, John. I’ll stay with you, okay?”

“Okay.” He choked out a sob, shivering again. He pulled his legs close to his chest. “They’re—”

“Shh…” Della ran a hand over the back of his head. “It’s only me, sweetie, I’m holding you. It’s only me.”

The only response she received was a whimper, followed by another sob. Mulcahy buried his face further in her neck and the combined heat of his skin and tears made her heart ache. She ran her fingers through his hair, not caring what the doctors across the tent thought. “I’ve got you, John. You’re safe… I promise.”

Della leaned her cheek on the top of Mulcahy’s head, still holding him while he cried. Her own eyes welled with tears as she chanced a glance at Hawkeye and BJ. Both men stood across the tent form her, barely computing what was going on with their friend. Hawkeye shook his head and looked away from her, at a loss. BJ pressed his lips into a firm line. It was hard to see one of their closest friends in so much pain, but what was worse was knowing he’d been in pain this whole time, yet had never said a word of it to them. It only solidified the bond between Mulcahy and Della in their minds. Neither of them knew what was going on, but Della not only understood what was happening with very little context, but was also able to calm the man when he started to spiral into hysterics. 

Hawkeye glanced over at BJ. “It’s a good thing I went and got her,” he whispered. “We would have never calmed him down.”

BJ stared intently at the sobbing priest still wrapped up in Della’s arms. “He thought… I was his Father. Coming to hurt him.”

“And me? What about me? Why did my presence scare him so much?”

“The Rector. In his mind… You were the seminary school rector that raped him. Repeatedly by the sounds of it.”

“That’s…” Hawkeye followed BJ’s gaze. Someone who only ever wanted to give to others had only ever had things taken from him. All Mulcahy wanted to do was help, but he’d only ever been hurt. Perhaps that was why he was so reckless with his life—he had nothing to lose. Nothing to go back to. Sure, he had Kathy… but that was it for him, wasn’t it? And the shame that came from that kind of abuse, not only from a religious figure, but from a parent, and either way someone he should have been able to trust… “I feel sick.”

“This isn’t the way I’d have liked to find out.”

“I’m sure it’s not how he’d like you to find out either. In fact, I’m sure he would’ve wanted you to never find out.”

“That’s true.” BJ paused, watching Della adjust so that she was laying down a bit more to help Mulcahy be more comfortable. “There’s one thing I can’t figure out, though. If we both resembled an abuser… Who was Della?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I was his father and you were the rector, then who was she in his mind?”

“There’s no way to know, really. Kathy, maybe? Although I doubt it. He did call her by name. I think she was just herself.”

“Somehow she broke through that haze?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Hawkeye pondered. “Things get all mixed up when you hallucinate. Sometimes you still know you’re in the same environment and aspects are altered or added. Sometimes you don’t know. Sometimes it seems to be a mix. So… he thought we were his abusers, but Della was just Della.”

“That… doesn’t make sense.”

“Hallucinations rarely do,” he joked, though there was no humour in it. “He clearly feels safe with Della, so her presence was able to somewhat ground him in reality, even if the rest was still hazy and overwhelming. That’s how she was able to calm him down.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about patients hallucinating and such.”

“I don’t! Only the general stuff we’re taught in medical school, but that stuff’s gotta be outdated now. I was able to piece it together based off of what Della told you and from watching her just now. Besides, haven’t you ever had a fever-induced hallucination before? You told me once about a time you got real sick as a kid.”

“Yeah, but my hallucinations weren’t…”

“Trauma?”

“Yeah. I just thought I saw a shark in our living room. That’s nowhere near the magnitude of what he’s experiencing.”

“Well, when you have trauma in your past they seem to go hand in hand. You were only a little kid when that happened, right?”

“Mhmm.”

“I was an adult.” Hawkeye sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “When I got a bad fever once I kept thinking I was drowning. Kept seeing this… this hand, reaching down to me. And right as I went to grab it, it disappeared. It was… terrifying.”

“I once hallucinated my mom,” said Della, her voice soft but still loud enough to hear. “She stood there telling me I was horrible at my job and that the suicide one of our patients was my fault.”

BJ spoke for himself and Hawkeye, who seemed too caught up in his thoughts to articulate. “That’s awful. I’m really sorry that happened.”

“It can be the people you least expect.” Della’s voice trailed off as she rubbed Mulcahy’s back. He still laid in her embrace, curled up and leaning against her chest, his breathing evening out as he drifted back to sleep. She looked back up at BJ, who seemed both shocked and not shocked at all at the way she held him. The way he let her hold him. “My point is… My mother would have never said that to me. She died when I was a teenager and she was a sweetheart. It was my manager at the hospital who derogated me. And yet, the two traumas ended up mixing together.”

“I guess it’s not a one-size-fits-all, huh?”

“Nope. You can’t loop all instances of hallucinating together, it just won’t work.”

“Well,” Hawkeye croaked, coming back to himself. “Regardless of how you knew what to do, I’m just glad you did. That’s why I went to get you, both because I knew you’d be our best shot. Plus, you’re the only one other than maybe Kathy who could ever hold him like this.”

Della’s cheeks burned. “I-I knew physical comfort helps him but what I was doing already wasn’t working, so…”

“Hey, I’m not knockin’ it if it works!”

BJ chuckled. “It’s sorta endearing, eh, Hawk?”

“You guys,” Della grumbled, fighting back even more heat rising up her neck. “He’s not in his right state of mind. Under normal circumstances, he would never…”

“We know, Dell.”

“We’re just teasing you,” said Hawkeye with an impish grin. 

“Well knock it off.” She couldn’t help but smile, but it quickly fell from her face when Mulcahy started mumbling under his breath. She listened closer, tilting her head slightly, but couldn’t make out anything. Intending to calm whatever unpleasant thoughts seemed to be in his head, she started to rub his back again. When she looked back up, Hawkeye was shaking his head at the ground, a deep frown on his face. “Hawk?”

“I just… I know I don’t have the full story and probably never will, but form just the brief glimpse we got… I can’t believe he had to go through that.”

“You’d never know it,” BJ added. 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Della pondered for a moment before continuing. “The signs are there if you’re more in-tune with them. But I know what you mean.”

“I don’t ever want to see that agonized look on his face again. Especially not directed at me.” Hawkeye let out a long breath, still staring at the floor before bringing his gaze back up to his sick friend. He took in the sight of Mulcahy, having finally seemed to settle against Della. “I never thought I’d hear that kind of tormented sobbing come from him. Ever.”

“Like you said, hallucinating is complicated. People don’t act like they normally would, and to anyone witnessing someone else hallucinating, it doesn’t seem to make sense. But it doesn’t have to make sense to scare someone, especially if the hallucination stems from or is directly related to past trauma. And that’s the thing about it, right? The reactions may not match with how that person actually reacted to the real life event. Like when I hallucinated my mom blaming me for that patient’s death… I was inconsolable. But when it actually happened, I barely said a word.”

“Well, I’m not sure how Father Mulcahy would have reacted to what happened to him but… I’m sure if it’s what I think it was, he would’ve been punished for crying out or begging for help.”

Della nodded, thinking back to the memories Mulcahy had shared with her. “Exactly. But right now he’s confused and scared, disoriented, he’s not feeling well, and he’s vulnerable. Being suddenly thrust back into a time of persistent trauma that he thought he’d finally escaped… that would fuck with anyone.”

Hawkeye nodded, but it was BJ who spoke up. “Well, we’re glad you’re here for him.”

Della gave a breathy laugh through her nose, not looking at him but at Mulcahy as she nodded. “Me too. It was nagging at me all day… I knew something was up.”

“You have good instincts,” Hawkeye said, offering a small smile. “Thank you, Della. He’s lucky to have you.”

Della smoothed Mulcahy’s hair as he slept. “I’m lucky to have him, too.”

#mash #m*a*s*h #father mulcahy #della woods #whumptober 2023 #hallucination tw #panic attack #sickfic #hepatitis #mashposting #emm makes ocs #emm rambles #Em's Whumptober 2023 #hawkeye pierce #bj hunnicutt #nurse kellye #child abuse tw #sa tw #delerium #thermometer

[whisperthelocalcrypticbastard]

day 21

burn, baby (234 words) by Pugrii_writes_2453 Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: モブサイコ100 | Mob Psycho 100 Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo & Reigen Arataka, Dimple & Reigen Arataka, Dimple & Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo Characters: Reigen Arataka, Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, Dimple (Mob Psycho 100) Additional Tags: Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood Loss, Near Death Experiences, Whump, Angst, Thats why you dont give normal people esp, To Be Edited Series: Part 21 of Pug's Whumptober 2023 Summary: prompt: near death experience There is a reason it's hard to make an esper by yourself.

@ailesswhumptober

#angst #fanfiction #whump #reigen arataka #mp100 #pretty sure i forgot to tag yesterday

[i-love-you-all]

1 and 3 for the writing thingy??

Of course! (and if anyone has other writing related q's feel free to ask from this list or not lol)

Give short descriptions of all your current WIPs.

Title TBD - there's no title on this one yet bc I'm deciding... It's the next story I plan to publish and it follows almost only Sova as he finds himself in a mission gone wrong. It's done, just needs editing and publishing lol.

Break it Down - Viking AU where Breach is an exiled Viking exploring England, and Aleksander is the son of the Brimstone King (:p) who agrees to marry him so that their people won't go to war. Outline is done, and there are 8 chapters rn, 33k words, but my guess is that it'll go up to 20 chapters, but if I slow down some parts in the climax, it can go past that.

You Break It You Buy It - Based on whumptober one shot w the same name, but it'll be a sequel to Rumours of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated. It'll feature more of Killjoy again, with bits of Brimstone. This is in the outline phase bc I had to contact a tech friend abt hacking and how that works LOL.

Leftover Letters - Title is not certain but this is based on Sova leaving behind letters for Breach to read after he's gone. And one day he doesn't come back from a mission. I was planning on having this be something readers can interact and affect the plot for? Like I can scatter puzzles and if people can solve them maybe we get a happy ending?

Arcane Academy - Original story, nothing to do with Valorant. A boy finds out about a magical conspiracy that's hidden from the public and learns that whether he wants to or not, he is part of it because he will inherit powers he needs to learn how to control. My ultimate goal is to play with perspective shifts between different characters, but I've wanted to do something like this for a while.

What makes you love writing?

The end product! All my stories come from random day dreams or thoughts I have and then expand on, and it normally doesn't exist yet as a story/book. But it feels like once I have the completed story out of my head and on paper, the feeling of reading it back to myself is so satisfactory, like , yes, the idea did go well, and it does work. Also, it's cathartic to write about some emotions as I feel them. Esp when I have my own issues, projection and writing about it as if it wasn't happening to me is nice.

#I think i'm lucky that ppl also like the random things i think about #like i always thought about writing a soulmates au #but ig that ppl enjoy what i would enjoy is nice #personal #writing #answered asks #writers ask game

[jewishtommycoolatta]

1. Stabbed & In The Shadows

Word Count: 293

TW for blood/gore, beating, knives, and stabbing/forced amputation.

In hindsight, Gordon really should have been more suspicious of how Benrey and Bubby kept trying to get him to go into the room first.

The shifty eyes, the insistence-- well, it didn’t really matter now.

The lights were out. 

Gordon heard a sick crack as one of the soldiers kicked him in the chest, the blunt pain of the military boot mixing into the sharp pain of his rib fracturing. He didn’t even know how he heard it over the sound of his own groaning and the unhelpful commentary of the science team and Benrey.

He let out another strained call for help, this time answered by Dr. Coomer, who refused because of the strange playcoin thing he was always on about. At the very least Gordon thought he would drop it when seeing him in danger, but apparently not. 

He didn’t hear the metal of the suit’s right arm crunch and fall off. He didn’t hear the knife unsheathe.

“Oh dear… what are they doing to his--”

The pain in his chest was nothing compared to the horrific feeling of the knife plunging into his arm, slicing away at flesh and muscle and sawing through the bone. This knife was not made to cut like this, and he could feel it, the serrated edge tearing through him with way too much force. When his arm was gone he could barely even tell because the ungodly pain was still there, his blood pooling around him, the ghost of the knife still lodged somewhere in his body surely, because he could feel it. He could still feel it stabbing into him.

“Oh my God, his arm! I didn’t tell you to do that!”

Bubby was drowned out by the sound of Gordon’s screams.

#kosher soda #mixtober prompts #hlvrai fanfic #tw blood #tw knives #tw stabbing #tw amputation #welcome to the first day of mixtober which is what im calling my fluff/angst prompt list mixup #the first prompt is from a whumptober list and the second is from a flufftober list this is how it will always be sorted in case you cared #i am not putting this in the main tag bc. dont want to skjdsd #i dont wanna put all these short prompts in there esp if theyre. excessively bloody like this one #also idk if this EXACTLY fits the prompt bc technically its not REALLY stabbing and in the shadows its amputation in the dark but. whatever #dont worry i am going to try and make tmrws a Nice one

[eatsockss]

Irondad and SteveTony Fic Recs!!

I decided to do a fic rec list bc i always see them and am So Grateful for them, esp rn bc everybody’s quarantined so what else is there to do but read fanfic. these are some of my favorite fics/some of the fics I read recently and just have open in safari rn. they’re mostly angst or whump ngl bc that’s my favorite but,,,, enjoy!

Irondad

ever in your favor by @iron--spider

Summary: Peter startles awake when someone shakes him. “Sorry, honey,” May says. Peter blinks a couple times and she comes into focus, her hair pulled back from her face. She’s trying not to look a certain way, but he can see it in her eyes anyway. She clears her throat, keeps talking. “But it’s…” She glances away, wets her lips. “You gotta get ready.” He remembers what day it is, and his heart beats like a drum at someone’s execution. But he tries to put on a mask, make it all seem normal. It’s everything but, despite the fact that he’s been dealing with reaping day since he was born, between himself, Ben and May. That fear that one of them could be taken away. Sent to surefire slaughter. But now Ben is gone, taken despite never having his name drawn from a bowl, and May’s finally safe. Now Peter’s name is in there alone. The last Parker sitting on the chopping block. He doesn’t know how to be. He doesn’t know what normal is, when the Hunger Games are looming on the horizon.

Note: this is probably my favorite ever irondad fic so like ,,, ummm ,,, Please read this

lay your weary head to rest by @the-great-escapism

Summary: “Please.” He means to say it loudly, with confidence, but it comes out as nothing more than a raspy whisper. His ears are ringing painfully, and his head feels like it’s going to explode. It hurts and hurts and hurts. “M-May,” Peter cries out to no one, feeling like a child. “Tony. Please, ‘m so tired.” He inhales and chokes on his tears. He can’t tell if it’s his imagination or not, but he’s pretty sure he hears a laugh. In which Peter gets kidnapped, and that's not even the worst part. The worst part is he's not allowed to sleep.

Priorities by JLMonroe1234

Summary: Tony had been in the cave for a month. Waiting. Planning. Healing. Biding his time until his creation would be ready and durable enough to get him home. With Yinsen's help and Tony's expertise, he would save them both. But when an injured teenager is brought into the mix, Tony must reevaluate his priorities and decide what's more important; a speedy escape, or rescuing the boy with the spider tattoo?

Return to Normal by Singing_Sirens

Summary: On his first day back, he didn’t expect the stares. Well, he expected some stares, but he didn’t think the entire hallway would just… stop. But that’s what they did. They froze, jaws hanging open, eyes wide, as he lowered his head and curled in on himself. He pushed through the attention. He set his jaw and marched forward, because he had been through worse in the last year.

Patient by alifetime

Summary: Just because Tony has retired as an Avenger, does not mean he still doesn’t have a business to run with Pepper. Since both his oldest children cannot always babysit for Morgan, he hires a babysitter. Harley didn’t really know what to think of the babysitter, and always kept a protective eye on Morgan. But she had told him that Skip was nice. She always seems to be smiling and happy whenever Skip comes to stay. It didn’t filter his concern. So when he goes college, he demands that Peter keeps an eye on him. Peter liked Skip. Until he didn’t. However, he will do anything to keep his brother and sister safe.

Identity Theft by KitCat992

Summary: It's been months since the events of Civil War, and the Avengers are doing their best to remain a team, having promised to forgive and forget. Unfortunately for them, Tony Stark's latest invention has been stolen and recovering it causes tension to reappear. Meanwhile, in Queens, Peter Parker has two main priorities on his plate — complete his midterm finals, and track down a fishbowl wearing criminal that may or may not lead him right into the hands of the Avengers. Somehow between all of this, Spider-man's identity is revealed to the Avengers, Steve and Tony's friendship may permanently be damaged due to continued hidden secrets, and Happy struggles to buy a youth-sized casket for Peter's funeral. Things were a lot easier when they were fighting over Bucky Barnes. (Or: The Avengers welcome Peter into their crazy superhero family and will do anything to protect him.) Shameless Peter whump and Protective Tony Stark.

the second law of thermodynamics by fourleafchloe

Summary: It happens the same way it always does. (It's just discipline. It's not that bad. It's fine, Peter is fine, he'll be fine--) Except he really isn't fine, and Tony knows something's up, and Peter's house of cards is falling apart, and so the story goes. — separate from other fics in the series. a recovery story full of soft irondad, found families, and (eventually) tons of fluff.

Note: this is part of a series of separate irondad fics, each one of them is incredible, so go check out this entire series.

how can the body die? (you tell me, everything) by @madasthesea

Summary: Tony felt panic creep up his spine. Something was occurring to him, slowly percolating in the back of his mind. “You said the stinger got you. Is Scorpion’s stinger venomous?” “I don’t—” Peter cut off as he groaned, the muscles in his jaw tight. “I don’t know. He upgraded—he was faster. Bigger. I—I thought I could beat him.”

oh, darling. by luna_e_stelle

Summary: "Peter?" Tony’s voice wavered with an urgency that cut through the thick haze in Peter’s mind. There was so much emotion in that one word that Peter wondered how he had ever doubted that Tony loved him. They had never said it out loud, just showed it in a way that spoke louder than words ever could. — Peter is taken, and he tries to find his way back home.

whumptober series by @iron--spider

Summary: 10 fics that fulfill whumptober prompts (i could many choose one so just go read the whole series)

Pieces of Echoes by @geekymoviemom

Summary: this is like a rewrite of the MCU integrating most of the storylines So Seamlessly with SuperFamily. Amazing series.

uneasy lies the head by @tnyystark

Summary: Two thoughts come to Peter, both at a breakneck speed he can barely handle. One: the world now thinks he is responsible for the attack in London. And Prague. And Venice. And the murder - murder; as if the man is really dead; as if the universe is kind enough to let that happen - of Mysterio. And two: the world now knows who he is.

Long Shadows by Black_Briar

Summary: Peter comes into contact with a foreign substance on a mission, and things only get worse from there.

I’ll Be Your Home (Forever and Always) by ScarletPotter

Summary: Peter didn't plan on being kidnapped, it all just sorta, maybe, happened? Peter was on his way to meet Ned when suddenly everything goes dark. When he wakes up he's restrained to a table and a man introduces himself to be Quentin Beck, and that he's going to kill him.

god did not craft us as alters, but as dying gods by helloitisafellowgay

Summary: Peter Parker is not immune to trauma. Far from it, in fact. (With great power comes great responsibility, Peter.) So when the building collapses, when the dilapidated remains of metal and concrete, and later searing scraps of plane, fall around him? Well, this is practically nothing. Practically. He’s fine, really. It just gets a little hard to breathe sometimes. Like, when he follows Happy into Stark Tower through the parking garage. Or when he turns on the news while doing homework and sees reports of a plane crash. And sure, the small fire that broke out in the chemistry lab had sent his heart racing and caused sweat to bead on the back of his neck until even Ned asked if he was okay, but it’s nothing to worry about. Regardless, he knows where those come from. But this? In which Skip Westcott is a repressed memory, until he returns.

Note: favorite fic title!

Stony

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast by @kapteniron

Summary: Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual. He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either. What is unusual is that the stranger is silent. (One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Forever Linked by ashes0909 and athletiger

Summary: Before the door even clicked shut, he opened his mouth to let the pink petals flutter to the ground. In the center of all this mess was a single rose, not yet bloomed, but Tony knew, deep down, what this meant. But they were only teammates for sure; nothing else will go further. — “You have Hanahaki?” she asked, barely more than a whisper. He fisted out the petal from his pocket and held it out to her. “If that’s what would cause this to come out of my throat.”

Steve Rogers’ Guide to Wooing Tony Stark by Tonks22

Summary: Steve tries to woo Tony. Steve is not very good at it. Tony is oblivious.

Blue Lips, Blue Veins by @romanoff

Summary: Tony Stark is Iron Man. Before that, he was an man with bigger heart than brain. Before that, he was an asshole with a bigger mouth than sense. And before that, he was was a scared little boy. Not that it matters. Stark's always have had iron in their backbone.

Note: this is more of a character study of Tony Stark but it’s Incredible. Cannot recommend this enough.

The Butterfly Effect by @itsallavengers

Summary: While fighting with Loki, Steve Rogers from 2012 hears the two simple words: "Bucky's alive." And the whole universe ripples with the aftershocks.

Going Steady by @itsallavengers

Summary: Steve has a soft spot for the sound of Tony's heart

Hide A Heart Of War by RayShippouUchiha

Summary: “You’ve got war in your heart boy,” Howard sneers, “don’t ever try and pretend to be anything but what you are.” Tony feels the familiar burn of a flower mark being etched into his skin but he doesn’t look, doesn’t try and check to see what it is. Instead he keeps his eyes on Howard and his hands cupped around his bleeding mouth and nose.

Note: this is technically Stuckony but,,, it’s rly good so it’s going on the list.

Assorted

a primer for the small weird loves by babyloveparkner

Summary: “What are you—?” “Hold on,” Peter says, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as the pen moves across the page. He rips out another page, then seems to grow frustrated and just opens up his notebook to start writing in it rather than stealing pages out of it. Harley feels stuck, flabbergasted and frozen, and he doesn’t know how long he sits there and watches before Peter lets out a huff and finally leans back, satisfaction in his eyes as he hands it all to Harley, all the scribbled writing and torn pages. “Read these.” Harley blinks once, slow, as he takes the offered notebook with the ripped out papers on top. “What…?” And Peter just smiles and shrugs. “They’re poems,” he says. “I looked some up, wrote down the good parts. Maybe those’ll give you that hopeful feeling that you were looking for.” or: harley runs from a homophobic town and finds solace in poetry and peter parker

the spider-man conspiracy by @tempestaurora

Summary: WHO IS SPIDER-MAN? The screen showed Peter Parker, sixteen years old and determined to prove the identity of Spider-Man over the course of the three-part documentary he was making, unknowing that it would become viral within days of the first part being released. Behind the camera, way off screen, was Harley Keener, Tony Stark’s other prodigy child, grinning like crazy as Peter started the documentary. Only a few people knew what was to come, and those few people were about to have a great few weeks. “My name is Peter Parker, and with the help of my friends, Ned Leeds, Harley Keener, and my Aunt, May Parker, who provided me with a lot of red yarn for this project, we’re going to uncover the identity of Spider-Man.” OR "what if peter just decided to fuck with everyone who didn’t know he was spider man and make a documentary about him trying to uncover the Truth."

5 times Tony kissed Rhodey and the one time Rhodey kissed back by lomku

Summary: Exactly what it says in the title.

Note: I wish I had more Ironhusband fics to rec bc i love them but they aren’t as abundant as Stony fics and the ones i’ve read most recently are Stony.

#fic rec #fic rec list #irondad fics #spiderman fics #stevetony fic #spiderman #spiderman whump #peter parker #iron dad angst #tony stark #iron man #iron husbands #stuckony #stony #stony fic #marvel #mcu fic #mcu

[aro-aizawa]

I'm looking forward to Day 14~ I think that's actually my favorite prompt, or at least it's definitely high up there! I've been kinda searching for a lowkey way to say 'do you still want prompts' without putting any pressure on you to write any more of them, although I'll admit I'm pretty glad to see you haven't stopped :) However many you manage, whenever you manage them, in whichever order you manage them - I will happily consume any Whumptober fics you put out there! - Anon J

thank you!!! day 14 rn is less on the whumpy side and more on the talky side, but that might change w editing lol

im deffo not giving up. im gonna be real slow w it, and im gonna be real hit or miss for if i have ideas for prompts (,,,sorry) but i think you’re safe to send prompts whenever i post an installment!

#whumptober 2020 #anonymous #i kinda took day 14 and made it into one of my headcanon fics where i just spend the time focusing on that headcanon #instead of like. actual whump. so whoops but i’ll go back and add in a bit more whump bc it feels weird to post it #when there’s actually minimal whump lol but i had a rlly fun time writing ty lee she’s great and esp working of her and sokka friendship? #good shit right there

[ethereousdelirious]

Whumptober # 13 - Pneumonia

The original prompt was “chemical pneumonia,” but i had to alter it because lung stuff squicks me out.

Fandom: The M.agnus A.rchives

Characters, E.lias, J.on, Tim, S.asha, M.artin

Warnings/Notes: I characterized E.lias differently than i usually do, so YMMV with this one. Notes justifying this at the end. The fic is spoiler-free but the end note will not be, so just skip that if you’re not up to like, S4

It was odd watching Elias get sick in real time.

Jon swore he had never seen him so much as he did just following his promotion. First there was the scary meeting in Elias’ office, and then it felt like he checked on Jon at least once a week.

He was sniffling and tucking a handkerchief, an actual honest-to-god handkerchief, back into his jacket for the first visit.

“Ah, Jon!” he said, a little stuffed up. “Just the man I wanted to see. How’s everything coming?”

“Oh, um.” Jon had to fight not to shy away from Elias’ gaze. “Uh, good, thank you.”

“Yes?” Elias seemed to get closer, though he didn’t move. “Got your things moved over to the bigger office?”

“Yes.”

Elias nodded once, then turned his head to the side and sneezed.

This time Jon did step back. 

“Got a cold, then?” he asked with faux-casualness that made his voice too booming and jovial.

“Ah,” Elias sniffled. “Yes. No matter, I’m sure it’ll go away soon.” He clapped Jon on the back and left.

Jon went back to his computer, icy branches of discomfort tracing up his spine. Sometimes Elias didn’t act like a person.

He was worse on the next visit, but not by much. Jon was coming back from his lunch break and Tim was following, teasing.

“–and we’ll get you a great big nameplate,” Tim said, tracing the size of it with his hands. “Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist.” He snorted, not seeming to realize that he was being annoying. “We’ll get you a big, fancy badge to go along with it.”

Then Elias turned the corner and scared the daylights out of them both. Jon actually jumped and knocked into Tim a bit.

“Hello, Jon. Tim.”

Jon tried to catch his breath. “Oh, E-Elias.”

“You scared us!” Tim said,always eager to smooth things over. “How can we help you?”

“Yes.” Jon straightened. “Sorry.”

Elias didn’t answer right away. He gave a few juddering coughs into his sleeve first. Then he straightened and cleared his throat. “I wanted to see how the re-organization was coming. That’s an ambitious project, especially for four academics. I don’t suppose you used to be a filing clerk?” he asked Tim.

“No,” sad Tim. He hesitated. “Are you, um, alright, Elias? You look a little–” He waved his hand in front of his face. 

“Just a cold!” Elias said, too brightly for a man who evidently couldn’t breathe out of his nose. He turned to address Jon again. “Show me your progress?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Jon turned and led Elias to the archives. He was never one for small talk, so he lapsed into a pensive, nervous silence. 

Jon knew he was a workaholic, but if he ever had the audacity to come to work as sick as Elias sounded, he would have at least locked himself away in an office and not inflicted himself on everyone.

“Remind me again why you’re–” Elias paused to clear his throat– “converting everything to audio format.”

Jon pursed his lips, trying not to feel too attacked. “Well,” he said. He didn’t like to look Elias in the eyes, so he kept bouncing his gaze between Elias’ raw nose and chapped, parted lips. “I, ah. I thought it might be good to have a backup. Some of the statements are so old you can barely read them. I thought we could convert them to audio format and derive transcripts from that.”

“Spelling might be an issue,” Elias said. Before Jon could even take a breath to speak, Elias was coughing again. It was a nasty, wheezing fit that lasted entirely too long for Jon’s comfort and left Elias short of breath. “Do excuse me,” he said when he was done, and smiled a little. It was still enough to make his chapped lower lip split and start to bleed.

“Oh, god,” Jon said before he could stop himself. “Are you sure you should be here? Sir.” He was not about to get written up for having an attitude problem. Again.

“Of course.” Elias sniffled and touched his lip, looking strangely bemused at the blood that stained his fingertip.

He looked so lost that Jonathan felt strangely compelled to give him a hint. “Maybe some lip balm? When the bleeding stops?”

“Yes, of course.” The confusion faded away, replaced with a businesslike demeanor that suited him better, somehow. In his black suit and charcoal-colored shirt, the paleness of his face looked all the more sickly. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, he managed to give Jon a keen look. “We’ll continue this later, then.”

“Feel better soon,” Jon offered, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears.

.

Jon always hated meetings. Especially meetings where he had to talk. Especially meetings where he had to explain his thought process to a room full of people.

He made sure to arrive first, so he had plenty of time to sit there and make himself nervous, and turn that into a razor-edged irritability he could thrust into anyone who argued with him too much.

Sasha and Martin came in together.

“Afternoon,” Jon said stiffly. “Seen Tim?”

“He’ll be along,” Martin said. “I think he popped out to buy donuts or something.”

“No, no,” Sasha said, pulling up a chair a respectful distance away from Jon. “Coffee, remember? He changed his mind.”

“Coffee, then,” Martin corrected himself.

Sure enough, Tim came in a moment later with a paperboard beverage caddy.

“Oh, thank God I beat Elias here,” he said, sliding into a chair. He passed out the coffees until only one was left. “Sasha, I got you a white mocha because you’re sweet. Martin, a vanilla latte because you’re timid–”

“What?”

Tim steamrollered over the top of him. “Spicy chai latte for me because obviously, and plain black for Jon and Elias because” he dropped his voice to a stage whisper, “they scare me.”

“Charming.” Jon examined the label on his cup and found that Tim had actually gotten him a flat white. He decided not to read into it.

“Afternoon,” said a terrible, rasping voice that might have had Elias’ smooth veneer buried somewhere beneath it. Elias sat with his back ramrod straight. Despite the high flush on his cheeks that bespoke a fever and the general paleness of the rest of him, his eyes were still as keen and bright as they ever were.

“You sound awful,” Tim said, sliding him the final coffee. “Maybe that’ll help your throat.”

“Have you taken any time off?” Sasha asked.

Jon took another sip of his coffee to hide his shock at their openness. If Elias wanted to work through what was obviously a miserable chest cold, that was his choice.

Elias dragged in a breath to speak and Jon winced. His breathing sounded heavy and wet. “It’s alright,” he said. He stared each of them in turn with his glittering, dark eyes, and Jon was just about convinced when Elias turned to the side and started to cough.

It was wholly unlike what he’d sounded like before. These were wet, dragging things, like every breath had to pass through a damp tea towel.

“Boss, I think you’d better go home,” Tim said when the fit slowed to a halt. “Or maybe to a doctor.”

“A doctor? For a cold?”

“That’s more than a cold,” Martin said with certainty. “That sounds more like pneumonia.”

Elias’ eyebrows went up. “Pneumonia,” he repeated. Then his face changed in a way Jon didn’t really understand. Something seemed to glint behind his eyes, well, not glint, but they changed and his expression became one of complete understanding. It was like nothing Jon had ever seen before.

It was gone in an instant, and Elias’ face went back to the same expression of gormless authority he usually wore, like he’d just woken up one day and found himself wielding an enormous amount of power.

“Of course,” he said, shaking his head and smiling sheepishly. “I’m not often ill– I’m sorry, we’ll have to postpone the meeting.”

“I think we’ll survive,” Tim said airily.

They all waited for Elias to leave, for the echo of his footsteps to taper off down the hall.

Then they all leaned in.

“My god, he looked awful,” Martin said.

“I thought he was gonna drop dead,” Sasha agreed. “Did you hear him coughing?”

“Honestly, who doesn’t know they have pneumonia?” Tim added.

Jon hivered, as he often did, at the periphery of the conversation. He let himself smile to show that he wasn’t going to be a spoilsport, but he wasn’t sure it would be appropriate to join in.

“Even Jon knows better than that,” Tim was saying.

“No, he doesn’t,” Sasha said, but she was smiling.

“I certainly wouldn’t call a meeting while ill with pneumonia, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jon said.

“Well, good,” Martin said. 

“Ah, but he didn’t say he wouldn’t come to work,” Sasha said.

The bantering continued. Jonathan leaned back, coffee in hand. He would have to corral them back to work soon, but for now, it was nice to just sit back and listen for a while.

Note: *Stop reading here if you don’t want spoilers*

I leaned into the “obfuscating stupidity” trope but because the fic is from Jon’s POV it’s not obvious how much Jonahlias knows about his situation. I figure he doesn’t get sick much and kinda of… forgot to take into consideration how bad it could get. Esp because he was so wrapped up in making sure Jon’s transition to Archivist goes smoothly. I just really love how airheaded and ineffectual Elias seems at the beginning of the series haha

#whumptober 2020

[dukethomas]

Hey!! 👀

first impression: “oh cool katherine howard pfp. wait why’d they stay in unverified for that long” (it was three days apparently but my brain recalls it being longer)

truth is: extremely cool!!! someone i’m incredibly glad to be friends with and your pfp always slaps no matter what it is <3

how old do you look: idk like 19? i know you’re 20 but i’m bad at guessing ages from pictures. based on vibes i say middle aged 

have you ever made me laugh: y e s

have you ever made me mad: when you kept saying the name of the scottish play >:(

best feature: your resilience, the way you’re able to Keep Doing Shit and doing all of whumptober plus mechtober and how lovely you are in general, esp for originating gug? i’m honestly so glad to have met you, and if you hadn’t existed? that’s a lot of people who wouldn’t have met each other and now we’re all friends!! and in part that’s because of you, your presence, you just kinda exude vibes of together-ness y’know?

have I ever had a crush on you: you’re buwumer

you’re my: auncle!! or bác if i’m using vietnamese

#ask #joey tag #gahhh i'm trying to get these done bc i have an ask game scheduled for tonight