#sleep deprivation cw

[splendidissimus]

November 1999 - "You're doing it to yourself."

((Content warning: sleep deprivation, hallucination, abusive parent))

((Promptspiration: @whumptober 2023: day 2: Delirium ))

Genre: whump

Romance level: negligible

Angst level: 5/5

Draco's headspace: depressed / passive

((words: ~1000))

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

Draco had been staring through the same page of a book on his desk for some time, the words drifting around unsteadily while he didn't even try to comprehend them, when a familiar voice gnawed at the edge of his attention. He raised his head, blinking, trying to pinpoint it.

Just as he resigned himself to giving up and started to drop his head again, there it was, under the sound of the rustling book pages. He could swear he heard Theo calling his name. 

"Theo?" He pushed away from the desk and stood stiffly, rubbing his aching shoulder. He wasn't supposed to be here. It was months since Father made them part ways, and he would be furious if he caught him here. But coming back against explicit orders and implicit threats just because he wanted to sounded exactly like something Theo would do. Theo who had shown up at the gate calling to see him despite the Death Eaters in the house. Theo who bartered with him in public over kisses because it made him forget he was ill.

He didn't think he heard an answer, but he had to find him before someone else did and send him away where it was safe. 

Outside his door, he paused, listening, but didn't hear him again, so he went for the stairs, figuring he would be downstairs somewhere.

He didn't hear Theo again; he spent a while checking, but there wasn't any sign of him, and eventually he started to wonder what he had actually heard. 

It felt too exhausting to go back upstairs immediately, so he ended up staring out the bay window at the garden. There was a young peacock there, scratching at the edge of a flowerbed, shining white in the watery sunlight. He watched it for a while, not thinking anything, but vaguely relaxed. 

A shifting in the shadows caught his eye, and he was trying to focus on it when iit suddenly resolved into Nagini — striking out with lightning speed to seize his peacock. "No!" He hit the window like that could stop it. 

Then between one blink and the next it was gone. The peacock was looking up at the window in cautious alarm, but there was no snake. 

And of course there couldn't be, anyway. Nagini was dead, he'd seen the body and the head spread across the Hogwarts lawn. She was as dead as her master. He knew that. 

"What are you doing?" 

His shoulders tensed at his father's voice behind him. He wished he had a good answer. "I apologise," he said properly, turning around and looking toward his father's feet.

"That wasn't the question."

He stole a glance back toward the window. Still no undead snake. The peacock was ripping down a flower with its talons now, to try to get the fairy sitting on the top of it. "I thought I saw…" Nothing. He clenched his hands behind his back. "I think something's wrong." He dragged the words out past a mind that didn't want to say them, looking back at his father's face. "I keep seeing things that aren't possible." 

His father studied him. "Like what?" 

"I thought I saw Nagini going after the peacock. Or heard… somebody… in the house." 

"The snake is dead, and no one has been here."

"I know." 

His father came closer to look out the window, then looked him over, studying him for a long minute. "How long has it been since you slept?"

"Not that long," he said quietly, but his hard eyes demanded an answer. "I think Friday," he admitted, even more quietly.

"For Merlin's sake." His voice was sneering and his expression impatient. "If you haven't been to bed in five days, of course you're seeing things. You're not ill, you're doing it to yourself." 

Draco didn't respond. He didn't have any excuse. He looked into the middle distance, his father's words sinking in without resistance.

The lack of reaction seemed to be even more irritating. "Am I supposed to believe," he snapped, "that you need a nurse to tell you not just to eat, which you've obviously not been doing, but also to sleep now? You are a grown man. Even toddlers know to go to sleep when they're tired. Do you need to be told to use the lavatory too?"

He continued to stare impassively, until his father grabbed his jaw and lifted his face, forcing him to answer the rhetorical question. "No," he said, insides crawling with shame. 

"What a positively minimal accomplishment." He threw down his face. "Elf!"

Tolly appeared beside his foot, cringing a look up at him. "Master?"

"Until further notice, Draco's bedtime is ten o'clock. You will put him to sleep at precisely that time, regardless of where he is or what he's doing."

"Don't," Draco pleaded quietly. 

Finally getting a reaction gave his voice an edge of satisfaction. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Master," the elf squeaked promptly. "Tolly will make sure Master Draco sleeps." 

"Good. Shall we have her feed you as well?"

"No." 

"No? Are you certain it isn't too much responsibility for you?"

"Please." 

That display of submission seemed to mollify him. His father didn't respond, but walked away with contempt dripping from his voice. "Grow up." 

Tolly vanished and swiftly spirited a tea tray into the window to try to make Draco feel better. 

Draco didn't move. He stood there in front of the window, staring at the floor, fighting off every physical reaction he wanted to do. He wanted to mess with his hair, grab his head, clench his fists — he carefully took all of it, all of the energy behind those urges, and pushed it down, down until it was buried and he didn't react at all.

#whumptober2023 #no.2 #delirium #fic #harry potter #sleep deprivation cw #abusive parent tw #emotional abuse tw #hallucinations cw #draco malfoy #draco x theo #lucius malfoy #tolly the house elf #what is real #draco whumpee #lucius whumper #fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #hp fanfic #whump fic #whump #splendidissimus writing #no happy ending #lucius is a bully #actually lucius just got out of azkaban and his life is ruined and is angry at the world #and draco's about the only safe target #and then draco being weak makes him angrier #it's complicated #and really not flattering #and pretty unforgivable

[primowishes]

"does it ever stop?" Wrenn/Scara and Dottore, maybe for that "Sleep deprivation" experiment? >:3

"There's almost nothing in this world that goes on indefinitely," he said, fully aware that Scaramouche meant the question far more specifically. "As for this experiment... hmm."

Dottore didn't answer that aspect right away, humming in thought as he held the puppet's face from beneath his chin, testing the responses of the pupils in those artificially-constructed eyes with a light. As he did, he took the chance to examine the pallor of his face, anything that might have changed (or even did not) along with the length of time he'd thus far gone without sleep.

"How are you feeling right now? In as much detail as you can, please." Even though he'd used the word 'please', his tone and demeanor both were anything but polite. "But in regards to the end of this experiment--soon. Just put up with it for a bit longer."

@starlitwishes

#starlitwishes #m: dottore #abuse tw #sleep deprivation cw #manipulation tw #dottore is just always grabbing scara for no other reason than to subtly assert control tbqh #mostly in the context of the experiments; not so much outside of them prolly

[copics-and-renegades]

Whumptober 2023 Day 12: I Haven't Slept In Days But Who's Counting

It would probably help if he got to, you know, rest.

---

I liked the entirely random idea with the heart knot.

#whumptober2023 #no.12 #lyric #tales of symphonia #yuan ka fai #fanart #sleep deprivation cw #torture cw #restraints cw #ink #whump

[godzexperiment]

He was entirely ignoring that he needed rest of some sort. To say he had burnt up all his energy reserves, beyond them was an understatement. Couldn't even have his wings be intangible; so they were just very much present and occupying space. As he used up energy he didn't have in speedy little bursts of movement. Moving around on his feet while sketching away in his sketchbook. Almost stabbing his hand with the pencil when finally processed them in the doorway. "Yes?"

#sleep deprivation cw #<< anybody got a light >> open starters

[sollucets]

WORD OF HONOR || EPISODE EIGHTEEN

#wohedit #word of honor #wenzhou #cw flashing #userbon #baek1nho #lextag #tuserashinlae #userhanyi #tostrangers #rowan gifs #💜💜💜 #ive done my best to get over whatever happens in my brain and also in photoshop every time i try to gif word of honor #so i can try inflicting this particular tiny little moment on you all #sleep-deprived still-sick hormonal rowan nearly cried over this one second of smile

[umbrvx]

[ @orvwomenweek ] lsk + family, regrets || day 5

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #lee sookyung #lsk #orvww #cw eye strain #omfg i was so sure id be late this time around I DID ITTT #i do kinda wish i was able to spend more time with it tho.. between class + nap (sleep deprived) i only had like 5ish hours i spent paintin #i hope it still conveys well enough!!!

[bricky-brikson]

Merry Whump of May

18/05/2022

"It's getting late."

Reading | Duct tape | Asphyxiated

Content Warnings: sleep deprivation, anxiety, comfort, male whumpee, male caregiver

Cassedy flipped through the latest novel he had been reading. He had been going crosseyed as the night progressed, and was barely reading the words anymore, only looking at the pictures to get an idea of what was happening. A rather large yawn interrupted his parsing of the pages.

"Can't sleep," Cassedy murmured to himself, taking a large drink of the coffee on the table beside the sofa. He must admit, Detective Hawkins' house was rather cozy, it was a struggle to not nod off. He blinked a few times, his vision un-blurring itself, then returned to his book.

"Mr Lowell ?"

Cassedy nearly jumped from his seat, until he noticed who it was. Cecil Hawkins in his nightwear. "Ah, Detective, you scared me..." Cassedy breathed heavily, setting down his book.

"What are you still doing up ? You need to sleep," Cecil sat beside him on the sofa.

"I couldn't. I can't. He knows where I am, even if I'm not home I'm still in danger...he probably followed us...he's probably hidden in a bush somewhere watching me..." Cassedy mumbled, his articulation poor.

"All my doors and windows are locked, Mr Lowell, he won't be able to get in without us hearing."

"He can pick the lock of my store and my apartment, who's to say he won't pick yours ?" Cassedy hissed. He was quiet for a moment, blinking then looking up at Detective Hawkins. "I'm sorry...I get...snappy when I'm tired. I shouldn't have come here, this is just putting everyone here in danger."

"No, no, don't apologize. You're stressed, that's understandable. But that stress isn't getting any better from you staying up all night," Detective Hawkins set a hand on Cassedy's shoulder, gently pulling the man into a sort of half-hug.

"It won't get better from sleeping either. Especially not if I'm stabbed to death in my bed," Cassedy mumbled, not resisting the physical affection.

"What if you slept in my room ? That way if he comes in, I'll be there to protect you."

Cassedy paused, thinking it over. "That would be...nice..."

"So will you go to bed now ?"

"You win," Cassedy laughed weakly. "But you'll have to help me up, part of the reason I haven't moved from here is because my joints always get angry at night."

The Detective nodded, wrapping Cassedy's closest arm around his neck, then picking the young man up in a bridal carry. It was a little difficult - Detective Hawkins was by no means in his prime - but the distance from the lounge to his chamber was a short one. Cassedy was already nearly out cold by the time the Detective set him on the side of the bed furthest from the door. He pulled the blankets up to the man's shoulders and took off his glasses, setting them on the bedside table with care. Detective Hawkins leaned down, gently pecking Cassedy's forehead.

"Sweet dreams, sonny."

more cassedy suffering <3

(dont ship cecil and cassedy please)

@themerrywhumpofmay​ 

#sleep deprivation cw #anxiety cw #comfort cw #male whumpee #male caregiver #original characters #original story #cassedy lowell #cecil hawkins #felix abner #dear cassedy #brick scribbles #brick wall

[captialluke]

Inspired by the dress everyone's drawing Gabriel in.

It's also where he got the dress from.

#apologies for any wonk im a bit sleep deprived #ultrakill #mannequin ultrakill #ultrakill fanart #luke's art :) #luke's fanart :) #blood cw #body horror cw #mannequin cw

[000marie198]

Beats till the song disappears

......

Classic era, Sonic 2's bad ending timeline but I made it better. Or worse. Leaving for you to decide. Enjoy :)

...........

He trudged through the dark zone, silent and windless akin to a closed, lifeless chamber.

The place was littered with systematically arranged crystal blocks that would've looked aesthetically pleasing if it were daytime. For now, they just made the place more eerie as he waited for Robotnik to show up.

After what felt like an eternity of worried pacing to the speedy hedgehog but in reality was barely a couple of minutes, two of the structures nearby split apart, revealing a camouflaged panel sliding in the ground.

Sonic stopped, facing the opening to see the Eggmobile rise from the underground, hovering a meter or so above the inclined floor leading into the depth.

The doctor looked composed, unworried, his spectacles glinting with a previously absent touch of confidence, of victory.

"Did you bring them?" He asked, addressing the frustrated hedgehog.

Sonic revealed four emeralds without a word, pulling them away as the other tried to grab for them.

"Tails?"

"Hand them over first."

Sonic was about to retaliate but paused at seeing the other hover a finger over the mobile's control panel, staring straight at him with the unspoken threat clear in his body language. He could kill the kit if Sonic wasn't careful.

His thoughts conflicting with one another and the concern for his little brother chiming in, he finally relented, holding out the gems for the mobile's claws to grab.

"Now tell me where he is."

"Careful, hedgehog, you don't get to make demands here. I believe we had an agreement that he'll be spared only if you brought all five Chaos Emeralds, hmm?"

Silence fell over the terrain, the hero shooting a venomous glare at Robotnik. It would be too much of a gamble to attack him when he had a link open to wherever he was keeping Tails. His lack of acknowledgement to the earlier question was answer enough. He hadn't been able to collect the required number of emeralds on time.

"I see," the scientist murmured.

Sonic gritted his teeth, high strung, on edge. He was aware he had failed but he needed to know...

"Just tell me if my brother is alright."

"He is," the other sighed in an exaggerated display of disappointment, "I would've gotten rid of him by now provided your ineptitude-"

"You know I can't locate them all this fast!" Sonic snarled, looking seconds away from jumping at his throat.

"But I am feeling rather... merciful today," the man continued on without even reacting to the interruption, his demeanor betraying he held all the cards. "I propose another deal, hedgehog. If you agree, I promise that no harm will come to Tails."

Sonic shouldn't trust him. Didn't trust him. But if it meant Tails would be safe...

He nodded, signalling to Robotnik that he was listening. Said scientist smirked under his mustache.

"Become part of my legion. Surrender yourself to me, and your little friend will go unharmed."

His legion. The hero had fought against him enough times, had seen enough horrors and rescued enough critters being used as test subjects to read between the lines, to know what Robotnik meant. The mere mention of that thing still makes him sick. Robotnik wasn't asking him to just give up his freedom. He was demanding for Sonic to give up his mind and body, his free will, in the worst way possible.

Sonic's life or Tails' safety?

It took him less than a second to choose.

"Well?" Robotnik's voice prompted, already knowing his nemesis' decision.

"If you hurt Tails-"

"Oh don't be so leery. I gave you my word. Your fox friend will not be harmed. Now, do we have a deal or do I signal my bots to neutralize that menace?"

Sonic squeezed his eyes shut, shaking with a plethora of emotions he couldn't bring himself to grasp and process as they came and went in waves. He gasped in a breath and stilled, before coiled tension leaked away from his body and he sighed. Surrendered.

"Deal."

"Excellent!" He could hear the victorious grin in Robotnik's voice but he didn't react, unable to bring himself to look up, gaze fixed on his red and white sneakers as he willingly sealed his fate. His iconic shoes held his focus, shoes that allowed him his freedom to run as fast as his heart desired. The same freedom which he was now volunterily giving up for his brother.

It felt like just yesterday when he had met the little guy, his shoes very smilar to Sonic's own, a matching color scheme. Something he had never paid attention to before but was now a glaring memory. He hadn't even told Tails how much he cared for him, how much proud he was, had he?

If he were to be given a chance to speak with Tails, he'd never remain silent again.

His feet moved without his consent, following the rotound man into the underground base until he blinked out of his thoughts and found himelf in a lab, facing a tall glass cylinder strung up in the center of the circular space.

It stood empty, it's front open, waiting to be occupied. Sonic stared on, unable to look away.

"Now don't be shy, step into the capsule. Chop chop!"

A hair's breath pause and he stepped forward, inside the glass confinement and upon the platform inside, fully resigning himself to what he had agreed on. His breath shuddered with anguish and dread as Robotnik moved around it to the front and pressed a switch.

The glass sealed behind him with a decisive click.

Adrenaline shot through his veins as the machine hummed to life, lights glowing awake below the platform he stood on and the welded hatch above him.

His heartbeat began to thunder in his ears, quills pricking up but he held still, letting the titanium clamps reaching for him seal around his ankles and wrists.

He saw Robotnik clicking away at a nearby screen and then he felt a subtle jerk, the machine's hum increasing in volume and intensity, the platform under him rising up.

With one final click at the keyboard, sleek contraptions that looked suspiciously like a sci-fi mixture of scanner and blaster surrounded him and pulsing rays shot out from their openings.

Sonic grunted as he felt the energy strike him, the clamps keeping him still.

2%

It started from below, at the legs. Of course it fucking did. Sonic wanted to scream, wanted to yell and kick and bang his fists against the glass, feeling cold numbness slowly spreading up his most powerful weapons, his legs, his speed, stripped from him painstakingly slowly as flesh turned to metal.

All he did was clench his fists and grit his teeth in anguish, his whole being screaming at him to move but he held still. He couldn't move, not if it placed his first friend, his best friend, at risk.

28%

The titanium bands securing his ankles and wrists seemed to tighten, restricting the little bit of movement he had as the rays slowly climbed up to his torso, inches below his heart.

He didn't let the tears show.

For Tails for Tails for Tails for Tails

His thoughts chanted like a mantra, placing all his being into not moving, letting himself be turned into a machine, until his ears swivelled at the swoosh of a panelled door sliding open, urging him to look up.

His breath caught in his throat, each cell freezing up in a mixture of shock, rage and despair.

No. No no no no no no no no NO!

"TAILS!" The anguished wail left his chest just as his heart stopped beating, an engine's hum replacing its frantic rhythm.

He payed it no mind. It didn't matter when it was ripped to shreds anyway the moment his blurry gaze met his brother's.

Glowing red optics stared back.

He tried to move, tried to break free but it made no difference, half his body frozen on the spot, under the control of the Chaos forsaken monster who did this.

65%

The bands on his wrists burned, something warm and damp flowed down his palms and dripped from his fingers. Sonic was numb to it, struggling and shaking in the glass confine, his own screams becoming muffled to his ears.

"You promised! YOU FUCKING PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T HURT HIM!"

A screen beeped, the vitals' charts on it going haywire as the progress bar reached 78%.

The mustached scientist just stood there grinning, unconcerned and victorious.

"And I kept my promise. He is unharmed, well and alive." The words seemed to echo in his head, reverberating as if imprinting on the walls of his mind, the machine's buzz and hum drowned out by them. "Just as you asked, rodent."

He couldn't take his pained eyes off of the small yellow robot and his captor noticed that, turning to address Tails with a deceptively encouraging smile.

"Isn't that right, Metal Tails?"

The little robot finally moved, startled beeps escaping it as it's mechanical gaze shifted away from hyperfocusing on Sonic and towards what it's systems told it to be it's creator.

The familiar innocence in that small gesture, even though seeing it on a roboticized mecha, broke something in Sonic.

He tried to call out to his brother but realized he couldn't speak. He couldn't feel his muzzle or mouth anymore. Oh...

The screen read 96%.

As the metal climbed up his quills and ears and the world began to fade into static, Sonic drowned out Eggman's smug grin and droning of the roboticizer's rays, putting all that was left of his mind and strenght into focusing on Tails.

He wanted his last memory to be of his brother, even if no longer flesh and blood but mere metal and wires, he was still Tails. His Tails. That much was clear from its demeanor alone, the innocence, the curiosity, the intelligence, it was all there. Sonic would be able to tell his kid apart from a thousand other Tailses if he had to.

The tears he'd been holding back finally slipped down, the last piece of his humanity used into conveying to Tails that he was sorry, that he loved him.

99%

His eyes closed, the metal covered up the last of the organic cells and Sonic finally went still.

............

Metal Tails gazed upon the powering down capsule, his processors showing the progress bar having reached 100%.

He couldn't take his focus off of the inactive hedgehog; organic, mechanical, irrelevant, Metal Tails was drawn to him even before the roboticization was completed.

Something suspiciously illogical was recorded in his archives during the process. He had sensed what organics refer to as emotions being conveyed to him earlier by the same being. It seemed to be a combination of concern, remorse and affection.

How could he do that without any working signal and communication link to Metal Tails?

The roboticized hedgehog suddenly beeped awake, internal fans whirring as his systems rapid-fire processed the new programming and commands. He jerked within the bonds and stilled again, hanging limp for a long beat.

Metal Sonic lifted his head up, optical processors switching on to reveal glowing red optics staring straight into Metal Tails' own.

It appeared the other robot was finally awake.

Metal Tails couldn't calculate why the organic hedgehog had seemed to know about him but he had felt drawn to the blue being just the same.

Perhaps it was a satisfactory calculation on his creator's part as Metal Tails' tended to get lonely and this arrangement made him most pleased.

Another robot companion made for the perfect promised gift.

.................

No characters were killed in the making of this story, just as I promised :]

#i am sleepy #author is sleep deprived #anyways Happy Sunday everyone #this is my counterattack #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sth #miles tails prower #dr eggman #dr robotnik #sonic and tails #unbreakable bond #angst war weekend #plz if there r any errors ignore them I'll recheck them in the morning #cw body modification #i rather like this au. i might just add nore to it :D

[solradguy]

If I made the Gear cell suppressor IRL and became a taméd beast on main I hope you all would understand

#textpost #Sleep deprived and stoned good night 👋 #drugs cw

[arley-ology]

Page of lil' Trevor doodles bc im obsessed w/ american arcadia rn

#im so normal about him i swear im soooo normal #ignore if some of them are bad i drew these whole very sleep deprived #american arcadia #trevor american arcadia #teamtrevor #<- i actually love that tag idea #blood cw

[hold-on-a-little-longer-whump]

Finally got to tell someone about this. So the thing i could rave about is this peculiar idea: Whupmer using kind reassuring words while and before whump, you know… conditioning. So when they're rescued any attempts to comfort are DISASTROUS. Even better if they're seem fine at first so don't get that much comfort either, but then have a panic attack or something, and OMG just imagine…

Ooooohohohoho (when I do that laugh, you know I approve) what a whammy!! More emotional whump!! Conditioning! Emotional turmoil!!

I wonder... did the Whumper do their research beforehand so they would have an idea of what their friends/allies/family would say to comfort the Whumpee, or did they try every kind/reassuring phrase they knew of? Was it planned or spontaneous? Did they enter the situation, knowing full-well what they intended to do, every breath and syllable calculated, or did it come to them in a moment of brilliance, all cunning eyes and dangerous smiles?

Because this? This could work. This would continue to work long after the Whumper leaves the picture, and the Whumper is realistic. They know they won't be able to keep the Whumpee under their thumb forever. So, they might as well make a lasting impact.

And it worked. God, it worked. And for it to work, it had taken time. So, so much time... Months (years?) of tender words overlaying very real threats. Maybe it progressed further than the Whumper had anticipated and a gentle voice is all that it takes? Or even the Whumpee's name? And the first signs of how badly off the Whumpee is, was when they were rescued. Because what do you say when you're rescuing someone? How do you say it?

"It's okay, you're safe now."

Maybe the Whumpee flips their shit. Maybe they shut down. Maybe they flinch and shrink away. Or maybe they're concerningly unfazed. Whatever it is, their rescuer finally does what needs to be done and - ta-da! Recon mission was a success! Now the Whumpee can focus on recovering and they can get back to their lives!

...Right?

At first, maybe the team thinks that it's just them talking in general that triggers the Whumpee. And of course every attempt to get the Whumpee to talk had been a failure so far, so they try not talking. And... as unfair and cruel as it seems, it works. Until one day the Whumpee enters a room while everyone is talking (did they have a night terror? feel lonely? were they thirsty or hungry?) and nobody realizes this until they spot the Whumpee nearby, slumped in a comfortable chair.

On the other hand, give me a strong Whumpee that keeps up appearances despite everything they had gone through. They're doing remarkably well, considering the torment they had been subjected to. Until they're not. Give me a Whumpee that snaps.

Give me tears.

"Please, just leave me alone..."

Give me angry outbursts.

"It's oka-"

"It's not okay!"

Because it hurts. Don't they understand? Any attempts of comfort just slashes away whatever progress they'd managed to make. Gentle reassurances made the bruises bite. Tender words might as well be knives and knuckles. And shouting feels good because there's no mental block of soft words preventing them from communicating clearly. As long as everyone's shouting, they're in control.

Then, maybe, the Whumpee's friend finally gets it. They manage to pull the Whumpee into an embrace, stunned as they try to process what kind of Hell the Whumper had put the Whumpee through. They open their mouth to speak, but the Whumpee quickly cuts them off.

"Don't."

I could go on and on. Lots of different ways to interpret this one. Thanks for the ask!

#whump #whump tropes #whumpee #whumper #whumpblr #comfort whump #(not) #send me an ask #xiexie mahalo and tak #(thank you!) #can you tell i was more than a little sleep deprived when writing this? i hope not #tw: captivity #cw: captivity #tw: conditioning #cw: conditioning #mind conditioning #conditioned whumpee #whump writing #whump scenario #emotional whump #trigger words #? #sort of?

[redd956]

Mini Whump Prompt 139

Every time whumpee was close to finally catching sleep the collar around their neck burst into obnoxious beeping and screeching. Now they lay their head in Caretaker's nap as their new friend works hard to get it removed.

#whump prompt #whump prompts #mini whump prompts #mini whump prompt #sleep deprivation whump #sleep deprivation #cw sleep deprivation #cw torture #whump #whump ideas #writing prompt

[godzexperiment]

"I can be an alright angle or an weevil."

#sleep deprivation cw #crack tag tbd #<< anybody got a light >> open starters #(like sure nix would say the 'angle or devil' line but its funnier if he messes it up) #(an nix hit an point without sleep he probably could use an nap moment)

[leathfaic]

Sitting here, thinking about Ghost taking the shot and taking out Hassan, but Johnny still falls out the window. How might Ghost take that?

obviously MCD

To the outside observer? Nothing changes.

The Ghost is an experienced commanding officer. This is not the first soldier he's lost despite his best efforts.

Sure it must have been terrible, he made the shot after all, believing to save his Sergeant, only to see the man stumble, try to catch and stabilise himself with his right arm. The arm that was still weak, that couldn't hold his weight even if the man hadn't been exhausted and sleep deprived. A weary misstep and a reflexive mistake. That was all that it took in the end, despite a perfect shot.

The epitome of discipline he doesn't even take the recommended leave after such a traumatic event. Immediately heads back into the field as soon as possible. Performs outstandingly. He is quite frankly every higher-ranking officer's dream, efficient, ruthless, and obedient. 

Every higher ranking officer, except his own. 

Captain John Price is probably the only person who notices the changes the rest of the world is bound to miss. 

It isn't their fault really, Ghost never opened up to anyone. Anyone but him and Soap.

There are little things. Small differences in how Ghost operates in the field. The way he instinctively turns around in the weeks following the incident seeming to look for someone at his six. 

The fact that he carries one of his knives but never draws it. Rather bashing a man's face in with his bare hands.

The way he calls for communications discipline the moment any soldiers under his command do so much as laugh.

But the little things in the field are not what break Price's heart.

He can see Simon Riley suffer. Sees the last of his humanity bleed out of the Lieutenant's heart. 

Like a door fell shut the moment the Sergeant tripped and Ghost is dedicated to never letting it open again. Eager to avoid anything that could resemble a personal connection.

Price had always considered him a friend. Had hoped the sentiment might be returned. It might have been at some point. But despite all his efforts to reach out he has to watch himself be shut out. The last time he tries to call out to Simon not Ghost earns him a contentious reminder that Simon Riley is dead. There's only Ghost.

He never sees Simon's face again. Doesn't think any living soul ever does.

Very pointedly, he does not count the day he's ordered to identify the body. If there were pictures in his files that and the dog tags would've done. But there aren't and so Price has to go and see the mask being removed one last time.

It's at that point that he realises he has already been mourning the death of two sons for more than a year. History had just stepped in to rectify the narrative.

He is handed the box of belongings since there's no one else to hand them to. 

There is a knife he will wear strapped to his gear but never draw. 

There are medals too, one posthumously awarded for the efficiency with which Ghost took out Shepherd and a building full of his traitors. And himself. Buried under rubble where he seemingly had tried to escape the blast radius.

The few explosive charges are planted with such precision that he is asked if his Lieutenant had recently taken lessons to become a demolitions expert.

He hadn't. But he’d always been observant.

And there is one thing he hadn't expected.

Price finds himself in Glasgow only a few days later. Uncertain steps carry him to make a request he has no right to ask for.

His only argument is a well-worn leather journal that he places into the hands of the MacTavishes. 

Amongst all of Ghost's belongings, this was the one thing Price did not expect. And he can see on their faces, that the MacTavishes didn't either.

About half the journal is filled with their son's bold lettering and his drawings. Mostly of one man, in mask and without. Confessions of love never meant to see the light of day between sketches of wide brown eyes and skeletal gloves.

It is the second half of the journal that makes the breath catch though. The handwriting changes to one neater, more precise. The subject does too. Between pages of apologies, statements of reciprocated love never spoken out loud, between guilt and anguish, are Simon's attempts to remember the face of the man he loved. Not as skilled as Johnny's portraits they are still more than good enough to deliver one final gut punch as the features lose more and more detail the further the pages turn. 

It does not take long to convince the MacTavishes to give up the plot next to Soap's for Simon. They deserve to rest together in the end at least. 

And while there is a grave in Manchester, it is already occupied anyways.

Instead, Price finds a place where he can mourn both sons he lost. 

When he visits for the first time after the funeral he finds one final surprise. A new shared headstone for John S. MacTavish and Simon G. Riley, both killed in action on November 4th 2022 in Chicago.

#simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #cod mwii #cod hc #cod mw2 #captain john price #I am not entirely happy with this #but this is what my sleep-deprived brain has to offer #cw main character death #ghostsoap #soapghost

[zemkzone]

I’m not sending Scarlet in there without knowing what he’s getting into.

— Leonard Snart to Mick Rory, Ch18 of That Rare Arctic Thunderstorm

Chapter'll be up on March 29!

#coldflash #fic teaser #coldflash fanfiction #leonard snart #captain cold #the flash #cw the flash #mick rory #heatwave #the author regrets nothing #though she is very sleep-deprived