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whump-about-it · 20 days

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Can I Stay Here Tonight?

@whumpril Day 8: Bloodshot

CW: injuries, implied beating, implied torture, implied captivity, exhaustion, implication that Whumpee may be in hiding and/or unhoused

It wasn't unusual for Whumpee to go missing for days or even weeks at a time. No one ever really knew where they went when they disappeared, But they always came back, and usually in one piece. So everyone had long since stopped worrying.

Caretaker had barely even noticed Whumpee was missing again. Only just realizing they hadn't seen them in nearly a week the same night Whumpee showed up again.

It had been raining cats and dogs all day, and Carertaker was having a pleasent evening in, watching trash tv with their roommate and playing a game of cards when the window that lead onto their fire escape eeked open and Whumpee came tumbling in.

"We have a door you know." Roommate told them, barely fazed by Whumpee's random appearance. Whumpee had a talent for slipping in and out of places unnoticed. And considering the late hour, they had probably assumed the roommates would be a sleep.

Whumpee stood up and closed the window again behind them before so much as acknowledging the apartment owners, who stayed on the couch watching them curiously. They were soaking wet. Unsurprising considering they had just climbed three stories on an outdoor stairway. Their usually baggy clothing clung to their skin, reminding Caretaker nauseatingly of just how small Whumpee actually was. It also didn't escape Caretaker's notice that Whumpee was wearing the same clothing that they had been in the last time the two had seen each other; some five days before.

"Sorry to intrude." Whumpee said in a dead pan voice when they finally turned to look at Caretaker and Roommate. They had dark circles under their eyes and a cut next to their left ear. Caretaker thought they looked paler than usual, but it could have just been the way their water-darkened hair stuck to their face.

"I just need to borrow your bathroom."

It was the only explanation Whumpee gave before they walked past Caretaker and Roommate towards their bathroom down the hall, water dripping them their sopping clothes as they went. Caretaker's eyes followed Whumpee as they disappeared. There was a tired slump to their shoulders and an unevenness to their gait that made Caretaker think they were concealing a limp.

"First aid kit's under the sink!" Caretaker called after them, but Whumpee gave no indication of having heard. As soon as Caretaker heard the sound of the bathroom door click shut they turned back to Roommate and frowned. Roommate didn't look too pleased about Whumpee's sudden appearance in their apartment. Those two were not each others biggest fans, but they put up with one another for Caretaker's sake, so Roommate seemed to have decided to keep their mouth shut for now.

"I should go check on them."

Roommate nodded in agreement.

"I'll put a kettle on."

Caretaker went to their room and grabbed a clean pair of sweat pants and a fresh t-shirt they didn't think would be too baggy on Whumpee before giving the bathroom door a courteous knock and entering. They knew Whumpee would have preferred their privacy, and probably would have locked the door if they could. But as it was, the lock on the bathroom door had been broken as long as Caretaker and Roommate had been lived in the place, and it was Caretaker's place after all, so they refused to feel bad about inviting themselves in.

Inside the bathroom Whumpee had stripped down to their underwear and was sitting perched on the edge of the bathtub, the first aid kit sitting open on the lowered toilet lid next to them. Mostly nude, it was obvious Whumpee had been in some kind of trouble. They had bruises all up their torso and arms. There was another scabbing over cut on their collar bone similar to the one by their ear, and shredded up skin on the outside of their left leg from mid-calf to upper thigh that looked like they had lost a fight with a cheese grater. Their knuckles were scabbed and bruised and there were concerningly dark purple bruises around their wrists. The worst of their injuries however seemed to be a series of deep gashes on their forearm that Whumpee was currently picking glass out of with a pair of tweezers.

"I'm fine." Whumpee said defensively, barely looking up at Caretaker as they walked in.

"Yeah, you look fantastic." Caretaker set the clothes down on the vanity and went to crouch next to Whumpee. It was by no means the worst condition Whumpee had ever stumbled into their apartment in, but they didn't look good either. Up close, Caretaker could tell that Whumpee was indeed paler than usual. And their eyes were deeply bloodshot. In fact their whole body language screamed at exhaustion, and Caretaker wondered if they had slept at all since they'd last seen them.

Caretaker knew better than to ask what had happened. Or where Whumpee had disappeared to. Whumpee had never lied to Caretaker, but they would down right refuse to answer such questions. The two had spent days worth of time arguing about it. Caretaker wanted to help. Of course they did, and they'd rather prevent Whumpee from getting hurt than patch them up after the fact. But Whumpee had their secrets, and as they often liked to point out during their fights, Caretaker had known that when their lives had first become intertwined with one another. Caretaker knew Whumpee thought they were protecting them by keeping so many secrets from them. But they also knew Whumpee could disappear and Caretaker would never see or hear from them again if they tried to dig to deep. So they resigned themselves, as they always had, to helping Whumpee where they were permitted too, and praying they knew their limits otherwise.

They watched Whumpee for a few seconds as they tried to pick the pieces of dark colored glass out of their own weeping arm. They weren't doing a very good job of it. Their hands were shaking violently. Whether from cold, or pain, or tiredness, Caretaker didn't know.

"Here, let me." They finally said and plucked the tweezers from Whumpee's trembling hands before they could refuse. It was a testament to just how awful Whumpee must have been feeling that they in fact didn't refuse Caretaker's help, and even turned their arm to give Caretaker a better angle on their wound.

They didn't flinch as Caretaker plucked the tiny pieces of glass from their skin. They almost never did. Caretaker did however pretend not to notice the way their eyes were getting waterier and more bloodshot as they worked. Soon enough all the glass was out of the wound and Caretaker was cleaning it with an alcohol swab and taping a gauze pad over it. Whumpee gave an audible hiss when the alcohol made contact with heir broken skin, but still didn't move. Afterwards, Caretaker insisted that they be aloud to clean the road rash on Whumpee's leg as well before they put clothes back on. Whumpee gave in oddly easily and leaned their head against the wall as Caretaker worked, their red eyes slipping closed slowly.

It must have been the exhaustion that was making them so malleable. Whumpee was never this easy.

"You were hoping Roommate and I wouldn't catch you breaking in didn't you?" Caretaker poked gently as they worked, wondering if Whumpee may just be tired enough to let something slip.

Whumpee hummed in response and nodded vaguely, still not opening their eyes.

"Done it before." They mumbled after a second. The only surprising thing about that was that they admit it.

"Were you in handcuffs?" Caretaker decided to poke a little deeper. They were almost finished with Whumpee's leg, and those bruises on their wrists did look very painful. Even half asleep though Whumpee knew better than to let their guard slip, and the two remained in silence with the unanswered question hanging between them, until Caretaker was finished working and the kettle was whistling in the kitchen.

"There," Caretaker said resolutely when they'd finished. "Now put on the dry clothes, and where ever you want to disappear too tonight, you're at least staying for a cup of tea first."

Caretaker stood to leave, considering where they should situate themselves outside the bathroom to make sure Whumpee didn't slip out any windows without making it look like they were hovering. Before they could make it more than two steps however, Whumpee had reached out a hand and weakly grabbed Caretakers wrist.

"Can I stay here tonight?" Whumpee asked in a meek tired voice. They looked up at Caretaker with what they could have only describe as puppy eyes. If puppies eyes were usually glassed over and bloodshot that is. It was still enough to crumble any resolve Caretaker might have had about the situation, if there had ever been any in the first place. Whumpee rarely asked Caretaker for anything, and they had never asked to spend the night. Whatever had happened to them this time, it must have been worse their physical injuries let on.

"Of Course you can. You never have to ask that. You're always welcome here."

#whump drabble #whumpee x caretaker #whump #whumpril #whumpril2024 #whumprilday8 #bloodshot #stoic whumpee #tw injuries #tw implied torture #tw implied captivity #tw implied unhoused whumpee

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tildeathiwillwrite · 12 days

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Whumpril Day 8, Day 16

Bloodshot, Coughing Fit

Whumpril Prompts List

TW: coughing, sickness, pneumonia, self-deprecation

Whumpee could feel the cough rising in their chest, the unbearable tickling, burning sensation in their throat as they held it back. Caretaker was asleep nearby; Whumpee didn’t want to wake them. Unfortunately, they could only keep the cough back for so long.

Whumpee cleared their throat, trying to soothe the burning. It didn’t work. What started as a simple grunt snowballed into a cough, and another, and another. And another. Whumpee’s chest spasmed as their lungs tried desperately to expel the sickness. They covered their mouth, but it didn’t do anything to stop the coughing or muffle the noise.

Eventually, the fit subsided. Whumpee’s throat burned even more from the force of their coughing, and the sound trailed off into a quiet sob.

“Whumpee…? Are you okay?”

Whumpee exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I’m okay, Caretaker, go back to sleep.”

Caretaker was silent for a few moments before sitting up. Whumpee could see their eyes were bloodshot from many nights of little sleep spent caring for Whumpee. “I’ll get you some water,” they said, rising to their feet.

“Nonono, it’s fine…” Whumpee weakly protested, but Caretaker ignored them and left the room.

Whumpee slumped. Stupid pneumonia. Stupid cough. Stupid me for getting sick.

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @whumpril

#whump #whump writing #my writing #sickfic #sickness #illness #pneumonia #whumpril2024 #whumprilday8 #whumprilday16 #blood shot #coughing fit #self deprecation #whumpee #caretaker #stubborn whumpee #exhaustion

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cuddlepilefics · 11 days

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Three mistakes

Fandom: P1Harmony

Sickie: Keeho

Caregivers: P1Harmony

Prompt 'bloodshot' @whumpril

No one’s POV.:

He should’ve expected this, Keeho scolded himself, lightly palming at his middle to try and soothe the angry churning under his palm. As the leader of P1Harmony, he had been stuck in a meeting with their management for most of the afternoon, while the rest of the group was practicing. He hadn’t even really had the time to eat his meals over the course of the day, hurriedly forcing down a granola bar while they had a bathroom break. It always sucked attending meetings without any of the members present because it meant that he had the full responsibility to defend the members needs, which felt like an uphill battle for a single person versus a multiple people management team but he had known that this was what awaited him in his position as the leader. Still, he was exhausted and to say he felt starved once the meeting finally ended. That was also why he grabbed some takeout as soon as it was over, hurriedly digging in. Checking the time, Keeho realized that his group was probably already heading back to the dorm by now, while he finally ate dinner but he couldn’t afford to go home yet.

Having missed the group practice session in order to attend the meeting and represent his group, Keeho had already decided to stay back at the company building and practice by himself for a while. He barely took the time to really chew his food, mainly swallowing bite after bite, so he could head to the practice room faster and hopefully get to go home soon too. That was his first mistake. He occasionally struggled with indigestion when the group wasn’t given enough time to eat during busy schedules and he forgot to chew his food properly, so yeah, he should’ve known that shoveling down a full meal after barely eating all day would give him a stomach ache but that ship had sailed. All Keeho could do now was to try and slowly sip some water while stretching to warm up for practicing his dance moves.

Since Keeho really wanted to go home soon, he only went through a short warmup before selecting the song and playing it on speaker. That was his second mistake, Keeho thought bitterly as he doubled over after only the third run through. Bracing himself on his knees, he breathed hard and swallowed against the rising queasiness. He should really give his hastily eaten dinner a chance to settle before dancing but he so badly wanted to go home. The day had already been so long and he knew he couldn’t leave before polishing up some of his dance moves. Gosh, how badly he wanted to be back at the dorm. Keeho had barely seen the members all day and since they were so used to being around each other close to 24/7, it was weird practicing by himself, especially while knowing that everyone else was united and he was the odd one out.

With his stomach growing increasingly unsettled, Keeho was pretty close to caving and just calling it a day. If only there wasn’t that small voice at the back of his head reminding him that he needed to catch up on the practice time he had missed. Plopping down next to his bag, he pulled out his phone and slipped one hand under his shirt. As he read over their group chat, he felt how tight his abs felt despite his middle seemingly swollen. Apparently, the rest of the group had decided on having movie night and asked whether he’d be home soon to join them. Patting his chest, Keeho forced a burp and winced when it brought a rancid taste to his tongue. He had hoped it’d relieve the pressure a little but it had barely helped. Sighing, the leader accepted that with the way he was feeling at the moment, he wouldn’t make progress nearly as fast as he had thought, so he replied that he would still need a while and to start movie night without him.

Putting his phone down, Keeho struggled back to his feet and tried to give the choreo another try but his stomach cramped up so badly, all he could do was drop into a crouch barely able to breathe as he broke into a cold sweat. His hands trembled when he shakily pushed himself back up, only to limp back to his bag. There was no way he could keep practicing. He should’ve just gone home when he had still been able to walk properly. By now, every step was agony, the pain in his stomach so intense, it made him sweat like crazy.

“Oh, hyung! You’re back already?”, Intak exclaimed when the front door opened and Keeho tiredly kicked off his shoes. If he hadn’t felt so miserable, the leader would’ve laughed at the phrasing. ‘already’… As if it hadn’t taken him ages to drag his sorry ass back to their dorm. Slowly trudging to the living room, Keeho sighed: “Yeah, it wasn’t going so well and I wasn’t making any progress, so I decided I’d just work harder to catch up during our next group dance practice.” – “Are you okay”, Jiung asked, brows furrowed when he noticed the leader’s pinched expression. Nodding, Keeho have his stomach a quick rub and admitted: “I was really starved when I got out of that meeting and wanted to quickly practice, so I could join you. There was no way I would’ve had the energy to dance without eating something first but I also couldn’t waste any time. Forced down some takeout as fast as I could before dancing. Yeah, please congratulate me on my amazing life choices. I got a stomach ache now.”

Keeho had managed to downplay his current struggle well without having to lie to the members. They had asked him if he still wanted to join them in watching a movie although they were already halfway into the storyline. The offered cuddles and heating pad had sounded nice but all Keeho really wanted was his bed. Apologizing to the members for his stupidity, he said as much before shuffling to the bathroom to get himself ready for bed.

“Hey, I brought you tea. You really holding up alright?”, Taeyang asked softly, slipping into Keeho’s room while the leader was sorting out his blankets, “You look awful, honestly. Like, really pale and… are you sure you’re not running a fever? You look sweaty. Might be from dancing still but….” Dropping his head into his hands, Keeho sighed: “Feel awful too but it’s not right to complain when I brought this onto myself.” – “Awful how?”, the eldest pressed, handing his friend the cup. “My stomach’s killing me, so much that I keep sweating but I don’t feel warm in the slightest”, Keeho mumbled, shuddering a little as he clutched the warm cup, “Also feel really shaky but I don’t think I’m sick-sick ‘cause it only started after my rushed dinner.” Taeyang’s cold hand on his forehead sent a shiver down his spine, the older frowning: “You don’t usually run fevers like this from indigestion. Maybe you just really pushed yourself today and will feel better after a good night’s sleep. Can I get you anything?” – “Thanks, I think I’ll just try to sleep this off”, Keeho muttered, shifting a little in an attempt to get comfortable despite the pain.

He had fallen asleep not long after Taeyang had told him to get some rest, which had been a true blessing because he had feared he wouldn’t be able to sleep due to the pain. Sadly, he didn’t manage to sleep through the night, waking up drenched in sweat to a dark dorm. The other’s had long since gone to bed and it took Keeho a moment to realize what had woken him. The cramps in his stomach had eased, the pain almost completely gone only to be replaced with unbearable nausea. His mouth already watered, so there was no denying it. He was going to be sick and soon.

With his adrenaline surging, Keeho rolled out of bed. The movement triggered an empty gag and he was glad that he made it out of the room without waking his two roommates, who were sleeping peacefully. Already feeling the acidic burn in his throat, Keeho’s heart started to race. Almost there! Relief washed over him when his hand reached the bathroom door. He would not make a mess! With barely a second to spare, Keeho yanked on the handle but the door wouldn’t budge. There came a muffled ‘occupied’ from the other side of the door just as the leader’s stomach lurched, hot sick rushing up his throat. Registering the splatter and that he had in fact made a mess, Keeho burst into tears. Why couldn’t anything go right today?! His cries weren’t loud but the hitching sobs still messed with his already bubbling stomach.

Luckily, the door swung open before Keeho got sick again and he pushed past Jongseob in a panic. The maknae startled, watching his hyung crash to his knees in front of the toilet. Weakly clutching the toilet seat, Keeho heaved up a large wave of barely digested takeout. “Um, can I get you anything? Water maybe?”, Jongseob mumbled, feeling a little lost. Squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to hold off a gag, the leader drew a deep breath. “Taey-“, he managed to choke out before losing the fight, getting sick again. Glancing at the puddle by the door, chunky sick still trailing down the door, Jongseob promised: “Be right back.” No sooner than the maknae left, taking a large step over the mess at the door, Keeho stopped holding back his sobs.

It didn’t happen often that he cried this hard but he was feeling miserable and the day had already left him drained. Though it felt like forever, it had barely been a minute before a steady hand appeared on Keeho’s back. Crouching next to the leader, Taeyang soothed: “You’re okay. Deep breaths.” A harsh sob tore from Keeho’s throat, making him gaga again. “Ssssh. Try to calm yourself down”, the eldest shushed, “You’ll only upset your stomach more if you get worked up like this.” Drawing a shuddering breath, Keeho looked up at Taeyang and winced when the bright ceiling light stung his bloodshot eyes. “What happened? I see you weren’t able to sleep it off but did you get any rest at all?”, the eldest hummed, running his hand up and down Keeho’s back when the leader crossed his arms over the toilet bowl and rested his head on them. Closing his eyes, the younger rasped: “Been asleep for a while but woke up like this.”

“Are you sure this isn’t a stomach bug?”, Taeyang asked when Keeho hadn’t thrown up in two minutes. The leader flushed the toilet and hummed: “I felt fine before dinner, so I don’t think so though it’s worse than my usual indigestion when I eat too fast. Honestly, I swallowed my food so fast, I wouldn’t have been able to tell if something tasted off about it, so… could be food poisoning, I dunno.” Apparently, not paying attention to the condition of his food was Keeho’s third mistake. Feeling the back of Keeho’s neck Taeyang nodded despite his dongsaeng not able to see it. “That’d explain the mild fever you’re running. It can’t still be from dancing. Like, you’re not burning but it’s definitely there”, he observed, “Do you think you’re done? We should get you cleaned up and back to bed.”

Getting up on shaky legs, Keeho paled fast as his stomach churned. Only when he looked up did he spot Shota at the door, the younger having woken up when Jongseob came to wake Taeyang. Keeho’s bloodshot eyes met his dongsaeng’s worried ones and he mumbled: “I’m okay. Sorry for waking you up. You can go back to bed.” Shota only shook his head, watching the leader rinse his mouth and wash his face before following the two eldest to the room Taeyang shared with the two maknaes. The three of the were all up already, so why risk waking Jiung and Intak. “Alright, you lie down and try to get some rest”, Taeyang instructed, “I’ll go clean up and fetch a bucket really quick.” Nodding in defeat, Keeho couldn’t help but feel guilty for making a mess but a tap on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts. Jongseob handed him a glass of water and encouraged him to have a few sips before Shota pulled the leader to bed and climbed him behind him. “I don’t think you want that”, Keeho slurred tiredly, “I’ll probably be up puking again soon.” The younger only commented that with a Minecraft sound while curling up against the leader’s back, shyly slipping a hand under his hyung’s shirt.

Under Shota’s light touch, Keeho relaxed and felt himself sink further into the mattress. With how drained he had been, was already asleep when Taeyang returned und placed a bucket next to him.

#whumpril #fanfic #fluff #comfort #fanfiction #sickfic #sick #emeto #p1harmony #whumpril2024 #whumprilday8

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its-my-whump · 21 days

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Whumpril 2024 - Day 8

Bloodshot

@whumpril

Tw: language!, vomit, helplessness, implied beating, anger

The door bell rang for the 4th time. "Bloody hell." Caretaker mumbled to himself, paddling the blanket away and crawled out of his bed. The room was chilly and a quick look, showed a blurry 2:48 am on his alarm clock. He brushed a hand through his own hair and over his sleepy face to get his bearings, while coming up to his legs.

Shuffling towards the front door it rang again. "Yeah, coming." He half loud mumbled again, naked feet left prints on the cold floor making a path to the door.

His hand grapped for the door handle. The moment he pulled and some weight started to press onto the doorleaf from the outside, the thought jumped in, that at this time of night, it could easily be some buglars.

Surprised by the weight on the door, he had to hold it strongly, so it wouldn't push him away.

A step to the side. No burglars! His hand automatically let go of the handle and he stepped forward to catch the limp body.

The door flew open, his own body was almost pulled down, when he took a hold of the dead weight now in his arms. "Johnny? Fuck!"

He grapped his friend under his limp arms and pulled him completely inside the appartement. An elbow against the lightswitch and a hard kick to the open door. It fell shut with a bang, at 2:49 am in the morning.

Caretaker pulled Johnny to the couch and laid him down on the cushions. Getting to his hunches, a few light slaps to the pale cheek. "Ey, Johnny. Can you open your eyes for me, man?"

Half a minute passed, some more light flaps and the limp form stired on the couch. Eyelids fluttered open, it looked exhausting, just watching the attempt. His eyes bloodshot, some veins dark red in glazy white, his iris too small for the semi dark room. His left eye already swelling shut.

"The fuck, man! What happened?"

Some undeceiferable movement in his ghostly white face. Dry lips weakly parted, to reveal bloody teeth. "T..th...they got m..." His jaw visibly clenched. Caretaker, yet shocked by the forming bruise on his left side of his face, but still quickly thinking on his feet, grapped for the bowl of some rubbish from the coffeetable and emptied it.

Johnny was already retching and weakly leaning towards the edge of the sofa. The bowl went under his face and Caretaker turned away. More out of respect as of disgusted. He studied Johnny shaking body from his kneeling position.

His friends short hair was sweaty, spiking in all directions. Only now Caretaker saw the blood on the back of Johnnys head. Sweat was glistening on his pale, almost translucent face. A stream of blood had painted a red line down into the back of his collar. He was shivering all of a sudden and Caretakers hand took a hold of his shoulder. Johnny flinched, wiggled in pain and a moan slipped out. Caretaker pulled carefully on the collar of his friends shirt and took a glimpse of the purple bruise, that was creeping up his back.

Johnnys fingers were digging into the couch, knuckles white from strain, but bloody from fighting back.

"Fuck!" Caretaker exhaled, then he got angry. "I'm gonna kill these cowards."

My masterlist

#whumpril #whumpril2024 #whumprilday8 #bloodshot #whump writing

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septic-dr-schneep · 21 days

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@whumpril Day 8: Bloodshot

“Hh—” Marvin tensed, screwing his eyes shut as his nostrils prickled in warning. “Hh-khgh!” The force of the sneeze sent dull, clogged pangs of pain through his skull and made his vision swim as he groped around his desk for the box of tissues.

“And you’re sure this is no cold? No contagions to spread across the seats at your show?” Schneep asked as he pushed the box closer. “Not that in your condition the show should go on anyway.”

“It’s allergies,” Marvin insisted, scrubbing the tissue against wet, itchy eyelids before squinting up at the rather blurry impression of the doctor. “Just…bad ones.”

“Mm, I can see that. Can you see that? Can you even see me straight or is this another case of the septic eyes?” When Marvin grumbled unintelligibly and started dabbing at his lashes again, Schneep could only sigh. “Let me get the eye dropper.”

#jacksepticeye #fanfiction #drabble and a half #whumpril2024 #whumprilday8 #bloodshot #marvin the magnificent #dr schneeplestein #allergies #sneeze

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losthavenmine · 1 year

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Whumpril 2023 Day 8: Dehydration

The Quick and the Dead (1995)

#whumpril #whumpril2023 #whumprilday8 #dehydrated #the quick and the dead #russell crowe #filmedit #filmgifs #movieedit #moviegifs #junkfooddaily #fyeahmovies #dailyflicks #userfilm #throwbackblr #perioddramaedit #perioddramasource #cinemapix #cinematv

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uuuhshiny · 1 year

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Russell Crowe in Gladiator

#by uuuhshiny #Russell Crowe #gladiator #whumpril2023 #whumprilday8 #Dehydration #uuuhshiny's gifs #whumpedit #power #buyer's choice...#RC gifs

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sylvanfreckles · 21 days

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Rating: G Warnings: Implied child abuse Spoilers: None

Summary:

“Got one more,” Marinette called. Adrien plunged his hands down into the water so quickly that it sloshed over the edge of the sink and onto the front of his shirt. She jumped back, clutching the plate to her chest, staring at him. He peeked over his shoulder, staring right back at her.

“I, uh…my hand slipped?”

Adrien, still adjusting to life in the Dupain-Cheng house, is trying to keep a secret from the family. He's already such a burden to them, he doesn't want to add one more issue on top of the mountain of problems he's already causing.

(@whumpril Day 8/Alt 8: Allergic Reaction)

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday8 #alt8 #allergic reaction #miraculous ladybug #fic #implied child abuse

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lingeringmirth · 21 days

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no matter what

Stranger Things | Eddie Munson & Steve Harrington | Rating: T | Words: 300 | Angst, Eddie Munson Lives, Amputee Eddie, Pain.

Written for @whumpril day 8. alternate prompt 1. crutch. | Also here on AO3.

CW: Mentions of an amputated leg.

Eddie woke up already groaning and, for a moment, feeling like it might have been better if he’d not woken up at all, even if that would have meant that the nebulous them had won.

He closed his eyes as he lay there, taking a series of deep, calming breaths. The pain didn’t really settle much.

He’d known that he’d overdone it yesterday, but it had been a good one and the kids had been so rowdy, like the teenagers they deserved to be, so Eddie hadn’t rested enough. He hadn’t thought that he’d used his crutches too much, getting a prosthetic fitted was still a far-away dream as his stump healed, but apparently he had.

He groaned some more.

There wasn’t anywhere he’d need to be today, but he knew that everyone, especially Dustin, would worry if they couldn’t reach him. He shifted carefully and thankfully saw his radio on his night-stand, a glorified whiskey crate. The kids had pooled their money together and gotten him one as a “congratulations on surviving the Upside Down” gift.

Next item to find were his pain meds.

…which weren’t on his nightstand, of-fucking-course. He groaned again, a mix of frustration and pain. He settled a bit and listened to his body, his overworked muscles and the dull ache of his stump. Could he manage without the pain-killers? Maybe. Did he need to try? Ye--- no. He was allowed to be without pain, that’s what the meds were for. He’d helped save the world, dammit, save fucking Hawkins, where he was still stuck in.

He cursed and reached for the radio and radioed the one person who he knew would always answer, always help, no matter what.

‘Steve?’

‘Already coming.’

Eddie smiled and settled to wait, there were still good things in Hawkins.

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday8 #prompt: crutch (alternate prompt)#angst #eddie munson lives #amputee eddie munson #cw: mention of amputated limb

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crimsonlyinglilly · 20 days

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Day 8 Bloodshot.

This was meant to be posted yesterday for Day 8 of whumpril

and for something little different from my others, Mass Effect.

Set during Mass effect 3, featuring my colonist sole survivor Femshep

-----

Ash fell in the woods.

Shepard

Comander.

Commander Shepard threw herself from the bed as she woke up. Looking at her omitool she sighed at the number, having managed a total hour of sleep.

'That's great' she thought to herself.

Her skin itched and she wasn't sure if it was from the feeling of ash or sand coating her but she didn't stop to question before leaving her bed and stripping off to jump into the shower.

Perks of command; sleepless nights, list of names and a private shower.

The cold water cooled the burning skin that she tell if it was from the memory of fire or acid, none of that mattered she reminded herself since the scars from both were gone.

She found herself humming a long forgotten melody, one she remembered from a long lost little girl standing on her Grandpapi's lap.

That girl was just as dead as the family around her, that once belted out the words to old songs on carefree warm evenings, but in a different way.

She stayed under the water for moment longing taking time to breath, before she turned the water off and stepped out.

The bloodshot eyes of her reflection met her.

'It's the end of the world I and know it' she remembered the words sung by her relatives long ago, before that world ended.

Once that lost would have been more than she could imagine, everyone she knew and loved, now though, well she knew better.

"And I feel fine." She finished out loud.

They didn't have time for her to be anything else now.

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday8 #bloodshot #mass effect #fanfiction #commander shepard #femshep #mass effect 3

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coffeeangelinabox · 21 days

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Whumpril #8: Bloodshot

David glares up at Darrow through bloodshot eyes and hates that even more. He’s taller than the other man, how is it that Darrow always manages to be at his most unreasonable when David is too tired even to stand.

Darrow always claims that all he wants is a peaceful asteroid and a quiet life, to be free of the Domain and never to think about them again. Yet, it is Darrow who always propels them head first into danger, as though the only way of achieving such peace is to bring down the monolithic space power. And when people are wounded - broken bones and cuts and concussions; exposure to the Domain’s homebred pathogens; severed limbs; wounds left from prolonged and sustained torture; mind rape - and they always are, it is David he expects to put them back together, to hone shattered bodies into bladed tools for his endless pointless crusade.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he snarls, a tired refrain. He’s said this how often over the years?

“I don’t have a choice!” the matching half of their duet.

“Of course you do! You think the Domain can check every citizen on every frontier planet? Ferrium is looking for miners. Again. Huge turn over. I bet they’re not even checking papers any more. Hesta is practically uninhabited, you could stake a plot and build a ranch and your grandchildren would have grandchildren before anyone thought to take a census. Or-”

Darrow turns away. “You always do this. Can you fix him or not?”

Tears prick David’s eyes, reddening them further. “It can be done, the wound isn’t fatal. But I need supplies, and it’s a thirty hour operation, frankly I need a relief surgeon.”

Darrow spins back and his eyes rake over him, making David feel like a microbe on a specimen slide. A microbe that is found wanting. Almost despite himself, he straightens his back and shoulders, meets that cool gaze defiantly.

Darrow doesn’t, if he is honest, look any less tired than he does. He supposes pitched space battles take a toll from the combat end too.

“Supplies…I can get you. But you’ll have to operate. There’s no personnel aboard the station.”

None left living, he means, and the cold tonelessness of his voice horrifies David even more. Those stations carry upward of a 1000 men, often their families too. What had Darrow done?

He nods, and then, despite his exhaustion…”Are there any other casualties. Any…prisoners?”

Darrow shakes his head, a short abortive jerk and at the sick horror that must be blooming in David’s eyes, snaps out, “I don’t have space for prisoners, and I wouldn’t be wasting supplies on them if I did.”

All David ever wanted to be was a medtech. Not a mere doctor, but someone able to treat physical and mechanical ailments across the dozen domain species all across their frontier. This is not what he signed up for. He sits here and follows orders and is complicit in these hundreds of thousands of deaths.

Darrow watches him for another moment and his smile turns sardonic. “They wouldn’t feel half so bad about killing you. Slowly most like.”

Probably not. But they have not taken the same oaths that he has.

Darrow is still staring.

David passes a hand over leaking eyes - could be tears: guilt or tiredness; could be blood for all he knows, his eyes feel raw enough after all this time. “I-”

“I’ll get you your supplies. Treat him or leave, but I don’t have time to nurse you through an existential crisis this week.”

An ultimatum he’s given before. And they both know David can’t leave. No one else aboard this wreck has a fraction of his skill. It would be the same as killing them himself.

He turns back to Jay on the bed behind him. Still and pale, wounds, both inside and out, healed, but still in need of surgery to replace the silicon joints in his knees that David had implanted some years ago and have now been melted and twisted by whatever blast hit them. He would be in agony if David wasn’t keeping him unconscious.

“One day that threat won’t work,” he says lowly.

He doesn’t turn to see Darrow’s expression. “No.”

#my writing #whump #whump prompts #coffeeangelinabox's space opera ocs #space battles #medical trauma #turns out Darrow's not such a hero #I don't even know #whumpril2024 #whumprilday8 #whump event

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drabbles-mc · 1 year

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Whatever You Can

Opie Winston & Sister!OFC (Veronica Winston)

For Day 8 of @whumpril 's 2023 Challenge: comfort food

Warnings: 18+, angst, grief, alcohol

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I know I write a lot of sibling dynamics when it comes to my OCs. And I love them all and no one can stop me from writing them and making more 😂 But there is just something sooooo specifically tragic about V and Opie that I love so much. I feel like I've put so much of me into her character in the pieces I've written for her and she has such a heavy heart but a good heart. I love her. Also, its a completely separate fic from this one, but I picture this taking place in the same universe as This Fic if you're interested in more angst lmao

SOA Taglist: @littlekittymeow @i-just-read-stuff @fuckyeahopie @justreblogginfics @garbinge @fanfic-n-tabulous @camelia35 @winchestershiresauce @artemiseamoon @passionatewrites @buckybarneshairpullingkink @mijagif @paintballkid711 @frattsparty @jitterbugs927 @nessamc @camelia35 @withmyteeth (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Opie saw his sister’s motorcycle parked in the driveway before he even pulled in. Over the years, he’d grown to be able to spot the sleek white bike from yards and yards away. He was trying to take a deep breath as he cruised his own bike in to park next to hers. Given the circumstances and the state of everything, it was perfectly reasonable that she would be at his house. And yet, he had still been thinking, almost hoping that he was going to come home to more emptiness.

Cutting the engine on his bike, he swung his leg over and started to make his way towards the front door, removing his helmet as he went. It was hanging limply from one hand as he reached forward with the other to pull the front door open. He allowed himself a moment of hesitation, like he was really going to turn and walk away from his own house, before finally closing his hand around the doorknob and pulling it open.

When he stepped inside, everything was quiet. He couldn’t hear the kids, not even distantly like they were in the backyard. The television was off, no radio playing music throughout the house. It was nearly silent. Silence was what he expected when he was home, especially over the last few days. But Veronica always brought some kind of noise with her. She always either had a movie playing on the television, or made sure that the radio was on. If a place was silent while she was in it, she must’ve really been feeling the full weight of all that had happened. No one would be able to blame her for that at this point.

Opie kicked off his boots at the door, discarding his helmet there as well. In the back of his mind, he knew that he should call out to her, announce himself somehow to let her know that it was him and not someone else, but he just couldn’t seem to force any words out. He padded through the house, quiet to an impressive degree for someone his size, for someone who had so much weight currently resting on their shoulders.

Once he got closer to the kitchen, he could start to hear a little bit of noise. It wasn’t ruckus, but he knew that she must’ve been getting up to something in his kitchen while he was gone. She had always been one to try and stay busy, but there was no way that she was going to allow herself to have any kind of downtime at this point.

She heard the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet, and greeted him without turning around to face him. “Hey.”

If he hadn’t already been concerned about her for the myriad of other reasons the universe gave him at the moment, Opie’s worry meter would’ve spiked the second that she didn’t look at him when she said hello. He stepped in closer to her, standing right behind her and towering over her the way he did everyone in their family except for his father.

“What’re you doing here, V?” he asked, skipping over the pleasantries entirely. He didn’t have the energy to even try and pretend, especially not with her.

“What does it look like?” she retorted, still not turning around.

Reaching forward, he gently rested his hand on her shoulder. “Look at me.”

She froze for a moment, not turning around, not continuing to fuss with the pans that she had situated on the stove. Opie couldn’t see her face but he could imagine that she was trying to get herself together a little bit. She sniffled and shook her head at herself before finally turning around, causing Opie’s hand to slip from her shoulder.

Opie’s heart had been in a constant state of crushed ever since he had seen Donna’s body laid out on the blacktop a few days before. But the look on his sister’s face as she stared up at him was like another punch in the gut that he didn’t need, one that he hadn’t been ready for. Her lips were turned down in their usual sad frown, her brown eyes heavy with sadness, red and glassy from tears both shed and unshed.

Veronica knew better than to think that Opie was going to start some big, deep conversation about everything that had been going on. She knew that he wasn’t going to want to talk about the funeral, or Donna in general, or the club. If there was one thing in the world she knew about, it was her brother, and that’s why she didn’t wait for him to ask questions before giving the answers to them.

“Mary, uh,” she reached and wiped at the edges of her eyes, like that would stop new tears from appearing, “had to run a couple errands. So I told her to take the kids with her and I would get dinner situated while they were out.”

“I coulda made dinner,” Opie countered.

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t have, though.” Her voice didn’t have any malice to it—she was simply stating a fact.

“V…”

“It’s fine,” she followed up, her voice soft. “You know me—I just, I need to be doing something useful.”

Opie knew that it would’ve been the perfect moment to thank her for helping so much with the kids over the last few days while everything had been hitting the fan, but the words died on his tongue. Instead, he nodded to the stove behind her and asked, “What’re you making?”

“Mac and cheese.” She saw the look of confusion on his face and rolled her eyes, a smile almost starting to tug at her lips. “From scratch. All your boxes of Kraft are still in the pantry.”

“You could’ve used them.”

“I know. I just,” she shrugged helplessly as she looked back at the stove, “comfort food, you know? Figured it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Need help?” he asked, knowing full-well that she had it completely under control.

“No. I got it.” She saw him about to take a step back, most likely to head off and lock himself in his room at least until their mother and his kids got back, if not longer. She spoke up before he could step too far. “Could use some company, though.” She paused for a beat when she saw his hesitation. “Please.” She let out a sad laugh. “The only adult I’ve been able to talk to in the last forty-eight hours has been Mary.”

His facial expression didn’t change much, but her remark got a bit of an amused huff out of Opie, a sharp exhale through his nose as he shook his head and went towards the fridge to grab a beer for himself. “Sounds rough.”

Veronica just gave what she could of a smile as she nodded and turned back to the pan on the stove that she had been preparing to put in the oven. Opie leaned back against the counter a few feet away from her, silently watching as she got everything ready. It wasn’t until that moment that Opie realized that everyone had been checking in on him, because of course they would, even if he didn’t want them to. But apparently no one had been going through the trouble of tracking down his sister. He’d never admit to it out loud but he knew that that was the price she paid for being the one of the two of them who knew how to keep it together and take care of everyone during a crisis—no one was offering to help take care of her.

“Kids were okay at your place?” he asked.

She nodded as she pulled the oven door open. “As okay as they can be. I’m not sure, you know, how much all of it has really sunk in yet.” She set the pan in and shut the door. “I’m sure it’ll come in waves for a while.”

“Right.”

She set the timer on the oven before following Opie’s lead and getting herself a beer from the fridge. She hadn’t been drinking at all, despite the fact that she had definitely been wanting to, because her niece and nephew had been staying at her place. She popped the top of the bottle and brought it to her lips, not getting nearly as much relief or satisfaction out of the first sip as she had been hoping for. It was a lot to ask of one beer.

She leaned so that one of her shoulders was resting against the closed door of the fridge. She was facing Opie as he leaned back against his counter. She stared at him while he stared at the floor. Opie wanted nothing more than to go and lock himself in his room, sit on the floor because he still hadn’t been able to bring himself to sleep on the bed. But Veronica never asked him for anything. If him standing there silently was something that he could give her, something that she wanted, it was the least he could do after everything.

He had no idea how long the two of them stood there silently like that. He couldn’t bring himself to look over at her, to see the sadness on her face that he couldn’t do anything about. He couldn’t bring himself to confront his own feelings about it all let alone someone else’s.

Even though he wasn’t saying anything, Veronica could feel the tension and restraint rolling off of him like waves at high tide. It felt like if he was going to drown underneath it all, he wasn’t going to be going down alone.

“Ope?” his name came out cracked with emotion, but still a soft whisper.

It got him to finally look over at her. His frown deepened when he saw the tears on her cheeks. “Yea?”

Setting her beer bottle on the counter, the glass bottom clattering louder than it needed to, she stepped in and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He hesitated for a moment, his intense desire to be alone, to withdraw into himself, battling it out with logically knowing that he needed to be there for his sister. Finally, he got his arms to cooperate as he draped them over her shoulders and hugged her back. He could feel her tears soaking through the fabric that covered his chest—it was the realest thing that he’d felt in days.

Sniffling, she turned so that her cheek was resting against his chest rather than her forehead. Blinking a few more times, inadvertently causing a few more tears to fall, she forced out, “We can’t lose you too.”

He wished that he had something profound or at least comforting to say in response to that, but he didn’t. Even if he tried to string something together, Veronica had never been one to fall for his lies. She might not call him out on them, but she never believed them. There was no use in trying to spoon feed her platitudes now.

Minutes ticked by filled with more silence. Veronica peeled herself away from Opie, wiping fresh tears from her face as she did. She found herself leaning right next to him, the outside of her arm brushing against the outside of his. Grabbing her beer bottle, she took a long drink out of it before letting it dangle from her hand in front of her.

Finally, she said, “I don’t know what you’re planning on doing, but you can’t do it all on your own.”

He shook his head. “I’m not planning on anything.”

She waited for him to finally give her a small glance. Her voice came out with more certainty than it had for their entire conversation. “You can’t make your kids lose the only parent they have left in the process of getting even.”

“Getting ev—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off, her voice quieting again. “Don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Opie.” She paused and when he gave a nod of assent, she went on, “Whatever the details of this shake out to be, I know someone is going to pay for it. And, and they fucking should. But not if it kills you in the process. Not if it puts you back inside. Your kids don’t deserve that.”

“Nothing’s happening, V.”

“Not yet. But it will. So just, please, okay?”

Even if Opie had wanted to say something in response to that, the timer going off would’ve put a stop to it. Turning around, he reached and shut it off, the lack of beeping sending the house back into silence. Rather than addressing anything that his sister had just said to him, he said, “Come on, dinner’s ready. Mary will be back with the kids soon.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Veronica knew and tried to accept the fact that it was all that she was going to get from Opie for the night. Grabbing the oven mitts, she nodded towards the upper cabinets as a signal to Opie to open them. “Grab the plates for me, then.”

The two of them moved around each other with the ease of two people who spent more time together than not. It’d been a long time since they lived under the same roof, but some muscle memory never went away. Opie watched as his sister used her foot to lift the oven door closed while she held the pan in her hands, the sadness on her face giving way to focus for just a brief second. And in the moment, as fleeting as it was, they were just a brother and sister getting dinner ready for their family. No tragic backstory to be found.

The sound of Mary's car in the driveway brought them back to reality. Veronica looked over at him as he went through the motions of getting glasses and silverware out.

“You promise?” she asked, not elaborating because she knew that she didn’t have to.

He couldn’t lie to her. So, he promised what little he could as the front door opened. “I’ll do what I can."

#whumpril #whumpril2023 #whumprilday8 #comfort food #soa #sons of anarchy #soa imagine #sons of anarchy fanfiction #opie winston #opie winston x oc #oc veronica winston #oc veronica #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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pandoramoments · 21 days

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For a long, silent moment, Din simply stared into the tiny mirror of the cantina's fresher, taking in his bloodshot eye. It wasn't the eye that was the problem as such, although it was tempting to squint through it constantly to try and avoid blinking (which was currently painful!).

No, the real problem was that he'd been running for so long, taking hit after hit with no end in sight. But what end was there without the kid? Grogu was safe with the Jedi and Din had completely his task.

He hissed as the prickling of tears irritated his eye, clenching his fists to avoid rubbing the bloodshot eye with his grimy gloves.

The kid was safe and Din was once again alone, as he had been for so many years. If he chose to take on one bounty after another, ignoring the accumulating injuries then so be it. He'd fight to make the galaxy a safer place for Grogu, one bounty at a time.

#my art #star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #whumpril2024 #whumprilday8 #whumpril #bloodshot

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arrow-of-ravenclaw · 22 days

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Whumpril day 8

Aye it's my birthday! And I'm posting whump to start.

The Fear of Falling Apart

Sequel to 'Cause I Have Built a Future in My Mind With You (And Now The Hope Is Gone)

Rating: Teen

Fandom: Chucky (TV 2021)

Three days have passed since the explosion, and Jake still hasn't woken up. Devon isn't doing well. Lexy feels like she's the only one keeping things together.

@whumpril day eight (alternate prompt four - no appetite)

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday8 #noappetite #chucky fanfiction

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isamajor · 1 year

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Whumpril 2023 - day 6 to 10

6 - Bad Coping Mechanisms

Drink to forget. This bloody face with an arrow stuck through it. And the other horrors of war. The atrocities that he himself committed. Nebarra reeked of alcohol, was confused in words, in memories. Xelzaz thought it was almost some kind of suicide, at this level. Snatching a bottle of Colovian brandy from his hands, Nebarra sharply retorted that he needed it. That it was for him only to kill two birds with one stone. And in the watery eyes of the elf seen through his helmet, you could see how much the war had affected him, more than he cared to admit. (103)

7 – Unsteady

“A skeever could’ve done a better job.”

Obviously, the Altmer had to make fun of him. Feeling unsteady on his feet, clutching his ribs, Xelzaz hissed in annoyance between his teeth. Even House Telvanni could sometimes suffer defeat. A giant's club had grazed him before he could even cast a spell and it had nastily thrown him against some rocks a little further away. His injuries weren't too serious, just broken ribs and ugly bruises, but left him painfully panting and staggering. Xelzaz hoped his healing potions didn't broke on the impact : he would not ask Nebarra to help him to walk. (105)

8 – Dehydradation

The sun in the Alik'r desert was harsh and biting. Everything felt dry. His skin, his eyes, his tongue. He would have kill for a few drops of water. Nebarra felt dizzy walking under the sun, in the sand and rocks of the desert. If he stopped, he died. Lots of his comrades have already died. He felt his heart pounding faster, its beating ringing in his ears. His head hurted, his limbs hurted, even swallowing was hurting his throat. But he had to move forward. A step, then another one. The thirst was haunting. It was his only thought. (101)

9 – Bruises / « Who did this to you ? »

They found Lucien laying down on the grass. His lips were swollen, his nose bleeding and had some big visibles bruises on the jaw and shoulders. But he was alive, it was all that mattered. Already his companions had rushed to hand him some healing potion but the blow he got to the mouth prevented him to drink it. He tried to move. It only made the Imperial whine, his bruises being too painful.

His ears back and his fangs curled, Inigo growled, visibly furious.

« Who did this to you, my friend ? Tell me, so I can put an arrow through his eyes. » (103)

10 – Shiver / « I'm scared »

Just by the smell, Telmiltarion could smell where the Dragonborn was taking him. He couldn't help an unpleasant shiver running down his spine. A cave. Full of bears. Two of the things he hated the most. The idea of being underground oppressed him and gave him cold sweats. The idea of being trapped underground in the company of ferocious and hungry cave bears made him tremble all over.

« Please don't make me wait for you in the middle of this cave. I've a bad feeling about this place. I'm scared. » (96)

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