#whumptober ‘23

[astronicht]

whumptober day 1: “how many fingers am i holding up?”

(I wanna do some of these for as long as i’m feeling it as a kind of fic amnesty! get back into the swing of writing without pressure u know! it might be exactly two it might be literally just this one who knows!)

F1 rpf | max/daniel | figure skating AU | 1.5k, rated T

(mild cw for an injured kid)

The coach is a fucking joke. He’s across the lobby from Max, who is tying his sleek black skates and waiting for Christian to show up in about thirty minutes, clutching a coffee even though he’s woken up at 4AM for the last forty years.

The coach nervously leans close to a little girl sitting on the benches in her skates, her boots and blades wet with slush. She has a sleek high ponytail and still has her bum pad strapped on over her leggings to break falls and a closed-off look on her little face. The coach says, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Jackass. He’s obviously a competitive skater working as a coach part-time because he looks all of nineteen, but that doesn’t fucking matter. He’s the coach. He should know better. Max’s hands feel clumsy on his laces. He’s probably going to have to— Or the mum—

As Max is scanning the little crowd of parents at the tables, the door to the rink swings open with a blast of cool wet air and Daniel strides in. He’s got new boots on, Max realizes numbly. Daniel and the little girl are also wearing the same brand of leggings, hers in miniature. She is probably seven years old.

“Hey, you took a spill, huh?” Daniel says, because if he was on the ice he’d have seen it. He’s walking a little gingerly, slush sluicing off his blades onto the rubber floor; his feet are probably rubbed bloody inside the stupid new Jackson Ultimas.

Max gets up, walks over. Daniel sees him and seems surprised, or maybe Max is imagining it. Max does not say anything. He squats on his toepicks in front of the little girl, ignores the stupid fucking coach. Daniel says, “Oh, uh— Max is just gonna do a little concussion check, yeah?” Daniel doesn’t ignore the coach at all, smiles at him, says something, but he does somehow dismiss him a little. It’s easy to see, to Max, that Daniel was coached by Christian for a long time.

Max looks at the girl. She stares back, jaw tight. He tells her, “No counting, only follow my finger with your eyes. And now you talk to me, okay? Explain exactly what happened.”

The girl hesitantly starts to describe the double loop that led to the back of her skull smacking into the ice. Max moves his finger to her left, to her right. Her words are in the right order, not slurred, but her eyes judder a little following his hand.

“Daniel, give me your phone.” Max says, squinting at the girl and sticking his hand up. Daniel’s warm hip is right next to him, shifting as Daniel fidgets, his phone probably in his fleece because he never leaves it on the boards unless he’s on the ice. Daniel hesitates, maybe, but then his cold phone is being fumbled into Max’s waiting hand. His lock screen is some fucking beach, screen protector clouding up under Max’s warm fingertips. Daniel does not even like the beach that much. Max taps to make the flashlight come on from the lockscreen and tries to ignore Daniel relaxing beside him, like he didn’t want Max to be nosy about his stupid life.

Daniel does get three incoming texts while Max is watching the girl’s pupils react to the light, flinching down to a point the way they are supposed to. But maybe a little slow. Max frowns. It is all normal for skating, injuries and concussions alike, but it makes him feel a little sick, sometimes, when it’s the little ones. He doesn’t practice around kids that often anymore, but then again, if she’s here this seven-year-old is probably thinking about breaking into juniors, probably very serious.

The girl’s mum comes in through the other set of doors, the ones leading to the rest of the rink, the other sheets of ice that Max normally rents privately for a few hundred dollars an hour — a little cheaper in euros. Someone must have texted her; one of the other mums at the tables by the window to the rink, probably, not the coach who is almost hiding behind Daniel while Max takes care of his fucking student. Max should charge him.

Max straightens up and says to the mum, but looking out at the rink through the windows, “She has hit her head. I am of course not her coach so I cannot tell you what to do. She is not confused now but some of her reactions are a little slow.” He swallows. “So yes you could of course get her checked out at a clinic.”

The woman turns to the useless coach and starts asking questions. Max looks at the kid. “Okay, good job,” he says. “Take a break, try not to fall on your head like this.” Then he walks back to his seat. He looks down at his skates again. He can’t find his gloves.

A rustle and a shadow in the fluorescent lights: Daniel is coming to sit beside him on the cold plastic bench. Daniel sighs. It is early but he looks more tired than an early morning. He only got one Grand Prix invitation this year. The girl and her mum are gone, the doors swinging shut. Max swallows. It is normal, but also he hopes the mum takes the girl to the doctor today, just to see.

“Alright?” says Daniel, almost warily. “Doctor Maxy.”

Max rolls his eyes at him, says, “It is so annoying. Of course a head hit rattles you, so it is hard to tell when it is real.”

“Well, this time she’s definitely fucking concussed,” Daniel says, rubbing his face.

“Oh. Did you tell her mum?” Max asks, surprised. He watches his own hands clench on his knees. His gloves are in the side pocket of his skate bag like always, he realizes. He doesn’t reach for them yet.

Daniel blinks at him, eyes wide, shadows under them a delicate purple. “I… yeah, I told her what the kid said: that she'd blacked out when she hit her head for a second? Any time you black out, it’s a concussion, right? I don’t know if the mum like, knows that.” He squints at the doors. “Cunt of a useless coach though.”

“No it’s not always a concussion,” Max corrects. The girl did say that, he remembers, when he was making her talk so he could test how she spoke. “Blacking out for a second when you hit? Then I would've had dozens as a kid.” Daniel shifts beside him, laughs a nervous little laugh. His head is in his hands. “I have had enough already, my brain would be mush, Daniel. Anyway it is not even the real test, the finger and the eyes thing and the talking. It is just a DUI test. Geri did it to you once, I remember, at Cup of China 2017? I asked what it was because I of course had not seen it and she said she used to party pretty hard, run into problems with friends sometimes, and she thought it had to be about the same.”

Daniel rubs his face again. “Was I concussed?” he asks. “In 2017?”

“Yes, I think so. But it is hard to tell.”

“No, I remember, I skated in that competition.”

Max shrugs. “You won the gold, then I beat you at Skate America two weeks later.”

“Shit, yeah. I remember now. Yeah.” Daniel tips his head back. On the tvs above the rink doors, the receptionist is playing YouTube videos of last year’s Grand Prix series instead of the rink sponsorship reel. It looks like Italy, the senior pairs event. Max watches Sui Wenjing get thrown through the air in a near-perfect twist, land on one edge of one blade like a sharp and flying thing. He has always wondered what it feels like, to land something from six feet in the air. No matter how high he can get his quads, his triples, he of course skates singles.

Max can smell Daniel’s cologne, which he is wearing at 5:03 AM, his sweat, the stiff leather of his awful new boots. “Well, gotta get back out there,” Daniel says. “These babies won’t break themselves in.”

They both look at Daniel’s new boots, which are probably full of Daniel’s blood for no reason, because Max doesn’t think his old ones were really broken or that bad or whatever. His coach probably told him to switch. Max switches boots when he needs to, always knows when to judge it, always gives himself the full summer before the competition season to break them in and let them tear him up a bit.

“Okay,” Max rasps. “Say hi to Lando for me. Try to land your Salchow.”

Daniel stands with his hand on Max’s hair, ruffles it and shoves Max, making him laugh. The clenching thing in his chest releases a little.

“Don’t bump your noggin,” Daniel says quietly, rapping his hand on Max’s head, gentle.

“Too late,” Max jokes.

Max stays sitting there for a minute after Daniel gets back on the ice, trying to wait out the rush of adrenaline, his heart still slamming like it was him who fucked up a loop, like it was his pale mother at the swinging doors.

—

concept brought to u by me in @/garagegremlin’s texts like OKAY they’re like all singles skaters but max has the heart of a pairs girl

#f1 rpf #my fic #whumptober ‘23 #max/daniel #maxiel #suddenly remembering i don’t know tagging conventions round these parts #alas #maxiel figure au

[jasmines-library]

Lost and found.

WHUMPTOBER DAY 20. Prompt: “You will regret touching them.” Fandom: Batfam

Summary: After falling into a trap, you are captured by Scarecrow and exposed to his fear toxin. When your older brothers arrive to help you, your fear gets the better of you.

Warnings: Fear, disappointment, beating, hurt.

Word count: 2K

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

You hadn’t been living with Bruce that long. A few years. If that. You were the baby of the family, younger than Damian and in some ways you supposed he resented you for it; always narrowing his eyes at you when passing him the hallway. You often felt estranged from the rest of the boys, never fully understanding their inside jokes or nightly routines. You never felt as though you belonged despite the fact that the older boys had tried to make you feel welcome. 

The one person you had managed to connect with was Alfred. When your time wasn’t occupied by training or patrol it was often spent curled up in the study with a book and excitedly explaining it to him. Reading was one of your passions; it allowed you to escape the harsh realities of the cruel world and alfred was glad to hear you rant, it often resulted in him mirroring the smile on your face. 

It was a late autumn night when the call came in. You were lounging on the window seat watching the rain batter against the glass. Your brothers were out on patrol and you were the only one left home, so you floated over to the phone, answering it and bringing it to your ear. 

“Hello?”

There was static on the other end of the line, followed by a shuffling. And then came the voice of a child. “Please… please help me.”

You began to pull on your suit, listening closely to the girl speaking over the phone. 

“My friend she-”

“Calm down.” you told her. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”

She rattled off her location through sobs. “Please hurry.”

“It’s gonna be okay.” You reassured her. 

Once you had calmed the girl, you slipped out of the exit of the batcave and began to race through town. It was a quiet night. The rain had pushed many people inside, so the lack of people on the streets really threw you off, but you decided to warn your brothers where you were going, just in case. 

“Nightwing?” You asked over the comms, hoping that he wasn’t too occupied to answer. 

“Raven?” He wrinkled his nose. “What are you doing out?”

“A call came in. A young girl said her friend was cornered by a group of armed criminals. I’ve got it handled, but I thought I'd give you a heads up.”

“Copy that Raven.” 

The line went silent again as you continued to push your way into the city until you reached the location that the scared girl gave you over the line. Only, there was no one in sight. You called out into the darkness but there was no reply. And then, there was a sharp prick to the side of your neck. 

~

When you awoke, your hands and hands were bound together by old rope that scratched at your skin. The floor was dank and dusty and your mask had been torn from your face. You could feel a small nic along your eyebrow, and your entire body ached. 

Without full use of your hands, you struggled to sit up when you noticed the figure leaning against the wall across the room. Tall and masked with a straw hat, he loomed over you, observing you from afar. You used your legs to inch yourself away from the humanoid figure, but he outpaced you, squatting down in front of you and trailing a gloved hand along your jaw.

“Hiya little birdie.”

“Get off of me.” You spat.

Scarecrow tutted, but removed his hand. “I’m glad to see you. You see, I've been watching you for some time. I’ve seen how miserable  you’ve been. And I've been waiting for a chance to get you alone. I have to say though, it was much easier than I anticipated.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

The villain chided. “Mm, I have something more fun in mind. You see, I've been experimenting with something new. Well, new and improved. You see, my old fear toxin, it was good but you couldn’t really feel. If you know what I mean? So I did some experimenting and I've finally created something I've just been dying to test out. So I figured, why not have some fun while I'm at it?”

“They’re coming for me.” You told him with narrowed eyes. “And you’re gonna be a dead man?”

He tilted his head, resting his hand on the door before he stepped out and shut it completely. “Are they?”

He bolted the door shut, leaving you in the dimly lit room where a thick, green smog began to billow through the vents. You tried to back away from the smoke, but it surrounded you, cascading down all four walls. You took a deep breath, taking in all of the air you could, but it didn’t last long, eventually you couldn’t stand the burning in your lungs and you were forced to inhale the substance, choking as it filled your lungs. 

When the green began to fade away, vanishing into the air, you were left alone in the silence. Though it wasn’t long before the door was broken down by heavy pounding, and the masked face of your brother burst through the door. 

“Y/N”

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Jason. Oh thank god, I thought you weren’t going to come. He told me that you none of you would and I-”

“Shut up.”

You stilled. “What?”

“I said shut up!” He kicked you hard to the ribs eliciting a yelp from you. 

“Jason…?”

“God, are you as stupid as you look? Shut it.” Jason kicked you harder, each one growing in intensity and followed by a snarky remark. You tucked your head to your chest, pressing your hands tightly to your ears until eventually, Jason vanished into a cloud of green and you were plunged back into emptiness. 

“Oh god… Y/N.”

It was Tim’s voice, shaky as he raced towards you. His hands gripped your arms as he forced them away from your ears. You half glanced up at him, doing a double take when you saw the look set upon his face. It was tender, but laced with worry. You wanted to reach out into his arms, but you were hesitant. 

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” He bent down and removed the frayed rope from your wrists, you rubbed them. Tim then swung his arm around your shoulder to help you up, but you only made it a few steps towards the door when he flung you over his shoulder, sending you plummeting to the floor with a sickening crack as your skull collided with the ground. Your head throbbed as blood dripped from the crack that had opened in the back of your head. 

“Silly girl.” Tim laughed. “You really think we care enough to come and help you? After you were foolish enough to fall for his trap? You always mess things up Y/N. You’re a burden. Nothing more. Bruce’ll be glad to finally be rid of you.”

“Tim, Please-"

He reeled his fist back to land the final blow. You scrambled backwards, raising your arm above your face to protect yourself, but no pain came. And Time was gone. 

Fat, hot tears were rolling down your cheeks by the time that Damian entered the room. He narrowed his eyes at you like he normally did. They were so full of hate. You closed your eyes, biting down on your trembling lip and sinking against the wall. 

“Get up.” He demanded, voice thick with venom. 

You squeezed your eyes shut even tighter. 

“Damian… please don’t. I don’t need to hear how-”

“I hate you.”

It was only three words, but they cut right through you like a bullet. 

“I hate you.” He gritted out. “You ruined everything. We were fine without you. We were happy. And then you came along and you- you took all of that away. You’re a disappointment. And I hate you.”

Damian didn’t move to hurt you, but you supposed in some ways that's what hurt the most. Not the pain and the beating, no. That’s not what you were scared of. It was disappointing your family. You grimaced as Damian left, waiting for the cycle to start again.  

~~~ 

Damian didn’t think he had ever ran faster in his life. His boots slapped against the concrete as he raced alongside his older brothers. He had never been more scared than at the lack of your voice over the comms. The four of them had been trying you for hours but had had no such luck. That was until Alfred managed to snag your location on the computer. And so the four of them ran. 

Dick’s heart thundered against his ribs. He feared what Scarecrow had done to you. He had heard the stories; witnessed the horrors. But he couldn’t bear to fathom what your mind would conjure up. You had seen too much. 

When he pushed his way into the warehouse, it was dark. And silent. The four of them kept their eyes peeled for a sign of anything, but there was no sign of you or Scarecrow. That was until Damian spotted the frame of the door poking out from behind a metal cabinet. It took two of them to haul the heavy piece of furniture away. It squealed awfully as it scraped across the floor. When they pushed the door open they had to squint to see you hidden in the corner of the room. Your eyes were wide and you were hyperventilating at the sight of them.

“Y/N?”

“No, no…” You shook your head, trying to back further into the wall when he took a step towards you. 

Jason tried too, but it only worked you up more. 

“Not all of you…please. Please…”

Jason knelt down beside you, reaching to touch you gently, but you flinched away.

“It’s not going to work.” A voice laughed out from the doorway. 

The brother’s whipped round to face the scarecrow. 

“What have you done to her?” Tim spat. 

He chuckled deeply. “She’s been exposed to my new fear toxin. See, I don’t know what she’s  been seeing but whatever it is, you guys are clearly an important part of it.”

Tim gritted his teeth. “You are going to regret touching her.”

They surged forwards, pinning him towards the wall. He fought back, but was no match for the anger-fueled vigilantes. When he slumped to the ground, they were tasked with the even more challenging job of getting you out. But when they moved towards you, tears rolled fatly down your face as you sobbed. 

“Please…” You shook. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t hurt me please.”

Damian froze. “What?  

“You’ve done enough…please.” 

You flinched as the youngest of your brothers laid a hand on your shoulder. 

“Y/N? It’s us. We’re real, I promise.”

You shook your head. “...no”

“We’re not gonna hurt you, kid.”

“You already have…”

Their hearts stopped simultaneously and Dick swallowed thickly. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

Everything went black as his fist collided with your head.

~~~

You sat up abruptly. You were back in the safety of your own room, tucked away in your bed. Although you were more aware of what had happened, you couldn’t shake the fear that rolled over you. But you weren’t alone when you woke up. You were surrounded by a sea of familiar faces.

“Y/N?” Dick asked when he noticed your eyes were open.

“Yeah.” You murmured groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You just shrugged meekly.

“Oh y/n/n we were so worried.” Damian said. His tenderness was foreign. 

“What did you see?” Dick asked hesitantly. 

“All of you. Disappointed in me.”

“Oh kid.” Tim looked at you with sad eyes. “We would never be disappointed in you. We love you so, so much. And we couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“But I fell for his trap. I-”

“Uh Uh. You did what you thought was right. How were you supposed to know?”

Again, you just shrugged. 

“We’re proud of you, little wing. So proud.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 19 ⛤ DAY 21 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

#whumptober #whumptober 23 #whumptober 2023 #no.20 #“you will regret touching them” #found family #batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x sister reader #dick greyson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader #jason todd x reader #damian wayne x reader #beating #injury #hurt/comfort #fanfiction

[insertsomthinawesome]

WHUMPTOBER 2022 - DAY 23 - At the End of Their Rope

Rare moment where Leona has not slept enough.

-NO ROMANCE INCLUDED-  

#Whumptober2022 #No.23 #at the end of their rope #twisted wonderland #digital art #whumptober #tired #he's so tired #go sleep you clown #vil schoenheit #leona kingscholar #isa's fanart #insertsomthinawesome #january2023 #A Wild Vil Has Appeared #I think this is the first time I"ve drawn him and posted it???? #so here ya go #i case anybody is wondering #those are rook's boots #buddy plz rest #for a man who normally insists he gets enough sleep he sure forgot to this time #what could cause that i wonder :> #twst #twst leona #twst vil

[aceofwhump]

Whumptober 2023

Day 23 - Shaking

The Witcher 3x01 - Jaskier literally shaking in fear

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

#whumptober2023 #no.23 #alternate #shaking #the witcher #gifs #jaskier #joey batey #fear #knife to the throat #aesthetic #my gifs #mod post #whumpedit #whumptober #mods whumptober posts #obsessed with the tiny tremors throughout his body at this part #joey is a great actor

[whumpetywhump]

Whumptober Day 23 (Alt) - Drugged

Big Mouth - Ep. 8

Black Knight - Ep. 6

Taxi Driver 2 - Ep. 13

The Childe (2023)

The Silence Of The Monster - Ep. 34

#whumptober 2023 #no.23 #drugged #big mouth #black knight #taxi driver 2 #the childe #the silence of the monster #whump #kwhump #cwhump #asian whump #gifs

[kikker-oma]

Warning: Blood and Chains

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#im toootally not late.. of course not #i will get back on track for day 22 and 23! #i didnt feel good today #but i also spent almost all day canning applesauce #i made 28 pints😄 #it took HOURS cus i did it on my own on top of pain lol #but i digress #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu fanart #lu hyrule #whumptober2023 #whumptober #blood chains

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 23: Shadows, “it’s gonna get me by the end of the night”

This one is kinda creepy again but. Well. That comes with the territory of dead hands...

Read on ao3

Warnings: blood, injury, uhhh lots of creepiness, being attacked by a monster in a kind of disturbing way

————————————————————

There was something in here with them.

Wild swallowed, looking around. He couldn’t say how he knew they weren’t alone, but the prickling on the back of his neck seemed to indicate a presence, one that wasn’t him or Wind. The problem was, the area itself was full of long shadows with barely a torch to fend them off with, and Wild looked nervously back at the stairs they’d recently descended.

He already wasn’t exactly the most fond of being underground, and he had a bad feeling.

“Aw man, a creepy basement,” Wind said with a groan. “Why do these places always have creepy basements?!”

“Beats me,” Wild said with an amused smile. It seemed like the complaint was mostly to hide what seemed to be Wind’s nervousness, as he was standing rather close to Wild’s side, and giving the darkness an anxious look.

“Maybe it’s a style thing,” Wild said thoughtfully. “Like, they build these or whatever, and one guy goes ‘hey you know what would be great right here? A creepy basement. Would really tie the whole dungeon together.’”

Wind laughed, and looked much less nervous as he looked out at the shadows again. Wild glanced at them as well, and squinted as his eye caught on something. Had something moved over there?

He really hoped not.

“Well, there are such things as non-creepy basements. I mean, Twilight’s basement isn’t creepy,” Wind said with a little grin, and Wild checked back into what he was saying. “Though it is full of junk. My grandma would say that’s scarier.”

Wild snorted as he and Wind began to walk into the room, feeling their way around walls, pausing to look around when they reached a torch. Wild pulled out an old branch he had and lit it, and after that, finding their way around the room was much easier.

It turned out to be what Wind said was a puzzle room, the two finding a suspicious platform, and a switch tucked in a dark corner. Pushing a block over to push it down didn’t make anything happen, but as they glanced around the area, Wild noticed some etching on the wall.

“There must be more switches we have to push,” Wind said thoughtfully. “Or else something would’ve happened.”

“There’s marks along the edge here,” Wild pointed out, pointing to four squares etched on the wall. One was filled in, and he and Wind both sighed as they realized there were three more switches to find.

“Guess we better get going.”

They continued through the shadowy maze, though as time went on and nothing jumped out at them, Wild’s uneasy feeling began to lighten. It seemed like the only thing to impede their progress was the confusing room and lack of light, and Wild was used to that. He’d done three labyrinths, after all.

No monsters appeared from the shadows to bother them as he and Wind located and pressed down two more switches, though Wild’s makeshift torch was nearly all the way burnt up by the time they found them both.

“Only one more!” Wind said cheerfully, and Wild smiled as they reached another hallway. “And that’s the only direction we haven’t gone yet, so it’s gotta be this way!”

“Good, then we can get out of here,” Wild said with another glance at the ceiling. He still didn’t like being underneath so many levels of dungeon and earth. It made him nervous.

Wind nodded, then his face took on a mischievous look.

“Race you there Wild!” he said with a grin, then before Wild could say a thing, he bolted off down the hallway and into the darkness.

“Hey— Sailor! Wait up!” Wild shouted, but Wind had already disappeared into the shadows.

Wild huffed, and bolted after him, though he did slow and peer nervously around walls and pillars. The air seemed colder this direction, a chill tricking down his spine, and Wild swallowed. The sense that they weren’t alone had gotten more intense again, and he suddenly had a very bad feeling about all of this.

“Wind? Sailor, I think we should stick together!” he called, but received no reply except for his own echo.

...Had Wind really gotten out of earshot already?

Wild sped up a little, trying to watch his steps, but also catch up to Wind. He had to be around here somewhere, this area wasn’t that big.

Or at least, not the parts they’d been to already.

Wild turned a corner and found what seemed like a wide-open space, lit by nothing but a single torch next to where he stood. Right as he took a step forward, his stick finally burnt up, and Wild gulped.

He braced himself, and moved forward into the darkness, trying to calm his thudding heart.

There hasn’t been anything in here yet. There’s probably nothing here, and it’s only my imagination because being underground sucks—

Something let out a muffled shriek.

Wild jumped and whirled towards the noise, near instantly drawing a guardian sword he had in his inventory. The sword let out just enough of a glow for him to see a little ahead, and Wild cautiously moved forward, sword held high.

The floor had turned from stone to dirt at some point, and Wild’s footsteps were near soundless as he padded across it. Something crunched under his foot, and Wild looked down, an even bigger sense of foreboding rising in his throat as he stared at the bones he’d stepped on.

“Wind?” he called softly, afraid to speak too loud.

Something grabbed his ankle.

Wild shouted in surprise as whatever it was dug in, and before he could slash at it, another grabbed his other leg and knocked him to the ground.

He got an arm up and slashed at what he could see were pale hands on horribly long arms, bloodstained nails scrabbling at his boots. Wild managed to cut away the hands, but right as he scrambled to his feet, he heard something moving, right next to him.

He turned around, and almost dropped his sword.

A pale, bulbous creature stared at him, eyes dark holes, mouth opened impossibly wide as it grinned at him with bloodstained teeth. Wild couldn’t help but let out a horrified cry as it began to slither forward, and he felt a sudden urge to be sick.

What god decided such a horrible creature should even exist?

Wild backtracked so quickly he nearly tripped over his cape, but strangely enough the creature didn’t turn to him. It veered to the side, and as Wild regained his senses enough to go after it, he saw two eyes catch the light from his sword.

He turned, and met Wind’s frantic gaze.

The sailor was being held up by multiple of the same arms that had grabbed him, a hand covering his mouth. His eyes were wide with horror, and he was scrabbling frantically at the hand over his mouth, but more arms were holding him tightly in place, and all he could do was let out a muffled cry as he saw Wild.

Wild felt a burst of anger and jumped forward, slicing at the hands, but as soon as he chopped one, another two took their place. He’d lost sight of the main body in the shadows somewhere, but he was focused solely on Wind, slicing even more frantically when he saw the blood on his shoulder.

Had that thing bitten him?

He managed to slice away most of the hands holding Wind’s body in place, and the sailor fell to the ground with a cry. But before Wild could go to him, a hand tangled itself in his cape, and Wild cried out as he fell to the dirt as well, more hands near instantly grabbing him.

They pinned him down, grasping at his face and clothes, and Wild clung desperately to his weapon. He knew if he dropped it he’d have almost no chance of getting it back.

But the hands had figured him out, and they squeezed his wrist, clawing at his hand, and Wild physically couldn’t hold onto the blade any longer. The guardian sword fell to the dirt, and Wild felt more hands come up and grab him, no matter how he struggled.

A burrowing noise sounded out, and Wild looked over in terror as the fleshy body crawled out of the dirt, that horrifyingly long neck turning in his direction.

He was it’s target now.

“Wi—!” he screamed, but then a hand covered his mouth, and all he could do was thrash in silence as the monster slithered nearer and nearer.

A hand turned his face towards it, and Wild breathed quickly through his nose, nearly gagging at the smell of decay and blood that came from the hands on his face. They tilted him up as the head of the main body drew near, lit an eerie blue by his dropped sword. Wild couldn’t help his whimper as the face leaned down, its jaws opening impossibly wide.

And then it bit down on the side of his face.

Wild screamed, the sound muffled by the hands still covering his mouth as fiery pain made his vision spotty, the feel of the monster biting down on him nothing short of horrific. The seconds seemed to stretch on endlessly as it continued to gnaw, sucking up his blood, and Wild was nearly sick as it made a particularly satisfied noise.

Somehow the fact that the monster was actively feeding on him, biting him, attacking him only to satiate some kind of awful hunger, made it twice as worse.

All he was was prey to it.

Wild let out a muffled sob as he thrashed again, but the hands only held him more firmly, a hand holding his cheek in a way that would almost have been loving from anything else. Pain and revulsion were making his head spin, and Wild squeezed his eyes shut, tears gathering in the corners.

And then he heard an angry yell.

Suddenly the pressure on his face was gone, and Wild heard another shout, catching sight of Wind throwing himself forward, his face pale but expression furious.

“Stop chewing on my brother!” The sailor screamed, then twisted himself around into a huge spin attack that Wild could barely watch. The wind it kicked up buffeted Wild’s face like a hurricane, and the hands still grasping him let go, dropping Wild to the ground with a groan.

An awful moaning sound rent the air, and Wild watched through the blood dripping down his face as Wind hit the main body of the monster once, twice, three— so many times he couldn’t keep track of the number.

But Wind finally stopped, holding a hand to his head as he stumbled, and the body of the monster fell to the ground.

Wind was suddenly at his side, grabbing his shoulder, and they watched in silence as the monster twitched slightly, then disappeared into dark smoke along with all of the arms.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was of Wind and Wild’s heavy breathing.

“I-I think... I think it’s gone,” Wind said finally, his voice shaking, and Wild gripped his arm, unsure if he or Wind was the one trembling.

“Yeah,” Wild choked out, and Wind turned to him, immediately leaning in to look at his face.

“Oh no, ohh— Wild I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to you faster,” Wind gasped, and Wild shook his head, closing his one eye as blood threatened to drip into it.

“Y-you couldn’t have...” Wild got out, and Wind turned to rifle through his bag, his movements frantic. “...Sailor?”

Wind had made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle, and Wild reached over to squeeze his hand, Wind shakily gripping it back.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Wind leaned up against Wild’s shoulder, Wind leaning back as they finished catching their breath.

“...That was worse then redeads,” Wind said finally, looking away, and Wild felt his eyes sting a little at the memory of the monster’s endless hands, it’s horrible main body and how it bitten down on them both...

It truly had been awful.

“I’ve never seen a redead, but based on th-the name... I don’t ever w-want to. Are they l-like... dead twice over..?” Wild asked, and Wind looked at him, eyes shiny in the light of Wild’s sword, blood still trickling down his shoulder.

Then he let out a wet laugh, and pulled out a bottle with some kind of potion in it, swiping a hand over his eyes.

“Something like that,” Wind said thickly, and Wild pressed the side of his head that wasn’t a mess against Wind’s. He breathed out, and focused on Wind’s warm skin against his, not cold, not undead, not trying to devour him.

“Thanks sailor,” he said in a wavering voice, and Wind made another noise that Wild pointedly ignored, squeezing Wind’s hand.

“Thank you too,” Wind whispered back.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu Wind #lu wild #linked universe fanfic #dead hand #whumptober 2023 #day 23 #shadows #it’s gonna get me by the end of the night #tw injur #tw blood #writing from the floor #this was originally Sky and Wind and then I remembered Trin literally wrote one like this with Sky XD #so I changed it #but I do like wind and Wild a fair amount #even if they don’t like each other much in canon lol

[sarahsmi13s]

Chasing Ghosts

whumptober day 23: begging / forced to watch

pairing: eddie diaz x reader (captain america!au)

characters: eddie diaz, y/n barnes, evan buckley, henrietta wilson (mentioned), chris diaz, christopher (oc from eddie's past)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, superhero au, death, falling, crying, fight scenes, flashbacks, please let me know if I missed any

word count: ~2.3k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

i'm so so sorry for how late this is

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary: ghosts haunt everyone, they follow you and they taunt you with things that could have been. they chase you through your own mind... but what will you find if you chase them back?

Eddie slipped his hand into his pockets as he walked through the museum, the Captain America exhibit having been added recently. 

He had just gotten into a heated discussion with Director Grant and needed to take a breather. So he went to the museum to see what his exhibit had to offer.

He looked around and walked past a display with a narrator and stopped to hear what it was saying. 

“Best friends since childhood, Y/N Barnes and Eddie Diaz were inseparable on school yard and battlefield. Barnes was the only Howling Commando to give her life in service of her country. She fought to be by Eddie’s side, not backing down because of her gender.”

Eddie sighed, the memories flooding back as he continued to walk through the exhibit. He made it to the movie room where Christopher, the very friend he named his only son after, had been interviewed after he had gone in the ice.

“Oh Y/N? Yeah, she was a complete fireball. Ambitious, strong, stubborn. Her and Eddie, they… they were a duo. Her death was… it was felt across the entire squadron. But Eddie took it the hardest… Y/N was his best friend. She had fought Eddie about going on the mission, claiming that he needed the best backup the Army could offer and that she was it.” Christopher sighed, “She fought alongside him from beginning to end. She was the best of us.”

Eddie cleared his throat, his emotions and memories getting the better of him.

He remembers the day he lost you, the image burned in his brain. Everything he should’ve done or said spinning like a broken record in his mind…

Eddie wanted to tell you that you were crazy, walking along the top of that moving train. That you were insane from the very beginning when you followed him into the war. But he knows you would have just laughed in his face.

He had watched you go toe to toe with his superior even after you had gotten taken when you snuck onto the front lines with Christopher. Eddie had found you on a lab table, strapped down and confused, but it didn’t surprise him when you attempted to fight alongside him as you escaped together.

You were his friend, his best friend. You had stuck by his side since day one.

Which is why you followed him into the fire without hesitation.

He wondered if you had regretted that in your final moments…

“Hey, Y/N… I know it’s been awhile..” Eddie said as he sat down in front of your headstone. 

He sighed, hanging his head between his knees as he rested his arms on them. The white marble in front of him was the only thing he had left of you, that and the copy of your dog tags he managed to find. The casket in the ground below him was empty because even after the war, your body was never recovered. So he had to take what he could get…

“I’ve never forgotten you… I don’t think it’s possible to forget you, not after everything we went through.” 

He sniffled a little and rubbed his nose. “Chris just turned three, he’s um he’s great. Such a strong kid, doesn’t let anything get in his way,” Eddie chuckled, his voice thick with emotion. “Sound familiar?” He wiped his face, “God.. I miss you so much.” 

Eddie sniffled, reaching into his shirt to pull your tags out and over his head. He sighed and threaded the chain around his fingers, his eyes closing as he brought the indented plate to his lips and held it there as memories played in the darkness behind his lids.

Eddie led the way into the cabin of the train. You were on his six, protecting his back as you both made note of the multitude of weapons that were being transported by Hydra.

The door at the end of the cabin was open and you were both making your way towards it.

Eddie led the way, crossing the threshold to the other car while you made sure you had no surprise guests show up.

Just as you go to cross the threshold yourself both doors slide shut.

Eddie watched the panic fill your eyes, as dread made his stomach drop, before you turned and started to fire your weapon.

“Shit…”

Behind him he heard a high pitched sound and he turned around to see a man wearing one of the weapons.

In a knee jerk reaction, Eddie fired his weapon before rolling out of the way when the other man shot at him.

He stayed behind his cover, peeking up to fire when he could.

Eddie needed to be strategic and careful. He could hear you in your firefight behind him and he needed to get to you to help.

He couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

Eddie waited to hear the high pitched recharging sound before making his move.

Once the ringing filled the cabin, Eddie ran out from behind his cover, using his shield for protection as he charged the man. Before he could take a swing, the man fired again. But he reacted fast and jumped up, grabbing a bar and tucking his feet in. 

After the man fired, Eddie gathered momentum and kicked the man square in the chest, knocking him to the ground. When the man tried to sit up, Eddie quickly struck him with his shield to knock him out.

He could still hear gunshots but he could tell that you had switched from your rifle to your handgun. He had to get to you fast, you didn’t have enough ammunition in your handgun to last much longer if your rifle was empty already.

There was no way to open the door from the inside, so he grabbed the Hydra weapon and fired it at the door – blasting it off its hinges.

Eddie sprinted over and looked in the window. He could see you crouched behind crates, dodging bullets as you tried to fire back.

His stomach felt like it was twenty pounds as he watched your gun lock because it was empty.

Quickly, he checked his own gun before opening the door. 

The movement and sound caught your attention and you looked at Eddie as he held his gun up before tossing it to you as you ditched your useless one.

Once it was secure and you were ready, Eddie charged forward with his shield up and pushed a weapon’s case towards the hiding enemy, putting him in your crosshairs and allowing you to actually shoot him this time.

You both took deep breaths as you walked towards each other.

“I had him on the ropes,” you said as you looked up at Eddie. He chuckled and looked down at you, relieved that you were alright, “I know you did.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder, “Whatev-”

You were cut off by a high pitched noise and you watch Eddie’s face drop before he’s pushing you behind him. 

“Get down!”

You drop to the ground as the man fires and the energy is ricocheted off of Eddie's shield, blasting a hole in the side of the train.

The force had knocked Eddie back, leaving you exposed with the shield on the ground. 

When the high pitched noise hit your ears again, you picked up the shield and stood, firing your weapon back.

However, before you could hit him he shot at you and Eddie watched in horror as the force of the energy ball hit the vibranium and sent you flying out of the hole in the side of the train.

He rushed to his shield, picking it up by the strap and launching it at the enemy. 

Wasting no time after that, he ripped his helmet off and ran to the side of the train. “Y/N!”

You were hanging on to a handlebar, your grip coming and going as the train moved and jostled you.

Eddie knew that due to the damage that bar couldn’t hold your weight for very long. So he did the first thing that came to mind. He would come to you.

He stepped out onto the other railing, despite it probably not being able to hold his weight either. But he had to try.

He watched with anxiety as you made attempts to get closer to him, even as the bar groaned under the pressure. “Hang on!” He shouted, just wanting you to stop moving so he could get to you.

Eddie swiftly, but carefully, made his way to you, getting as close as he could before reaching his hand out. “Grab my hand!”

You looked at him, your eyes filled with fear but you trusted him to get you to safety. So, you reached for his hand.

But as you did, the metal groaned and creaked again before finally snapping.

“No!”

Eddie sobbed as he remembered your face as you plummeted into the ravine. You were terrified, falling hundreds of feet down to nothing but snow and rocks. 

And all he could do was watch.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” 

He knew he looked pathetic, sitting there in front of a headstone, sobbing and apologizing to a ghost. 

He looked just as pathetic now as he did when Christopher found him in that bar after he learned your body couldn’t be recovered. 

Eddie had sat there, throwing back whiskey for hours begging God to erase your horrified scream from his memory. He begged to forget the look on your face. He begged to just forget. Even if it was only for a little while. 

“Eddie?” 

Inhaling sharply, Eddie slipped your tags back over his head and wiped his face before standing and facing his friend.

“Is he safe?” 

Buck nodded, “Chris is safe. He’s with Howie and Maddie until this all blows over, he’s safe.” Eddie sniffled and nodded, putting his hands on his hips, “Good, that’s good.” 

“You up for this Eddie?” Buck asked, sensing his friend's nerves. But Eddie nodded immediately, “After SHIELD almost tried to kill us and now we’re bringing Hen into this. We need to finish this.” He straightened up and walked past Buck towards the car. 

“Let’s go catch a ghost.”

Eddie really should have expected this to happen. 

What else would happen when you kidnapped one of the Hydra moles with the most intel other than for Hydra to practically put a bounty on your head? 

Now the mole was dead and Eddie, Buck, and Hen were all fighting to survive against Hydra and their secret weapon.

Eddie had caught up with her when she was aiming towards where Buck had been hiding after she shot him in the shoulder. 

He flanked her right, running towards her, shield up and ready to hit her. She was faster and reared back to punch him, but he had his shield up and her metal fist collided with the vibranium. 

She pushed his shield aside and kicked him off the top of the car, immediately shooting at him before rolling off the car.

Eddie took that opportunity to roll out of the way, ducking behind the car as she fired at him.

When the gunshots stopped because she ran out of ammo, he jumped over the car and kicked the gun out of her hand. She spun with the force of the kick, rolling on the ground to put distance between them as she unholstered her handgun and fired at him from a kneeling position.

Eddie ran at her, keeping his shield up until the last second when he moved to bring it down on her. But with his midsection now exposed, she took the opportunity to tackle him, using his own momentum against him to knock him onto his back and knocking the shield off of his arm.

She rolled off of him, using her metal hand to slow down. She pulled her knife out but he was already up and charging at her by the time she was standing. So, she charged at him.

Once they were close enough, she slashed at his midsection and legs in order to shield her own.

But Eddie was a quick learner and he knew that because of the height and size difference she had to stick to his center mass when she was up close or else he would get the upper hand. All he had to do was force her to expose her weak points and to make a mistake.

And he did.

He deflected the shots at his stomach and chest, forcing her to aim for his face.

As he dodged and parried her hands, he saw an opening and swung for her face, hitting her on the cheek. He took the chance and spun to give her a firm kick to the chest, sending her flying back into the side of a van.

Eddie quickly got his shield and charged at her again, hoping to actually land a powerful enough hit. 

But she had shook off her disorientation and waited until he was close enough to roll out of the way. 

However, she was out of ammo, so distance fighting was not an option anymore. She had to get up close and personal. 

She unsheathed her other knife and charged Eddie as he turned around.  

He brought his shield up just in time to deflect her. She tossed the knife to her other hand and slashed lower, forcing Eddie to expose his face and giving her the chance to land a punch. 

Eddie spun with the momentum, switching his shield to his other arm and quickly deflecting the kick flying towards him. He dodged the right handed knife strike and stayed down for the metal handed swing.

Reacting quickly, he grabbed her left wrist and struck her bicep with his shield, denting the metal. He stayed there for a second before removing it and striking her in the face, discombobulating her. He spun, getting his back to hers before he grabbed her by the face and threw her over his shoulder.

She rolled into a standing position when she hit the ground, the mask that was covering her face falling to the pavement.

Eddie stayed crouched, ready incase she turned and charged at him again.

But when she did turn to face him, all of his defenses dropped and he stood up straight as he took deep breaths

“Y/N?”

taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @mamachasesmayhem @kmc1989 @lovinglyeternal @horseshoegirl @hangmansgbaby @fanboyswhore9 @nightowlalltheway @86laura11 @els-marvelvsp @valmare @startrekfangirl2233 @malindacath @nyx2021 @chaosofmanyfandoms

hi, if you're seeing this and are currently not on the taglist and would like to be please fill out the taglist form -> whumptober taglist

i can not stress this enough, but whumptober can have some very serious and heavy topics and i want to make sure i am doing my part as an author to prepare my readers for what they are about to experience and that includes not only warnings above but my taglists as well

so if you want to be added check out the masterlist and read that carefully and fill out the form -> whumptober 2023

#vinny's whumptober #vinny's rainy day records #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #ailesswhumptober2023 #whumptober day 23 #eddie diaz 911 #911 whump #eddie diaz whump #eddie diaz x reader #ca!eddie diaz #marvel au #whump angst #sarahsmi13s

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #23

This is a scene from a noir-inspired original work about a PI who's hired by a little girl to investigate the disappearance of her older brother. Enjoy!

xxx it’s gonna get me by the end of the night

He becomes aware of the tail somewhere on 9th, between the deli and the smoke shop--a tall man in a long brown coat, walking with his shoulders rounded forward as if that could somehow help him blend in (it doesn’t). His fedora is pulled down over his eyes, and though he keeps some distance between them it’s pretty obvious what he’s up to. Simon does his best to act like he hasn’t noticed the giant man following him, adjusting his route so that he makes his way out of the busier streets and to a quieter area. Then, when there aren’t many people around, he ducks into an alley and waits. 

The man appears faster than he expected--must’ve sped up in case Simon made a break for it--but Simon is ready and leaps on the man as soon as he appears, grabbing the front of his coat and slamming him against the wall so hard that the man’s hat falls to the ground. The face underneath is angular and hard, the eyes cold and piercing, mouth drawn into a thin line, jaw twitching. 

“You wanna tell me why you’re following me, friend?” Simon says. 

“You’ve been sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. Boss doesn’t like it.”

“And who’s your boss? He got something to do with the kid? That why he’s not happy?”

“He doesn’t know the kid. Never seen him, never heard of him. Doesn’t know him from a hole in the ground. But the kid is beside the point, Hornby. You’re starting to interfere with Roman’s business and he’s had enough.”

Simon’s stomach drops. 

Shit.

Of all the people whose henchman this could be, why did it have to be Roman? He lets go of the man’s jacket and gives his shoulder an awkward pat, stepping back. 

“Right. Right, well if he’s not involved then I’m sure I can turn my attention elsewhere. I’ve got plenty of other leads. Roman doesn’t need to worry about me.”

“You’ve said that before,” the big man growls.

“I mean it this time.”

“You’ve said that before, too. Boss wants to make sure this time.”

Before Simon has a chance to react, there’s a flash of metal--Big Man is fast--and an impact in Simon’s side that drives the wind out of him and doubles him over as he folds around the man’s fist. The hand withdraws, and with it a bloodied knife. Simon stares at it, then up at Big Man as he falls to his knees. 

“You--I--”

“Boss says if you survive this, you better stop sniffing around or next time the knife goes in your heart. You understand?”

Simon is trying to catch his breath, trying to fight the sickening dizziness that’s washing over him. He nods twice, closing his eyes when the movement makes the world spin. A hand grabs his hair and he groans. 

“Gotta hear you say it.”

“Ye-yes. I understand. I understand.”

“Good.”

The hand releases Simon’s hair and his head drops to his chest as Big Man disappears out of the alley, leaving Simon on the cold ground holding trembling hands against the hole in his gut in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. His mind is racing but he has to think, he needs to--he has to do something. He puts one hand against the wall. It takes him two tries to stand.

He’s got no change for a pay phone.

His apartment is too far. 

Hospital’s too far.

Businesses are close by now...

There is one place he can think of, someplace close with a resident who will probably be awake, who may even be able to help. 

Whether she actually will is another matter entirely.

But he’s got to try. 

He takes a deep breath and pushes away from the wall, leaving behind a streaking red handprint, and starts to walk.

xxx 

He knocks quietly. He doesn’t want to wake the neighbors, or the kid, and, if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t have the strength left for dramatic banging. Though he may need to summon it if she doesn’t come to the door soon. He’s feeling lightheaded--the blood loss, he expects. A wave of dizziness hits him and his vision goes fuzzy, ears ringing, and before he realizes he’s moving he’s leaning on his arm against the door. 

“Who are you?” someone says behind him, and the steadiness of her voice, the challenge in her words, leave no doubt in Simon’s mind who the voice belongs to. “Turn around slowly.”

“You armed?”

“I might be. You wanna find out?”

He can’t stop the chuckle that rises in his throat as he straightens up.

“What are you laughing at? I’m not afraid of you. Turn around. Slowly.”

“No, no. I wouldn’t think so.” He turns, taking his time because she told him to and because he might fall over otherwise. The blood loss is making his tongue loose, and his mind dull, because he says, “Not with Ruth for a daughter.”

The woman, who had been eyeing him with suspicion, goes rigid, face darkening. 

“Excuse me?”

Simon grimaces. “I’m--my name is Simon. I’m not--I’m a private investigator, that’s all. I promise, I haven’t done anything to hurt her, I just want to help, I’m looking for Noah. I swear. I’m only here because I need your help.”

She doesn’t look convinced, so he moves his hand away from the wound, showing his bloodied hand and side. Her eyes widen. 

“You’re a nurse, right? I’m-I’m sorry, only the hospital was so far away, I-I didn’t know if I would make it.”

His knees finally give way and she lurches forward, catching him before he falls, letting out a small grunt at the sudden weight of him. 

“Okay, let’s get you inside. Where did you walk from?”

“The alley behind Mozzie’s.”

She clicks her tongue as she helps him lean against the wall so she can fish her keys out of her purse. “That far?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You know who did this to you?”

“Best I keep that to myself. They won’t follow me here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She pauses with the key halfway turned in the lock to give him a look. “Well I wasn’t.”

She opens the door and he steps inside, with her close on his heels. She closes the door behind them before helping him to the couch. He barely manages to collapse onto it before he slips out of consciousness. 

“Hey!” she says sharply, and he blinks blearily at her. 

“Hm?”

“Stay awake.”

And then, from the other side of the room, a familiar, tiny, tired voice. “Mama?”

Even in his barely conscious state, he winces, grabbing a throw pillow and holding it in front of his blood stained shirt. 

“Honeybee, dont’--”

She’s too late. Ruth’s excited voice cries, “Simon!”

“Hey, kiddo,” he says as she appears in front of him, hair wild, rubbing at her eyes in a pair of oversized pajamas. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Ruth, I need you to listen to me,” the woman says. “Are you listening?”

“Yes, mama.”

“Go down to Ms. Bailey’s, tell her I sent you and tell her--tell her I need her to call for an ambulance. And then you stay with her until I come get you, you understand? You stay with her.”

Ruth’s brow furrows. “I don’t like Ms. Bailey’s.”

“Ruth Clementine, you do as I say. Go on!”

She doesn’t move, her frown deepening, lower lip protruding. “I’m afraid,” she says quietly.

Her mother’s face softens instantly. “I know, Honeybee. But it’s time to be brave. You’ve got a stinger, remember? Not just wings and pretty stripes.”

The familiar determination flashes across her little face and she nods. 

“Good girl. Fast, now!”

Ruth nods again and takes off. The second the door closes, the woman’s face twists with rage and she snatches the pillow from Simon, then pulls the scarf from around her neck, balling it up in her fists as though it had somehow personally wronged her.

“This happen because of you chasing after my boy?”

He shakes his head and she presses the scarf to his wound. He lets out a cry that’s equal parts pain and surprise. 

“Hush! And don’t lie to me. You may be a private eye, but I’m a nurse. You wanna try that again?”

“I…” She glares at him and he sighs. “Yes. And no. Looking for him led me down a line of inquiry that led to…this.”

She frowns, looking down at her hands. “No one asked you to do this.”

“Ruth did. She’s someone.”

She looks up at him sharply, and her eyes are watery but her expression is hard to read. They gaze at each other for what feels like a long time, and that’s when he realizes--

“I don’t know your name.”

She blinks, and he’s not sure she’s going to answer. And then she says, “Beth. Elizabeth.”

The world feels strange, and his body in it feels stranger--cold and light, weightless almost but not in a pleasant way. Still, he smiles. “Like the Bible.” He blinks heavily, and it’s hard to open his eyes again.

“Hey, Simon? Simon!” She squeezes his hand. “I know that look, and you’re not gonna do that to me, you hear me? You’re not! Keep your eyes open, Simon. Talk to me! That’s a nice suit, where’d you get it?”

“Looks nice,” he says, and his tongue is filling his mouth, the words thick as molasses. “But…it isn’t. Dirt--” He chuckles. “Dirt cheap, but I--I’m a good faker. Always have been. Well, no, that’s…That’s not quite true. Harry always knew. Harry…” He hasn’t talked about Harry in a long time, shouldn’t be talking about him but the blood loss is really getting to him. 

He realizes with a sickening feeling that he’s dying. 

“You…You should put on a sweater, Miss Beth. It’s cold in here.”

“Help will be here soon. Just keep talking, private eye. We don’t know each other nearly well enough for you to die on my couch.”

He’s not sure he has much choice in the matter. He doesn’ want her to see him when he goes.

“‘m alright. Just go…go get a sweater, please. I don’t…I don’t want you to be cold.”

“I’m not cold, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Simon hums in response. The pain seems distant now, and he doesn’t feel well and the world is spinning, spinning and his eyes are rolling--

And then they shut.

xxx 

#whumptober2023 #no.23 #stalking #original content #fic #blood #stabbed #original character #whumptober #noir #private eye #my writing #whump

[evillittlebirdie]

Salvation (Kar'niss/Tav)

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine

Kar'niss still prayed to Lolth every day. He clamped his disfigured hands together and beseeched. 

"Not to die, not to change. But please, please, I appeal to you, give me purpose."

Kar'niss was met with silence. 

His family was gone. No doubt, all remembrance of the first son was stripped from the House. His sisters had no brother now. No kith, no kin, to call his own. Alone, miserably alone.

Kar'niss still prayed. But he found other reasons to speak. After hunting his raw meat and blood, Kar'niss talked to himself to fill the void. First, it was a recollection of his life. Then he recited all learned knowledge.

Imagine his relief when he spotted a humanoid. A lone scout. He hailed Lolth for the opportunity. Either the scout would kill him, or Kar'niss could have his conversation.

The scout wasn't of aristocratic blood but was female and deserved respect. Kar'niss allowed her the first blow before he subsequently subdued her. She was resistant to his requests for information. Firstly, Kar'niss wanted to know the date to calculate how long he had been exiled. And secondly, Kar'niss wished to learn of the status of his House.

The scout was "secure and protected" in a web in his cavern. She screamed insults at him. Aberration. Freak. Mistake. 

As much as Kar'niss was tempted to silence the source of torment, Kar'niss allowed her to yell. He didn't know when he would hear another's voice again.

Kar'niss arrived at the cave after hunting one day. He was disappointed when the scout escaped from the web. But she left her backpack. Inside was a letter with a date. Kar'niss moaned after he read it. He had been crawling in the darkness for a year.

No doubt, the scout would arrive with reinforcements to kill the drider. Kar'niss debated whether to wait for his assassination or to leave. 

"There's a reason why you're alive."

Kar'niss spun his head around, searching for the voice. It sounded like the scout, but he couldn't detect her scent. "Who's there?"

"Failure. Unfortunate beast. Live so you may suffer."

The scout was long gone. The voice Kar'niss heard was in his head, echoing the scout's sentiments.

Kar'niss sobbed as the voice berated him. 

It would be the first of many. 

***

Kar'niss hid in his cavity and watched from his nest as Tav entered the cave. She called his name, and he dared not emerge. He crouched as low as he could, concealing himself. He was ashamed of his actions. He would reveal himself to Tav once he proved his worthiness. Or, at the very least, he could establish that he was worth hiding in her shadow. 

"Kar'niss," Tav called out again, stepping further into the cavern. He peaked above the rock and saw how carefully she paced between his webs. He observed her as she searched the cavern. She couldn't see the nook from where she was. A few minutes passed, and Tav finally turned to leave the cavern. He watched as she departed and sighed in relief. 

"Your Majesty, please counsel me." 

***

Kar'niss found Tav and her companions' camp not far from his cavern. His heart beat wildly in his chest. He was used to walking through the shadows with Her Majesty's lantern. But the dancing lights supplied by his necklace made him feel safe. His steps were light and quiet so as not to attract any attention. He hid behind a large tree and watched as the group retired for the night.

Tav looked ethereal in the glow of the nearby torches. She almost floated between her companions. She completed mundane tasks such as dispensing provisions and care. 

"Your Majesty, why does your Chosen flit about like a housekeeper?" Kar'niss whispered. He didn't know why Her voice was distant to him now. He did not want to presume his goddess' motives, but he could only think that Her Chosen would speak for her. But out of habit, Kar'niss still talked to her. "Those following your Chosen have her fetching items, kindling the fire, filling water canteens, and sharpening knives. Menial work for servants and slaves." He tilted his head in curiosity as Tav completed these tasks with a smile and laughter in her eyes. 

It wasn't right. 

Kar'niss would corral the followers into proper worship if he were in the camp. The drider envisioned himself by Tav's side, always a step behind so he could respect her and keep a watchful eye over her. She deserved a place of honor as a leader. She should sit upon a throne while they flitted around  her . 

The pale elf reminded Kar'niss of the well-educated and charming sycophants in Menzoberranzan. Their type strutted like peacocks eager to win a wealthy wife or at least the stipend of a matriarch. Kar'niss always looked down on the men who honored themselves before their House and Lolth. 'Astarion,' as he was named, preened about vainly, and for some reason, Tav indulged him. He must worship in ways Kar'niss cannot plainly see. 

"I honor you, Your Majesty, for attracting all to your side..." Kar'niss remarked as he took in the physical differences of Tav's companions. She promised him unity and equality. Her Chosen indeed acted as her avatar. She kept githyanki, tiefling, human, and elf by her side. 

The night quickly settled as calls of 'goodnight' and 'sleep well' filled the air. Kar'niss watched as Tav lay down on a bedroll next to the fire. Kar'niss could not stop himself from envisioning himself walking to the bedroll. He would dig his claws into the ground, standing guard as her nocturnal guardian. 

Perhaps Kar'niss was undeserving of being in such close proximity to her, but he could watch from the darkness. 

For a moment, Kar'niss could pretend. "No harm...no harm," He soothed himself. 

Kar'niss would be a vigilant warden standing by Tav as she slept. She would turn, slightly uneasy. She is struggling to rest. She has the world on her shoulders. Her Majesty asks so much of her. Kar'niss would offer his service. She would allow it as Kar'niss was the only one fit to please her. He would lower himself before her. Her eyes would close, and she would sigh, lifting her hips. His hand would reach her trousers, his tongue running along his lips...

"No, no," Kar'niss scolded himself, his clawed hands moving to his hair. He wrapped his fingers in his hair and pulled. He struck himself in the side of his head as punishment. He repeated the motion twice. "Sinful, vile," He hissed, screwing his eyes shut. 

Self-hatred morphed his vision. Justifiably, Tav kicked Kar'niss in the face. He skittered rearward like the insect he was. "Repulsive," She snarled at him, waving him away. Dismissed, Kar'niss retreated into himself, backing into the shadows. It was his rightful place to stay and watch. 

Astarion, with his cocky smile and piercing eyes, took the place Kar'niss would  kill  for. Astarion, who was whole and functional, would please Tav in ways Kar'niss could never replicate. Her Majesty's light shined upon them. Tav glowed as brightly as the lantern. Warmth and peace radiated from her. 

Kar'niss didn't realize he was clawing his scalp until blood trickled down his ear. He pulled his hand away and saw the streaks on his skin. 

"Fit punishment..." Kar'niss mumbled lightly. He stole one more glance at Tav. She was resting quietly on her bedroll. Despite himself, Kar'niss smiled. 

#whumptober 2023 #no.23 #“It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.” #shadows #stalking #Who's there #baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction #kar'niss/tav #kar'niss #bg3 fanfiction #angst #implied sex

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 23: "It's gonna get me by the end of the night" + Shadows

Continuation of Day 22

Read it on Ao3

- Legend & Sky

- Summary: Held captive and helpless in the Shadow's grip, Legend and Sky try to find a way to escape

CW for blood and injury; broken bones; electrocution; torture; brief mentions of vomit, possession, and death; and captivity

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

“Vet. Vet! Wake up!”

Legend blinks his eyes open with a groan. His body protests its journey back into consciousness rather loudly and he can’t help but swat at the hand gently shaking his shoulder.

“‘M up, ‘m up,” he mumbles, rubbing a hand roughly over his face. By Hylia, why does he feel like he jumped into a lightning storm? 

He blinks a few more times, trying to bring his blurry surroundings into focus. But his pounding head makes that rather difficult and it takes a couple of good, hard tries.

It’s dark in the room where he sits, slumped against Sky’s shoulder. Lanterns lend some light along the far wall, casting shadows everywhere else. They illuminate a deadly sheen of crimson splotched sporadically along the stone floors. A heavy door blocks the exit. No windows are anywhere Legend can see.

They’re all but locked in. A cell that was never truly meant to be.

“Where…” He swallows, grimacing at the harsh bite of it. “Where are we?”

Faint memories are stirring now as consciousness slowly regains a full grip on him. But they are still hazy at best. It’s hard to focus on anything with the phantom pain of electricity in his veins. And of course the telltale ache of using too much magic. Whatever happened, he had practically bled himself dry trying to stop it.

“You don’t remember?” Sky asks. Something in the way he says it makes Legend turn to look at him. The Skyloftian is unnaturally pale, even in the near darkness. Blood darkens his tunic in multiple spots and dribbles down from his nose and mouth. A gash runs along his forehead, dipping down to hide along his left eyebrow. And on his cheek there is a cluster of angry, red lines branching upward and out almost like…

Legend draws in a breath. It all comes rushing back now, bringing the incessant ache of his body and mind to a nauseating fever pitch. He swallows down the bile that rises in his throat.

“No…no I remember,” he grits out. “Not-you lured me here and shot balls of electricity at my face.”

Sky chuckles, hoarse and breathless. “Yeah. That’s the…that’s the gist of it.”

Legend shifts and immediately regrets it. The room tilts and his stomach lurches as pain spikes up like shards of glass through his body. He squeezes his eyes shut, fighting not to vomit.

“Are you alright, vet?”

He nods. “Yup. Great.”

Focus on breathing. In and out, in and out.

After a moment, he dares open his eyes again. This time, the room stays level and he breathes a sigh of relief.

Okay, so maybe no sudden movements for a bit.

“I’m guessing the Shadow isn’t here yet,” he says. “Otherwise this experience would probably be a whole lot worse.”

Sky is quiet for a moment. When he speaks his voice is even more hushed and broken than before.

“No, he hasn’t arrived yet, as far as I can tell. But that monster…it said it was going to bring the others here too.” Legend looks up at him, but Sky doesn’t meet his gaze. He is staring at the door as though through will alone he can move it. “If we don’t get out of here soon they’ll have to fight it same as we did.”

“And just like us they’ll likely lose,” Legend finishes, bitterly. “Yeah, okay, so we’ve got to figure out how to escape this place before the Shadow arrives, probably kill the monster that took us both out, plus whatever else has revived in the meantime…while wounded and weaponless. Should be a cinch.”

Sky opens his mouth to reply but before he can voices filter through the walls, harsh and echoing. Both heroes tense.

“Two. You caught two heroes out of the nine that I tasked you with bringing me. Tell me, what makes you think that that is a worthy haul to summon me to see?”

Legend swallows down his rising fear. The Shadow. The Shadow is right outside and they don’t even have some half-baked plan started yet. 

“But Master, they aren’t just any two heroes.” It’s the blind now, sounding almost groveling in comparison to the Shadow’s sneering growl. “These ones wield the Master Sword. As you said, they are capable of…”

“Don’t!” The shout is sharp and commanding, like a slap across the face. Beside him, Sky flinches slightly. “Don’t speak the words. They will not defeat me, no matter the weapons they wield. I will make certain of that.”

The voice grows louder, closer. Legend tenses further, steeling himself for what is to come. 

“You will remain here. I have work to do and have no wish for you to interfere.”

“What of the other heroes? Do you not want…”

“Leave them for now. These two will suffice.” Legend doesn’t need to see the Shadow’s face to know he is grinning. “Perhaps, once they see their mutilated corpses, the others will simply give themselves up.”

“You know magic, right?” 

Legend startles slightly, glancing at Sky. The knight’s soft voice is so different from the domineering, sinister tones just outside.

“Yeah,” he says, slowly, muddled thoughts struggling to catch up with everything, “but I used it all up while trying to fight that stupid monster.”

Sky’s eyes narrow and he gnaws his lip. “Can you get it back?”

“I mean…it replenishes itself eventually.”

“How long does it take?”

Legend thinks for a moment. “Without the help of a potion? Ten minutes at the least.”

The darkness in the room begins to bend and twist, heralding the approach of their captor. Legend’s heart climbs into his throat.

“Okay,” Sky murmurs. When Legend spares him another glance he can see the fire burning in his eyes, determination in his stance. “I’ll buy you all the time you need.”

Legend’s mouth falls open, an indignant squawk escaping. “What? Sky…no!” 

They both know what the Shadow wants, they both know what his entrance means. And ten minutes is more than enough time for him to accomplish his purpose here, even with his preferred method of a slow, agonizing demise. 

But crimson eyes are gleaming in the shadows now and his chance to argue is gone. A wide mouth stretches into a grin, soft footsteps bring the monster closer. He is in his Hylian form this time and even with his charcoal flesh and demonic gaze, Legend is struck by how similar he looks to Time.

It’s strange staring into a twisted, mirrored image of his brother. Sickening.

“The Chosen Hero” – His eyes find Sky and hold there for a moment, then flit to Legend, pinning him like a bug on a stick – “and the Hero of Legend. How wonderful to have you both here.”

“Your accommodations are definitely not wonderful,” Legend snaps, ignoring the uncharacteristically sharp look Sky sends his way.

The Shadow merely chuckles. “Well, prisoners cannot afford to be picky, unfortunately. Not to worry, though. You won’t be here for too long.” His grin widens, teeth glinting stark white against a backdrop of gray and black. “I would say your prayers to that precious little goddess of yours. Otherwise, your future accommodations may not be too inviting either.”

“So, that’s what you’re here to do,” Sky says before Legend manages to spew another dry comment. “Kill us.”

The Shadow quirks an eyebrow. “You sound displeased with that. Would you rather that I did something else? Possessed you perhaps? Used your body as an unwilling puppet to torment your brothers with? Or perhaps merely toyed with you, causing immense pain but never enough to allow for sweet release? Would that please you more?”

Sky clenches his jaw, eyes flashing. But Legend doesn’t miss the way his face pales further.

“Do whatever you want,” he retorts, tone as sharp as the weapon he wields. “It won’t work. Light always triumphs, no matter how long it takes. Hylia ordained it so.”

“Hylia is dead.” The Shadow spits the word. Sky flinches, noticeably, garnering another harsh chuckle from the monster. “Whatever I inflict upon you, keep that knowledge in your mind. Your beloved goddess is gone. She is nothing more than a girl now, helpless and useless and utterly incapable of coming to your aid.”

Sky’s eyes suddenly blaze with a dangerous light. Legend has never seen that look on his face before. Honestly, it makes him a bit uneasy.

“How dare you!” He growls, leaning forward, heedless of his proximity to the monster. “You don’t know Zelda and you have no right to speak of her in such a way, you pathetic–”

Legend has a feeling the Skyloftian was about to rattle off enough insults to make even him impressed. But he never gets the chance. His words break off into an agonized scream instead, so sharp and terrible that the veteran jumps back from him, vision going spotty from the quick movement. 

It only lasts a moment, but it’s long enough to ring in his ears and leave Sky breathless. The Skyflotian sags forward, blood dripping from his lips. 

“What was it that you were saying, Chosen One?” the Shadow purrs. “That I shouldn’t insult your little Zelda so? That I was pathetic?”

Sky drags in a trembling breath and lifts his head. That fire is still there, turning the sky blue of his irises dark.

“That’s right,” he grits out, “you’re pathetic. If Zelda were here you would already be long gone.”

The Shadow’s eyes glint. “Is that so?”

He doesn’t move a muscle, not even a twitch of a fingertip. Yet, Sky reels back as though hit, back arching, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists. He screams again and blindingly white lines begin to snake up his neck, crawling toward his face. Legend can see them beneath his tunic too, their unnatural light crackling and bending along his body. Heat emanates from him.

Legend’s eyes widen and his stomach drops. It’s…it’s almost like the Shadow is pouring lightning into his body.

Another moment and it’s over again. Sky slumps, coughing up more blood. His bent form trembles and twitches.

“If you recall, you sustained quite a few injuries while fighting for the girl you now so bravely defend.” The Shadow walks forward. With one, delicate finger he lifts Sky’s chin. “Do they still ache – these wounds Demise bestowed upon you? I am certain that they do now.”

Sky drags his gaze up to the Shadow’s. “You…you plan to kill me by reopening ol-old wounds? Get more creative.”

The Shadow smirks. “I underestimated you, Chosen One. No wonder you were the one who faced the Demon God himself. Your heart is strong.”

For a split second the very air reverberates with tension. Then, Sky’s eyes blow wide as his skin lights up again. His scream is more hoarse this time, cracking and broken. His body trembles and jerks of its own accord as though trying to escape the agony inside of it.

And it’s too much, too much.

Damn buying time. Damn his slowly rejuvenating magic. Legend can’t take this any more.

(He hates himself for enduring it this long. For allowing fear and pain to constrict his throat and paralyze his body while his brother suffers.)

“Stop!”

He scrambles between Sky and the Shadow as though that will do anything at all. Behind him Sky continues to cry out.

“Stop hurting him you sick bastard!”

“Do you wish to die first?” The Shadow asks, a bit of sadistic humor in his tone. “Because that can be arranged.”

“N-no!” Sky heaves a breath. He is shaking more than ever now from the effort it takes not to scream. “D-don’t you dare t-touch him!”

The Shadow looks between them both, a smirk playing upon his lips. 

“I will do whatever I please. But since this is such a wonderful show, I will grant your wish just this once, Chosen One. You will have the privilege of dying first.”

Legend gasps. Tears are welling in his eyes now despite his efforts to hold them back. His hands fall, trembling onto his lap. Useless. 

No.

He lunges, a cry on his lips, fist outstretched to collide with the Shadow’s face. Agony explodes in every part of him, taking his very breath away. But when his blow hits, he no longer cares. It’s worth it to see the Shadow’s head snap back, blood spurting from his nose.

Then, a smile stretches his lips. He catches Legend’s wrist as he tries for another punch and twists. A loud crack echoes through the room. Legend chokes on a cry.

“Though, I suppose that is a mercy, really,” he purrs, deadly and sweet. “You will be gone long before I begin torturing your little friend. The Hero of Legend, however, has no choice but to watch me tear you apart.”

His grin grows as blood dribbles down to his lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he has a good seat.”

A blast of energy slams into Legend’s chest, sending him hurtling sideways. He hits the ground with a shout, pain exploding up his arm. Seconds later the floor itself lifts, wrapping around him and pinning him there. He thrashes, desperately, but the cold stone merely constricts further, snapping his bones like twigs. Blood fills his mouth and he gags on it.

Sky’s screams echo through the space once more, bouncing around in his aching skull. Laughter mingles with it. The air stinks of bile and blood and desperation. Dark magic blankets everything. The flickering lights of phantom lightning illuminate the room. 

He is suffocating in it all. And still, his magic crawls upward, lazily filling his veins. He curses it for its slowness. 

Horror and bitter regret creep into his chest as his ears ring with the sounds of his brother’s agony and blinding light blurs before his eyes.

Sky had never talked much about his adventure. They knew he hadn’t fought Ganondorf like the rest of them and they knew he had plummeted to the Surface to save Zelda. They knew he had known the spirit within the sword. But that was the extent of it. 

Battling a Demon God with the power of lightning, gaining painful scars from it…Legend could never have guessed. 

They all have their secrets – that is an accepted thing amongst them all. Some will never be told. But Legend had always thought Sky had held the least of all of them. Besides, Wind, that is. And now that that assumption is shattered, now that he is forced to watch the repercussions of the horrors his brother hadn’t seen fit to share…he feels an odd sort of remorse. 

He should have done more. He should have at least asked.

To hold knowledge like that is torture in and of itself. He knows that more than anyone.

Well, it’s too late to change that now, he chastises himself, harshly. So, stop moping and figure out how to get the both of you out of here before it’s too late.

It’s nearly impossible to focus with the pain coursing through him and Sky’s yells still splitting his skull (though they are growing weaker now…dangerously so; in fact, he would say they’re more akin to whimpered sobs). Legend squeezes his eyes shut and tries to breathe past it all. He needs to think, he needs to clear his mind enough to do something, anything to make this all stop.

Sky’s cries may be dwindling, but they are still sounds. They are still evidence that the knight is fighting and alive. 

Legend intends to keep it that way. 

That cursed blind took his pouch and his sword and shield with it. Hylia only knows where they are now. He has other items at his disposal, however.  

The medallions he obtained so long ago are stowed away in his pouch. But the spells that power them are safe in his mind. Using any of them is a gamble with his magic as low as it still is and at least four floors of stone above him…one he’s willing to take. 

He has no other choice.

Legend takes a deep breath and begins to whisper the incantation. 

Magic gathers at his fingertips, tearing at his body as it drags him to past the limit. Blood bubbles in his throat and his ears fill with an excruciating ring. Consciousness threatens to slip away but he grasps ahold of it, wrestles it down.

He can’t let go now. He refuses to.

The last words leave his lips on the tail end of a pained whine. There’s a second in which he is lost within the drifting waves of agony and exhaustion, unable to hear or feel or see anything. And then, the world explodes.

Crackling, white streaks of electricity zip across the room, bringing with them the sound of thunder and pouring rain. They charge toward their target and in an eruption of light and darkness, collide head-on. The Shadow lets out an agonized screech.

Legend’s own scream joins his as the spell drags the rest of the magic from his aching body, lighting his very veins on fire. His vision blacks out and the back of his neck prickles dangerously, body threatening to give up and drop into the oblivion it craves. But then he’s back, gasping like a fish on land as the spell sputters and dies out.

He can only lie there for a few moments after the room goes quiet, shuddering and trying to breathe through the pain. It takes all of his strength and then some to push himself upright. The room dips and dives beneath him as he crawls to where Sky lies. Every breath is gravelly and hoarse, every movement agony.

But he makes it. Somehow, miraculously, he makes it.

…and with a pitiful groan, collapses right beside the Skyloftian.

Sky’s hand finds his, still trembling and twitching slightly, but comforting and warm. Legend gives it a weak squeeze.

“Some…some escape plan, huh?” he slurs, blinking up at the ceiling. “We’re both…both over here half-dead.”

Sky huffs a shaky chuckle. 

“He’s gone though,” he whispers, every word drenched in pain. “It…it worked well e-enough.”

Legend hums. He’s right. The Shadow is gone, likely fled to some far corner of the earth to escape injury, and the blind with him. So, though neither of them have the strength to drag themselves out of this place at least, for now, they are safe.

And…now that he listens a bit more carefully, Legend swears he can hear a wolf howl.

A small smile lifts his lips. Maybe, they’re even safer than he thought.

“Hey, Sky,” he manages, even as he begins to drift away to the sound of salvation.

Sky makes a small, tired sound. His breath hitches slightly and Legend tightens his hold on his hand.

“S-sacrifice yourself like that again and I-I’ll take out your kneecaps.”

Sky only laughs.

#whumptober 2023 #no.23 #“it's gonna get me by the end of the night” #shadows #linkeduniverse #fic #blood tw #injury tw #electrocution tw #torture tw #captivity tw #trin writes #lu sky #lu legend #whump #angst #whee this one's a doozy #long and whumpy lol #always a good time when i can whump two heroes in one fic #plus i got to write sky's more snarky side a bit #and that's always a treat #also i have legend whump planned for tomorrow too... #i seem to have a habit of picking on the same boy multiple days in a row lol

[astronicht]

whumptober day 7: radio silence

look does this count. i don’t know! i was not prepared to write these guys they just showed up and characterization??? is??

F1 rpf | george/alex | 1k, rated M | art theft AU with no actual art theft just the greater horrors of the industry

“Hiya, erm,” says a guy in English. Nowhere accent, something papered over with RP.

“Hiya,” Alex says, because all the docents speak English; there’s little point faking that he doesn’t. “The toilets are actually—“

“I’ve got a question about a painting, actually—“

“Out the way you came in and—“

“It’s just on my phone here.”

The guy is pulling up a Gmail app, so Alex gives up on the toilets.

The guy is pretty, his hair parted in the center to flop, boy-band-ish, nearly into his eyes. That’s not even what’s getting to Alex; it’s the way his nails are bitten down and there is a pack of tissues in the chest pocket of his coat.

“Right, just a mo,” the guy says. He’s not posh, Alex decides, it’s just that he shops at Waitrose. Easy mistake. As for his natural habitat, well, under the coat the baby blue button-down, belt, jeans, unscuffed loafers could come right off any man eating a sushi lunch in central London.

The guy is searching something in what looks like a personal email, a line of calendar notifications read and undeleted, marching down the page. Flight, Saragh’s bday, Gym (day pass). Alex looks politely away.

“Ah, here we go. Small screen I’m afraid.”

Alex uses an ancient iPhone 7 he got used from the SEX years ago.

“Right, so,” the man’s voice goes from apologetic to confident in a sudden shift. Alex blinks. “Does this resemble a Breughel? Someone from his studio, or a follower maybe? Or is it like, from 1964.”

The painting is odd: round, on beveled wood. The photographs have been taken professionally, maybe off a website. But they’ve been emailed to the man, forwarded from a [email protected], original message from [email protected]. The man’s gmail doesn’t show his personal address or his name.

Alex bets it is something like George.

The painting itself is not a mystery at all, and Alex thinks this guy knows it.

“There aren’t really any Breughels recorded missing,” Alex says, lightly. The guy’s jaw tenses, not with surprise or anxiety, Alex doesn’t think. Like if he was less in control of himself he would have nodded sharply, his suspicions confirmed, thankyouverymuch, you have been so helpful.

This conversation looks like it might be ending, so Alex considers a few things. For example, that both Alex’s Leverhulme’s postdoc funding and his Visa are about to run out, and he isn’t getting the job opening at Utrecht, either, he already knows. Brexit means he’s no longer just fighting the other EU kids for the good jobs, he’s up against everyone for the scant scraps on non-EU funding if he wants to stick around.

Money is tight, and he’s staring the end of academia in the face, when they all thought he was going to be one of the ones who makes it.

“Can I buy you lunch?” Alex says.

“Aren’t you, erm, working?”

Alex’s docent job ends next Wednesday, his research work not for a month.

“C’mon,” he says. “The cafe has stroopwafels if you’re into that.”

George’s wrinkled nose says he’s not, but he tucks the phone with the Breughel in his pocket and trails Alex to the museum cafe.

***

“I didn’t steal it or anything, you know,” George says two hours later, in a half-joking tone, tangled in the sheets in Alex’s flatshare. Rain is pouring down outside, the North Sea weather familiar on either side of the channel.

Alex shrugs. He’s in his en-suite looking for chapstick. His mouth aches. His ribs ache. He’s never made a man come undone like this in his bed midday on a Tuesday. Apparently there is a first time for everything.

“I didn’t assume,” he says lightly.

George frowns, Alex’s duvet wrapped in his lap. “You assumed something,” he says. Alex feels a thrill of worry that this guy can read him as well. That this feeling could be two-way glass.

“You’re feeling guilty about something,” Alex says. He left work in the middle of his shift; he’s feeling guilty, but mostly furious. He was supposed to be one of the ones that makes it.

George’s mouth pinches. His lips are rubbed red.

“I’m admin at an auction house,” he says. Alex wonders if he’s one of the army of interns at Harrington’s, but dismisses it. He’s not fresh out of uni. “It’s actually all above-board.”

Alex laughs and George cracks a smile. “I know, I know,” George says. “It is, though.”

“That’s such a low bar, mate,” Alex laughs. “Did you hear about the place in Berlin last month—“

“Yeah, I think eight different coworkers emailed me.”

“To point and laugh, yeah, same,” says Alex. “But the Berlin guys, they took a painting and accidentally helped a thief build a false provenance for it. That paper trail stuff is worse than theft, every time.”

Alex laughs to cover the jab, but George just looks at Alex very steadily from Alex’s bed. “That’s not it either. We didn’t even sell it. The consigner brought it by, then decided not to sell and pulled it.”

“Hm,” Alex says.

George shrugs. “I asked to check it out and it was just on my desk, next to my tea. And then it disappeared again, and no one else gets to see it. Nothing illegal, just, you know, the market. You don’t work in institutional acquisitions, do you?” George asks, a swift subject change. Alex pours a glass of water from the tap and brings it to him. George takes it with long careful fingers.

“Oh no, I’m a post-doc.”

“Weird that you know so much about the trade side of things,” George says.

They keep in touch for a week, mostly not about the painting, mostly in Alex’s flatshare bed. George catches a cold and tissues are strewn like mourning doves around Alex’s bin. His duvet starts to hold the imprint of a man’s clutching hands.

And then, one week after a man showed up in a museum with a photograph of a lost painting, it is not George who disappears. It’s Alex.

#whumptober ‘23 #galex #my fic

[jasmines-library]

Lazarus Rising

WHUMPTOBER DAY 27: Prompt ‘scars’

Fandom: Batfam

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

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

Word count: 1.6k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

It was a nasty accident.

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

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

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

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

And he did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

“Yeah.” Tim sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n?”

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

“Jason?”

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your skin flushed as you sank down onto you bed.

“All of you. Out.”

“Why?” Damian implored.

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

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

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

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

The rest of your brothers shook their heads.

You gave him a look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 26 ⛤ DAY 28 ->

Taglist:

@deans-spinster-witch

@senjoritanana

@amaryllis23

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

[smilesrobotlover]

Whumptober day 23- shadows, stalking, who’s there?

The only times that I use all three prompts is when it’s a super goofy and lighthearted fic lol.

Anyways Twi loves cats. So very much.

Warnings: implications of broken bones, implications of animal abuse, but it’s very, very mild.

~~~~~~~~~~

Everything about this place put Twilight on edge. He couldn’t explain it, but he constantly felt like he was being watched by something in the shadows. But everytime he looked over his shoulder, there was no one watching him. He tried to convince himself that he was overreacting, but the feeling never went away. Eventually Twilight found himself alone in an alleyway, away from other people. His heart rate spiked as he looked around, his paranoia getting the best of him as he got even more lost. The sun was setting, making the alleyway harder to see, which didn’t do him any favors for his anxiety.

Something was knocked over behind him and he flinched, pulling out his sword to protect himself from whatever appeared. But he found nothing, just an empty alleyway with knocked over crates scattering across the ground. Twilight growled and got low.

“Who’s there?” He called out in a firm voice, holding his sword defensively. It was silent for a moment, until Twilight heard the tiniest little meow. He gasped when he saw a little orange kitten wander out from behind the crates, staring at Twilight with the biggest, darkest eyes he’s ever seen. The rancher quickly put the sword away, the fear of being stalked immediately leaving him as his heart practically exploded. He gave a small squeal that the others would never let him live down, and he got on his knees as the little baby trotted towards him, sniffing his hand cautiously before rubbing his head against it. Twilight gave out another squeal and picked the kitty up, scratching its little head as it purred.

“Oh sweet spirits above you are so cute,” Twilight cried, trying not to smother it with kisses. The kitty sniffed his cheek and Twilight gave it a very gentle squeeze. “You’re just a babyyyyy.”

The kitty meowed and Twilight practically started weeping, stroking its back gently, until he heard another noise behind him. Twilight snapped out of his stupor and he shot up, holding his sword in one hand and the kitten in the other.

“Who’s there?” He called out, more aggressively this time, holding the kitten protectively. This time, a group of men walked out from the buildings around him, surrounding him. They all snarled and sneered, pulling out their various weapons. Twilight glared at them, holding his sword defensively. “Who are you?”

One stepped up in front of the others, swinging around a club arrogantly. “We’re just simple folks trying to make a living, my good sir.”

Twilight narrowed his eyes. “And what does that have to do with me, exactly?”

The leader chuckled, looking at the men around him, who chuckled as well. “You’re worth a lot of money, boy. And we got families to feed.”

Twilight growled. “You’re bounty hunters!”

“Not very bright are you?” The leader sneered. “So soft too. I knew the kitten would lead you in somehow.”

Twilight gasped. “You used it against me?”

“Of course we did. It wasn’t easy to get either, the darn mother was so… feisty.”

Fury built up in Twilight’s chest. “You took it from its mother? What kind of a monster does that?”

“Oh please, it’s just a cat.” He said nonchalantly. Twilight growled holding the kitten tighter against his chest, and the bounty hunter scoffed. “Get him boys, try not to hurt him too much.”

Twilight brought his sword behind him, deflecting an attack from behind. He kicked the person who attempted to take a blow at him, and dodged another attack from someone with a knife. He fought defensively, making sure that nothing would hurt the kitten bundled up in his arms. He deflected an attack from a sword and punched the owner’s nose, hearing a satisfying pop. He kicked another bounty hunter in the chest, hearing a loud crack as he was slammed against the wall. One grabbed the arm that was cradling the kitten, and Link gave him a death glare. He saw the fear in the hunter’s eyes and he punched him hard in the face. Soon, there were only two remaining, the leader, and one holding a spear. They looked at him in fear, and the leader glanced at the other one.

“C– c’mon! It can’t be that hard to capture him!” He shouted. The spear-holding bounty hunter huffed and charged Twilight. The rancher planted his feet and grabbed the hunter with one hand, throwing him across the alleyway. He turned to the leader, who looked terrified. Twilight gave him a smirk and checked the kitten, who was purring and snuggling up against his chest. He gave a hum of satisfaction and walked over to the leader, who hopped back.

“W-wait! Wait hold on, we can come to an agreement,” he stammered, dropping his club. Twilight glared at him, holding his sword to his throat.

“Why would I come to an agreement with you?”

“We’ll come for your friends next, boy. They, especially the smaller ones, seem easier to nab than you.”

Twilight pressed his sword up against his throat, snarling. “I’m not going to let you hurt any of them, especially the smaller ones.”

“You know, if you give yourself up willingly, I might… well… forget about them.”

Twilight tilted his head, then snorted, bringing his knee to his gut and punching him unconscious.

“As if I’d give you the chance to hurt any of them,” he muttered, grabbing rope that fell out of the crate. He set the kitten down and tied up the bounty hunters, walking away from the alleyway with the tiny feline in his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The kitten was talkative as Twilight walked towards a farm as a wolf. He held the kitten gently in his mouth as he talked and talked about his life on the farm.

“And I tried to catch a mouse myself, but it was too fast for me and the others kept making fun of me ‘cause of it,” the kitten rambled, and Twilight only hummed in response. When he got closer to the farm, he made sure to stay out of sight from the farmers, not wanting to scare them with the presence of a large wolf. But luckily, a different pair of eyes saw him, a momma cat came running towards him, looking frantic as she saw her son in the wolf’s jaws.

“Mommy!” The kitten cheered as he was set down, and he ran to his mother while she rubbed her face against him.

“You’re safe! I was so worried!” She cried.

“I got taken by humans, but that’s ok! Because this wolf saved me!”

The momma cat looked at Twilight, and rubbed against his legs. “Thank you so much. Wolves don’t normally help us smaller animals. You’re too kind.”

Twilight booped her with his nose, and the kitten joined them.

“He’s not actually a wolf, he’s a human! He just turned into a wolf!”

“Oh, enough with your stories,” his mother scolded.

“But it’s true!”

Twilight gave a wolf-like chuckle as the kitten and his mother argued. Soon, more kittens came by, looking at the large and gentle wolf with their mother and brother.

“Woah! A wolf!”

“Is he nice?”

“Mommy don’t get eaten!”

Twilight laid down as all the kittens laid on top of him, playing with his ear, snuggling in his fur, and licking his nose. The rancher was enjoying every second of it.

“I’m so sorry about my kits, they don’t know manners,” the momma cat apologized, but Twilight huffed it away. He loved being bombarded by kittens. “I can't blame them for wanting to play on you, your fur is so soft.”

Twilight booped her with his nose and rested his head on the ground. The momma cat reluctantly curled up on his side while her kitties joined her. They all nuzzled in comfortably, some of the kitties making biscuits on his back. Twilight rested his head on the ground and let out a huff, and soon, the animals were drifting off, with Twilight feeling like he was in heaven.

He loved cats.

#originally twi was gonna get captured because he saw a kitty #cuz he will forget about all dangers in the world for a cat #but then I thought it’d be funnier if he was so protective of the Kitty that he beat the crap out of everyone trying to hurt him #like he would #lbl twi #link between links #smiles writes #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #whumptober day 23

[finn-m-corvex]

Whumptober Day 23: Stalking

Day 23! Another one that was giving me some trouble until I finally settled into a rhythm! This one is a bit clunky at some points, but I think it's fine. If anything it just adds to the charm!

Taglist: @splinnters @abigailxoxo @tornoleander @mondothebombo @ghostwalloper @toastingpencils37 @lightning-chicken

Words: 2.1k

There was something following him.

But Jay couldn’t figure out what it was.

After having a hellish last night and needing some sort of distraction, he had only been sent on a simple grocery store run, just for a few items for Zane to make for dinner, and it wasn’t supposed to take more than an hour at most. Staying on the phone with Nya the whole time definitely added to his time, but it was necessary unless the team wanted Jay to come back with the most random shit in the store instead of the actual groceries. Crossing things off of the paper list that Zane printed out for him, Jay also made sure to tell Nya when he got an item, where she would then cross it off on her own list to mitigate his habit of doodling on the paper.

Sue him, he got bored and needed something to do with his hands.

Now, two hours later, Jay finally started to walk home with all of the required items (and a can of cream cheese frosting that he and Nya were going to share), and this was supposed to be the easiest leg of the journey after the ADHD hell known as grocery shopping on a budget.

Jay didn’t comment on the footsteps that seemed to follow him for the past two blocks, instead only keeping one ear open for them and listening to Nya with the other. The grocery trip had done wonders for keeping his anxiety down at the moment. Stepping in the puddles littering the sidewalk made him antsy, but at least it made listening out for the footsteps a little easier. Nya was complaining about Kai, saying something about how much room his hair gel was taking up in the bathroom and how he was being a shower-hog. If Jay wasn’t preoccupied then he most likely would’ve been joining in.

“--can you believe that?! You take up three whole shelves of the bathroom cabinet for your stupid hair products but it’s my problem because I have too much skin care stuff?! Ugh!”

“That’s awful,” Jay agreed. He learned a long time ago how to do the verbal smile and nod trick with Nya, and he hoped that she would never pick up on it.

“Right? I can’t even deal with him. I ought to throw his hair gel straight off the side of the Bounty.”

“But we both know that you won’t,” the footsteps behind him changed, and Jay’s lungs tightened when he realized that the stranger had stepped off the street and into an alley. That wasn’t good.

He needed to switch up his route a bit. It would take longer, but that was fine; at least the stranger shouldn’t be able to follow him across the street without him noticing.

Crossing was easy, and Jay made sure to go over as many puddles as possible so that the person would have no choice but to make noise. Noise was good, because noise was going to keep him safe, and Jay was great at making noise. As long as he kept Nya talking, then he should be okay.

That didn’t mean it was good for his anxiety though. Walking around Ninjago City at night never scared him when he was in uniform, but when he was walking in his civvies? Not a great feeling. Someone really had to talk to the mayor about getting the bulbs in the streetlamps replaced, because every other one was out and Jay found himself almost sprinting to make it to each one. And to make it even worse, he didn’t bring any of his weapons with him.

Nya didn’t pick up on his inner distress when the footsteps picked back up, right back behind him like nothing happened. “Yeah, I guess I won’t. But he’s on thin fucking ice.”

“And being the master of fire doesn’t help,” Jay always made stupid puns when he was nervous.

“Jay,” Nya sighed, and despite everything that was going on it still made Jay feel a bit better.

The footsteps grew closer, and Jay was tempted to just throw the groceries on the ground and sprint away. Surely the others would understand once they heard his reasoning, right? But Jay knew that he couldn’t do that, both because Zane might actually say something unkind to him and Cole might kick his ass for ruining dinner, and Jay didn’t want to ruin dinner.

Step. Step. Step. Step.

Stomp. Stomp.

Stomp?

People needed to come with built-in rearview mirrors, and Jay was kicking himself for staying on the phone with Nya; if he had his phone free, he could’ve used his camera to check behind him and see who the hell was following him. Who the two people were, actually.

“Okay, Walker,” Jay mumbled, low enough that Nya wouldn’t hear it over her rambling, “you can do this. Just gotta get a little creative.”

If he took this next side street, made a left, crossed again up there and then ducked behind that one weird building that no one ever liked to walk past…

Yeah, he could make this work.

He was fairly sure that the only reason he wasn’t being jumped yet was because he was on the phone, and he needed to keep it that way. “Nya?”

“What’s up?” Nya asked, finally stopping whatever she was saying about Kai and giving him her full attention. Jay’s anxiety must’ve bled into his voice.

Turning left, Jay tucked himself closer to the buildings on his side, hoping that they might help him to hide away and blend into the background. Maybe he could try that cool thing people do in the movies where they shed their jacket and it’s like they’re a whole new person. Would that actually work? “I think I’m being followed. I need you to keep track of my location and pick me up at the corner of Avenue and Lint.”

Avenue was such a stupid street name, and whichever dryer company sponsored the creation of Lint Street needed to be banished to the Cursed Realm. Jay was quick to tell Nya this information, mostly because he didn’t want his pursuers to know that he was calling for help. Also because his anxiety was making him blurt the first thing that popped into his mind.

The grocery bags were getting harder to hold onto as his palms started to slick with sweat, and Jay tightened his grip and picked up the pace. Plastic digging into his fingers, Jay vaguely thought about whether or not the grocery bags could cut into his fingers, and maybe he could make a joke out of it.

“Hey,” he said, “do you think that if the bags were heavier, I would eventually start bleeding?”

“You know that’s not funny,” and yet Jay could hear the smile playing on Yang’s lips, because it was the kind of ridiculous question that only he would ask. “Alright, we’re on our way. Think you can make it there in ten?”

“Ten? What do you take me for? I’ll make it five.”

“If you make it five then you’re going to be early.”

“Shit, seriously?” Jay snickered despite the situation. “Well, you know me. Punctual is my middle name. Tell Cole that he better have twenty bucks ready for me.”

Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye as he passed one of the alleys: a third person. Man, tall, long coat and a hat covering his face, watching for when Jay crossed the mouth of the alley, and Jay saw him move after him. Now there were three of them on his tail, and the shadows between the streetlamps were stretching longer and longer out. These people knew what they were doing.

This was only more apparent to Jay when a fourth figure stepped out in front of him to block his way.

Gotta change course again. “Change of plans, might be there in ten minutes after all,” Jay ground out, taking a deep breath and turning abruptly to walk across the street. He really hoped that a car wasn’t going to come barreling down this road.

“How many are after you?” Nya asked, alarmed. Jay felt the same way.

“Four, I think. They’re trying to box me in.”

He heard the sound of keys clacking; Nya must’ve relocated to the main control room. “Hold on, I’m pulling up the security cameras so I can track you.”

“Can’t you just see my location through your phone?” Jay asked, his heart hammering away in his chest. The anxiety from before was starting to wash over him again, threatening to pull him under and not let him back up. Nya must’ve picked up on some of it, as she was quick to start reassuring him as she sifted through Kai’s too many tabs to find the security feeds.

“I can, but I need to be able to see how many are following you,” she explained. “Aha! I see you. You were right, there’s four, and—”

She stopped talking, and Jay’s stomach dropped. “Nya? What is it?”

“Jay, please tell me you have a weapon or your suit.”

“I don’t have either, why?” Jay walked faster, and he knew that he was making himself look more and more suspicious. “Nya?”

“They have guns,” Nya said breathlessly, fingers flying over the keyboard. She sounded worried. “You may have to fight them.”

“Not when I have the groceries,” and he turned the corner much faster than he needed to. If the people following him didn’t realize that Jay was aware before, they definitely knew now.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about the groceries, I need you to get home,” Nya said tightly. “Whatever you do, do not hang up this phone. Stay on the line with me.”

“If I don’t bring the groceries back then Zane and Cole will actually kill me—”

“And I’ll kill them if they do that,” Nya growled. “Stay on the phone, be ready to drop everything and run if I tell you to.”

His anxiety was raging around in his chest like a caged animal. Jay felt his lightning start to flicker under his clothes, but he did his best to keep it contained. The mayor had asked very nicely that the Ninja not use their elements in the city when there wasn’t an emergency, and Jay didn’t think that this qualified as an emergency. Putting as much force into his steps as possible did little to alleviate the anxiety; Jay felt like he was caught in a free-fall with a broken parachute.

Just keep moving. He had to keep moving. As long as he stayed on the move, they couldn’t catch him.

“Why didn’t I bring the suit?” he muttered angrily. Rage boiled in his blood, both at himself and at these people who thought that they could take on one of the most skilled fighters in all of Ninjago.

More clicking and clacking. “Because you didn’t think that this was going to happen, and it was just supposed to be something to ease your mind. Don’t be upset with yourself,” Nya assured, but it did little to make Jay feel better.

The distance between the lights was getting farther and farther apart, and Jay was glad that he knew how to navigate his way through the shadows. It was a new light every hundred feet, and then two hundred, then three, and suddenly…

Suddenly there was no more light.

Whoever was doing this had sabotaged the rest of the streetlamps.

Every instinct in Jay’s body was screaming. He knew how to fight in the shadows, but he did not have the ability to fight right now. Hands seemed to form out of the darkness, reaching for him, and Jay veered away from them as best as he could while staying on the sidewalk.

It had been seven minutes. Three minutes left.

“What are you doing?” Nya asked. Jay forgot that she was still watching him.

He couldn’t catch his breath. “There’s no more lights. T-There’s stuff trying to grab me.”

“No one’s trying to grab you, honey. I would be able to see them if they were trying to. But I do need you to pick up the pace a little bit; they’re catching up behind you.”

“Nya, I can’t see. There is no light.”

“You see the light blinking on the camera?” Nya asked, and Jay looked to the sky. Sure enough, there was a small red dot a ways away across the street. “Follow it. I’ve got your back, Jay.”

And the breath rushed back into his lungs for the final push. He could do this. He knew that he could do this. Tightening his grip on the bags once again, he pushed the sounds of the footsteps out of his mind and focused fully on the red dot. “I’m with you, Nya. Show me where to go.”

#ninjago #ninjago jay #finn's writing #ninjago nya #whumptober day 23 #whumptober 2023

[kybercrystals94]

Haunting Failures

By KyberCrystals

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2023|Day 23|Alternative Prompt: Aftermath of Failure

Rating: T

Words: 745

Summary: Hunter has a nightmare.

CW: Some disturbing images…nothing too graphic, but I just thought I’d mention it.

Hunter is running, boots pounding into packed, dry earth. Ashes drift like snowflakes against a blood red sky, the sun blotted by dense smoke. Hunter is alone, weaving through a battlefield devoid of life, but reeking of death. Bodies, machine and flesh, litter the expanse of land. Hunter tries to ignore them, tries to focus on the one sound that matters, the one thing that matters.

The one person that matters.

“Hunter! Help me!” Crosshair’s voice. Frantic, desperate. “Please!”

Hunter runs harder. He scales another obstacle, nearly loses his footing.

“I’m falling! Hunter!”

“I’m coming!” Hunter calls out, “Hold on, Cross. Just hold on!”

He sees his brother, panicked movements, hands clawing at the ground, searching for a hold on the barren terrain. The sniper is being dragged over the edge of a ravine; his body tangled in the wires of something pulling him over.

“Crosshair!” Hunter dives for him, catching his wrist just as his brother falls. “I’ve got you.”

“You’re going to let me go,” Crosshair gasps.

Hunter shakes his head. “No, I won’t, vod. Just hold on, I’m going to cut the wires away and pull you up.” Hunter reaches for his blade.

Crosshair stares up at him, eyes wide. “You gave up on me. You didn’t even try.”

“I’m trying right now, Cross, just hold on.”

“It’s too late, Hunter. You let me go.”

“That’s not true,” Hunter grits out, the blade of his knife finding the thin edges of the wires wrapped around Crosshair’s armored body. “Just hold on.”

“I thought we don’t leave our own behind,” Crosshair says, but his voice has changed. His expression has changed. He looks enraged, a fiery glint to his eyes. “I trusted you!”

And suddenly, Crosshair falls.

Hunter blinks, horror clouding his mind. “Crosshair!” he screams into the abyss.

“You let him go.”

Hunter turns and Tech is standing there, holding Crosshair’s helmet. The helmet has a crack near the right temple. Hunter scrambles shakily to his feet. “No. No, I didn’t. I tried…”

“Not hard enough, obviously,” Tech tells him. “Because now he’s gone.”

Tech drops the helmet, and it rolls toward Hunter, stopping at his feet. He stares at it, at the crack, at the familiar visor. He looks back up at Tech. Tech’s goggles are shattered on his face, his armor broken. He is barely standing, swaying.

“I couldn’t save him, Hunter,” Tech says. A thin trickle of blood escapes the corner of Tech’s mouth, and his eyes roll back. He starts to fall backwards.

“No!” Hunter lunges forward, catching Tech’s forearm.

But Tech is gone, and Omega is struggling in his grip, trying to pull away from him. “Let me go! We have to save them!” she shrieks.

“Omega!” Hunter cries, “Listen to me, it’s too late. They’re gone.”

“They’re not gone! You are giving up on them! You’re going to leave them behind!”

Hunter pulls her close to him, kneeling to look her in the eye. “Omega, please…”

“You failed them! You failed all of us!”

“Omega…”

“No! Let me go!” Omega thrashes against him, fists pounding against his chest. “You failed us! You failed us!”

“No, please,” Hunter begs.

Omega snarls. “You never cared about Crosshair. That’s why you left him, isn’t it? You let Tech fall. You let Hemlock take me.”

“No, no, no…” Hunter shakes his head, closing his eyes so he doesn’t see the fury in his sister’s face.

“Hunter!”

Hunter wakes with a panicked sob, sitting upright so fast his head collides with the bunk above him; however, the pain of the impact feels like nothing compared to the turmoil of emotions making his heart pound and eyes sting with unshed tears.

“Easy, easy,” Echo’s voice soothes. “You were having a nightmare.”

Hunter turns to look at the clone sitting beside him. “It felt real…” he pants out, his breaths shuddering in his lungs. “I lost them all, Echo…it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t let Crosshair go…”

“No, you can’t think like that,” Echo says firmly. He takes Hunter’s hand, squeezing it so tight it hurts.

“And Tech,” Hunter continues, “he wouldn’t have died if we had gotten to Crosshair sooner…we should have made him come with us at Kamino. We should never have left him behind.”

Echo shakes his head. “Hunter…”

“And Omega…I promised to protect her.” Hunter begins to cry, the voices of his nightmare whispering in his memories. He failed them. He failed all of them.

END

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#Whumptober 2023 #Day 23 #Alternative Prompt #Aftermath of Failure #Star Wars #Star Wars the Bad Batch #The Bad Batch #Nightmares #Night Terrors #Character Death Mentioned #Hunter Whump #TBB Hunter #TBB Crosshair #TBB Tech #TBB Omega #TBB Echo #arc trooper echo #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #Hurt No Comfort #fics by kyber