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celtic-crossbow · 4 months

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Whumpuary Day 5-6

Prompt: “This is gonna hurt.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; description and treatment of injury; blood.

There weren’t a lot of things you could say were worse than trying to survive in a dystopian world with walking corpses that want nothing other than to eat you alive. Seeing Daryl in pain though? That ranks almost at the top of the list.

Currently, you were trapped in a warehouse, surrounded by the dead, and your partner had a piece of bone protruding from the lower part of his left leg. It would have to be set and soon. He would barely be able to walk after you handled it, but definitely not before.

Still, you were hidden in a small square of pallets. All it would take was one walker wandering off and rounding the end. You had no choice but to act fast.

“Daryl.” You whispered as loudly as you dared, patting the side of his face to rouse him. His face scrunched, eyes clenching shut before fluttering open. His expression remained pinched and heavily lined with pain. You already had your finger to your lips when his eyes focused and found your face. “Your leg’s broken.”

“No shit.” He whispered sharply, immediately muttering an apology. “Gotta set it. Can’ walk on it like this.”

“I know.” Your expression radiated sympathy. “This is gonna hurt.” The moment he bit back a snarky retort did not go unnoticed. He decided to simply nod instead. You needed to be strategic but thorough. The leg was a mess, blood steadily oozing from around the bone.

“Get on with it, woman.” Daryl was panting, visibly steeling his resolve for the pain that was to come. You swallowed hard, knowing for certain that it would take little effort for him to buck you off in an automatic reflex. It was a risk you’d have to take.

Pressing a knee onto his thigh, you reached to grasp his ankle. When you forced the first move, your body lifted with the rigid tension of the muscles under your knee. To his credit, the archer didn’t make a sound, merely pulling deep breaths through clenched teeth. You couldn’t stop now. It needed to be like ripping off a bandaid. A large, shifting of bone, bloody bandaid.

Your free hand came to rest just above the protrusion. Biting your own lip, you shifted his ankle and placed gentle but firm pressure against the bone, feeling the grind beneath your palm. Daryl’s breaths were becoming harsher behind you but you persevered. Blood was spilling onto the concrete. It was only a matter of time before the walkers picked up the scent. With only the dim light of the moon through the windows far overhead, you made sure the bones were aligned and gave one last twist and push, the audible adjustment finally enough to draw a scream from your hunter.

You released his leg and twisted around to press both of your bloody palms against his mouth, your forehead against his. “I’m sorry. I know. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Ssh.” You soothed, looking over his shoulder and through the spaces between pallets. The dead had frozen, their heads moving robotically to try and pin down the origin of the sound.

Daryl’s eyes were wide, clouded, and frenzied. The pain being severe enough to overload the archer’s senses meant that it was bad.

“I know, ssh.” You kept one hand over his mouth and let the other pet over his hair, rising enough to press your lips to his damp forehead while you kept your eyes on the walkers. They were still on alert but beginning to shuffle along. You just needed to guide Daryl through the worst of the discomfort and get him on his feet.

Slowly and carefully, you maneuvered from the awkward position you had found yourself in while trying to silence him. Your hand still over his mouth, you now straddled his thighs, keeping your boots away from the injury on his shin. His breathing was beginning to return to normal, eyelids heavy over a dazed set of electric blue irises.

“Daryl, are you with me?”

A cool hand wrapped around your wrist and moved your palm away from his mouth. “M’here.” He whispered tiredly. Before you could rethink the urge, you pressed your mouth to his, hard and desperate, as well as apologetic. When you separated, your foreheads still touching, he thumbed away the blood on your mouth with a weak smirk. His mouth looked horrible though the blood had come from your hands. You tried and failed to smile, using your sleeve to wipe the mess from his face as best you could. “Le’s get outta here, sunshine.”

You stubbornly refused to cry, sniffing as you pulled away and rose to your feet as slowly as possible. There was a slim chance the movement could be noticed through the spaces between the pallets. “I’ll splint your leg once we get far enough away. They can handle the rest at the infirmary.” You offered your hand, the other gripping beneath his arm to help him to his feet. Daryl nodded once, leaning on you as you led the way.

The journey was slow, shifting and ducking to stay out of sight until you could reach the door. A few stragglers lingered there. Shit. The only option was to make a run for the bike.

“Daryl—”

“I know.” He knew what you were thinking. Of course he did. The two of you were a well oiled machine, becoming a force to be reckoned with over the years. You dipped your chin and mouthed a countdown. When you hit one, you moved together, his arm over your shoulders and yours around his back. His limp was pronounced but he didn’t slow down. Walker after walker reached for the two of you as you passed, signaling the others with their eager snarls and increased pace.

There was no time to argue once you reached the bike. One second would be enough for either of you to be in danger of being grabbed. Daryl knew he couldn’t drive, but that didn’t stop him from cursing a blue streak when he had to climb on behind you. Only a portion of the vulgarity was due to pain.

“Don’t worry!” You called over the rumbling engine. “I won’t tell anyone I finally got you to ride bitch for me.” Toeing up the kickstand, you urged the motorcycle into motion, decaying fingers only inches away from finding purchase.

His leg was a pulsing, painful disaster but Daryl couldn’t resist holding tighter around your waist and brushing his lips over the side of your neck to lean in close to your ear. “Guess it ain’t so bad if s’you m’ doin’ it fer.”

“Don’t distract me!” You laughed. He could just picture your beaming smile. “I’ll crash and fuck up your other leg!”

“Nah, wouldn’ wan’ all tha’.” He smirked, resting his chin on your shoulder as you handled the bike like a pro, eating up the miles toward home.

Taglist:

@thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @feral4daryl @deansapplepie @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @loganlostitall @callmeyn @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @gutsby @isakyakiisak @in-this-minute @eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bigbaldheadname @bananafire11 @graciepies @georgiadixon @esgoraths @hutchersonsgurl @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @KatelynAngel @richardsamboramylove55 @m0ss-g0blin @annhells @abi67sblog @nessieart @imgeorgeclooney @brinteylovesaliens @eduardast4rgirl @ass-butt-themusical @daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87 @ashtonbabe @atyourmomshouse01 @dixonzzgirl @unhingedbiatch @bultamer @lumimon47

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #“this is gonna hurt”#severe injury #blood #the walking dead #fic #murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl whump #daryl dixon whump

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dresden-syndrome · 4 months

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23/VI-1963. Class IV detention unit, State Security department No. 138, Středočeský region, People's Union Republic of Czechoslovakia, EESU.

[From the interrogation record of the arrested "SB-7067" ("Radím Štušek") on 23/VI-63]

Question: Where did you and comrade Veverka receive the content of the leaflets you've been writing?

Answer: I've written it all by myself.

[From the actual interrogation, recorded by State Security lieutenant Blažek for Minister of State Security comrade Günther]

[Class 2 interrogation techniques implied.]

Comrade Přibyl: Where did you and comrade Veverka receive the content of the leaflets you've been writing?

SB-7067: Does that bother you, you scum? Anyone gonna write it when they've had enough of you...

Comrade Kopecký: Watch your mouth, traitor.

Comrade Přibyl: Look in the eye. Now! Where did you get them? Obviously you didn't write it all yourself. I might even know a couple of boys from Prague that helped you...

SB-7067: Bullshit... I don't remember anyone from Prague...

Comrade Kopecký: Look there, that bastard's lying to us. Maybe whip him up a bit?

Comrade Přibyl: Fine, a bit. Get one of the guys to ask if room 45 is ready - let's clear his memory up there.

Now, one more time. Who did you take the text on the leaflets from? Who helped you write them? Where did you find that anti-socialist shit?!

SB-7067: I've written it all by myself!

Comrade Přibyl: What's this? Don't want to answer? Now this is gonna hurt for you.

[Class 3 interrogation techniques implied.]

@whumpuary #3: "This is gonna hurt"

Art taglist: @painful-pooch @prismpanic @generic-whumperz @suspicious-whumping-egg @onlywhump @whumpedydump @whumpthefifth

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #oc #art #whump #whumpblr #whump community #historical whump #military whump #totalitarian whump #whump art #whumpee #whump oc #whump ideas #defiant whumpee

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melanie-ohara · 4 months

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In The Woods Somewhere - Chapter 2

Whumpuary2024, Day 06 - Prompt: Used as Bait

Sabine faces off against the bandit leader in a last ditch attempt to save her mortal enemy...

This one contains a lot of Making Stuff Up about those Peridean bandits, so one day it'll probably stop being canon compliant

AO3 here

Three hours earlier....

Shin's tent was cold, and she rubbed her balled fists against her chest to warm herself up as she crossed from her bunk to the wash basin. Behind her, she heard the flap open as Feldspar, the leader of the bandits, entered without asking. Shin ignored him for a moment and instead looked at her own face in the cracked mirror. She looked pale and tired, but that was no surprise. The last of her eyeliner was smudged and barely visible around her eyes. She considered using charcoal from the burnt-out fire but no matter how naked she felt without her warpaint, it made her skin itch after a few hours.

"Sister," Feldspar prompted, and Shin forced herself not to grimace. These men were descendents of the original Nightbrothers, and they were nothing like the zabrak colony that still existed on Dathomir: Shin had spent long enough around Morgan Elsbeth to know they were more like the witches of old. When she had first come to them, they had mistaken her ashen skin and pale hair for a Nightsister's, and she had never tried to correct them. It suited her purposes, but pretending to be a witch sickened her.

"Feldspar," she greeted coldly, without looking around.

The men had lost - or maybe never had - the ritual knowledge of their sisters, but they had an instinctive connection to the living Force Shin could barely comprehend, let alone match. Their ability to predict had led them to their quarry without fail, but their empathic telepathy was less helpful: Shin had to seal her mind from them to avoid giving herself away.

"Our enemies are near," Feldspar said. His voice slithered like rats over a corpse. "They threaten balance, and we must strike them down."

Shin had never been able to determine if that phrase meant that the Jedi and her pet Mandalorian threatened to destroy something the bandits protected, or threatened to bring balance to chaos. Peridea made no sense to her, not since Baylan had abandoned her to it and struck out on his own.

She shook her head. "My former Master is a greater threat now." Shin dipped her head and splashed cold water over her face. It washed off the last of her makeup, and she frowned at how young her reflection looked. How small.

Feldspar moved closer, until Shin could see him in the mirror. He wasn't wearing his helmet, and his grey skin and lipless mouth full of rows of spiked teeth were off-putting so early in the morning.

"We have the opportunity to end your Jedi now," he hissed insistently.

Shin tilted her head forwards a little to examine the dark roots of her hair. Before she could stop herself, she wondered if the purple-haired Mandalorian had any bleach.

Feldspar stepped into her personal space and came close to her ear. "Perhaps you can take it from her once she's dead ," he said, and Shin winced. Feldspar would have felt the curiosity in the thought, and the distinct lack of malice she held for Sabine Wren.

She turned to fix his sharp silver eyes with the hardest glare she could muster. "Fine," she said. "Prepare a war party."

Feldspar nodded and left, and Shin was overwhelmed by a crushing sense of foreboding.

Shin walked at the head of the formation, a step behind Feldspar. The bandits travelled in a loose group that looked random and disorganised at first glance, but was carefully calculated to maximise sightlines. The forest closed in around them, and Shin couldn't see far into the darkness around them. The Nightbrothers eyes' were better adapted to the dark and she was forced to rely on them to navigate. The feeling that had struck her in the tent had only grown the further they'd gone, and now it was balled up in her chest like a secret she could barely keep.

"Hold," Feldspar whispered. His voice was barely audible to Shin but the others all stopped, no matter how distant they were. Feldspar's eyes were closed against a vision - Shin could tell from the pale wisps of green smoke that flitted out from under his eyelids. "Here," he said, after a moment. "Scatter."

With a rustle of parting undergrowth, the bandits vanished into the darkness.

"We've tried an ambush before," Shin pointed out. It was cold and dark and the anxiety was making her irritable. Baylan would have chided her for being unfocused. She wished she couldn't think like him.

"Not with bait," Feldspar said, and Shin's lightsaber was in her hand and ignited before she had even processed the thought screaming in her head. The Nightbrother was ready for her though, and grabbed her wrist in a crushing grip, forcing the blade out and away. "I am sorry, Sister," he said, and a white heat filled Shin's stomach as his blade forced its way inside. "But a bird will fly to a dying wolf."

Shin coughed. It didn't hurt, not yet. She knew it would, once the shock had passed and her brain caught up with her body, but she had a few seconds to bring up her free hand and hurl Feldspar into a tree hard enough to break his neck. Her arm refused to obey her. She glanced down and saw the cursed green tendrils of witch magic curled around the blade. She couldn't even spit in his face as he yanked the blade free and shoved her down to the ground. Pain battled with fury and hate as Feldspar reached down to pick her lightsaber up from where it had fallen.

Now....

Sabine grabbed her helmet from Shin's side and put it back on, turning as she got back to her feet to face the bandit leader stepping out of the shadows. The familiar sound of Shin's lightsaber igniting pierced the air and the orange light glittered in the rain as he advanced on her slowly.

"That doesn't belong to you," Sabine told him as she unhooked her only lightsaber and switched it on. She had barely found her guard position when the bandit surged forwards faster than Sabine thought possible and struck for her head. She twitched her hands up to block his strike and tried to use the pull of the blades to open his guard. The bandit yanked Shin's blade free of the lock and stabbed forwards, forcing Sabine to hop back a step and swing her lightsaber down and out in a weak block that opened up her left side. She struck out to get some breathing room, but it was wide and predictable and he easily countered.

This was bad.

The bandit was forcing her back, step by step, as each of his strikes forced her into a stance that gave him an opening to attack again. Before she could even hope to find an opening, the bandit leader forced her lightsaber out of the way and lined up a shot that would take her head. Sabine tried to lift her left hand to take the blade on her vambrace, but she knew before she moved it would be too late.

Or it would have been, if the bandit's lightsaber hadn't stuck in the air like it had hit a rayshield.

Stunned, Sabine stared at Shin. The fight had pushed her back past her prone form until she was behind the bandit leader, only now she was sitting up and reaching out, clamping the Force tight around her own lightsaber blade and holding it in place.

Her face was contorted with agony as her other hand gripped at her guts. "Kill him!" she screamed.

Rallying, Sabine swung her lightsaber down to slice through his wrist. Shin's hilt dropped from his severed hand and before he could even scream Sabine raised her foot and booted him hard enough in the chest to send him sprawling into the mud. Before she could move back to Shin, blaster fire erupted out of the trees around her. Sabine managed to catch a few bolts with her blade before they started to impact her beskar. Her visor glowed with red and orange cutting sizzling paths through the rain and within seconds she was overwhelmed. She dropped her lightsaber as she dropped to her knees, just managing to wrap her forearms around her abdomen below the protection of her chestplate. She knew it wouldn't be long before one of their shots found a gap - and even if they didn't, beskar wouldn't hold up forever. Eventually the steel would collapse, and she would die. She glanced over at Shin, and through the blur of colour she saw that she was out cold.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and closed her eyes.

She felt the rush of the Force moving around her before she saw what was happening. Ahsoka, resplendent in her bright white robes, landed between her and the blaster fire. Her saber erupted into life and whirled in a tightly controlled circle, deflecting bolts into the trees. Sabine's lightsaber shot off the ground by her knee and into Ahsoka's free hand.

"Go!" her Master shouted back at her. "Get her to Huyang!"

Sabine stared for a half-second as Ahsoka started advancing, a tornado made of light swirling around her and turning the rain to steam. She shook herself and grabbed a blaster in one hand as she ran, bent low, to Shin's side. She was still breathing, but barely, and Sabine scooped her into her arms as gently as she could with blaster bolts churning up the mud around them. She wrapped one arm around Shin's back and supported her knees with her other forearm, keeping her blaster gripped tightly as she stumbled back the way she had come.

She couldn't protect Shin like this, and her heart was in her throat the entire desperate sprint towards the sunlight bleeding through the edge of the forest. She nearly fell twice, and forced herself to slow down a little. Behind her, she could still hear Ahsoka fighting the bandits back, and wished she could turn back and help her. Shin, her mortal enemy, needed her more than her ally now, though, so she pressed on.

Relief almost made Sabine scream: Mirshko was waiting for them, already kneeling so they could clamber on. Ahsoka must have brought him when she followed her. Sabine lifted Shin onto Mirshko's back, dimly aware of how light she was compared to the last time they had tangled before she forced thoughts about how malnourished the other woman was out of her head. Gaping stomach wound first, she thought as she swung her leg over Mirshko's back and clicked her tongue. He rose to his feet under her as she wrapped her arms around Shin's waist to keep her close, and then kicked her heels into the Howler's flank. They left the battle behind, and sprinted towards the T6.

Shin woke slowly and painfully. Her insides were on fire and her head throbbed at the over-bright ceiling lights. Panic set in when she didn't recognise the room she was in, and she tried to cry out through a parched and scratched throat. All she managed was a hoarse grunt, but it got the attention of whoever was in the room with her.

"Lady Hati," a blurry grey and white shape said, in a voice that Shin guessed was meant to be soothing. "Please relax."

Shin tried to reach out and crush it with the Force, but her arms were bound to the bed and no amount of straining would break their hold, not while she was so weak. She screamed again, and this time managed a cracked and broken howl.

"The bindings are for your own safety, as well as mine," the droid explained. "Lady Wren extends her apologies. In fact, perhaps I should fetch her."

Shin barely heard the droid, and ignored the sound of the door opening and closing, focusing instead on blinking her eyes into focus. Once she could see, she could block out the pain, and once she could block out the pain, she could escape her bindings, and then she could slaughter her way out.

She shook her head as her vision cleared, and a smudge of colour caught her eye. On the wall by the bed, someone had drawn a lothcat. She recognised it from the first time she had met Sabine Wren, underneath that transmission tower so long ago. So far away. The drawing was close to where her hands were bound, and she could just trace the edges of them with one of her fingers if she stretched it. It was the Mandalorian's handiwork, that was clear, and she realised with a strange spike of a feeling she had no name for that she was lying in her bed. She remembered Feldspar spearing her and leaving her for dead. She remembered Sabine. She had stared up into her warm brown eyes as rainwater ran down out of her hair and wondered how she had ever wanted to kill her.

"Shin?"

It was her. She didn't need to turn her head to know, though she had never heard her voice strain that way before. She didn't know what she could possibly say and kept her eyes fixed on the lothcat drawing on the wall rather than face those eyes again.

Sabine looked down at her. Without a bacta tank, Huyang had assured her his surgery skills could save her life and banished her from her own room while he knitted her back together. Shin looked so weak it was hard to believe she could ever be dangerous. Sabine knew she was, even now, tied down and wracked by pain, but it didn't stop her. She pulled the desk chair over from the other side of the room and sat down at Shin's side.

"I'm going to stay here," she said softly, when Shin still refused to take her eyes off the little drawing of Murley on the wall. Cautiously, she rested her hand on Shin's wrist. It reminded her of the way Shin had led her around on Elsbeth's ship when she was a prisoner, and hoped Shin would be able to take something of the same strange comfort she had felt from her then.

After a long moment, Shin nodded.

#wolfwren #sabine x shin #sabine wren #shin hati #star wars #ahsoka #writing #fanfic #ahsoka series #huyang #ahsoka theories #whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #used as bait #shin hati needs a hug

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snakebites-and-ink · 4 months

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Whumpuary #3: Used as bait / Stumbling / "This is gonna hurt" + #4: "Help me" / Lightheaded / Kneeling

CW: Chase, overexertion, failed escape, manhandling

Whumpee ran through the underbrush, desperately pushing their aching and weakened body to keep going. They couldn’t rest yet.

Whumper was on their tail. Whumpee had a head start, but they weren’t sure how big it was. All they knew was that this was their chance to get away, and they weren’t likely to get another one anytime soon.

Underbrush hit at Whumpee’s legs as they dashed through it. They paid no heed to the sting and pushed on. They panted for breath, their blood pounding in their ears as their feet pounded on the ground. Still they ran. There would be no respite until they were out of Whumper’s reach.

They tripped on a half-exposed root and nearly lost their footing. They managed to keep from falling, and regained their pace.

Whumpee kept running. After a while, they realized they were flagging and sped up again. They couldn’t afford to slow down. Whumper knew this area; they lived in it. Staying ahead was Whumpee’s only advantage.

It didn’t take long before their stride became less steady. They were pushing themself too hard. They grimaced and kept going anyway; they didn’t have a choice.

Their lungs burned and their legs became unstable as they battled with fatigue. Whumpee stumbled, then scraped their hand as they caught themself. It was so tempting to just stay there and rest a moment, but they didn’t have the time. They pushed off of a tree and forced themself onward.

Not long after, they were stumbling again. They lost their footing, well and truly this time, and fell to the ground. They painstakingly stood back up with a groan. As they leaned against a tree, bracing themself to keep going, they heard a sound behind them that definitely wasn’t from the local wildlife.

“Whumpee.”

No. Dread washed through them. They already knew whose voice it was, but Whumpee still turned to look as Whumper emerged from the trees. They were breathing hard, too, but not as hard as Whumpee. It made sense: Whumper was healthier and knew the terrain. The logic didn’t make it any less disheartening, though.

The chase was over. Whumpee was in no condition to get away from Whumper now that they’d caught up. Whumpee looked out into the trees, for a moment entertaining the idea of running anyways, before slumping in defeat. Their knees hit the dirt almost before they knew what they were doing.

The show of submission might earn them a modicum of lenience. Not much, but Whumpee was willing to take any chance to make their impending situation slightly less awful.

Whumper fixed them with a stony glare, looking very displeased. Whumpee cringed and broke eye contact.

“You are in a whole lot of trouble.” Whumper walked over to where Whumpee was kneeling and roughly pulled them to their feet. Whumper held Whumpee in a vice-like grip, fingers digging into them.

Whumpee didn’t say anything back. They knew it would be pointless to ask for mercy.

Whumper kept Whumpee in a painful hold all the way back to Whumper’s house. Back to everything Whumpee had hoped to escape from. Hot tears welled in their eyes as freedom slipped further out of reach.

#Took an extra day on this one because it wasn't one of the ones I'd pre-written and it ended up being my longest whumpuary piece yet #This is not the end of these characters' story #whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #whumpuaryno4 #stumbling #kneeling #chase #overexertion #failed escape #recapture #I'm kind of unsure where to draw the line between failed escape and recapture so I'm just tagging both to be safe #manhandling #threats #original fic #whump #whump writing #my posts #my writing

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whump-and-other-misfortunes · 4 months

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Whumpuary 2024 Day 3

3. (Jan 05-06) Used as bait / Stumbling / "This is gonna hurt"

cw medical whump, experiment whumpee, drugging/sedatives, implied kidnapping

Whumpee groaned, blinking against the bright lights overhead. There was a searing pain behind their eyes and the rest of their body felt weighed down like they were made of molasses, slowly dripping into the ground. They tried to sit up but a hand on their chest pushed them back down.

“Shh, don’t try to move,” a gentle voice said. “You’ve got some nasty wounds from that fight back there.”

A figure moved into their vision, shadow blocking the light. Whumpee couldn’t see what they looked like, but the voice was unfamiliar. “Who’re you?” they asked, tongue heavy in their mouth. “You’re not Medic…”

The stranger’s hand pushed Whumpee’s hair away from their face, skin covered by a latex glove. “You don’t need them, okay? I’m going to help you.”

Whumpee attempted to move again, but the world bobbed around them like they were floating underwater. “D’j’you drug me?” they slurred.

“Just a mild sedative,” the stranger replied with a chuckle. “I can’t have you struggling too much. Now relax, I’m a doctor.”

Whumpee frowned. “I don’ think you are.”

“Well, not yet. Technically,” the stranger said with a huff. “But how am I supposed to make it through med school if I can’t practice?”

A jolt of fear went through Whumpee when the light glinted off a scalpel. “W-wait…”

The stranger pushed Whumpee down when they started to struggle again. “Uh-uh, hold still or I'll give you more of the sedative,” they chastised. “And you might want to close your eyes—this is gonna hurt.”

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #this is gonna hurt #medical whump #experiment whumpee #lab whump #drugging #implied kidnapping #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #snippet

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tildeathiwillwrite · 4 months

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Whumpuary 2024 No. 3

Used as Bait | Stumbling | "This is gonna hurt"

Whumpuary Prompts List

TW: hostage, captured, guns, threats, tied up

Consciousness returned slowly. Whumpee blinked blearily, confused. They were in a dim, unfamiliar room. They were tied to a chair with coarse ropes, their hands bound behind their back and their feet tied snugly to the chair’s legs. The side of their head throbbed, and something warm and wet ran down their neck. In a flash, Whumpee remembered getting jumped and struggling before a burst of pain in their head and then… here.

The only light came from behind them, throwing long shadows that obscured much of the room. Large wooden crates were stacked on both sides, making the room appear smaller than it was. The wall across from Whumpee had a massive cargo door with a blinking red light. Behind them, Whumpee could vaguely hear footsteps and voices.

“...preparations are complete,” one of them was saying. “All we have left to do is wait.”

“Is the hostage secured?”

Whumpee gritted their teeth, their stomach churning from fear as the shadows of those speaking came into view. The hair raised on the back of their neck as they imagined the speakers’ eyes on them.

“Yes, but they’ve probably woken up by now.”

A beat of silence.

And the sudden crack of a gunshot. Air whooshed centimeters from Whumpee’s head, and the bullet glanced off the brick wall with the sound of shattering rock. Whumpee flinched away instinctively. The chair tipped sideways. Whumpee envisioned it slamming into the floor, their skull colliding with the hard concrete and cracking with a sound not unlike the gunshot—

Before any of that could happen, someone from behind pulled them back. “Well…” they said, a hint of amusement in their voice, “the hostage is definitely awake now.”

“W…” Whumpee stammered, their heartbeat pounding in their ears, “where am I? Why am I tied up?”

The person who had saved them from falling spun the chair around and bent down to get at Whumpee’s eye level. “Look, Whumpee,” Whumper said as if they were speaking to a small child, “I know this is all so confusing to you, but it’ll all be over soon. We just need Caretaker to come for you, and we blow the both of you to pieces.”

Whumpee’s mouth went dry. “Wha…what? What did we…?”

Whumper smiled almost in a consoling, sympathetic manner. “I’m sorry you don’t understand. But I need you to be a good little hostage now, alright?” They pulled back their fist. “Don’t worry, this is gonna hurt a lot.”

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #used as bait #this is gonna hurt #my writing #whump #whumpee #whumper #whump scenario #captivity #captive whumpee #tied up #restrained

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 year

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Not So Invincible After All

Whumpuary 2023: Prompt 3. Shot

2023 Year of Whump: Jan 1. Whispered Reassurances

Fandom: DC, Batman, Jason Todd, Red Hood, f!reader, Superman/Lois Lane's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Tired of living in your father's shadow, you move to Gotham where you meet Jason Todd. As the two of you become an unstoppable team (in love and crimefighting), everything seems perfect. Until something goes wrong…

Word Count: 3417

TW: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Gun Shot, Blood, Loss of powers, Pain, Ambiguous Ending, Language

Notes: Thank you to @icarusthefoolish for this request!

Moving to Gotham City is not a hard decision to make. You need to get out of your father’s shadow in Metropolis and the heroes of Gotham could use some extra help after Bruce’s death and Dick taking over the mantle as Batman. So, it seems like the perfect spot for you to start your solo career as a superhero. However, it is only right to get permission from those already protecting the city first.

To your utter embarrassment, your father sets up the meeting for you and insists on coming. Though you are an adult, he still treats you like a child. But, as much as you try to argue against it, once your mother steps in and says he is going, all arguments are over. Not even you argued with Lois Lane when she took that tone.

Which is how you find yourself standing outside Wayne Manor with your arms crossed over the S emblem on your chest, staring down the remaining members of the Batfamily. You had known Bruce extremely well, you had never met any of his wards before, though you knew who they all were.

Damien seems unimpressed by you and quickly turns his attention to other things after his introduction. Tim is the complete opposite, practically bouncing up and down as he shakes your hand and tries to ask you a million questions. Luckily, Dick gently pushes him to the side, reminding him there will be time for that later. The new Batman is so different from Bruce and yet you can still see flashes of his late guardian in the way he holds himself and addresses the situation at hand. Which just left Jason. The formerly dead vigilante didn’t say anything while you were introduced, but his eyes never leave your face the entire time your dad is explaining the situation. There is a playful twinkle in his eyes that you can’t quite understand, but you push it to the back of your mind as your dad finishes up and lifts up into the sky, drifting back a few dozen feet to give you some space for once.

Your eyes quickly flicker across each of the heroes in front of you and you clear your throat. “So, basically what Dad said. I want to leave Metropolis, you guys seem to need an extra set of hands around here– it seems like a win-win.”

For the first time, Damien speaks up. “Who says we need ‘extra hands’? We are protecting the city just fine without assistance.”

You lock eyes with the young Robin, completely unfazed by the death stare he is giving you. “Listen, kid. You guys are doing fine, but don’t think you are living up to The Bat’s legacy, at least not yet. I might not be living in Gotham at the moment, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping an eye on things. Dick is doing an admirable job of being Batman, but it’s pretty obvious he’s just one of the birds playing dress up. And I’m not the only one who's noticed. The criminals in this city are getting bolder and sooner or later, one of them is going to do something the four of you can’t handle. So, if you don’t want my help, that’s fine. There are a million other cities I can move to. But then don’t come crying to me when you get your asses handed to you and you need someone to save you, because I might not be interested anymore.”

Damien continues to stare you down for a moment, then slowly nods, breaking eye contact. And with that, you know you have earned the respect of the one person who you really needed to win over tonight.

Elbowing Tim in the ribs, Jason grins as he mutters, “Wow. I never expected to hear something like that coming from the boy scout’s daughter.”

One side of your mouth quirks up in a sly smile as your superhearing picks up on what he said. Turning your gaze so you are staring directly into his eyes, you say, “Then you’ve never met my mother. I might get my powers from my father, but I get my spirit and my wicked tongue from her.”

You can see the gears working in Jason’s head as the response forms. The way his heartbeat speeds up slightly, the slight dilation of his pupils, how his jaw tightens as he forces himself not to make the witty comment he desperately wants to but can’t with your father still hovering feet away. And that makes the smile on your lips widen.

The rest of the meeting runs smoothly. It is agreed that you can stay in Gotham and help protect its people as long as you don’t get in the Batfamily’s way. However, they do extend an invitation to team up with them whenever you want. You doubt it will happen, but it is nice to know that option is there.

You say goodbye to your dad and watch as he flies away. Once he is out of sight of even your advanced vision, you pivot sharply and strut straight up to Jason.

He seems slightly startled by your brash confrontation, but he stands his ground. As you reach him, you lean over until your lips lightly brush the curve of his ear, and you whisper, “Maybe if you play your cards right, I can show you how wicked this tongue can get.”

With your powers, you can sense the multitude of physical reactions your words send through his body and you chuckle as you pat his cheek before flying off into the night.

As it turns out, Jason played his cards very right seeing as you end up waking up in his bed less than a week later. And you haven’t left since. Now, after almost five months of living in Gotham, you and Jason have become the ultimate team, in and out of your costumes. Despite both of your tempers, sarcastic natures, and constant desire to push back against the ideals of your fathers, the two of you balance each other out in some strange way.

And Jason is never intimidated by your powers or your nigh invulnerability. In fact, he is nothing but supportive of them. In fights, you quickly find a rhythm where you go after the strongest opponent while Jason covers you or takes out the weaker opponents. It’s a system that never seems to fail, and the two of you seem unstoppable.

Until one night….

Jason is chasing two men through the streets. They just robbed Gotham National Bank but for some reason, ditched the bags of money fairly quickly as they tried to lose Jason. But he just let you gather up the forfeited money and fly it back to the bank while he continued his chase.

By the time you return and spot him, he has chased the men onto the roof of a building. Just as the men realize they are trapped and this will be a fight, you land next to Jason with a grin.

“Hello, boys. What seems to be the trouble here?”

The men exchange angry glances and one of them hisses loudly to the other, “What do we do? We wanted Superman, not Superbitch.”

“Hey! Watch your fucking mouth!” Jason growls, taking a step closer, but you place a hand on his chest, halting him.

“Well, you shitheads are in the wrong city then. Superman doesn’t come here. This is my turf. So, does that mean you want to just give up now, or are we going to have a little fun tonight?” The men exchange glances then pull out their guns. You nod. “Okay, then. Fun it is.”

Before they can react, you have crossed the distance between you and grab one of the men by his jacket and soar up into the air. The man immediately drops his gun as he frantically clutches at your arms, trying to hold on as tightly as he can. But it makes little difference. With a cheeky grin, you release your grip. The man only has a fraction of a second to realize what is about to happen before he plummets towards the ground.

You continue to hover in the air as you watch him fall farther and farther, his screams of terror slowly growing fainter. Finally, when he is just a few dozen feet from the ground, you sigh and soar downward. You reach him just before he hits the ground, wrapping your arms around his chest and holding him about a foot in the air.

He continues to scream even once you set him back on the sidewalk, his legs giving out from under him as he collapses in a heap. Bending over to peer down at him, you ask, “Now, are you going to be a good boy and stay put until the cops show up, or do we have to try that again?”

He pales at the very thought and clutches your leg. “N-n-no! Please! N-not again!”

Patting his head, you say, “Good boy. Now, let’s see if your friend is as agreeable.” And you launch yourself back into the air towards the top of the building.

When you reach the roof, you see Jason has dealt with the other man who is lying face down on the far side of the building. Jason looks up as you land and even through his helmet, you can hear the smile in his voice as he asks, “Did you catch this one in time?”

“One time! I missed one time! And I still stopped him before he was permanently injured. Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“Nope.” He starts to cross the roof to you.

But just then, you both hear a sound behind him, and turn to look. The man Jason had knocked down has climbed back to his feet, and before Jason can react, the man raises his gun and fires three shots straight at his chest.

“Nice try,” you smirk as you streak forward at superspeed, stopping just in front of Jason as the bullets soar toward him.

However, the smirk drops from your face as the bullets don’t bounce harmlessly off you as expected. Instead, they drive deep into your chest, just above your heart. The force of the impact causes you to stumble backward into Jason, who flinches slightly in surprise at your sudden appearance and collision with him.

Instantly, it feels like all of your strength is being sapped from your body and you collapse heavily against Jason’s chest. Luckily, he has a firm grip on your waist and keeps you from falling completely. Drawing you in, he lowers both of you to the ground and allows you to lean against him with your legs out in front of you.

Neither of you saw where the gunman disappeared after you collapsed, but at the moment, it is the least of your concerns. Glancing down, you can see three distinct holes in your suit, each one gushing blood. Normally, that should be the most worrisome part of the problem. However, your breath catches in your throat as you notice the faint green sheen mixed with your blood.

But Jason hasn’t realized that yet. Ripping off his helmet to get a better look at your wound, he asks, “What’s going on? How did this happen?”

“I think– I think they were made for my father. Kryptonite bullets.”

The realization of what this means slowly passes over Jason’s face. “That’s why they didn’t just bounce off you. You have Kryptonite buried in your chest?”

“Not just there. It’s some sort of poison bullet that’s releasing it into my system. I can feel it like acid in my veins. Spreading throughout my body.” You cry out as a fresh wave of pain hits you. “God! It hurts so much.”

“I’m calling Supes. Maybe he can–”

“No, Jay, don’t you get it? Even just being near me right now will weaken him. And those guys could still be around waiting for that. I can’t d–do that to him.” You shudder again at the pain and Jason uses his hands to cover your wound in a desperate attempt to slow the bleeding.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be okay,” he whispers softly into your ear. But you can clearly tell that he doesn’t fully believe the words he is saying.

Jason helps you shift slightly against his chest, trying to make you as comfortable as possible. Looking down, you can see blood still spilling from between his fingers, the crimson puddle tinted with a faint green glow as it grows beneath you.

“What can I do? There has to be something I can do,” Jason pleads.

“I don’t think there is.” Suddenly, you realize everything seems different, muted. You can no longer see or hear anything clearly beyond this rooftop. Your body feels weaker than it has ever felt before, and not just from the pain or your injury. And when you put all the concentration you can muster into lifting yourself even half an inch off the ground, you can’t even manage to make yourself twitch. Everything that made you special, everything you had inherited from your father is just… gone.

Leaning your head back against Jason’s neck, you ask, “Is this…. Is this what it feels like?”

“What does what feel like, baby?” he asks, stroking your hair gently.

“To be human?”

The question catches Jason off guard. “Um, I–I don’t know. I guess so.”

“I don’t think I like it very much.” Another shiver of pain washes over you and you bury your face in Jason’s neck, hoping to muffle the moan that rumbles in your throat.

But Jason still hears it. “That’s it. I’m calling your dad.”

“No,” you mutter weakly. “I told you–”

“We don’t have a choice. I don’t know enough about Kryptonite or Kryptonian anatomy to help you, but he does. Don’t you think he would want to help you even if it meant feeling the effects of the Kryptonite?”

You are silent for a moment, but you know that he is right. Your dad would have wanted to be here the second you were hurt, regardless of the danger it might put him in. So, reluctantly, you nod.

Jason removes his hand from your chest – it hadn’t been doing much to stop the blood flow anyway – and he pulls a phone from his pocket. You allow your eyes to drift closed as you listen to him quickly explain what happened and just moments later, there is a loud thud on the other side of the roof.

Peeling your eyes open, you see the familiar red-and-blue suit reflecting in the dim light. Your dad takes a step forward into the light and you can see the concern and fear etched onto his face as he stares at you, his eyes watery and his breathing uneven. He starts to walk towards you, but he stumbles slightly as the first effects of the Kryptonite hit him.

He tries to take another step, but you mumble, “Please. Don’t. I don’t want you to get hurt too.” Your words are just barely more than a whisper but even across the distance, you know he hears you clear as day. The reluctance is evident on his face, yet he follows your wishes and remains where he is at.

Jason stares at the Man of Steel, the desperation in his voice as he asks, “What do we do? How do we help her?”

“I-I don’t know,” your dad admits, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. “If there is Kryptonite all through her body like you said, I don’t know how we get it out. Normally, Kryptonite by itself isn’t lethal, but no Kryptonian has been exposed this intimately to this amount. And from what I can see, she’s fading fast.”

“But she’s not just Kryptonian….” Jason whispers, as he gazes down at you. Then his head snaps up, and in a stronger voice says, “Clark, she’s just as human as she is Kryptonian. I don’t think it’s actually the Kryptonite in her veins that’s killing her. It’s the bullets. The Kryptonite just made her lose her healing abilities. So, if we just treat this like any old bullet wound, I think she might be okay.”

Your dad considers for a moment before nodding. “It’s possible, and let’s pray it’s true because it’s her only hope. We need to get those bullets out and then get her to a hospital as quickly as possible.”

Jason nods. “Okay. How do we do that?”

“We get help from the quickest person we know.” He pulls out a device and speaks into it. After only a few words, the rooftop shakes slightly as a gust of wind roars past and when you blink, you see Barry standing there with his usual grin on his face.

“You called?” But the smile slips as he takes in the scene before him. “Oh my god! What happened? Is she alright?”

“No, but we’re hoping you could help with that,” your dad explains. “She was shot three times with Kryptonite bullets, and we need to get them out of her. I can’t do it, but can you?”

Barry nodded. “I think so.” Crossing the rooftop, he kneels down beside you. Even in his bright red suit, you are having trouble focusing on him as your vision begins to blur. But you feel the light pressure as Barry places his hand on your arm. “Hey, Kid.”

“Hey, Skidmark,” you mumble weakly.

Barry chuckles. “I’ll let that slide this time since you’re hurt.” His face turns serious as he adds, “And because what’s about to happen isn’t going to feel great.”

Turning towards Jason, he says, “I need you to hold her as still as possible in case she squirms. It might take me a minute to locate all three bullets and the more she moves, the longer I’ll have to keep searching.” Jason nods and his grip on your shoulders tightens.

Barry positions his fingers just above your wound but hesitates as he glances at your face. You nod slightly and he turns his focus back to your chest. His hand begins to move so quickly, it becomes nothing more than a blur. Then, he moves it lower, phasing it through your chest.

Instantly, you seize up. The intense vibrations reverberate through your entire body, but the proximity of his fingers to your heart and lungs causes them to freeze. Your eyes roll back in your head as you silently gasp for air. Jason is trying to hold you down but it is difficult when your entire body is spasming violently. You vaguely hear Barry, your dad, and Jason yelling at each other, but you can’t make out a single word they are saying.

Then, mercifully, the vibrations are gone. All your muscles relax and your head falls limply against Jason’s shoulder as you try to catch your breath. Jason rubs his hand over your hair as he whispers that it’s over and how good you did. You aren’t really sure you did anything, but you are too weak and light-headed to correct him.

From the other side of the roof, your dad calls out, “Barry, get her to the med bay on the Watchtower. They should be able to treat her there. Then, destroy those bullets.”

Barry nods before holding out his arms and Jason helps to ease your broken form into them. However, just as Barry is about to take off, you feebly stretch your fingers towards Jason. He takes your hand and squeezes it tightly. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You swallow heavily and force the words to spill from your lips. “I need you to know… if I had known what those bullets were… I still would have taken them for you…No regrets…”

Your hand goes limp in his grasp as the last of your energy is depleted. Leaning forward, Jason gently places your hand on your chest before kissing your forehead. Then, with his lips still hovering just above your skin, he whispers, “I love you. No regrets.”

Stepping back, he nods at Barry. The speedster tightens his hold on you and says, “Hold on.” Then he takes off.

As you feel that familiar initial whoosh of moving at super speed, you finally allow yourself to succumb to the darkness.

Taglist: @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @zebralover, @lolzghost, @thefictionalcharacterssimp, @venomsvl, @sugarysweetsandpainfulteeth, @your-friendly-neighborhood-al, @hellfire-fan-club, @blue-aconite

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suspensefulpen · 4 months

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Whumpuary Day 3: “Get Away From Me”

TW: None

@whumpuary

Whumpee opened his eyes to an unfamiliar room. He was in a large bed with a warm blanket draped over him. He instantly jumped up, his guard going up with him. Before he could fully sit up, pain shot across his body. Groaning, he leaned over, hoping it would stop.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t hurt yourself.” Caretaker rushed to his side.

He quickly put his hand out and leaned back, hissing at her. “Get away from me!”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m going to help you–”

“Stay away! Don’t touch me!” He shut his eyes tightly, holding his injured torso with his free hand. Slightly confused, he lifted his shirt and found a bandage over his wound. He looked up at Caretaker.

“I bandaged you up. You were bleeding really badly. I found you passed out on the side of the road last night. I didn’t want to leave you there so I brought you to my house.” She explained. She picked up the capsule that was placed on the nightstand. “If it’s alright with you, I would like to give you some of this so you won’t be in any more pain.” She held up a water bottle. “I brought you something to drink too.”

Whumpee glared at her. He didn’t want to trust her but the pain in his side was begging him to trust her anyway. He hesitated. “Fine. I’ll take the medicine.”

Caretaker took out two pills and handed them to Whumpee along with the water. “Would you like a heated blanket instead of this one?” He nodded slowly. She smiled softly. “Alright, I’ll be back. Don’t move too much and hurt yourself, alright?”

“Yeah. Alright.”

#whumpuary #whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #get away from me #whump #whump writing #caretaker #caretaking #defiant whumpee #creative writing #writeblr #writer things #writers on tumblr

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angeygirl · 4 months

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Whumpuary 3 - "This is going to hurt"

Crying Child Weekend Bash - Blood/Fun

2 for 1 deal (TW for animal death/animal cruelty)

(Spoilers for Act 2 of the Crying Killer AU)

In his attempts to find something worthwhile to say about all three of this offspring, Father only said two things about Evan, 'he's awfully polite' and 'quiet people are good listeners.' Evan was proving the second point quite well. He could hear everything, the slush beneath his shoes, the wind rattling the barren tree branches, even the chattering of this own teeth But his ears were trained on another sound, the sound of rattling metal.

The cage had been left out overnight, and a day later, the trapped prey was still fighting to find a way out of the bars. Evan stepped closer and looked down. It was a rat, a pretty scrawny one. Hmm, well, it was better then nothing.

He knelt next to the cage. "There's no use in all that." Evan had gone so long without using his voice that words felt foreign on his tongue.

"This is going to hurt, but look at you. If I didn't do it, the cold would."

The rat snapped its teeth.

Was it the natural way he spoke, or did some part of him want to comfort the creature? Evan looked at the rat and saw an equal. His brother was a fox hunting a squirrel, but this? This would be fair. It was going to hurt, but...

What Evan did next was perfectly fair.

This was how big kids had fun, after all. This was perfectly normal. Never mind how the thing squealed, never mind how it bit in vain against Father's work gloves made for protection against fire and steel. Never mind all the blood in the snow.

Maybe it was fun not holding back. Maybe it was fun winning without a single scratch. Maybe it was fun to be in control, dominant. Maybe it was fun to make the thing hurt.

Evan moved the trap away from the bloody site and reset it. Then he trekked back home, still listening to the chattering of his teeth and the wind in the branches and the slush under this shoes. Father's gloves were so dirty with soot and grease that a new stain wouldn't be noticed, but Evan took a shower to get the blood off if himself.

It was odd, he supposed to be standing in a half full tub of icy, reddened water fully clothed, but it was a necessity. He had only gotten a bit on his jeans, but was it worth the risk? Who knew what diseases the thing might have had. Besides, this was a sort of cleansing ritual. When he was a child the sight of a scraped knee was enough to panic him, but now? He could do so much worse.

Did he enjoy it? Was it fun? He didn't know. It was only rats and squirrels for now.

Vermin, like him.

-------

Hope I did both prompts thoroughly enough. I'm actually really liking getting to write mini-oneshots to go with the drawings.

@whumpuary

@and-stir-the-stars

#crying child weekend bash #whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #tw animal death #animal death #tw animal cruelty #animal cruelty #blood #my art #drawing tag #Crying Killer AU

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rizzoto-whump · 4 months

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@whumpuary no. 3 - "This is gonna hurt."

"This is gonna hurt," he said, his voice shaking. "But we need to find a safe place for us. Hold on, please. Stay with me." He didn't look back, but he could feel the heat from somewhere behind his back. The bruised man in his arms was getting weaker.

"We're gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay, Sir."

#whump #whump prompt #whump art #whump oc #military whump #bruises #field care #older whumpee #environmental whump #whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #This is gonna hurt #Protective caretaker

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tabbytabbytabby · 4 months

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Even If It Hurts

Word Count: 1,402 words

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Relationship: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken

Tags: Hurt Liam Dunbar, Protective Liam Dunbar, Worried Theo Raeken, Hurt/Comfort, Good Theo Raeken, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Confessions, First Kiss, Blood and Injury, Protective Theo Raeken, Idiots in Love

Summary: Liam saves Theo from getting hit by a car and winds up hurt in the process. Theo isn't taking it well, and it doesn't take long for Liam to figure out why.

Read on AO3

For @whumpuary No.3: “This is gonna hurt”

#thiam #theo x liam #liam x theo #whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #this is gonna hurt #thiam fanfic #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #my fanfiction

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medusapelagia · 4 months

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Running From The Daylight - Part 3

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, (coming soon Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15)

Written for @whumpuary

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Prompt: This is gonna hurt WT: injuries, broken bones Words: 1246

"Drink a little more." Eddie begs Steve, who is refusing to drink anymore.

"You must keep it for..."

Eddie closes the thermos and slams it on the ground "Stop it!"

"What?"

"Stop it! You keep saying that I must do this and I must that and I'm not going to listen to this shit anymore, ok? There is no I in Team, right? And we are a fucking team."

Steve laughs, before starting to cough.

"Easy..." Eddie whispers helping him up "We must free you from that stupid kitchen cabinet. And I mean it. We just have to find something to use as a lever and you must try to crawl away when I lift it, ok?"

"Eddie..."

"Steve. I'm not joking, ok? Just do as I tell you for once! Please!"

The boy nods and Eddie starts to look around for something to use as a lever. He goes back to their room, searching in the wardrobe for a valet stand or something like that. The room that hosted them for a few days now seems so eerie: half of the windows are obscured by debris, and some snow is melting under the big wooden bed. If they had the ax Steve used to make firewood he could crack the bed somehow, but he has nothing and he feels so powerless that tears of rage fill his eyes. He checks the bathroom, where the mirror lies on the floor smashed into pieces, but he can’t find anything useful, He almost resigns himself to trying to lift the kitchen cabinet on his own when he notices an old pair of wood skis that decorate the fireplace, he takes one and tests its resistance, then he gets back to Steve.

"I’m going to try to lift the kitchen cabinet, ok?”

Steve stares at the piece of wood for a long time, then he seems to understand that it’s their best shot, so he nods “On count of three, ok? One, two,..." Eddie warns him.

“Give me a moment.” Steve replies, lifting himself on his elbows, ready to crawl as soon as his leg gets free "Ok, I'm good".

"One... two... three..." Eddie pushes with all his strength and with a creaking sound the kitchen cabinet lifts enough to free Steve's leg before crashing back on the ground.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Steve screams, and Eddie whitens, thinking that he hurt Steve even more; he gets closer to him and when he lowers his gaze he sees that Steve's leg is finally free but... it's in a very awkward position.

"I think it's broken." Eddie whispers, looking at Steve's injured leg.

"No shit!" Steve growls trying to take some deep breaths.

Eddie knows that the only thing they can do is try to stabilize it; the wooden ski is broken in half, but it's still long enough to be used as an emergency splint.

"What do you think?" The metalhead asks, showing him the wooden ski "I could make a splinter and fix your leg."

Steve nods, still trying to regulate his breathing.

"This is gonna hurt.” Eddie whispers, taking his belt and bringing it to Steve’s lips who immediately bites it “Ready?” Steve nods and Eddie moves his leg, trying to stabilize the fracture with the broken ski.

Steve's screams are muffled by the belt, but Eddie feels each one of them reverberating inside his heart while he tries to fix his lover’s leg.

“It’s ok, you are ok. It’s done. It’s done.” Eddie tries to comfort him, while he ties the ski to Steve’s leg.

“Shit, that hurt.” Steve confirms, his forehead beaded with sweat.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“If I hadn’t got close to the window…”

“If an avalanche hadn’t hit the chalet… it wasn’t your fault, ok? I’m just glad you are ok. How much battery is left in your phone?” Steve asks and Eddie takes his phone and turns it on.

“Twenty percent.”

“Ok. Turn it off, don’t waste it, we could still get some signal. Have you tried to call from the bathroom?”

Eddie turns so abruptly that his neck cracks: how stupid was he? He didn’t even try! He runs toward the bathroom turns on the phone once more and… no fucking signal.

“You must be kidding me!” Eddie curses, while he moves around the bathroom, holding his phone as high as he can, desperately trying to get some signal. For a moment it seems to get some because it starts to vibrate with notifications, but he is not able to call. He quickly checks the messages before getting back to Steve “No signal, but both Robin and Wayne wrote to ask if everything was ok, do you think they called for help?”

“I’m sure they did. Robin is probably already trying to get on a snowmobile to check on us.” Steve chuckles.

She likely left the café they own to check on them personally.

“How is your leg?”

“It hurts a lot, but I was lucky, I didn’t see any bones sticking out, right?”

Eddie shakes his head “No, every bones are still inside and they have to remain right there.”

“I agree.” Steve murmurs, then he tries to convince Eddie once again to get outside and look for help but the boy is adamant that he is not going to leave him. The fire is almost dying out, so Eddie feeds him more firewood.

“I’m lucky that my boyfriend cut down almost every tree in the area.” he tries to joke “You would make a hell of a lumberjack. Maybe you should leave the café to Robin and move to live in the woods, it suits you.”

“But it doesn’t suit you.” Steve replies while he tries to crawl toward the fire with Eddie’s help “And you know I can’t stay away from you.”

Eddie laughs, it’s the most cheesy thing Steve ever said to him even if it’s probably true, they have always been together as best friends before, and as boyfriends later.

The air it’s crisp even with the firewood crackling just behind them, it must have passed a few hours since the avalanche, how is it possible that nobody came to check on them?

“Maybe the weather is not good enough, or maybe the avalanche caused more damage than we think.” Steve doesn’t add anything else but Eddie knows that he would like to press him to get out and save himself so he starts to talk about every little silly thing that comes to his mind: the stupid love song that Gareth is writing for Barb, the little demo that they have recorded and that are ready to send to any record label they can find, how they won the battle of bands because the singer of the other band got ill. Eddie’s voice fills the ominous silence, interrupted only by the fire cracking, while he keeps cuddling with Steve on the awful cow skin that right now is the only thing that keeps him anchored to reality.

“Do you really think someone will be interested in a music demo made by some Hawkins’ guys?” the younger boy asks.

“If we don’t send them we will never know, right?”

Steve hums, nuzzling at Eddie “Will you sing the song I like?” he asks, eyes half closed, and Eddie couldn’t deny him even if he wanted to, so he starts to sing the cheesiest song ever, the one he wrote for Steve all those years ago.

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #this is gonna hurt #injuries #stranger things fanfiction #steddie #whump #eddie munson #steve harrington #medusapelagia #my fanfic #medusapelagia fanfic

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melanie-ohara · 4 months

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In The Woods Somewhere

Whumpuary2024, Day 05 - (Alt) Prompt: Stabbed

Something in Sabine's burgeoning connection to the Force draws her out to the woods just as the Peridean sun rises…

AO3 Here

Sabine jolted awake and sat bolt upright in her bunk with a gasp. The lights in the room were turned low and the chronometer told her there were a couple of hours to go before dawn, so she slumped back against the pillows and tried to figure out what it was that had woken her. It could have been a dream, but since Mandalore she never remembered her dreams, and she had a distinct image of a forest in the rain still in her mind. It didn't look like anywhere she knew, but the trees looked distinctly Peridean to her. When they had been on the Ghost together, Ezra had visions through the Force - but they were strong and overwhelmed him while he was awake. There was something, though. Some strange pull she felt that coaxed her out of her bed and out of the ship. Ignoring it just made it stronger, so she sighed and got up.

Ahsoka was probably already awake, so she didn't bother moving quietly when she left in full armour, carrying both blasters and lightsaber. Shin and her bandits hadn't appeared for weeks now, but they were still out there - along with wild Howlers and probably countless other predator species - and it paid to travel prepared. Sabine hopped down from the idling T6 into the Noti camp below it, and made her way to the edge, aiming for the tree line in the distance. Her plan was to walk until it started raining, and then look for a place that matched her vision, but she was still wary: their slow pursuit of Baylan Skoll had skirted around the trees so far, and from what she had managed to decode of the Noti language, they feared the forests as much as the ancient Nightsister ruins. 'The domain of betrayal', if her translation was right. Still, the Noti were pacifists, and Sabine had weapons and armour that far outstripped anything the locals had access to.

The rain started and the pull got stronger. Ahsoka had told her so often to surrender to the Force when she felt it, but Sabine still found herself trying to resist it: trying to guide herself to a destination she would never find without the help of the Force. It was the Mandalorian in her, determined to make her own way, and while she still hadn't decided the path she wanted her life to take, right now she needed Jedi instincts to find whatever was out there. Something about the pull had changed now - it felt urgent. Desperate, even. Something in the dark between the trees was calling out to her like a distress call. Sabine paused, shut her eyes and took a deep breath, and waited until she could stop second-guessing herself and follow her instincts. When she opened them again, she was already walking.

When she next glanced up from the ground, placing her feet to avoid a series of knotted roots, what she saw in front of her lined up so immediately with the image from her dream that Sabine almost fell over in surprise. At the exact same moment, the tug at her guts disappeared like a cut cord, and she was left standing alone and unsure in the darkness and the rain. Outside the forest, the sun would have risen by now, but under the canopy there was barely enough light to see.

"Hello?" she called, but received no answer. The trees absorbed her voice before the echo could get very far. She doubted anyone would hear her over the rain.

Sabine tried to place her trust in the Force and took a few steps forwards, but when her gut instinct insisted she was going the wrong way, she couldn't help turning back. And there, slumped against a rock between two trees, was Shin Hati. Her hair was starting to grow out and she had pinned it back behind her head, and her clothes and armour had been adapted and added to with bandit equipment, but it was definitely her.

Caution dictated she draw a weapon and approach slowly- after all, Shin was a deadly assailant who had spent their entire time on Peridea trying to kill her. It could be a trap. Sabine dimly recognised that after she had started running towards her, and by the time she had crashed to her knees in the mud by Shin's still form all of her weapons were still clipped to her belt.

"Shin?" she demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking. "Shin, wake up!"

Why did she care? Why was there a roiling, sinking sensation, like a battleship going down, churning through her guts? Why was Shin not moving? Her hair was plastered to her face, which looked even paler than usual, and when Sabine lifted her eyelids she found her eyes rolled back into her head. Her pulse was thready and unstable, but it was there. She wasn't dead, but she was dying.

Sabine glanced down, and saw that Shin Hati had been stabbed.

This wasn't the neat, perfectly circular mark of a lightsaber blade - like the one Shin had given her when they first met - this was a messy, jagged incision that left blood and severed skin behind rather than a perfectly cauterised scar. A lightsaber, even in the hands of whatever Shin and Baylan were, was a Jedi weapon first and foremost, and killing was a last resort. This had to have been a bandit weapon.

A soft cough turned Sabine's attention back to Shin's face, where she saw the briefest flicker of her eyelids. Her throat worked to swallow, and Sabine tried to shake her again.

"Wake up, blast it!" she growled, but Shin remained silent. "Karabast," she muttered, reaching into her armour pouch for a bacta spray and unclipped the cover from the nozzle. "Don't blame me when you're not ready for this," she said, and pressed the tip against the wound in her stomach.

Shin's eyes shot open and she screamed as the bacta started to knit severed veins back together and stem the bleeding. The sound wrenched at Sabine's heart as much as it did her ears, and she gripped Shin's shoulder with her free hand to try and soothe her.

"I know, I know," she said, concentrating on running the device all the way around the rough edges of the wound. "It stings, I know."

Sabine had been unfortunate enough to learn a lot of battlefield medicine during the war, and she knew when someone wasn't going to make it without a full bacta immersion. She didn't know if there was a full-scale tank on the T6, but the alternative was that Shin Hati would die out here, from a wound inflicted by her own allies. 'The domain of betrayal' wasn't a myth after all.

"I have to get you to the ship," Sabine said, trying to sound reassuring and not let on that she wasn't sure that would save her either. The helmet made her sound insincere so she took it off with one hand, scrabbling for a bacta patch with the other. There was no way it would heal Shin's slashed organs or repair her internal bleeding, but it might seal the initial flesh wound enough for Sabine to carry her. She wished she had brought Mirshko the Howler with her, but there was no point thinking about it now.

"Sabine?" Shin's voice was a thin whine that Sabine barely heard over the rain.

"It's me," she said, lifting the tattered remains of Shin's bloodstained robe to press the patch to her skin. The wound was so big the strip barely covered it, but at least the infusion had stopped the more severe bleeding. "You can murder me once I save your life, okay?"

"Took… lightsaber," Shin managed. Her eyes opened for a moment, and a lump rose in Sabine's throat as she saw how bloodshot they were. A second later they closed again, and Sabine worried she had been too late.

"Shin?!" she shouted, and the other woman stirred very slightly.

"It's a trap," she said. "They're… they're coming."

Sabine's blood ran cold.

#wolfwren #sabine x shin #sabine named her howler courage in mando'a #whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #alternative prompt #stabbed #fanfic #writing #star wars #shin hati #sabine wren #peridea #post canon

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 1 year

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Not So Invincible After All

Whumpuary 2023: Prompt 3. Shot

2023 Year of Whump: Jan 1. Whispered Reassurances

Fandom: DC, Batman, Jason Todd, Red Hood, f!reader, Superman/Lois Lane's Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 3417

TW: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Gun Shot, Blood, Loss of powers, Pain, Ambiguous Ending, Language

Notes: Thank you to @icarusthefoolish for this request!

For the first time, Damien speaks up. “Who says we need ‘extra hands’? We are protecting the city just fine without assistance.”

Elbowing Tim in the ribs, Jason grins as he mutters, “Wow. I never expected to hear something like that coming from the boy scout’s daughter.”

You say goodbye to your dad and watch as he flies away. Once he is out of sight of even your advanced vision, you pivot sharply and strut straight up to Jason.

With your powers, you can sense the multitude of physical reactions your words send through his body and you chuckle as you pat his cheek before flying off into the night.

Until one night….

By the time you return and spot him, he has chased the men onto the roof of a building. Just as the men realize they are trapped and this will be a fight, you land next to Jason with a grin.

“Hello, boys. What seems to be the trouble here?”

The men exchange angry glances and one of them hisses loudly to the other, “What do we do? We wanted Superman, not Superbitch.”

“Hey! Watch your fucking mouth!” Jason growls, taking a step closer, but you place a hand on his chest, halting him.

He pales at the very thought and clutches your leg. “N-n-no! Please! N-not again!”

Patting his head, you say, “Good boy. Now, let’s see if your friend is as agreeable.” And you launch yourself back into the air towards the top of the building.

“One time! I missed one time! And I still stopped him before he was permanently injured. Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“Nope.” He starts to cross the roof to you.

“Nice try,” you smirk as you streak forward at superspeed, stopping just in front of Jason as the bullets soar toward him.

But Jason hasn’t realized that yet. Ripping off his helmet to get a better look at your wound, he asks, “What’s going on? How did this happen?”

“I think– I think they were made for my father. Kryptonite bullets.”

The realization of what this means slowly passes over Jason’s face. “That’s why they didn’t just bounce off you. You have Kryptonite buried in your chest?”

“I’m calling Supes. Maybe he can–”

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be okay,” he whispers softly into your ear. But you can clearly tell that he doesn’t fully believe the words he is saying.

“What can I do? There has to be something I can do,” Jason pleads.

Leaning your head back against Jason’s neck, you ask, “Is this…. Is this what it feels like?”

“What does what feel like, baby?” he asks, stroking your hair gently.

“To be human?”

The question catches Jason off guard. “Um, I–I don’t know. I guess so.”

“I don’t think I like it very much.” Another shiver of pain washes over you and you bury your face in Jason’s neck, hoping to muffle the moan that rumbles in your throat.

But Jason still hears it. “That’s it. I’m calling your dad.”

“No,” you mutter weakly. “I told you–”

You are silent for a moment, but you know that he is right. Your dad would have wanted to be here the second you were hurt, regardless of the danger it might put him in. So, reluctantly, you nod.

Jason stares at the Man of Steel, the desperation in his voice as he asks, “What do we do? How do we help her?”

Jason nods. “Okay. How do we do that?”

“You called?” But the smile slips as he takes in the scene before him. “Oh my god! What happened? Is she alright?”

“No, but we’re hoping you could help with that,” your dad explains. “She was shot three times with Kryptonite bullets, and we need to get them out of her. I can’t do it, but can you?”

“Hey, Skidmark,” you mumble weakly.

Barry chuckles. “I’ll let that slide this time since you’re hurt.” His face turns serious as he adds, “And because what’s about to happen isn’t going to feel great.”

From the other side of the roof, your dad calls out, “Barry, get her to the med bay on the Watchtower. They should be able to treat her there. Then, destroy those bullets.”

You swallow heavily and force the words to spill from your lips. “I need you to know… if I had known what those bullets were… I still would have taken them for you…No regrets…”

Stepping back, he nods at Barry. The speedster tightens his hold on you and says, “Hold on.” Then he takes off.

As you feel that familiar initial whoosh of moving at super speed, you finally allow yourself to succumb to the darkness.

Taglist: @loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @11thstreetvigilante, @merlehs,@mayhem24-7forever, @sunshineflowerchild789, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @schaarfyx, @happinessricardotapia, @wildbornsiren, @whumpuary

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sliceroftpeirweirisles · 4 months

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Whumpuary 2024 Day 3

3. (Jan 05-06) Used as bait / Stumbling / "This is gonna hurt"

Magnus sees an opportunity in front of him as his friends are running.

The Starblaster crew knew this planet was dangerous after hearing all of the stories from the locals. The planet they are on is craggy, with cliffsides that are taller than any average building or mountain they have ever seen before. It was hard to land the Starblaster here, but the townspeople took them in and allowed them to park safely. They heard stories of a monster, great and terrible, that threatened their lives. Merle mused that it must be a dragon of sorts. Davenport gains more intel later on and they find out it doesn’t have wings or breath fire, so a dragon may be out of the ordinary.

Strength is something Magnus feels he has a handle on since the first cycle. And yet, his resolve falters when he learns this monster can swiftly destroy entire towns and cities.

In this battle now, he knows he can’t defeat the beast. But he can outsmart him.

There’s a steep incline in front of his group that easily looks like it could lead off of a cliff. He knows that, and his friends know that, but the monster behind them charging in their direction definitely doesn’t know that.

“Everyone, go down the hill!” Magnus shouts ahead and looks over his shoulder at the monster. It’s just close enough for his plan.

His friends all listen, choosing to take the path to the left that is safely sloping downwards. They chose a safe path ahead, and Magnus was relieved. He stumbles slightly, hastily halting to gain the monster’s attention. “Come at me, you motherfucker!!”

The plan works, and Magnus becomes the only target for the beast.

He uses himself as bait.

Magnus summons all the strength he has left in his body to continue running. The monster careens after him, unaware of the fate it is rushing to. Magnus closes his eyes and sprints as fast as he can until he can no longer feel the ground under his feet.

Magnus and the beast run off of a five-mile tall cliff.

Lucretia screams when she realizes what Magnus has done, but at this point, she can only watch as both the man and the monster tumble to their deaths. Merle prays Magnus doesn’t feel the pain of the ground as he watches his friend fall. The rest stand there in shock at what their trusted friend did for them without anyone even knowing.

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno3 #tazwhump #tw used as bait #tw major character death #the adventure zone #taz balance #magnus burnsides

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callofdooty · 1 year

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A Place To Get Away From All The Cold

A prompt fill I actually completed for Whumpuary 2023 - I did have a few others, but chances are I won't get them out by the end of the month. It's a miracle this one even got finished in time HAHA

For Whumpuary Prompts Hypothermia and "Stay with me"

Fandom: Call of Duty (Call of Duty: Ghosts)

Summary: Keegan ends up hypothermic and he goes through the five stages of grief from being cared for.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences (Lots of cursing)

Relationships: Keegan P. Russ & Everyone, Implied Keegan/Ajax (Can be read as platonic or romantic)

Warnings/labels: Fluff & Angst, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Ghosts as Found Family, Self-Hatred, Inaccuracies in most fields, Hypothermia Whump,

Can also be read on ao3 here!

The point is, Keegan liked to at least believe he was pretty durable, as Elias once said. Operation Sand Viper taught him many things, and that just so happened to be one of them. Sure, he came out of it feeling like he was made of glass - weathered down, one wrong move away from shattering irreversibly - but looking back it’s… a reassurance. A sign that he could get through anything. They survived. Fifteen against hundreds.

Keegan has been through a lot of shit throughout his life. That’s no secret; not to anyone that spends 5 minutes within his presence and especially not to the people that have known him for much more than 5 minutes. He’s “impossibly tough” (thanks Rorke) and “disturbingly durable” (thanks Elias) both of which are products of him going through the various personal layers of Hell a little too early in his life.

Keegan was a survivor, a hardened soldier. He'd looked death in the face and he'd won.

Which is why it’s nothing short of mortifying to be in this situation. Hazy, confused and fucking cold. His shivers were bordering on violent, it’s a miracle his chattering teeth hadn’t bitten through his tongue yet. Simple things felt far too difficult; his usually sharp mind was well and truly dulled by the biting chill creeping through him. Of all the things, how the fuck was this the thing that overwhelmed him? Had him struggling to comprehend anything beyond the tremors barrelling through his body?

And the worst part? Rorke is the one bearing witness to his most pathetic display yet. He would’ve preferred anyone else, in all honesty. Even Merrick. Even Elias. Because while Merrick probably would’ve poked fun at his expense, and Elias would have - no doubt - gone into full “fatherly” mode, they wouldn’t really judge him for it. Or at least, Keegan didn’t think they would.

But Rorke? He’s... Well. Keegan wasn’t exactly sure what to make of him. The man was his captain; impressive, reliable but also downright terrifying. Keegan didn’t want to say he was a hardass per se, especially considering some of the other superior officers he’d met in his lifetime; but he definitely didn’t have the same tact that Elias did.

Rorke took shit very seriously, he expected the best - and only the best - out of them at all times. So him seeing Keegan at his worst? Seeing Keegan crumble over some chilly temperatures? Yeah, not exactly what Keegan would call ideal.

This was so stupid. So fucking embarrassing. Why did Rorke have to be the one to get a front row seat to this shit? If the abyss looked him dead in the eyes and threatened to banish him to an eternity of nothing right now, he would take it up on the offer in a heartbeat.

Actually, with the way he felt, the abyss might actually be here to do just that.

Fuck he was tired.

What was he thinking about again…?

There’s a light pressure on his wrist, right on his pulse point and then a faint muttering of expletives.

“Christ kid, you’re freezing.”

He sure is.

His eyes flutter open just barely, it almost surprises him how heavy his eyelids feel. Should they feel this heavy? He doesn’t think they should. Was opening his eyes always this hard?

“Y’seein’ me, Keegan?” Technically, yes he was. It's a little hard to focus but he can identify him well enough. He can’t even nod his head in reply, but the slight tilt must’ve been good enough. “Good. Stay with me, now.” the pressure on his wrist stays for a bit, until finally the captain moves to help him sit up.

There’s something almost funny about the way Rorke handles him. Almost like he’s trying to be gentle, though Keegan’s not sure he’d ever quite attribute such a word to Rorke of all people. It’s made quickly unfunny, however, when Rorke's jacket is gingerly shoved onto him, as well as the hat he was wearing. He was wearing his captain's jacket and beanie. Because he was beaten out by the weather.

At this rate he couldn't tell if the embarrassment or the bone-deep chill was more exhausting.

"We need to get you out of here. Think y'can stand?"

In Keegan’s defence, he did try. He tried his very fucking damndest to get his shaky legs to cooperate, but Rorke wasn’t having it, making him sit right back down after only a few seconds of watching him struggle. The apology he uttered under his breath barely caught Keegan’s notice before he was being (carefully) heaved up into Rorke’s arms.

If he didn’t wish for certain death before, he certainly did now.

Rorke seems to understand, and rumbles an apology again. Keegan just hopes he didn't unknowingly pull a face to garner such a reaction.

"Sorry, kid. It'll be faster this way anyway."

Perhaps luckily for him, the entire jourmey doesn’t exactly register in his memory. In fact, he’s pretty sure he ended up passing out at one point; one moment he’s staring blearily up at Rorke, and the next he’s suddenly coming-to in a helo, already curled into Ajax’s side with a comforting arm wrapped around his waist. No more biting winds to gnaw at him, but he still felt more akin to a popsicle than a person.

There's some muttering around him that he doesn't have the energy to decipher. A hand settles on the nape of his neck, and he follows it to a sympathetic-looking Merrick. The look in his eyes is nothing short of soft, and Keegan would've bashfully ducked out of its path, had the dumb bastard not opened his mouth to ruin it all.

“Not doin’ so hot, huh?” That fucking–

“‘Sshole.” Keegan grumbles, pressing closer to Ajax. Rorke’s chortling loudly from somewhere, which only furthers his annoyance. Ajax swats Merrick's side with the same hand he had around Keegan, though he was failing to hide his amusement.

"He just came back around, man, give him a break." The chiding only gets an indignant scoff out of Merrick before he shuffles up, now pressing Keegan between them as he threw his arm around him in a mirror of Ajax's. Surprisingly, it's kind of comfortable. A steady, warm presence on either side of him, protective in a sense. He could almost fall back asleep if it wasn't for Rorke's distant order to keep him awake.

Great.

"You okay?" Ajax asks more quietly now. There's not exactly room for a private conversation in this situation, but it's as close as they could get. Out of all the Ghosts, Ajax seemed to understand him the most; was always considerate of the fact that Keegan hated drawing attention to himself or got overwhelmed when too many people were focused on him. He'd lowered his voice, made a moment just for the two of them so he'd feel more comfortable to talk. Ajax was one of the few people to ever accomodate for him. It had his stomach flipping a little. No one had ever known him the way Ajax knew him.

"'m tired..." he mutters lowly, burying his face further into the other's shoulder with a sigh. Ajax's thumb starts to run up and down where it rested on his waist; a small gesture but it's soothing all the same.

"We'll be back and through medical before you know it," Right. Medical. He caught his frustrated huff before it could leave, burying his face more into Ajax's shoulder. Sleep is all he wanted right now, but that's the last thing he was going to get. He's allowed to be a little miffed about it, he thinks, but there's no need to get huffy to Ajax about it.

"Wanna play I Spy?" The sudden joking remark has Keegan grinning sleepily, unable to hold back the chuff of laughter that preceeded it.

"God no, please." He pleads in response, "Anything but that."

"I'm sure a refined gentleman of your tastes must prefer 20 Questions," Merrick supplies, joining in on the conversation now that it wasn't hushed.

"More like the Quiet Game." The resulting snort that gets out of Ajax is every bit worth it.

"He's saving 20 Questions for the medical team."

"Right, right, so you just played a real long game of I Spy with Rorke, yeah?"

"Oh my god,"

"You having fun over there boys?" Elias calls softly. Their heads snap up to look at him, startled out of their joking pretty quickly. Well. The other two had quick movements. Keegan could barely lift his head, but he still managed to look at Elias. All he does is give them a fond smile. "Good to see you more alert, Keegan. Had us worried for a while there."

Oh god, don't make him think about that. If there was one thing he was lacking, it was the mental energy he'd need to deal with everything that's happened in the past... However long. He's not exactly sure how long he was out for. Surely not more than a couple hours.

"Thank you, sir," he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Definitely... doing better now."

"Honestly kinda scared the shit out of me when Rorke carried you in." Ajax's brow creases, "Think that goes for all of us."

"I've never seen Rorke or Elias fuss over someone like that before." Merrick mutters quietly. He can tell it's Merrick's attempt at sparing Keegan a little of embarrassment, but he still feels his figurative hackles raise about it.

Jesus fucking Christ. Can they please not destroy the last of his dignity? A shaky sigh left him, frustration building in his chest. "Not my finest moment."

"We all have our moments Keegan." Elias placates him, voice firm and strong but in no way demeaning or condescending. It's one of the things he appreciates about him; preferring to strictly build others up, rather than burn them down and rely on the slim chance that they can find a phoenix in the ashes. "There's no shame in that." He's too tired (and too smart) to argue with that; though he still feels terrible, still sits uncomfortably with guilt and an unhealthy dash of self-hatred, there's no point to really put up a fight about it. He fucked up. It happens. And he'll just have to prove himself later.

'Turn the sting of survival into fuel for bettering yourself.' As Rorke had once told him. Fuck ups are dangerous, but getting through one intact almost always guarantees that you'll be improving. (Especially when you're on Rorke and Elias' team.)

He gives a small nod and rests himself against Ajax's shoulder again.

"Don't lose your head thinking about it now. We'll go through it once you're in the state to do so. Alright?"

"Yes, sir." Defeated. For now. He's sure this'll come back to haunt him for a while, but for now he'll try and let it rest, idly listening to the conversations that sprung up between his teamamtes, though it mostly ended up as background noise. As Ajax's head comes to rest on top of his (more comforting contact that he soaks up like a sponge) he starts going back into his own thoughts.

...He needs to figure out the least awkward way to give the hat and jacket back.

#keegan p russ #call of duty ghosts #hypothermia whump #elias walker #alex ajax johnson #gabriel rorke #thomas merrick #whump #fluff and angst #hurt/comfort #whumpuary2023 #whumpuaryno3 #self hatred #imagining the ghosts as found family is simultaneously self care and self destruction #found family

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