#augustofwhump2024

[the-bar-sinister]

What overcame Luffy when the sea water claimed him wasn't pain. Pain was motivating. Pain was inspiring. Luffy could overcome any amount of pain.

The sea water was exhaustion incarnate. 

It overwhelmed his body. It overwhelmed his senses. It took everything from him. 

When his head slipped below the water he barely had the strength to regret. 

He had no strength to reach out to an offered hand. He had nothing in him with which to fight.

The water whispered a lullaby as it sapped his strength and left him only with the desire to sleep forever in its embrace.

He was half gone when another pair of arms surrounded him, warm against the ice of the sea. It felt good, but he didn't have the strength to smile. 

He didn't even have the strength to wonder what was happening until suddenly his head was above water, and he was gasping for air, and Zoro was throwing him on the deck of the ship.

Zoro pounded on his chest and Luffy coughed and gasped and shuddered, the pain coming now like fire in his lungs.

He found the strength to put a trembling hand on his first mate's worried face.

-

Day 3: (alternate prompt) Drowning | @augustofwhump

[cuddlepilefics]

Not your day - August of whump - Day 1

Fandom: Ateez

Sickie: Wooyoung

Caregivers: Ateez

Prompts: food/risk/overexertion

@augustofwhump

No one’s POV.:

Only very little was going Wooyoung’s way today. He was about ready to call it quits and it was only ten AM. How was he supposed to last till tonight? It had started with him accidentally sleeping in, which he shouldn’t whine about too much because the same was true for Hongjoong and Jongho. His dorm mates would’ve woken him otherwise. Somehow, they seemed to find their footing much faster than Wooyoung, who still felt his heart racing trying to get into the flow of the day. Though sympathetic, the group couldn’t really consider their friends struggle, their schedule too hectic to allow room for personal adjustments. Hell, the trio hadn’t even gotten an opportunity to eat breakfast before finding themselves in front of their phones to hold video calls.

Though one fan worriedly commented on it when she heard Wooyoung’s stomach growl over the phone, he did get the whole event over with well. When they were done, San slipped him a protein bar and smiled: “To hold you over till you get an opportunity to have a meal.” – “I-I thought we could eat now?!”, the younger frowned, sinking his teeth into the protein bar. Catching up to him, Hongjoong denied: “We’re headed to an interview, so if you have any snacks in your backpack, better take the opportunity right now. Already kinda late, so there won’t be any waiting time for us.” The leader ignored the horrified look his dongsaeng gave him and scarfed down the apple Seonghwa had given him.

Worried about their friends who hadn’t even gotten the chance to pack any food that morning, the members went through their bags and collected whatever snacks they were carrying to make sure Hongjoong, Wooyoung and Jongho would have something to fuel them for the next one or two hours. It wasn’t much but they’d make do. They had to. Wooyoung’s stomach ached a little as he settled in for the interview, Yeosang next to him, shooting him an encouraging smile. Forcing himself to return it, the younger refrained from slipping his hand under his shirt to palm at his sore middle.

Wooyoung used to get stress stomach aches when he was in middle school, so he blamed the discomfort on the chaos of the day. Knowing this, Yeosang stuck close to him and occasionally rubbed his back in a comforting gesture. Though Wooyoung hid it quite well, Seonghwa caught on that there was a problem because he saw Yeosang acting just a tiny bit more affectionate towards their dongsaeng and made sure to check on the boy too. “Upset tummy”, Wooyoung mumbled, when the eldest asked if anything was wrong with. They were just making their way back to the company for a dance practice session. Resting his hand on the other’s shoulder, Seonghwa worried: “Is it hunger pains?” – “Not sure. Stress probably but the hunger isn’t helping”, Wooyoung winced, finally allowing himself to rub his stomach to try and soothe it.

Usually, the group would be able to squeeze in a little break but today they’d be working with their choreographers, who were also on a tight schedule, so their next break would have to wait for another two hours. Despite the pain slowly morphing into cramps, Wooyoung did his best to learn the new choreography quickly. He was a main dancer after all. Seonghwa encouraged him to sip water whenever he got the chance to but the younger eventually refused, claiming the liquid wasn’t sitting well in his empty stomach anymore. “We’ll have a break soon, so you guys can have a proper meal”, Yunho smiled before showing Jongho the move again. The maknae had trouble focusing and it took him longer to memorize the choreography. He’d have to revise it with Yunho and Wooyoung some other day.

Hongjoong too struggled but being the leader, he fought to hide it, not wanting to leave a bad impression with the choreographers. That could only work so long and he eventually found himself in Seonghwa’s arms, his only hyung manhandling him to the floor. “Sorry- sorry, just- just need a moment”, Hongjoong panted, sitting with his head bowed between his knees. His ears were ringing and he barely heard Seonghwa talking to him. Wooyoung brought him his water bottle, heart aching to see the older looking so faint. At the same time, it was reassuring to know his friends weren’t coping too well with the incident either. He didn’t feel as much as a failure, knowing that even their leader was still affected by it.

When the practice was finally over, Wooyoung remained splayed on the floor, drenched in sweat and still panting heavily. Hongjoong didn’t get up either, slowly sipping from his water bottle as he tried to catch his breath. Jongho leant against the wall next to his bag and dried his face on his towel before shooting Seonghwa a pained smile. “We have a one hour break before we need to perform, so should we order takeout here? You guys don’t look like you got the energy to go out somewhere right now”, the eldest offered, checking their schedule on his phone. “I vote yes”, Hongjoong announced, “’m starving.” Jongho was quick to agree but Wooyoung remained quiet. His stomach hurt… badly.

It took some prodding from Seonghwa and Hongjoong but Wooyoung eventually let himself be talked into having some rice, despite his cramps. To his relief, the first few bites soothed his stomach and he finally realized just how starved he was. “Woo, slow down”, San warned, watching worriedly as the younger scarfed down his meal, “You’re going to make yourself sick.” Shooting the older a frustrated glare, Wooyoung whined: “I’m starving, leave me alone. This is my first proper meal today and it’s already late afternoon.” – “Woah, no need to get defensive. Just saying that it’s a risk having so much food in such a short time span and so soon before performing”, San appeased, defensively raising his hands. Though he understood his friend’s point, Wooyoung didn’t manage to slow himself down. He had gone hungry for too long.

The meal seemed to restore his energy and Wooyoung settled into his seat with a satisfied smile, buckling his seatbelt. They’d only have to shoot the performance before their schedule would conclude for the day. He hadn’t thought himself capable of dancing anymore after practice but now he was confident that he could. Sure, he had eaten a little more than he usually would in one sitting and he felt the waistband of his jeans dig into his tummy but he hoped his stage outfit would conceal that somehow. Despite San’s warning that he'd feel sick, quite the opposite was the case. Wooyoung felt better than he had for most of the day, his stomach finally content and the hunger pains eased.

He wasn’t all that lucky with his stage outfit though and couldn’t help but feel self-conscious with the way the tight pants made his full middle look squishy. That couldn’t be helped now though and Wooyoung remained standing while they waited to be called up. Sitting down was just too uncomfortable in these pants and they didn’t squeeze his stomach as much when he was standing. Only this performance, the dancer reminded himself. He’d be back off that stage and in a pair of comfy sweatpants soon. His bed was waiting for him at the dorm and this dreadfully chaotic day would soon be over. He could only hope to wake up on time the next morning.

So deep in thought, Wooyoung almost missed them being called up and startled when Yeosang’s hand appeared on his arm to guide him to the stage. Ugh, for some reason, Wooyoung didn’t feel like dancing anymore all of a sudden and dancing in such a tight outfit when his stomach was already so full also didn’t sound too appealing. It wasn’t like he had a choice though, so he stifled a burp against his fist before stepping out in front of the cameras. He got this!

Running on adrenaline, Wooyoung wasn’t bothered by his clothes at all. He didn’t even feel them till he struck the ending pose, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his stomach turning as if he was still dancing. With every breath, his waistband dug deep into his tummy. His stomach lurched and Wooyoung barely managed to fight off the urge to gag. Not even waiting for the director to signal that they were done, he turned and clamped his hands over his paling lips before rushing off stage. He had just made it to the steps when his throat contracted with a gag. Stumbling down the steps, Wooyoung made it out of sight and retched into his hands. Tears sprung to his eyes and it took a second for him to see the trashcan in front of him.

Wooyoung clutched the trashcan a staff member had thrust into his hands. He hadn’t even caught his breath before it was cut off by a wave of sick. A hand appeared on his back and someone steadied him when he doubled over again. Over the ringing in his ears, Wooyoung thought he might’ve heard the other members get of stage but he couldn’t be sure. He also didn’t get a break to look up and check, his stomach too busy trying to turn itself inside out. “Come on, sit”, someone instructed softly and Wooyoung shakily stumbled along before someone pushed on his shoulders to ease him down in a chair. That had come not a moment too late because his knees already felt like jelly and he didn’t know how long he would’ve remained on his feet without losing his balance.

When Wooyoung finally got a moment to breathe, he glanced up at San with watering eyes, shooting the older a pleading look. “Not gonna say it”, San sighed, pulling up a chair. He sat down next to Wooyoung and rubbed his back through the next round. By the time Wooyoung was done and spat into the trash, trying to get rid of a string of saliva, Seonghwa stood in front of him, holding a water bottle and tissues. He handed his dongsaeng a tissue to wipe his lips with and smiled sympathetically: “Today’s really not your day, is it?” Tiredly cleaning himself up, Wooyoung shook his head and accepted a tiny sip of water before handing the bottle back. He placed the trashcan onto the floor between his feet and rested his head in his hands.

The day had been awful but a small smile crept onto Wooyoung’s lips, despite the headache he had developed in the last five minutes after throwing up. No matter how awful the day had been, it was over now. He had his sweatpants in his bag and only needed to get changed before they could ho home. Home, where his bed was waiting for him and he could go to sleep confident that the next day would be better.

[pigeonwhumps]

Cry for help

BBU masterlist

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump @augustofwhump

August of Whump day 2: IV | shock | cry for help

Melanie finds an abandoned pet on a street corner.

670 words

CWs: BBU, pet whump, abandonment, left to die, starvation, muzzle, collar, neglect, abuse, burn, blood, non-sexual nudity

Melanie scowls when she sees the large, battered crate at the end of the road. How are wheelchairs and buggies supposed to get past that?

She pauses to take a photo, and that's when she hears it.

A muffled thud is coming from the direction of the crate.

She frowns and tiptoes closer.

Thud.

A fist on wood.

Thud.

Melanie glances around. Nobody else in sight. She examines the crate more closely. It really is extremely battered. The sides are starting to cave in and she'll definitely get splinters if she touches it, but it's still structurally sound.

Just.

To a person as weak as those thumps imply.

Thud.

It's even quieter this time.

She touches the crate, flinching away automatically at the sharp scratch. Then she goes back in. The lid is fitted, and as she yanks it out the wood cracks.

Inside... inside, oh, god. She should've guessed from the size of the crate.

Their hair is matted and so thick with grime and dirt that she can't even begin to guess what colour it is. She'd think they were dead if it hadn't been for the weak knocking, if it wasn't for the head slowly raising to look at her, bony arm reaching out, hand outstretched. She fancies she can taste the desperation.

"Oh shit," Melanie breathes. Oh, shit. She reaches out and touches the pet's hand. They shudder but attempt to grip, thumb pressing lightly into the side of her hand.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, just in case just in case just in case, she reaches out with her free hand, hooks it under their shoulder, and pulls.

They whimper, a tiny sound that Melanie can only hear because she's pulled them right against her side. They both sink to the ground, Melanie's knees protesting at the all-too-familiar position, and the pet flops there, boneless, shivering, pressing their thumb in further in what's perhaps an attempt to hold on. The other arm is still curled protectively into their body.

"Sorry." She lifts their hair back from their face. "Can you show me your arm?"

Melanie's struck by the large, dark eyes that look up at her then, the pleading and desperation, the sheer agony in them. Permanent tear tracks are etched into the grime on their face, the same grime and blood and whatever else that doesn't bear thinking about that covers the rest of their body.

There's a muzzle, too. The worn leather and rusting metal are pressed into the pet's face, caked on with blood and dirt. Their collar is the same way.

She can't focus on that now though. There's nothing she can do, she can't remove them without at least a makeshift first aid kit on hand, and even if she could she can't risk the pet making such a noise that the police are called. And then she might be arrested for stealing a pet and then and then and then.

She can't let that happen.

She takes a deep breath. The pet uncurls their arm.

They would've had a barcode tattooed there once, but now... she shudders, hard. Their forearm is blistered and weeping, clearly untreated, uncovered, left to become infected in the dirt of that old, rotting crate.

Oh, shit.

She sets the pet (person, person, person) down, rising stiffly into a crouch. It's not really a conscious movement when she picks them up again, settling them in her arms. They turn into the warmth of her chest, still shivering.

One of the only good things to come out of those years, she supposes, is that she's now strong enough to carry people. Although... that wasn't those years, was it? It was all the ones that came after.

"It's okay. I'll try to help you, I promise."

She's not sure when she made the decision, but she's made up her mind. She's going to do for them what Tara did for her thirty years ago.

She's going to give this person a home.

[sugareey-makes-stuff]

This Sterek fic I've been poking at for the last 4 months is nearly done, so I might as well share what I have while I edit the last part (which should be posted up next week!!). What a labor of love this story was. I guess I'm aiming to annually write at least one thing for myself, so this story is it for me. Yep, there's whump, angst, hurt/comfort and feelings, but I also decided to play with different segways and pacing from my usual. Was it difficult? Yep. Was it worth it? Also yes! Things get worse before they get better, so that's what Sterek deals with before they discover some Very Important things about themselves and each other. Written for @augustofwhump's Day 5 prompt "stranded" and alternative prompt "drowning" and @tw-anchor-down's 2024 Waxing Crescent Round and Full Moon Round prompts "daylight" and "converge." Also crosses off the "stalking" and "secret revealed" squares for my @sweetspicybingo Hurt/Comfort Bingo card (and gets me bingo!), the "kiss goodbye" square for my @hurtcomfort-bingo card and the "kidnapping" square for @twbingo's Situations card 016. Hope you like what I've come up with! And please, mind the tags.

Title: Everything I Ever Wanted (<- read on AO3) Rating: Teen Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Post-Season/Series 04, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Monster of the Week, Hunters & Hunting, Kidnapping, Car Accidents, Drowning, it's temporary, Nightmares, Unconsciousness, Dreams vs. Reality, Misunderstandings, Arguing, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Panic Attacks, Anchors, Confessions, Derek Hale Returns to Beacon Hills, Derek Hale Needs a Hug, Stiles Stilinski Needs a Hug, Canon-Typical Violence, Fire, Healing, Crying, Injury, Scent Marking, Elemental Magic, Feelings Realization, Hopeful Ending, Stiles Stilinski-centric, POV Stiles Stilinski

Summary: Stiles swallowed thickly, his throat feeling tight and sore. What was he supposed to say, now that he knew the truth? Derek staying meant a continued cycle of him enduring more pain and guilt. But Derek leaving had somehow created a new void in Stiles’ heart. They never stood a chance. And this was why life was so unfair. * [Or: Stiles and Derek go through emotional whiplash when they get kidnapped, encounter a Big Bad and almost drown. Old wounds reopen and some big secrets slip out.]

[electrikworm]

Aches and Pains

Relationships: Echo & Wrecker

Content Warnings: beside some self-deprecation, this doesn't really need warnings.

Summary:

Wrecker wakes up to his chronic pain flaring up badly. Echo, who's taking a day off on Pabu, forces Wrecker to do the same.

Written for @augustofwhump Day 5: Ache

I only noticed halfway through writing this that Echo wouldn't be on Pabu at the time, so lets all just pretend it makes sense for him to be there, taking a day off.

Word count: 1,627

Read on Ao3

Over the years, Wrecker's learnt to tell what kind of day it's going to be just by waking up. When he opens his eyes and is hit with the realization that he can barely sit up, he knows it's bad, that his body isn't going to play along today. Wrecker has to roll onto his side to get up, relying on his arms to carry his weight. He still doesn't manage to do so without sending a sharp spike of pain down his spine. Wrecker just sits there a moment, not wanting to stand up. His hips ache just as bad as his back. They thankfully haven't got a job planned, but Wrecker had hoped to help out with Pabu's rebuilding. He can't imaging being much help, though he might be able to force some useful work out of his body. White-knuckled grip on the rack above the one he was on, Wrecker gets himself upright. One hand rubbing at his lower back, the other pinching his hip, Wrecker looks for his vode. None of them are still asleep, so Wrecker's up late. Guilt settles heavily in his stomach.

Wrecker rubs a hand across his face. Maybe once he's got some caffeine in himself he'll be able to function better. He fills himself a mug of caff from the pot his brothers must have made.

They almost never have fresh milk, but usually, they stock the dehydrated kind. They ran out a while ago and still haven't come around to buying more. It's not that Wrecker minds black caff, he's just never in the mood for it when he already feels bad. Shep might have milk, dehydrated or fresh, but Wrecker isn't walking that many flights of stairs for it.

Instead, he just puts far too much sugar in his cup. If Crosshair were here, he'd make a stupid joke about it. But he isn't. That thought makes Wrecker frown, so he drops another spoonful of sugar in his caff. If the caffeine doesn't lift his mood, maybe the sugar will.

Descending the steps out of the Marauder wreaks havoc on Wrecker's knees, additionally sending shock waves of pain up his spine. Wrecker feels miserable, weak. He hasn't had a day this bad in ages, not without putting strain on his body to land it in such a state.

Across the plaza, Wrecker spots Echo sitting by the central tree. Echo waves, so Wrecker changes course to join him. Wrecker tries to speed up his pace, not wanting to show off exactly how worn he feels.

Taking longer than Wrecker would have liked, he sits down next to his older brother. It hurts his knees to do so and Wrecker isn't sure if he'll be able to get back up, but sitting is a whole lot better than standing.

“Morning.” Wrecker mumbles, taking a sip of his too sweet caff. Echo nods. He has a mug in his hand too. “Sleep alright?”

Echo shrugs. “Could have been better.” He cracks his neck, stretching his limbs. “You?”

“I'm fine.” Wrecker musters a smile. He isn't going to bother Echo with his problems, though he's done so before. Certain similarities can be drawn between them, both bearing large scars, having hearing issues and reoccurring aches and pains.

But Wrecker always feels guilty for comparing himself to Echo, for complaining about his own issues to the ARC. Echo's been through hell and back, been a prisoner of war, tortured and used by the Techno Union. And despite all that, Echo still manages to keep going. If anyone's earned the right to complain, it's Echo.

Wrecker shouldn't be complaining to him. Wrecker hasn't lost limbs, or been held captive by the enemy for months. Wrecker has it easy, but still manages to be useless time and time again.

Not today though, Wrecker's not going to let anyone down.

“You sure?” Echo ask, placing his cup down to put his hand on Wrecker's shoulder. “You look a little rough.”

Wrecker stops himself from glaring at his brother. It's not Echo's fault he's in an awful mood and even worse at hiding it. Wrecker's teeth grind against each other as he clenches his jaw.

“I'm fine.”

Wrecker can feel Echo giving him a suspicious side eye without having to look at him. “If you say so.”

Taking a big sip from his caff, Wrecker gets a mouthful of undissolved sugar. He thought he stirred it well enough, but he'd failed even that.

“What're you drinking?” Omega's voice makes Wrecker jump. He hadn't even noticed her walking over.

“Caff, want some?” He holds the cup out to her, managing a rather convincing grin. He can tell Echo's about to tell him off for offering Omega a caffeinated beverage, but the blond clone shakes her head before Echo can speak. Wrecker wouldn't have offered if he didn't know Omega would refuse. Tech told them something about caffeine stunting growth.

“Will you come to the docks with me?” Omega beams.

“Sorry Omega, I slept badly. Maybe later.” Echo smiles.

At Echo's answer, Omega's eyes turn to Wrecker, waiting for his answer next.

“I...” Wrecker should just push himself and go with her. He wants to go with her. But trying to stand sends a sharp pain through his knees, making them give out. “I can't. Don't feel too good.”

It hurts to admit that out loud, especially since he's letting Omega down. Wrecker can't make himself look at her, not wanting to see disappointment on her face.

“Okay.” She says, voice neutral. “Are you in pain? Do you need me to get you something?” She leans down so Wrecker has to look at her. Her eyes are wide, eyebrows knitted together, but she doesn't look hurt by Wrecker letting her down.

“It's not that bad, 'mega.” Wrecker ruffles her hair, smiling weakly. It baffles him that she's not upset by Wrecker not putting even a minimal amount of effort into at least trying to go to the docks with her.

“You sure? I can get the medkit from the Marauder!” The way she's eagerly swaying on the spot and swinging her arms, Wrecker wouldn't be surprised if she'd already had caff.

“Don't worry about me. Go have fun!” Wrecker laughs.

Omega hesitates, than hugs both of them and sprints off.

Echo shakes his head, laughing, before turning to Wrecker. “So you won't be honest about your health to me, but you'll tell a child?”

Wrecker groans in annoyance. “It has nothing to do with honesty! And besides, it's not like I wanted to tell her.” His voice tapers off as he talks, looking at his hands intently.

“I know. You told her because you couldn't get up.” This time, Wrecker does glare at Echo. The ARC raises his scomp defensively, trying not to laugh. “I meant no offence.”

Wrecker knows that, but that does nothing to make the truth hurt less. He draws his aching knees to his chest, making his back feel so much worse. Staring into the bottom of his now almost empty cup, filled with grainy, sugary sludge, Wrecker takes a shaky breath.

He'd almost forgotten how much his worst pain days make him hate himself and his faulty body.

“The truth's already out, so you might as well take it easy.” Echo puts his hand on Wrecker's back carefully. Wrecker shakes his head. His ori'vod sighs.

“I can't.” Wrecker mumbles into his forearm.

“And why not?” Echo asks. “You're no longer part of an army, there's no mission to be completed right now. The repairs will keep going with or without you. No one will begrudge you a day off.”

“I can't be useless, Echo.” Wrecker places his cup on the floor so he can wrap his arms around himself.

“We're not living under threat of decommissioning any more, vod'ika.”

“Doesn't feel like it.” Wrecker sighs. “Every time I make a mistake or slow down or fail at what I was made for, it feels like someone's watching me. Like I'm being evaluated.”

Echo breaths deeply. “I won't waste both our time trying to convince you you're doing enough, nor do I know how to shake the fear of failure they drilled into us growing up, but I'm not taking no for an answer on you taking a break.”

“Didn't you say we should be doing more?” Wrecker huffs, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

“Not every day of you life, Wrecker. I want to fight for our brothers, but I'm human, so I need to rest sometimes.” Wrecker doubts Captain Rex is following that motto. “We can afford actual down time now.”

Wrecker opens his mouth to protest, but Echo cuts him off.

“Don't you dare say some osik like you don't deserve to rest.”

Wrecker doesn't try again, Echo having guessed his thoughts exactly.

“Just lay down, will you?” Echo says as he does exactly that, stretching himself out in the grass beneath the tree.

Not in the mood to argue, Wrecker complies. The sun shines through the tree's leaves, light blocked enough to be comfortable to look at directly. It's nice. The grass is oddly comfortable, and the temperature is pleasant. Wrecker's body is still killing him, but he feels a little less like he might cry any minute.

“Don't think your brothers are going to get off the hook either.” Echo warns. “They need to take a break too, even if their bodies haven't forced them to do so yet.”

Wrecker laughs. “They won't like that.”

“They'll just have to deal with it.” Echo counters. “We'll ask them to bring you some painkillers when they join us.”

“That's a good idea.” Wrecker says, closing his eyes and at least trying to enjoy the good weather whilst they wait.

[sithfox]

August of Whump - Day 4

Prompt: filth / screams / open wounds

"Fox?" A pained whimper spurs Quinlan forward, totally reliant on the Force in the unnatural darkness. He's been searching for Fox since Thorn came to him with forced stoicism and admitted Fox had been missing for three days.

That had been a week ago.

He stops when the Force whispers and drags his hands down heavy metal until he hits a padlock, grimy and cold as the hallway. He doesn't have time to pick the lock, the Force nipping at his heels to hurry, hurry, hurry. He pulls his saber, the wash of green light driving back the Darkness and letting him breathe a little easier.

Padlock destroyed, he pushes the door open and recoils at the smell rolling out. Fox is curled in a corner, cradling the stump of his arm to his chest as it bleeds sluggishly and paints streaks of red down the front of his armor in a grotesque imitation of his paint. Even with just the light of his saber, Quinlan knows it's infected—how could it not be, with the filth he's been kept in?

Quin drops to his knees beside him, careful to keep his saber away. "I'm here, Fox. I've got you."

on ao3

[whumperwithwings]

August of Whump Day 1: Food/Risk/Overexertion

Content: PTSD, Flashbacks, Implied kidnapping, Torture, Gore, Amputation, Implied Noncon Drugging, Needles, Cannabalism

Whumpee woke up drowsy, their nap not doing much to help their ever-deteriorating mental state as they shakily sat up in bed. It was six in the evening - dinner must have been being prepared. They rubbed their eyes, grabbed their crutches from where they leaned on the side of bed and stumbled to the door, leaning on the door frame as they looked out into the kitchen.

Whumpee's sister and father moved around the kitchen as if it were a dance in a opera, every move prepared in advance as Whumpee's sister grabbed the salt, the zucchini, and-

the meat.

Whumpee slammed their door shut, falling to the ground as images of what Whumper did to them flashed in their mind.

A basket, a knife and a box of medication inside that they debated over for a significant amount of time.

A knife, cutting into the soft flesh just below their knee, Whumpee powerless to do anything but watch as their body screamed at them to do something about the fact that a part of their own body was being separated from itself, exploding in blinding pain.

A needle, sewing up the stump of what used to to be Whumpee's leg, as the remains are butchered just out of eyesight. Whumpee could still hear every detail.

Sound of frying meat in the background as Whumpee lay limp, half-heartedly shoved in a closet, the door not fully closed. Their leg was nowhere to be found.

[augustofwhump]

AUGUSTOFWHUMP 2024 COMPLETIONISTS

A list of those who not only participated in this event, but also completed 30 or 31 days. Congrats on the achievement!

@alpaca-clouds

@autobot2001

@crimsonlyinglilly

@sammythelibrarian

@sithfox

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Day 1: food / risk / overexertion

Also covering Day 10 - exhaustion

Starting another another month this time with @augustofwhump.

Entangled minds- Sage comes across a witch had has Finn's soul and mind linked to the one closest to him. it's not hers he's attached to. Elijah and Finn are forced to get closer.

Finn and Elijah discover a new effect of the bond and Finn realised their plan to kill Klaus may work but will have consequences he doesn't want to face

Takes place tvd from ep 2x19 to 2x21

----

Elijah was flagging, for all his prefect mask and control he couldn't hide it from Finn since they shared a mind. 

The time daggered, tricked by the newest doppelganger and Finn wasn’t going further into his brother’s relationship with those that shared Tatia’s face, had revealed a unfortunate side effect of the spell that had bonded them, one far worse than the lack of privacy they have both been trying to hold the pretence of.

When Finn had noticed the pain and Elijah’s shock and anger at the dagger he had been terrified to find himself back in the dark trapped awake in his own body or perhaps Elijah’s instead he had experienced nothing until the dagger was removed to Elijah choking from being in a house without invitation.

It wasn’t until his brother managed to regain his breath on the doorstep that Finn noticed there was more than just the lack of air that was causing his heart to beat too fast. Finn had found himself in control of the body suddenly as soon as Miss Gilbert caught up in the doorway with the damned dagger in hand and his brother retreated into his mind.

Finn was very familiar with the fear Elijah hadn’t been able to completely hide from him; it was just strange to feel it from Elijah.

It seemed Elijah had gained Finn’s cursed awareness in his stead.

For all his resentment of his siblings, Niklaus and Elijah most of all, he wouldn’t have wished that on any of them. Elijah least of all now since he had become Finn’s only escape over since the spell. 

However with Elijah retreating into his mind he had left Finn to explain their history to the girl, part of him just wanted to leave the town and her to her fate because Klaus would come for her but he knew if he did that Elijah would simply return once he regained control of himself and suppressed all his feelings.

One of the many things Finn had learnt was Elijah took repression to a new level when it came hiding his own emotions and thoughts.

He’d have never known Elijah’s loathing of the monster's mother made them match his, or that Elijah was almost as self destructive as their other brothers.

He may have been the only one to know Elijah was petty and spiteful behind his manners and kind façade but the fact he had started a relationship with Damon Salvatore solely to spite Finn for taking over his body at Sage’s touch was a reminder to the stubborn brat his brother once was.

Something Finn had apologised for, he had been overwhelmed at her being so close and crossed one of the few rules they had set, but Elijah had felt the need to teach him a lesson by ensuring Finn was the one to wake up the morning after in the Salvatore's bed.

Then again no one sane based a plan to remove the leadership of a sect of vampire experimenting humans by trapping them in a room and setting himself on fire.

But it was then Finn realised he wasn’t the only one gaining anything from the spell that connected them.

Elijah had felt oddly pleased at Finn’s complaints and concerns, it had taken Finn moments to work out what the warm feeling for what it was, then they had both refused to talk about it. Elijah's thoughts had brushed it off as loneliness after half a century split from his family and Finn had accepted that.

Better than the truth that Elijah had missed his older brother and Finn had failed to be one since the younger ones were born.

After that Finn had stopped holding back his complaints and concerns at Elijah’s habits of skipping meals and sleep, as Elijah seemed to do whenever it came to his projects most often tracking down any hints of where Klaus had left Finn’s and their siblings coffins.

It was highly hypocritical given how Elijah was with their siblings but it had left Finn to realise it wasn’t wholly new as his own memories revealed how often he used to find Elijah staying awake during that first century, either sitting up for them to return or to check them in their sleep.

Finn will ignore how often he only noticed when he had woken from a dream of their childhood when Elijah’s breathing would falter in his sleep, and gone looking for him.

There was also how little he remembered seeing Elijah drink, more concerning since now he knew Elijah’s thirst for blood apparently outstripped his own, had always given how confused Elijah had been at his concern over it.

So he had explained the truth of their beginnings to the girl that had stabbed them; Klaus’ true parentage and the reason she was the target, mostly using what he had gathered from Elijah’s memories when they had first run into her, to tell her of Katarina.

He hadn’t quite been able to cover his coldness when he noticed the charred remains of the suit Elijah had been wearing and figured out the reason behind it.

Someone had tried to set his brother on fire and Elijah would have been awake for it, the only reprieve would be if Elijah suffering was like his he wouldn’t have felt it just heard the flames cracking on his flesh.

Not that Elijah was willing to speak about it once he had retaken control of his own body, he had ignored every attempt Finn tried. The only sign the whole thing had shaken him was when Finn had asked how he was going to explain it to Klaus to prevent him from daggering him, Elijah’s thoughts had frozen overwhelmed by terror for seconds.

Their brother had gotten far too used to using the weapons their enemies made against them and Elijah had helped too much in the past while Finn had been trapped, voiceless and forgotten. Something he knew Elijah felt guilty about since Klaus had claimed to have thrown them into the ocean and more so since he had learnt Finn had been awake for centuries.

Finn’s anger at Elijah had cooled when he felt the weight of his brother’s guilt, horror and self loathing.

Now he was mostly just saddened by how mother’s spell, nine centuries of guilt and chasing Klaus’ redemption out of desperation for his own had broken Elijah in a way he refused to accept.

Elijah had once been free-spirited, open and kind, honest in a way that used to drive father mad, now every word from Elijah’s mouth had layers to them and every breath was controlled.

Elijah took the news of the Martin witches' demise with annoyed disappointment discovering a broken tool instead of that his allies had been killed trying to free him. Finn took comfort in the fact that Elijah still cared enough that when he left to retrieve the potion to preserve the doppelganger’s life through the ritual, he didn’t contact any others for risk of costing them their lives like the Martin witches.

It was a small glimpse into the person that cared for people beyond their siblings, and Finn did not go looking through his brother's mind to find out if it was Henrik's death, the deaths of his friends in the werewolf pack at father’s hand or Tristan's betrayal that had caused that change.

So Finn had watched as Elijah pushed himself on the chance to save the girl who looked like his first love and ignored the signs of overexertion, given that the plan was to attack Klaus at his weakest Elijah didn’t need to be at his strongest and it was clear Elijah was trying not to think at the end goal of the plan.

Niklaus dead. 

The first person to love Elijah without grief coated every action, dead at his hand. The way Elijah was going he’d likely pass out after it, from missed sleep and skipped blood, to avoid thinking of it longer.

When they were finally able to confront Klaus he wasn’t surprised to feel Elijah tremble as his hand broke through Klaus' chest, even as outward appearance showed Elijah cold and calm, Finn felt all of Elijah’s hesitation. 

Elijah didn’t want to do this.

But Elijah was stubborn and this plan had come to them years ago when they realised they couldn’t find the coffins while Klaus was determined to keep them from Elijah. To save Kol and Rebekah at the cost of Klaus.

‘Put them first for once.’ Finn had used those words to push Elijah forward and was now regretting it. 

He knew if he let Elijah do this, if Elijah killed their brother it would only be a matter of time until Elijah, ever resourceful, found a way to follow him in death, likely only staying long enough to free the rest of them.

Finn couldn't risk that, not the little brother Freya had wanted to meet, not the only one of his siblings to accept Sage, not since he had shared his memories of her making Elijah to only other person to remember her.

It only takes a simple push to leave him in control of Elijah’s body standing over Klaus, his brother’s heart in his hand, Elijah allows it and Finn uses Elijah’s exhaustion to knock him out so he wasn’t aware of what followed, it wasn’t a true sleep and as Finn used his body Elijah would still be as exhausted when he woke but it gave his mind a break, something Elijah wouldn’t give himself.

As angry at Niklaus as he was for leaving him in that box, he wasn’t prepared to lose two brothers, not after nearly half a century getting to know Elijah in a way he hadn’t when they were children.

Elijah had struggled under the role of the oldest, a place he never should have had but with Freya gone and Finn to blind to notice any of his siblings' difficulties past his own and too stubborn to care for them, Elijah had done so.

Finn had watched as his parents pushed the tasks to Elijah and failed to notice as Elijah forgot how to ask for help.

Now it was time for Finn to take the role he should have and with Elijah’s centuries of experience accessible to him he would succeed in watching out for Elijah as well as the others. 

He’d just have to deal with Klaus and while he didn’t have Klaus’ attachment to Elijah to work for him, he had centuries being trapped in the coffin listening to Klaus complains and knowledge of Klaus’ precious Elijah that he didn’t.

He also knew if he did this Klaus would feel the need to punish Elijah, it was up to Finn to ensure it wasn’t a dagger.

[the-bar-sinister]

Every muscle in Zoro's body was screaming. Every nerve was on fire. His ragged breaths were like knives in his chest with each gasp of air. 

He shouldn't have been standing. He shouldn't have been alive. It didn't matter. The rivers of sweat and blood that ran down his face and stung in his wounds didn't matter.

The world had focused down to a single point— protect Luffy. Zoro didn't need his body's cooperation  when he had his sheer will. If he had no strength left to hold his swords he'd hold them anyway. For as long as it took.

-

Zoro lay barely conscious enough to register the clouds in the sky, drifting in his own sea of pain and exhaustion. Luffy's smile as he appeared above him cut through the haze— exactly what Zoro had been holding on to consciousness to see.

He couldn't hear what the captain was saying as he sat beside him, but he felt the soothing touch of the cool, damp cloth that Luffy tenderly stroked over his face– over his many wounds.

The last of Zoro's will pushed his hand fondly onto Luffy's  knee. He finally let himself black out in his captain's care.

-

AO3 link

Day 1: food / risk / overexertion | @augustofwhump

[walker-extended-universe]

Welcome Home

Relationship(s): August Walker & Stella Walker, August Walker & Cordell Walker, August Walker & Liam Walker, August Walker & Sadie Yoo, August Walker/Sadie Yoo

Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Military, Post-Military, Post-Canon, Insecurity, Disability, Physical Disability, Amputation, Recovery, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: August came back from his time in the military, but he's not the man he once was. Can his family help him get back to his old self or is he too far gone?

Written for @augustofwhump Day 11: Scars, Insecurity

A/N: I know August didn't go to the military after season 4 but I already had AUs cooked up and I'm not letting them go now

Taglist: @theladywyn, @ihavepointysticks, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

----------

August had thought about the day he came home from the military for good a lot. He’d imagined himself leaving after a few years and transitioning into a more sedate lifestyle, maybe with Sadie by his side. He’d imagined himself going full career military and passing on a legacy of government benefits when he eventually bit the bullet. He’d imagined himself getting a hero’s funeral, remembered in pictures and funny stories until no one was around to tell them anymore.

In all his imaginings and daydreams, he’d never pictured this.

“Your recovery is coming along very well,” his assigned physical therapist told him. “Have you given any more thought to if you would prefer a prosthetic or crutches?”

“Crutches.” He’d made his choice soon after the amputation surgery. He’d seen the options and recovery schedule for a prosthetic. It was pricey, cumbersome, and something that would probably only lead to confusion and disappointment when he was wearing long pants. Crutches were cheaper and a lot more upfront about his baggage.

Crutches also meant he’d be going home sooner, but you can’t always get everything you want.

“Are you sure? We can-”

“I’m sure."

She blinked at him and nodded. “Alright. You’ll have to learn how to use them before we can release you. I’d also like to talk to your family about accommodations you might need at home. Is there a number I could call or….?”

August sighed. “My sister will be here in two hours. You can talk to her about all that.”

“Okay, we’ll do that then. Let’s just finish up your exercises and then I’ll come back to talk with your sister. Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

“No. Let’s just get this over with.”

August could do the whole exercise routine by himself at this point, but it was definitely easier with someone else helping him. Having someone to help him balance made it easier for him to keep his eyes away from the scar he was left with. The phantom pains were bad enough; the ugly stump was just another unfortunate reminder.

He really just wanted to get his crutches and get back to moving on his own again, but he knew that would be a journey. A journey he wasn’t really looking forward to.

Especially not a journey he wanted to go on with his family.

He was glad Stella had taken the mantle of dealing with all his hospital stuff. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it if the rest of the family was constantly hovering around him during this. He didn’t need their sugarcoated praise or unnecessary optimism. He didn’t need Gramp’s war stories or Dad’s constant assurances that this wouldn’t change anything. He didn’t need Mawline’s smothering or Liam’s assembly line of therapists to “heal his mental state”.

He just wanted to get on with the rest of his pathetic life.

—------------------

The road had been cleared before they went on it. Or, at least, they thought it was. Not that it was August’s job to worry about that. It was their Sergeant's job, or at least the drivers. He just got on the truck he was told to get on and zoned out during the drive to prevent himself from thinking too hard about their mission. He much preferred scouting to sniping, but he didn’t get to make those decisions.

He hated trips like this, but it’s what he signed up for. Literally.

Maybe he should’ve listened a little closer to his grandfather’s war stories before he committed to this. A little late to complain about it now, so he didn’t. Not to his fellow soldiers, not in his letters home, not even when he was drunk on leave. Bottling things up was the Walker Way and after a few years at it, August was a professional.

The explosion came from right under his seat. There was another one as the driver tried to regain control of the vehicle.

And then the ambush came.

August didn’t remember much after the first gunshot. He just remembered the smell of blood and the sound of someone screaming.

Later, his sergeant would commend him for his “bravery in the face of adversity”. If August hadn’t just heard that the infections in his leg wounds were too severe for the field hospital to handle and amputation was the best route, he probably would’ve punched the man.

August got a medal for his bravery. He got to shake the governor’s hand and his face was plastered on the front page of The Austin Chronicle and The Daily Texan.

The other 19 men in the truck with him died. They got no awards and their families got meager compensation. He spoke with one of the wives, tried to tell her he was sorry. She just smiled and patted his remaining leg and told him to say “hi” to his mother for her.

The more he practiced “walking”, the closer he got to going home, the more he dreaded it. He didn't want the welcome home party or the accolades of a “successful” military career. He just wanted to move on, forget how he ended up here.

But that would never happen. He could never be that lucky.

—-------------------

“So I did tell them you didn’t want a big party but-”

August groaned. “Just tell me how many people are going to be there.”

Stella sighed. “I managed to talk them down to Dad’s work friends. And nobody got plus ones. Oh, and Sadie will be there.”

Sadie. He hadn’t seen her since last Christmas. Knowing the first time she would see him again was like this made his stomach twist into knots.

Last time he’d seen her, they kissed under the mistletoe. It had gotten them laughs, but it made him want more.

One more tour, he’d told himself back then. Just one more and then he’d be good enough. His family would be proud of him, he could get great benefits on top of whatever job he picked up, and maybe he could finally ask her on a date. She might even say “yes”.

Fat chance of that happening now.

“I already told everyone you’ll probably be tired and you don’t need to be overwhelmed right now so the extra guests probably won’t stay for more than an hour. If you need me to, I can be the bad guy and kick everyone out early,” Stella promised.

“Thanks,” he muttered. “But I can deal. If I let them get all their hovering out of the way now, maybe they’ll chill for a bit.”

Stella snorted. “Yeah, right. Dad’s been excited to show you all the renovations they made for you and Liam really wants your opinions on his new ‘inclusive’ therapy plans for the rescue. And I’ve lost track of how many times Mawline’s asked me if I was absolutely sure you don’t have any new dietary restrictions.”

August groaned and slid down in his seat. “And they wonder why I wanted to stay at the hospital by myself….”

“You know it’s because they care about you. I know it’s clumsy and overbearing but they’re trying.”

“I know that but…. I just wish they wouldn’t make a big dal out of it.”

Stella gave him a side eye. “Auggie, you lost a leg. That’s kind of a big deal. I know you don’t want a fuss but it’s an adjustment for everyone. Just- I talk to them but you may just have to ride this out. They’ll calm down after a couple months and then you can go back to pretending this isn’t a big deal, okay?”

He sighed. She was right, to an extent. He’d had a lot longer to adjust to his new situation than his family did. And they did care, even if he didn’t appreciate the way they showed it.

“I can put up with the party for an hour and I’ll try not to rush Dad through his tour but can you ask Liam to hold off on the therapy stuff for a bit. I’m just- not ready to think about that.”

She nodded, smiling. “I can do that.”

Done with the conversation, August turned on the radio and closed his eyes, letting the music carry him away from reality for a bit. He would take any break he could get.

[msnihilist]

day 22 of @augustofwhump : stitches | robbery | insects

The first time that Gwen gives Ben stitches, he cries.

The Omnitrix glows red on his wrist, useless, and there's a bloody piece of shrapnel laying on the pavement next to Gwen's knee. Her shaking fingers are smeared with Ben's blood from when she pulled it out of his side. She narrows her eyes and focuses on moving quickly and efficiently, ignoring the sounds of chaos above their heads; ignoring the way that Ben's expression twists and he has to bite his shirt to keep from crying out loud. The white cotton is soaked with his spit and tears.

"Almost done," Gwen mutters. She means for it to come out sounding gruff, to be the tough-love that Ben wants when he's in 'hero mode,' the kind of encouragement that Grandpa Max is always giving him. But her voice trembles as badly as her fingers, bloody and struggling to maintain a secure grip on the needle.

Ben doesn't acknowledge that she's even spoken. He just squeezes his eyes shut and whimpers every time he shifts.

The paltry first aid kit that Gwen managed to find in this basement is half-empty, half-expired. Her thoughts are cloudy and she's never been trained in medicine, so she dumps a bottle of hydrogen peroxide over Ben's side and takes it as a good sign when the wound hisses. (She can't bring herself to think that Ben's sob is 'good' by any stretch of the imagination.)

Read the rest on AO3.

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[astaldis]

Just finished my longest fic so far, 62,972 words with seven different endings depending on the choices your Geralt makes.

If you'd like to try it out, here it is!

Hope this format is fun to read. As this is my first 'choose your own adventure' fic, some feedback would be very welcome!

Summary: On their way to rescue Ciri, Geralt and his Hansa come by the ruin of an old castle. It is a bit eerie, but should they stay the night there anyway or rather move on toward the forest? You decide!

Interactive Choose your own adventure Hansa fic with different options for the reader to choose from!

[electrikworm]

Until the Storm Breaks

Relationships: Crosshair & Echo & Hunter & Tech & Wrecker

Content Warnings: Blood and Injury, Hallucinations, Cauterization, Graphic Description of Infection

Summary:

With Wrecker badly injured and hallucinating due to poison, the Bad Batch are forced to take cover in a cave during a storm. A rough night for everyone involved follows.

Written for @summer-of-bad-batch Week 2: Injured and @augustofwhump Day 3: Poison and day 4: Filth, Screams and Open Wounds

I really wanted to fill this prompt for Summer of Bad Batch and August of whump finally gave me the inspiration to do so in a way I liked :)

Word count: 3,121

Read on Ao3

Wrecker's screams echo through the damp cave, making Tech's ears hurt. Tech's attempt to clean the large gash on Wrecker's side is disturbed by the large clones squirming.

“Hold him still.” Tech reminds his brothers.

“We're trying!” Crosshair hisses, struggling to stay atop his brother's legs as Wrecker kicks them. Hunter's holding onto Wrecker's one arm, whilst Tech has to kneel on top of his other one. Far from the ideal position to do first aid from, but Echo's already occupied trying to keep Wrecker from slamming his head back into the floor in his confusion.

“You're certain the poison isn't just killing him?” Echo says. Wrecker's head in a firm grip, he can see their brother's twisted, tear-stained expression, spit running from his mouth and down his neck. Tech has to admit he understands where Echo's concern is coming from. Wrecker by no means looks well.

But Tech's knowledge of the harmful substance in Wrecker's blood is sufficient. “I am certain. It is a hallucinogenic. What gives it its deadly reputation is the following confusion leading to the victims demise.”

“Can't we sedate him?” Hunter grunts as he wrestles Wrecker's arm back to the floor. Their demolitions expert is going to be covered in bruises by the end of this, but that will be a small price to pay for his survival.

“None of us carry sedative on us.” Tech pours disinfectant over the gash, hopping to flush some of the grit and mud out of it. The wound spans from well over Wrecker's stomach, across his side and onto his back. He's losing a worrying amount of blood. Closing the wound up in any way necessary is Tech's priority, but the amount of dirt caked in it forces him to spend some time trying to clean it best as possible. “I wouldn't advise any of you to wander out into the storm to get some from the Marauder.”

Wrecker knees Crosshair in the chest, making him groan. They're all lucky the poison weakened Wrecker. Treating him in his current state at full strength would be impossible.

“I hate this planet.” Crosshair huffs.

Tech nods. The mission has been a nightmare from the beginning. The hostile, damp terrain and native vegetation made traversal unnecessarily difficult. Their mission was set in an are known for its carnivorous plants.

The objective, destroying a separatist outpost, was completed with ease. If only they'd payed better attention to their surroundings afterwards. Hunter especially must be kicking himself for not noticing the plant waiting patiently for its next meal. It had grabbed Tech first. Tech almost wishes he'd been the one to get poisoned.

Not only is he less strong than Wrecker, more maneuverable, but then Tech would also not have to deal with the uncomfortable emotions that come with Wrecker acting as a meat shield for them again.

Of course, their bad luck hadn't ended there. Whilst they'd started moving a now delirious and bleeding Wrecker in direction of the ship, a storm broke out. The ground beneath them became knee-deep mud in moments and with lightning striking close and frequently, they were forced to take cover in a cave.

Wrecker yells, his desperate writhing almost knocking Tech over. Echo puts a firm hand on his chest to get him to quiet down, whilst Hunter hisses his name warningly. Tech opts not to remind Hunter that Wrecker likely can't understand anything going on again, that would only waste time. And they can't afford to do that.

The pool of blood accumulating under their brother on the cold stone floor has reached the limit of how big Tech would let it get. The wound is far from clean, but it's got to be sealed or Wrecker won't make it. Tech bites the inside of his cheek. They'll deal with any infection later, Tech just hopes the storm clears before the contaminated wound kills their vod.

Sharing a look with Hunter seems enough to convey that he's moving to the next step as Hunter nods in agreement. Tech fishes his electric soldering iron from his hip bag. Echo gives him a weird look.

“What are you doing with that?” He asks.

Tech had almost forgotten that Echo's only been a part of their team for a couple months. He wouldn't know that, whilst the crackling electricity at the tools end was usually used to solder wires and small technical parts, it's rather good at cauterizing wounds as well.

“Sealing the wound.” Tech answers.

“Wait a moment.” Echo says, putting a hand on Tech's to keep him from doing his job. “Cauterization is not advisable, it ups the risk of infection as well as the healing time.”

“Got a better idea?” Crosshair huffs. Echo's eyebrows knit together.

“No.”

“The infection risk is already beyond high.” Tech begins pinching the edge of the gash together. “You will have to hold Wrecker down more firmly. He won't like this.”

Electricity crackles loudly and brightly as Tech powers the tool up, pressing it to Wrecker's skin. Predictably, Wrecker responds badly to the pain, fighting against his brothers with as much strength as he can muster. Tech lifts the soldering iron, checking that the edges of skin are fused well enough. When the skin, small blisters forming on the newly damaged area, holds, Tech moves on.

Thin wisps of smoke rise as Tech keeps fusing the edges of Wrecker's skin, making him glad he kept his helmet on. Even with the filter, he can smell the sharp scent of flesh burning. Hunter's senses are likely making the situation a lot worse for him. Maybe that's why he lost his grip on Wreckers arm.

In a surprisingly swift and coordinated motion, Wrecker brings his fist up to connect with the side of Tech's helmet. Tech falls to the side from the force. As he struggles to get his vision to refocus, he can hear the rest of the squad struggle to get Wrecker under control again.

Whilst his head throbs, Tech isn't going to let that make him put his brother's life in danger. He pushes past the dull pain, returning to his work. He'll probably get a bruise from this, even through the helmet.

Wrecker doesn't seem calmer after the outburst, if anything, he seems more distressed. He does however fight back a lot weaker. The futile attempt to break out of his brothers grips likely claimed most of what was left of Wrecker's energy.

As Wrecker flails weakly, his screams die down, replaced by sobbed pleading and apologies. Tech hates this so much more. What ever the plant's toxin is making Wrecker see can't be good and Tech isn't sure he wants to know more.

Echo, not having to hold on to Wrecker's head all too much anymore, has moved his hand to Wrecker's shoulder. He speaks quiet, comforting words. Tech doubts Wrecker hears, let alone understands them, but doesn't have the heart to say so out loud. There's no harm in trying.

Once Tech is done cauterizing the section of the wound he can reach, they maneuver Wrecker onto his front. He barely struggles anymore, an amalgamation of the poison, blood loss and futile resistance having worn him down.

Bandaging the wound almost seems pointless, an infection likely either way. But when Wrecker is no longer held down, he begins weakly scratching at the freshly sealed wound, so covering it is for the better. Tech would rather not have to repeat the process.

“We have to rest, but someone's got to keep an eye on him at all times.” Hunter says. He's right, there's no saying when the hallucinogenic will wear off. They don't need Wrecker doing something to harm himself.

Tech volunteers to keep an eye on Wrecker first, though that turns out to be a pointless discussion. None of them sleep immediately, kept awake by worry and the storm raging just outside their cover. They all sit close to their injured vod.

Wrecker tries to mess with the bandages a couple times, Tech having to pry his hands away from the material. Eventually, Tech opts to just hold his brother's hands.

At the start, Wrecker continues his confused mumbling ans sobbing, but as the poison wears off, so does that. He's still delirious, but shows some awareness of his surroundings.

Wrecker bumps his head into Tech's side. “Hurts...” He hisses between clenched teeth. Tech regrets not being able to give him anything for the pain, but they just don't know enough of how pain killers could react together with the toxin.

“You will be fine, vod'ika.” Tech says, trying to force a smile.

The storm goes on for hours, showing no signs of letting up. That spurs Tech to insist his vode sleep. He manages to convince Crosshair and Hunter, though they both lay close to Wrecker, Crosshair almost on top of him.

Tech watches Echo try to do the same, only to give up and resume staring out of the cave's opening and into the storm. That doesn't surprise Tech, their newest member struggling with both sleep in general and the cold. All their armor and blacks are some degree of damp and muddy, so the temperature is certainly bothering the ARC trooper.

Echo sighs, removing his helmet to rub at his nose bridge.

“You really have a thing for getting into near death situations.” Echo laughs. He pulls his knees closer to his chest, releasing a shaky breath. Tech wonders if the silence combined with the cold is bringing up bad memories. Luckily, Tech is very good at filling silence.

“As you've said many times before.” Tech smiles, removing his own helmet. Wrecker squirms about when Tech pulls one of his hands out of his grip, looking up at his brother. His eyes and pupils are blown wide. Tech wonders if Wrecker even recognizes him right now.

“I'm not called Echo for nothing.” Echo's said that many times before too, but Tech sees no point in highlighting that as well. Echo hisses when he see's Tech's face. “He got you pretty good.” Echo gestures at the right side of his own face.

Tech can't see the bruising himself, but guesses his right cheek bone has gained a new splash of color.

“I'm surprised he hit me at all.” Tech's deadpan response makes Echo laugh.

After a beat of silence, Echo gestures at Tech's hip. “You use that thing on injuries often?”

“That depends both on the mission and if we've had our medical supplies restocked recently.” Echo's commented before on how fast Clone Force 99 burns through supplies. Tech has spent time calculating the amount they'd really need, factoring in the downsides of their mutations and enhancements, but never bothered bringing it up. It's not like they'll be given what they need.

Echo sighs. “We need a medic.”

“We've always survived without one. It wouldn't be deemed necessary.”

“Kix would have a heart attack working with you.” Echo laughs. Tech remembers working with Kix briefly during the mission that lead to discovering Echo's location. From what Tech can recall about the medic, Echo's statement is likely accurate.

Echo runs his fingers along the joints of his prosthetic knees, sighing as they come away covered in mud.

“I will have a look at them for you once we're on the Marauder.” Tech offers. He's become quite familiar with Echo's prosthetic limbs and implants by now and has helped him improve or fix them many times.

“That would be greatly appreciated, vod'ika.” Echo rotates his scomp as he speaks. The dirt trapped between joints crunches, making Echo cringe. “I agree with Crosshair: I hate this planet.”

“We've certainly visited better.”

Echo leans forward. “How's Wrecker doing?”

Tech studies his younger brother. Wrecker switches between staring into nothing and squeezing his eyes shut, curled up tightly next to Tech. He's trembling.

“He'll live.” Tech is certain of that, has to be certain of that. But he's also certain that Wrecker isn't doing well at the moment.

They keep holding quiet conversation as the night goes on, but Tech must have dozed off at some point, as suddenly, Echo is shaking him.

“The storm's calming down.” He says when Tech's eyes fling open. “We should prepare to leave.”

After waking the others and getting Wrecker's chest plate back on him, they're out of the cave at the first hint of clear skies. Wrecker is semi-conscious, but too weak to walk. Tech and Crosshair each have one of Wrecker's arms slung across their shoulders.

The mud is just as bad now, slowing their pace to little faster than crawling, especially with Wrecker unable to muster the strength to drag his legs forwards by himself.

“Where we goin'?” Wrecker slurs, helmet clanking against his shoulder bell as his head lolls to the side.

“We're getting off this planet.” Crosshair grumbles, struggling to pull his foot from the mud as he speaks.

Hunter walks ahead of the group, seeming almost nervous. Tech assumes he's trying not to miss any further danger they might face.

Gradually, the ground becomes firmer as they approach the rocky terrain Tech landed their ship on. They still manage to track masses of mud into the Marauder. Tech groans at the thought of having to clean it all up later.

None of them take the time to shower now, but Tech's still grateful to be wearing dry clothes. They can worry about getting fully clean once Wrecker is taken care of by medics.

They help Wrecker change blacks, keeping his upper body free of clothes. After Tech returns from flying the Marauder into hyperspace, Echo and Crosshair are switching Wrecker's bandages. All three of them pulling disgusted faces prompts Tech to investigate further.

The wound hasn't started bleeding again, which is just about the only good news about Wrecker's condition. The blistered skin at the gash's edge is swollen and caked is drying discharge. Part of the wound has split open, but beside a small trickle of blood, the only thing spilling from it is pus.

No wonder Hunter's standing at the other end of the ship, trying not to gag. Pulling his Helmet back on, Hunter announces that he'll be in the cockpit.

Cleaning the wound goes a little better when they're not kneeling in mud, but unwilling to reopen the gash fully and risk further blood loss, Wrecker's body will just have to hold out against the infection until they can get proper medical help.

“We'd need three patches to cover that fully, but we've only got two left.” Echo sighs, handing them to Crosshair.

When the bacta patches are applied, Wrecker almost relaxes for a moment. But the pinched expression is back immediately. The part of the wound not covered by the patches they spread bacta gel on. Despite both of those measures, the fresh bandages they wrap around Wrecker's midriff are stained yellow and pink in moments.

Laying down, Wrecker gingerly prods the material covering the injury, hissing through his teeth.

“Don't worry, they'll throw you right in a bacta tank when we get you to a medical station.” Echo pats Wrecker's shoulder from his place next to their large brother. Tech's got one of the ARC's detached legs in his lap, occupied with cleaning out the joints.

Wrecker groans. “I hate bacta tanks. Always get dreams about being swallowed by some horrible monster.”

Crosshair and Echo laugh. Tech doesn't bring up that some of Wrecker's dislike of bacta tanks may come from the extended periods of time he'd spent in a isolation tanks as a cadet, not wanting to bring down the mood.

“How are you feeling?” Tech asks.

Wrecker sighs, leaning his head back onto Echo. “Bad.” He groans. “Everything hurts, my side is on fire and I feel a bit sick.”

“Well, please let us know before you throw up all over yourself.” Crosshair has a little grin plastered on his face.

“ Shabii’gar.“ Wrecker huffs, smacking the back of Crosshair's head weakly. He only succeeds in making Crosshair laugh.

“Not seeing things anymore?“ Crosshair continues.

“Not- Not anymore.” Wrecker shudders. “Vision's still blurry, and I feel... Weird, on edge.”

Tech hums in acknowledgment. That seems to track with what he knows of the poison.

Wrecker readjusts the way he lays, making what starts out as a whimper, but then quickly turns to a bitten back cry. He curls up a little more, both Crosshair and Echo moving closer at the noise.

“Can I have something 'gainst the pain?” Wrecker forces through grit teeth, sounding rather small.

Tech puts Echo's leg down in his lap, sighing. “No, you can't. I'm sorry.”

“What?” Wrecker inhales sharply. “One of the few times I want you to stab me with a needle and you won't?”

“It is not that I don't want to. It is simply not a risk I am willing to take. There is no data on how pain medication may react to the poison in your blood.”

“Aw, come on...” Wrecker pleads.

“No, Wrecker.” Tech rubs a hand over his face, straightening his goggles. “I will not be the one responsible when your heart explodes or organs liquefy.”

Wrecker huffs, pulling a displeased expression.

“Do you want more examples of what might happen to you?”

“No, I'm good.” Crossing his arms with a sigh, Wrecker turns onto his side.

“Is there something we can do to help?” Echo asks.

“Need me to hold you, Wreck'ika?” Crosshair adds with a mocking tone, unable to leave well enough alone.

Tech watches as Wrecker thinks, followed by a wide grin spreading on the large clone's face. “Actually, I do.”

Faster than he should, Wrecker sits up and starts pulling Crosshair onto the rack.

“Hey! It was a joke!” Crosshair fights against Wrecker's grip.

“Don't care.” Wrecker laughs. “You offered.

“Let go.” Crosshair hisses. “I'm retracting my offer.”

“Too late for that. Besides, I'm hurt. You're not going to be mean to me when I'm hurt, right?”

For some reason, Wrecker's silly comment makes Crosshair stop. “Fine.” He says as he does what Wrecker wants, ending up squished between the Marauder's wall and their large brother. For a man that just got pulled into a situation he definitively didn't want to be part of, Crosshair looks a little too comfortable.

Tech moves to the spot on the floor Crosshair had previously occupied, continuing his work on Echo's leg. Hunter joins them some time later, presumably once the smell of infection's cleared out somewhat.

It'll take them a few hours to get to the medical station. A long time, especially for Wrecker, who's feeling far from comfortable. But they'll keep him company and will try to distract him, hoping that that's enough to make the journey bearable.

[sithfox]

August of Whump - Day 6

Prompt: confusion / spark / veins

Fire rips through Fox's veins and jolts him to awareness, back arching as every muscle in his body wrenches against the restraints holding him down. It's like nothing he's ever felt, sparking out from his skull and flooding his body. Tears spill down his face as he struggles mindlessly.

"I'm sorry, Fox. I know you don't understand, but this is for your own good."

That's—that's the traitor. The one he killed—didn't he? If he didn't, then—

"Traitor—traitor—" he pants out between shrieks of agony. Is this revenge? Betrayal for betrayal? His head aches, overriding all thought.

"Fuck—is it working?" The traitor's voice is far away.

"It's working—just a bit longer. We have to let it destroy the chip before we give him the antidote." The second voice is familiar, a brother in arms. "Calm down, Vos. I've done this dozens of times."

Fox whimpers as pain coalesces in his skull, vision going white instead of the blurry shapes he'd seen before. It hurts—it hurts—

He gasps as cool relief floods through him; slowly lifts his head.

"...Quin?"

"Hey, Foxy. Feeling better?" The words are shaky, but Quinlan's eyes are full of hope.

"…What happened?"

on ao3

[pigeonwhumps]

Guilt

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch @fuckcapitalismasshole @ghost-whump @whump-tr0pes

@rainbowsandwhumperflies @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

@augustofwhump

August of Whump bonus prompt: guilt

Aaron is refused permission to join the search for Phoenix when they're crucified, and they're declared dead. This is the next six months for Aaron.

First scene is canon, everything after that is set in the Gemma saves Phoenix AU, where Gemma saves Phoenix after they've been crucified continuously for 6 months.

2k words

CWs: immortal whumpee, presumed dead, guilt, grief, transphobia, ableism (both very brief), low self-worth

"I'm joining the search party for Phoenix Costello."

"No, you're not."

Aaron blinks and balls his fists. "What? They're on my team, they're my responsibility!"

Their boss, the head of the medical bay, sighs. "You're needed here. The rest of their team are capable of searching, and if they need a medic they'll bring them back here or you can join them in the field then. There's no use you being on the other side of the city when they're found."

There's multiple flaws there, and he catches the implications of the 'if'. They might be dead. They might be gone. They might just have left, although Aaron doesn't believe that at all. If they were just leaving they wouldn't have taken their tracker.

That's not important though.

"There's a gang of serial killers out there!" he yells, voice cracking.

"That's exactly why I need you to stay here. We're overloaded as it is, and I can't lose you. You're one of our best."

"But–"

"Look. They're immortal, right?" Aaron nods stiffly. "Chances are, they're just trapped. The rest of the team will find them, and they'll be back in no time, traumatised and injured possibly but alive. Let them search and do your job, okay?" He nods again, unsure what else he can do now, and his boss smiles wearily. "Thank you. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?"

Aaron shakes their head. They don't know what else to do.

_

One week passes.

_

Two weeks.

_

A month.

_

Two.

_

Three months with no sign. No-one on the medical staff has had so much as a chance to breathe in that time. Due to how high the rate of injuries and deaths has been, and the presence of The Chosen Ones still out there, Phoenix is declared dead.

Probably dead.

Aaron is numb. He... he barely even knew Phoenix (he should have, he should have gotten to know them better), but they were his responsibility, on his team, the few times he has seen them... and he just can't believe that they're dead.

They're 18. Still a child, really.

Maybe they're not. It's always possible. Sure, nobody knows how their immortality works, if they really will resurrect forever, but again: nobody knows how their immortality works.

He does his duties as he should, but he can't feel anything. They're dead. His boss tries to give him time off but it doesn't work, he has to do something.

He just... how did he let it all go so wrong?

_

Phoenix's family's house is a terraced house on a quiet street. Three bedrooms at a guess. Nice, neat front lawn, nice neat painting. Boring. Not Phoenix.

Aaron glances at Aisling, who gestures for him to head down the path first. He needs to tell Phoenix's family about their death. Apparent death. He volunteered, and is very grateful that Aisling agreed to come with him because no-one else on Phoenix's team would.

They didn't seem very upset either.

Will Phoenix's parents be? Joseph told him of the campaign group they're in charge of, but he's not sure how extreme their views are. Whether they extend to their eldest child.

He rings the shiny doorbell. A few seconds, and then a teenager answers. They look very like Phoenix, although with shorter, curlier hair, and with a sinking sensation Aaron realises this is probably their sister.

"Are you Alicia?" She nods. "I'm Aaron, and this is Aisling. We're from HAL, and we need to talk to you about Phoenix. Can we come in?"

Alicia nods, leading them to the front room and gesturing for them to sit, before she holds up a finger and dashes upstairs. Aaron looks around. The place looks more like a showroom than anything. You'd never know a teenager lived here, and the only sign of children once having been here is the posed photo on the mantelpiece. Aaron isn't an expert, but he's pretty sure Alicia's smile is forced. There's no sign of Phoenix ever having existed.

Alicia returns with a tablet in hand and sits down on the sofa opposite, typing. "Sorry. What about Phoenix? Are they okay?"

Aaron swallows. "I– Phoenix– Alicia, I'm so sorry."

She shakes her head. "No."

"They were– it was–" They had a whole speech planned about what probably happened but they can't get it out. Not with Alicia watching them, eyes begging, pleading, for him not to say it. "We didn't find a body. But with the serial killers out there and deaths piling up, we don't think..."

Alicia's shaking her head fiercely now, and she drops her tablet, starting to rock. And she wails.

Aaron isn't sure what to do. He's not leaving, not now, he wouldn't even if he didn't need to wait for her parents. But he doesn't know what he can do except let her process.

"I'm sorry," Aisling whispers. "I'm so sorry."

Alicia covers her ears and continues to wail.

After a time, the lock rattles on the front door and it opens.

"Stop making that awful noise, Alicia," says a woman sharply. "I've told you before, if you can't stop– oh." She stops in the entrance to the living room. "Who do you think you are, sitting in our house and upsetting our daughter like this?"

They both stand, Aisling holding out a hand.

"Hello. I'm Aisling O'Connor, and this is Aaron Thomas, from HAL. We have some sad news about your child, Phoenix."

A man enters the room, raising an eyebrow. This must be Mr Costello. They're both very standoffish, which Aaron supposes is fair.

"Fiona? She's still going by that foolishness? What has she done now?"

So, they're transphobic as well as running a hate campaign.

"I'm afraid they're dead, Mr Costello. We believe they were killed by members of The Chosen Ones. I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Yes. Well. Thank you." Both of the older Costellos look stunned, and Aaron could almost feel satisfied about that. Almost. In other circumstances. "We will, of course, inform your organisation of the funeral arrangements if you would like to send representatives. Will you leave us to grieve in private?"

"Of course." They both rise, and Aaron slips the piece of paper he's been scribbling on with both his and Aisling's phone numbers into Alicia's hand. Just in case she needs someone. "Apologies again for your loss."

And he walks out the door. He has, at least, resisted the urge to punch either member of the couple, so at least that's something.

He wonders if he'll be allowed to attend the funeral. He hopes so.

_

The funeral is held the next week. Thankfully there's no open casket with no body, but it's still a bit strange to him. Phoenix's parents are clearly very religious, where he never has been so much, and it makes him uncomfortable.

Not to mention the consistent misgendering. Even in death, Phoenix's parents won't respect them.

Aaron's never felt so grateful for their own family.

There's so many dry eyes here today. So much performance. Aaron gets the feeling that Abbie, Indigo and Segun didn't really care about Phoenix at all, and it makes them regret their lack of knowing Phoenix all the more.

Except Alicia's speech. That's beautiful, and heartbreaking, and she doesn't misgender her sibling once. She's been moving her belongings into Aisling's flat gradually for weeks, and Aaron can see that what she feared will likely come true – despite the shining eyes and crying throughout the audience, Alicia's father's face is turning puce.

(She explains, later, that it's not just the speech, or the respect for Phoenix, but the use of her AAC app at all, and Aaron has to use all of his strength not to turn around and murder her parents for that.)

_

"I hear you're thinking of quitting," is how Joseph announces himself at the table in the diner.

Aaron saw him coming, of course, they wouldn't sit with their back to the door, but they didn't register it. He sets the pizzas down on the table – one spicy vegetable, one sausage and pepperoni, and a little tub of mozzarella sticks to share.

"How do you know that?"

Joseph sighs. "You texted me last night. Drunk, I think. You don't usually drink and you're the last person I'd expect to quit. What's going on? Is this about Phoenix?"

Aaron nods, taking a large bite of pizza to hide their emotions. "What's the point of being a hero if I'm just going to obey orders that get people killed?"

"You didn't kill Phoenix."

Aaron shakes their head. "If I'd searched too, I might have found them, they might still be alive."

"Aaron. Listen to me. You didn't kill them. Or get them killed, for that matter. You saved people. You told me your boss didn't let you go because you're one of his best medics. It's true. Please, Aaron, think about this. Don't quit."

"I still got them killed. Heroes don't do that."

Joseph reaches across and squeezes their arm. "Nobody can be perfect all the time. It was their murderers who killed them, not you. You do so much good, and I, for one, would be devastated if you left because you made one mistake that might not even have led to anything."

"But they're still dead."

That's the crux of the matter. They're dead, they were on his team, and it's his fault. And he had to sit through a whole funeral service of them being misgendered, and he can't help thinking he should've gotten to know them, should've given them someone else who cared. God knows no-one else seems to.

If he'd known them, if he'd searched, would they still be alive? But instead he just followed orders and let them die.

He sobs.

Joseph comes around the table and pulls them into his arms.

"Give yourself a few months, 'kay? Don't make this decision on the spur of the moment, when you're so emotional. Wait until you can think again."

Aaron nods into Joseph's warm, soft arms. He can try.

_

Aaron is fetching a plate of biscuits from the kitchen when Gemma enters the flat.

He always feels a little uncomfortable with this team on his own. It's not his team, or his flat, he's intruding. It wasn't their idea to invite him. Sometimes Alicia comes too but not today, she doesn't feel up to meeting this new person that Gemma's saved and he doesn't blame her.

He's happy for them. Really. But Aaron can't help wishing he had done the same for Phoenix.

"Hi Gemma! And this must be Phoenix."

No. No, he must've misheard Kai, he must've... is this why they've all been giving him weird looks since he arrived? It has to be a different Phoenix, surely.

They step out of the kitchen, hands trembling, and feel the blood drain from their face. There's a shattering sound beneath their feet but they barely register it.

There, wringing their hands together, looking a little older and more traumatised but still recognisably them, is Phoenix.

"Phoenix? You're alive?"

Phoenix turns to look at them, the same shock mirrored on their face.

"Aaron?"

"I'm sorry," they whisper, "I'm sorry. They wouldn't let me on the search and rescue mission but I should have anyway, I'm so sorry. How did you– why are you–"

At some point they've moved forward, and Phoenix is within touching distance, looking startled, tears in their eyes.

"Can I give you a hug?"

Phoenix nods, almost falling into their arms. He hugs them tightly.

"I'm so, so fucking sorry."

"'s okay. I didn't deserve to be rescued anyway."

He squeezes them tighter. "That's bullshit, kid." Phoenix shakes their head. "Your sister misses you desperately."

"She, um, she does? Why?"

"Because she loves you."

"Oh."

Aaron has learned various things over the past six months about how they've been treated over their life, and their rock-bottom self-esteem shouldn't shock him but it does.

"People care about you, Phoenix. Don't ever forget that."