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whumperless-whump-event · 1 day ago

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BOOM, CLAP

WHUMPERLESS WHUMP EVENT DAY 10

Summary: (featuring fem!Shinsou) A chance encounter leads to devastating results. Shouta is faced with the terrible truth that you can't protect your child from everything, no matter how hard you try.

Prompts: Gunshots/ Sound sensitive/ "Shut up, please." for the @whumperless-whump-event

Warnings: Intense imagery, begging for death/mentions of mercy killing (no one dies), hospitals

---

Hitomi didn’t think much of it when she collided with the frazzled Business Course student in the crowded hallway after classes. She merely helped him pick up his fallen papers and continued on her way to 2-A’s dorms for her pre-arranged study group.

But as she walked, she began to notice something felt…off.

Her perception as she walked through the crowd of other students felt altered. Everything felt brighter, more crisp, she felt more awake than she’d felt in ages. More alert. Sounds and textures and even smells were coming across as sharper than usual to her.

And the voices…

The murmur of the crowd as she made her way through it was almost overwhelming. Every passing voice seemed too distinct to her, each one its own beacon signaling to her, calling out and demanding her attention.

She could feel a pressure grow inside of her head, the hairs on her body standing on end as every comment, reply, and laugh seemed to crawl under her skin. She had no idea what was going on, but it was decidedly uncomfortable, decidedly too much. She found herself rushing, forcing her way through the crowd and out into the open air of UA’s campus, where finally, she felt like she could breathe.

Hitomi hid herself in a small cluster of trees and bushes, away from other people, and leaned herself against a tree, catching her breath. She was sweating, her arms covered in goosebumps, and she was panting like she’d just run a marathon. But at least now, with the only voices she could hear being way off in the distance, she felt like she could finally think straight.

What the hell was all that? A panic attack? Maybe. Hitomi was intimately familiar with those, after all, and they tended to come whenever they pleased. This felt different than panic attacks she’d had in the past, though. Even now, the world around her seemed to pulse with how overly sharp and bright it all felt, her eyes feeling too-wide in her own head, and that didn’t seem…typical to what she was used to. In particular, the way voices above all other sounds seemed to bother her wasn’t something that had ever happened to her before.

Hitomi closed her eyes, standing for a few moments longer in her hiding spot, letting her breathing return to something like normal. She supposed it didn’t matter what was going on, it wasn’t like she could go to Recovery Girl about it. Well, she could, technically speaking, but what would be the point? Tell her that she felt “too awake” and that sounds were bothering her? The woman would probably laugh her out of the office, or yell at her for wasting her time, or maybe she’d tell Aizawa, and then Aizawa would be mad at Hitomi for wasting Recovery Girl’s time.

She dug her fingernails into her palm, and she could feel in crisp detail as her skin threatened to give way beneath the pressure, the creak of her knuckles. No, she’d endure this and it would pass. It would be fine.

She would be fine.

Hitomi opened her eyes, and took a deep breath. She only took a few more seconds to collect herself before pushing off from the tree and continuing her way to the dorms to meet with her study group.

She faltered at the entrance, where the voices of her classmates reached her ears and again, it was almost overwhelming. They seemed to reach out to her, so insistent, darting closer and closer. She shook her head, massaging her temples, and forced her feet to move, finally walking into the common room.

Most of 2-A was there, clustered into various groups, some studying, some just hanging out. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead.

Some of the people from her study group, Midoriya, Uraraka, and Iida, noticed her presence, and called out to her at roughly the same time-

“Shinsou!”

“Hello, Shinsou!”

“Hey, Shinsou, over here!”

-and she just dropped.

“Oh my god, Shinsou!”

“Shinsou! Are you okay!?”

“Shinsou, can you hear me? What’s happening?”

More voices spoke to her, each one adding a fresh wave of pain. With each new sentence addressed to her, it felt like barbs were embedding themselves into her skull, digging into the meat of her brain and twisting.

All the while her mind was flooded with images, and words, and thoughts that were not her own. Flashes of memories, of lives that she wasn’t living, were forced into her brain and she couldn’t see anymore, couldn’t hear save for when another barb lodged itself into her skull. It was agony. Pure agony.

‘-is it possible to become a hero even if I don’t have a-’

‘-the name of the hero that will defeat you-’

‘-cutest in the world-’

“...shut up…please shut up…!” Hitomi felt herself being shredded to pieces from the inside out. She had no idea what thoughts were hers and what weren’t anymore. She’d never experienced something so terrifying, so painful, and she wanted it to stop. She wanted it all to stop. It had to stop! Kill her, God, kill her, please kill her-

Then it all went black.

---

“Aizawa-sensei!”

If seeing Midoriya’s pale, frantic expression as he burst into the staff room, crackling with some of the few remaining embers of One For All wasn't enough to turn Shouta’s blood to ice, then his next words certainly were.

“It’s Shinsou.”

He was on his feet and running, barely aware of Hizashi right on his heels. Midoriya was thankfully quick on the uptake and began leading them out towards Heights Alliance.

“What happened?” Shouta demanded, reminding himself to keep calm even though every atom of his being was screaming that something was wrong with his daughter. What was happening to his daughter?

“She walked into the common room and then she collapsed and started screaming like she was in a lot of pain,” Midoriya told him, wrought with concern. “Iida went to get Recovery Girl, we didn’t know what to do-”

As they approached the building, Shouta could hear the screaming.

He’d never heard his daughter scream like that before.

He pushed himself to go faster.

The group made their way into the building and entering the common room was like walking into a living nightmare.

Most of 2-A were posted up against the walls, silent, lost, and horrified as they watched. The furniture of the room had been moved to create a space in the center where a few of the students were still gathered on the ground. In the center of it all was Hitomi.

She was screaming and sobbing incoherently, sometimes words, sometimes just noise. Wails of agony that sometimes became nonsense phrases or, hauntingly, pleas for someone to kill her, to put her out of her misery. Sato, Kirishima, and Bakugou were holding her down as she writhed and contorted in agony, straining against their hold on her. Clumps of lavender hair hung from her clenched hands and there was blood beneath her fingernails, leading Shouta to the stomach churning conclusion that she’d been clawing at her own head before her classmates restrained her.

But that wasn’t the end of it. Her eyes, wide and streaming with tears, were glowing white, and her hair was floating around her head, swirling as if caught up in an unseen current.

Shouta didn’t think he’d ever felt so scared.

“All of you clear out,” he barked out to the surrounding students. He understood their need to stand by their friend but it was only creating more stress in the environment. And if this had something to do with Hitomi’s quirk acting up, which he had an inkling it might be, the proximity of so many minds would only do more damage. “Now!”

They cleared out immediately and he went kneel down at Hitomi’s side, where Hizashi already was. He looked just as stricken as Shouta felt, his hands hovering and his teeth clenched. Sero and Yaoyorozu, the students with the most first aid knowledge, were also crouching beside her, but it was obvious this was so much more than they could handle. The three boys holding Hitomi down continued to struggle against her movements, doing their best not to hurt her.

The students filled him and Hizashi in as best as she could. It was hard to hear her over his daughter’s screams, it was hard to focus on anything but his daughter’s screams. From what he gathered, she collapsed after her classmates spoke to her and the observation was made that her reactions grew more intense when someone spoke to her directly. Other than that, no one had any clue why this was happening.

“It must be her quirk,” Hizashi surmised, turning his pained eyes to Shouta, “would canceling it out do any good?”

“I don’t know,” he hated to admit, not knowing how to help his own kid when she was in so much pain. Mental quirks were delicate things. Even during their usual training he was very careful about using Erasure on Hitomi. There was always a chance to accidentally affect brain function. “We need to check with Recovery Girl before doing anything drastic,” they had to wait, and waiting at a time like this was so agonizing, as a hero and more importantly, as a parent.

It wasn’t long before Iida arrived with Recovery Girl, but it felt like an eternity. To her credit, Recovery Girl was efficient and to the point as she always was, questioning the students and giving instructions.

“Erasure might do more damage at this point,” she said as she went through her med kit, and Shouta was glad they waited until she arrived, “we’ll have to sedate her instead. Boys, steady her arm for me, like this-”

Shouta waited with baited breath as Recovery Girl administered the sedative, watching as Hitomi’s struggles steadily faded. Her eyes slid shut, her hair finally ceasing its movent and the glow fading from behind her eyelids. The silence was almost deafening in the wake of her heartbreaking screams and cries.

Sato, Kirishima, and Bakugou cautiously let go of Hitomi once her limbs went slack. Kirishima and Yaoyorozu were fighting back tears. Hizashi’s hand surreptitiously found Shouta’s and he gave it a squeeze. Everyone in the room, for just a moment, existed in a state of exhausted silence.

Hitomi was rushed to the hospital soon after.

---

As Hitomi recovered, an investigation was carried out to determine what exactly happened.

After looking through the school’s security footage and retracing her steps, the run in with the Business Course student was discovered and he was questioned.

The boy’s quirk, “Mental Boost” was a mild, temporary enhancement quirk that typically gave a slight boost to the target’s cognitive function. A person’s senses, focus, and memory were often sharpened while under the influence of the quirk.

The student admitted he’d accidentally set off his quirk when he bumped into Hitomi, but hadn’t thought anything of it at the time as his quirk’s effects usually only lasted an hour at most and rarely had an adverse effect on the target. Typically, the worst side-effects reported were headaches and sometimes sensory overload, if any side-effects were reported at all.

However, the student had never used his quirk on someone with a quirk that already affected their brain. Mental quirks had a tendency to mix poorly with one another. They either ended up cancelling each other out, or, in rare cases, having a much more dramatic negative reaction.

“Like an allergic reaction,” Hizashi had mused humorlessly in the midst of one of his and Shouta’s endless rehashes of the incident during yet another night at Hitomi’s silent bedside.

The quirk had forced some sort of evolution of Hitomi’s, specifically around the verbal factor, which had resulted in the severe reaction to her classmates speaking to her. Only time would tell what the long term effects of the quirk interaction would look like.

In the aftermath, Hitomi was unconscious in the hospital for a month. Upon regaining consciousness, it had taken another two weeks before she was fully aware of her surroundings. Yet one more week after that point before she could hold conversations with others.

It was a hard time for her and the family. Always so hard on herself, the first proper sentence out of Hitomi’s mouth was an apology to her fathers.

“I’m sorry, I’ve fallen so far behind,” her shaking hands clenched into fists in the white hospital sheets, head bowed so low and tears dripping from the tip of her nose. She looked so small, so defeated. “I lost so much time…” she was devastated. All that progress, the hard work she put in to make sure she was keeping up with her classmates, had taken an undeniable backslide.

Shouta and Hizashi held their daughter as she cried, doing their best to reassure her. Shouta had no doubt that she would catch up again, but he knew how painful this was for her, and he couldn’t help but find it all so unfair.

It had just been a stroke of bad luck, a freak accident, and yet it had done so much damage in so many ways. As much as he tried to prepare his daughter for any possible threat she might face, there was no way he could have anticipated this. Still, he felt like such a failure, he felt so powerless.

He couldn’t spare his child all this suffering, and wasn’t that his duty as a father?

Shouta held onto Hitomi tighter, some of his own tears falling with hers.

#whumperless whump event #wwevent day 10

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whumperless-whump-event · 1 day ago

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Fandom: All Elite Wrestling

Prompt: @whumperless-whump-event Day 19: "Man these bugs really just love you don't they"

Ship: Orange Cassidy/Hook

Summary: Mosquitos target Orange

#wwevent 2025 #wwevent day 19 #whumperless whump event

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whumperless-whump-event · 1 day ago

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🚨🚨💚🧡 NEW FIC DAY!! 🧡💚🚨🚨

My contribution for Day 20 of Whumperless Whump 2025 @whumperless-whump-event

Theme: “Got the sniffles”

Prompts: “Bring tissues next time” | Can’t stop coughing (but only a passing mention)

This is part of my To Live Anew series

#whumperless whump event #wwevent 2025 #wwevent day 20

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whumperless-whump-event · 2 days ago

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WHUMPERLESS WHUMP EVENT 2025:

20 - GOT THE SNIFFLES: Seasonal allergies / Can't stop coughing / “Bring tissues next time.”

Ao3 Collection Link / Prompts List, Rules & FAQ

#whumperless whump event #whumperless whump event 2025 #wwevent 2025 #wwevent day 20

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whumperless-whump-event · 2 days ago

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Take a Walk

@whumperless-whump-event day 19

Take a ‘literal’ walk

Cw: implied drugging and head injury , emotional whump

Leader, Caretaker and a select couple of Unit members were addressing Whumpee in the cabin of the escape boat the team was on.

Whumpee was now shifting between delirium and half-consciousness, to horrible flashbacks and panic, to brief moments of heartbreaking lucidity.

He very clearly had been given something, and very clearly had some type of head trauma. All Caretaker knew for certain was that Whumpee was no where near to himself.

Hours before, they had learned of an implanted tracking chip under Whumpee’s skin. They were given no choice but to remove it with the bare-minimum supplies that the team had available.

Leader was experienced in this kind of task and a skilled healer, but cutting into Whumpee like that had triggered him horribly. Leader had walked off with out a word with the problem chip, leaving Caretaker and the Unit members alone with the panicking Whumpee.

She had eventually come back, after what felt like a long time.

The waveboat that had been wildly sailing into pitch black open water had now slowed to a very welcome and steady, even pace.

Leader’s face was tear-stained, the marks clear through the blood and grit Leader was covered in.

She didn’t talk about the incident that had just happened, she simply sat herself opposite of Caretaker by Whumpee’s head. She hummed softly, stroking Whumpee’s arm over the blanket he was lying beneath.

Caretaker kept his hand clasped to Whumpee’s, repeating assurances to him over and over. It went on like this for hours, until Whumpee had finally exhausted himself into sleep.

Caretaker was completely and utterly depleted.

Leader stood up, adjusting her shirt. She looked at Caretaker, who was now staring into space.

“Take a walk with me.” She said.

Caretaker snapped out of it and looked at Whumpee, terrified to leave him.

“Come.” She motioned to the door. “Both of us are covered in his blood. He will be alright for a minute. And, we need to talk.”

Caretaker’s heart sank. He hated being told that; it usually resulted in consequence. Caretaker was certain he’d hurt Whumpee, and that this was what the two of them were talking about when Leader had forced Caretaker out of the room originally.

He remembered Whumpee’s awful wailing, that truly soul crushing type of cry. Caretaker felt responsible for causing him to react like that. Why else would Caretaker be pushed out while they spoke?

He got up, following Leader out of the cabin. On their way out, Leader dimmed the lamp to the room. Once outside, she ordered one of the Unit members to keep watch, in case.

She guided Caretaker toward the bow of the small ship, where the team’s supplies had been gathered. Several pails of fresh water had been retrieved, and a stack of cloths put together. She tossed a cloth into one of the buckets, handing it to Caretaker, before beginning to wash herself.

Caretaker pulled off the top he had on, tossing it to the side. He took the cloth and scrubbed his face before dunking it back into the cool water.

The clear water immediately ran red. Caretaker’s breath hitched in his throat seeing the amount of Whumpee’s blood spilling into the bucket.

“I need you to listen to me carefully.” Leader said lowly.

He clenched his teeth.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t—“

“Caretaker, listen— please.” Caretaker bit his lip.

Leader resumed washing her arms in the water, looking away from Caretaker as she spoke.

“I need you to be very deliberate with how you act and talk to Whumpee.” She said.

Caretaker didn’t understand. He had a terrible time picking up nuance, he couldn’t take hints; Caretaker was the kind of person who needed clear, black-and-white instructions.

“I— what?”

Leader sighed. She sounded impatient, and also just as exhausted.

“Just… just really think about what you’re saying. What they did to him there, Caretaker… he’s really hurt. I just…” Leader paused. “I just want to make sure you are clear and honest with him right now. That’s all.” She said curtly.

She stood up, tossing her bucket of just-as-bloodied water overboard, before grabbing clean casual clothes from a truck among the supplies. She tucked a folded pile under her arm, and tossed another to Caretaker.

“And change, please.”

Caretaker finished washing, dumping his bucket as well. He watched the blood dilute and dissipate into the black nighttime seawater. He took the clothes, heading to the head of the boat to change.

It was a patterned white and red kimono top, embroidered with the signet of the Resistance, and loose grey pants. This was the outfit that the Resistance wore under their armor, Caretaker realized. He was silently grateful that the clothing actually fit his large stature.

Caretaker carried his bloody clothing with him as he walked back to Whumpee’s room, dropping it in the corner of the room. Leader was in the cabin already, talking softly to Whumpee.

The room was dimly lit with an amber glow, the soft music of a shamisen playing from a radio on the cabin’s dresser.

There was a small window in the room that Leader had opened, the lapping of the waves and the gentle music creating a soothing rhythm. Whumpee looked much calmer.

Leader stood when Caretaker entered, moving to a chair underneath the head of the floor lamp. She crossed her legs, closed her eyes, and drifted off after a deep sigh.

Caretaker still could not understand what Leader said to him. He replayed her words in his head, wracking his brain and feeling terrible about whatever it was that he did.

Caretaker walked over quietly, taking the seat by Whumpee’s bedside. He remained silent, watching Whumpee’s chest steadily rise and fall.

Whumpee’s eyes fluttered open, staring ahead with dilated pupils before looking slowly up at Caretaker.

Caretaker felt emotions overtake him like a tidal wave. He forced a smile at Whumpee, stroking his shoulder.

Though incredibly subtle, the corners of Whumpee’s mouth turned up into the smallest grin before his eyes slowly rolled shut again.

Caretaker rested his head on Whumpee’s bed, pressing his forehead onto the top of his arms to cover his eyes.

Whumpee’s tiny smile ripped his heart into shreds, and he silently cried himself to an unavoidable sleep.

#whumperless whump event #wwevent day 19 #wwevent 2025

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whumperless-whump-event · 2 days ago

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getting back into the bright sessions for @whumperless-whump-event! it’s on ao3 here

#whumperless whump event

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whumperless-whump-event · 2 days ago

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Whumperless Whump: #7, 8, 9: Motion sickness, hot stove, sick day

Content: Caretaking, sea sickness, whump recovery

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

The strange sense of movement brought Chuuya to his senses. He opened his eyes to a cramped room. The narrow cot he was lying on was barely a stride away from some kind of medical cabinet, jars lining the upper shelf behind a locked sliding door. A tiny sink was at the foot of the cot underneath a small round porthole.

Chuuya could see blue sky.

Chuuya felt like shit.

He wanted to cower away from that meager light. The last thing he wanted to do was set foot under the sun, which is all the blue sky meant to him.

His head throbbed. There was a strain throughout his body, a deep ache, as if he’d run a marathon. The skin on his face, neck, and arms was hot and burned like the sun was still on it.

Not able to bear the heat, he threw down the light sheet that was covering his chest, scratchy against his skin, only to break into goosebumps as the chill air from the vent washed across his bare torso. And then hissed as his tightening pulled at his wound.

Looking down and feeling gingerly around his waist, he found that it had been wrapped with clean bandages.

Somehow, seeing that was a load of stress off his mind. It seemed his ordeal was finally over, and he was on his way, where he could contact the Mafia, rendezvous, and go home.

With a bit more energy than perhaps he really had in him, he pushed himself up, clutching onto the corner of the cabinet to steady himself as the deck swayed underneath his feet. So they were underway after all.

Mustering his reserves, he had barely taken another step toward the door of the cabin before it opened inwards, and the same man from earlier came in.

“Ah, he’s awake!” The man shuffled Chuuya back a step to sit down on the cot, and then pulled up a tiny stool to perch next to him.

A bearded man propped himself in the doorway, cap perched jauntily on his head. “You gonna make it?”

Chuuya looked up. “Yeah, think so.” He gave a tired, wry smile.

“Good to hear it. Nero, captain of the ship.” Nero leaned forward to grasp Chuuya’s hand. “How’d you end up out there?”

“Terrorists. I was out on my own. Just managed to escape, but it was out in the desert, so.” The cover story rattled off with practiced ease, having given so many, over so many missions. Chuuya ended with an ambiguous wave of his hand, letting implication fill in the rest of the holes.

“Terrorists.” Nero spat on the ground. “Well, they’re long behind us now. We’ll be pulling into port in several days, so get some rest.” And then he was away.

Chuuya turned to the doctor, who had scooted forward to peer into Chuuya’s eyes with a penlight. “Thanks, uh…”

“Charles,” the man supplied, absentmindedly. He hummed a moment, took Chuuya’s pulse with one hand on his neck, and then sat back. “Goes without saying you should continue to rest. Nasty case of sunburn, but we’ve got lotion for that. Be sure to drink down everything you’re given. I’ll bring you a meal from the cook and a painkiller. I’d imagine you’re hurting after that sun exposure.”

“Thanks, but. I’d really rather get out on deck.” He glanced toward the porthole. The burning itch under his skin was driving him to really see the coast and the desert behind him.

Charles gave a one shouldered shrug. “Suit yourself.” He helped Chuuya to his feet and guided him up the narrow stairwell to the deck.

And it really became apparent to Chuuya what kind of boat this was. The stairwell opened to a bright sundeck, topped by a flat roof held up by regularly spaced pillars. Tied-back curtains rustled in the breeze, lending an air of charm and luxury to the weathered, but warm finishings. Beyond the shaded lounge was the railing looking out to the sea.

The doctor disappeared for a moment, and then came back with a thin kimono-style robe to drape over Chuuya’s shoulders, before mentioning something about getting him something to eat. Chuuya nodded his thanks, and then carefully shrugged into the robe, one arm at a time. The light, sky blue fabric gave him some cover against the sun as he stepped beyond the roofed deck and toward the railing. Sure enough, the orange sandy desert was fading into the distance, turning hazy like his memories of the ordeal.

Well, good riddance.

Turning his back to the sea, he plodded slowly over to one of the shaded wicker couches furnishing the sundeck and slumped with a groan. His arms stretched out among the colorful pillows. The deck was dry and warm under his bare feet, and he savored its smooth sturdiness, a sharp contrast to the perpetual shifting, slipping sands.

The doc came back and clattered a platter of food down onto the table in front of him, set down a pill, then sat back with a crossed leg and lit up a cigarette. Chuuya took one look at the food and tore into it. It wasn’t until he was several bites in that he had the willpower to pause and guzzle the pill down with a swing of water.

As he ate, he was aware of other movement and noises on deck – guests chatting and enjoying the cruise. Eventually, a figure in blue skirted into his periphery and indicated the chair to his right – “May I?” The doctor gave a permissive wave and went back to smoking. Chuuya glanced up.

“Hey, don’ stop on my account. You the castaway we picked up?” It wasn’t really phrased as a question, but more of a conversation starter. Chuuya met the man’s blue eyes briefly in acknowledgement and went back to chowing.

“Whew. Never woulda thought we’d see something like that. How long were you out there?”

Chuuya paused and thought back over his time in the desert. “Two days.”

“Two days without food or water. Shit.” The guest shook his head and fell silent.

Chuuya took the time to finish downing his food until he couldn’t eat any longer. Snatches of conversation floated around in the breeze buffeting the sails at either end of the boat. Others came by to talk to the guest, but Chuuya largely ignored them. Eventually, he sat back, having nearly cleaned his tray of every item of food on it. The man next to him, who’d introduced himself as Robert sometime during the course of his meal, nodded appreciatively, then stood up.

He clapped Chuuya on the shoulder. “Well, if you feel like company, come join us.” A jerk of his thumb over his shoulder revealed a collection of passengers milling about another table and a game of cards.

Although the pounding in Chuuya’s head had subsided, his body still felt like it had been battered by a truck. So he waved the man off and slumped deeper into the pillows to watch the waves flow by.

Absently, he rubbed the tender side of his stomach where the bullet had caught him. The deck and the seat under him rocked to and fro, to and fro, even as the horizon remained still. The breeze, although not baking temperatures like the air over the desert, was warm against his skin. Chuuya swallowed. Spontaneously, a cold sheen of sweat broke out over his skin.

He stood up, and clutched onto the sofa back for support. “I think I’m gonna go below –” And then he lurched toward the railing and lost his food over the side.

He panted, the taste of bile sour on his tongue. The wound flared up, burning fingers digging into his side. Chuuya groaned.

Footsteps from behind and then a hand on his back broke his personal space. “Being pent up in the cabin might be worse,” the doctor offered, “with just the small porthole to see out of.” “Yeah, but. The A/C.” Chuuya needed to get out of this heat.

“Well, you can try it. I’ll bring you some ginger, that might help.”

The doctor helped Chuuya back to the cabin, where he collapsed on the cot, the cold air conditioning chilling his skin. Despite chewing on the ginger tablets, the constant motion back and forth was far from soothing. He emptied his stomach yet again in a bucket placed next to the bed.

Even hours later when he went back up on deck, with the doctor’s claim that fresh air would help, he was still moaning, stretched out on an empty couch. “God, I hate the ocean.”

Robert looked over at him sympathetically. “I’ve got some sea sickness pills, but I don’t know if they’ll be any better than what you’re taking.”

Chuuya just waved limply at him to bring the pills over. He finally started to feel normal an hour later, when the sun had been swallowed by the sea. By then, the deck was getting rowdy with the passengers enjoying the cooler evening, so he dragged himself down the stairs and sought out the kitchen for a bite to eat. Maybe there’d be some bread he could keep down.

He found the cook in a narrow, but well apportioned galley. “Hey, don’t suppose there’s any –” a sudden rock of the boat sent Chuuya off-kilter and he careened into the counter, hand coming right down on a hot burner.

With a strangled shout, he jerked his hand back.

The cook looked up, cursing, and tugged Chuuya’s hand under a cold stream of water from the faucet.

The shock of the burn radiated through Chuuya’s hand and up his arm. He thought he might be sick again.

After a minute, the cook peered at his palm. “Well, it’s not a bad burn. Just nicked ya. We’ll get Charles to get you some pain killers.” Then he looked Chuuya up and down with pity on his face. “Heard about your plight today. Why don’t you head back to your bed and I’ll bring you a little something.” And he packed Chuuya back off to the sick bay.

Chuuya laid curled up on his side, cradling his arm against his chest and cursing to himself through the pain. It wasn’t long before the cook came in with a tray of toast and a bowl of soup. Chuuya was glad it was food he could readily eat without using his burned right hand.

Hoping the next day would see them closer to solid ground, he tucked into bed after he finished and eventually drifted to sleep.

He didn’t hear the rumble of thunder in the distance.

@whumperless-whump-event

#whumperless whump event #wwevent 2025 #wwevent day 7 #wwevent day 8 #wwevent day 9

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whumperless-whump-event · 3 days ago

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WHUMPERLESS WHUMP EVENT 2025:

19 - IRRESISTIBLE: Venomous snake bite / Spiders / “Man, these bugs really just love you, don't they.”

Ao3 Collection Link / Prompts List, Rules & FAQ

#whumperless whump event #whumperless whump event 2025 #wwevent 2025 #wwevent day 19

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whumperless-whump-event · 3 days ago

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Day 19 - Spiders (Pokémon BW)

Rating: T (mentioned burned body)

For @whumperless-whump-event day 19

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The Joltic scrambled to grasp his hoodie. The Pokémon was no smaller than his thumb, Touya was afraid the slightest wrong move would crush it.

It was a strange thought—he’d just witnessed a cluster of Joltic taking out Team Plasma a moment ago. Silky strands of web wrap around their prey, trapping them, sending jolts of electricity pumping into their system. And fried them into smoke.

Touya could still remember the sharp smell of burned meat searing into his mind. One Joltic wouldn’t mean anything, but thousands of them?

And the scream. Oh God, that isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Touya was careful when he palmed the spider Pokémon up to his face. Trembling. Fascinated and scared to shitless. Such a small body could pack a lot of electricity.

He had thought the Joltic was stuck on his hoodie by accident, but when he put it down. It scrambled up into his jeans, and hoodie. Touya stood there as fear wracked him to stillness, flashback of the unfortunate Team Plasma rushing up to his mind.

With a shaky smile that belied the nausea in his stomach, he said, “Hey, buddy, wanna come with me?”

#whumperless whump event #wwevent day 19 #wwevent 2025

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whumperless-whump-event · 3 days ago

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baby, it's cold outside

@whumperless-whump-event day 18: huddling for warmth!!! oh i've been EXCITED for this one

cws: uh... actually nothing? some brief references to past bad things, and It's Cold, but mostly this is just nice things happening. for once!

It's been two weeks since Milo brought Coren home for good this time. A week and a half since it woke up enough to speak. Six days since they got the tracker chip out. God-only-knows how long since Milo's slept in their own bed (or anyone's, for that matter.) And now, on top of everything, their heat's shut off and there's a blizzard rolling in.

"Fuck." Milo leans their elbows on the table and puts their head in their hands. "Fuck!"

"It's not ideal," Ray agrees. He's hovering over Milo, anxiously biting his lip as he looks at the weather report on his phone. "If you'd paid that bill on time—"

Milo turns to glare at her. "I did pay the bill. They just haven't turned it back on yet."

"Alright, alright." Ray sighs. "I just don't know what... we could go to my house?"

"We'd have to walk there," Milo points out. "In the cold. And bring Coren out." They glance up. Coren has vanished from the doorway where it was listening in on the conversation. Hm. Problem for later.

"Okay, fine," Ray huffs. "What do you suggest?"

"I..." Milo buries their head in their hands again. "I don't know. Give me a minute."

They try to think of solutions. They really do. But all they can think of is how cold they already are, and how much worse it'll get, and how much they were looking forward to even a few hours' sleep on the couch, and the ever-tightening feeling in their chest—

Coren reappears in the doorway. "I believe I have a solution."

Ray and Milo look over at it. It's standing rigidly straight, the way it does when it thinks it's about to get in trouble. It doesn't look at them as it says "Come upstairs and see what you think."

"Hot air rises," they explain as Ray and Milo follow them upstairs. "The upper room will be warmest." They open the door to the bedroom where they've been staying. "I have collected the blankets from downstairs and brought them here to make...um..."

It looks like they've built a nest, essentially. A nest of pillows and blankets, arranged on the floor next to the stripped bed. Coren shuffles anxiously and fixes their gaze somewhere over Milo's shoulder. "Did I do a good job?"

"Uh," Milo says, tearing their gaze away from the allure of the blanket nest. "Yeah. Yeah, you did great. This is a great idea, Coren."

Coren relaxes minutely. "Good. Okay. Let's get in."

"Oh," Milo says, feeling stupid. "All of us?" They weren't really thinking straight. They'd figured Coren made the nest for themself alone.

"Yes," Coren says. "Of course? If the temperature drops enough, we may want to share body heat."

"Right," Ray says faintly from somewhere behind Milo.

They all wrap themselves up in separate blankets, sit a carefully safe distance apart, and wait for the temperature to drop.

They're not waiting long. The wind goes from a whistle to a shriek in a minutes. The view outside the window is pure white.

("Did we remember to—" Ray says, and Coren answers "Yes, I closed the windows." Their voices are barely audible over the storm.)

Time passes. It gets colder. Milo loses track of how long it's been with alarming speed. They're so cold their mind feels numbed. They try and hide their face in their blanket, but have to come up for air eventually, and the air is so cold it hurts their lungs. Their teeth are chattering.

"I think we should t-try the huddling plan now," Coren says, barely audible over the storm.

In silent consensus, everybody shuffles a little closer. And then— their bodies move without the input of their thoughts, and they're huddled together under the blankets, pressed as close as they can get.

Milo wills their heart to stop beating so fast. It's not like this is the first time they've been this close to Ray or Coren. Granted, they've been... avoiding touching either of them since Coren started living at their house, which feels backwards, now that they're thinking about it, but it just— felt safest. They're still not sure how to navigate this new context. This is the first time they've been this close to Ray without any manipulation or transactional element involved. And the first time in a long time they've been this close to Coren while they were both lucid (for a given value of lucid) and... comfortable? Yes. They're comfortable. The feeling is unfamiliar enough that it takes a moment to place. They're comfortable, and starting to feel warm, and... oh dear. It's going to be difficult not to fall asleep.

(Coren, meanwhile, is already soundly asleep. Why shouldn't it be? It's with the two safest people in the whole world. It did a good job. It has more than enough blankets and it got to eat today and even despite somebody's cold feet poking it, it's completely content.)

taglist: @whumpsoda @snakebites-and-ink @cepheusgalaxy @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @whatwhump

#whumperless whump event #wwevent 2025 #wwevent day 18

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whumperless-whump-event · 3 days ago

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Fandom: All Elite Wrestling

Prompt: @whumperless-whump-event Day 18: "It'll be over soon"

Ship: Orange Cassidy/Hook

Summary: A storm hits their apartment.

#whumperless whump event #wwevent 2025 #wwevent day 18

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whumperless-whump-event · 3 days ago

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a scrap of Daredevil fluff for @spiralwaves and 1000 late words for @whumperless-whump-event. day 9: sick day.

"I knew there was something really wrong. You don't just take a sick day for no reason."

"Fog, I'm fine."

"Says the guy on crutches. What happened? Should you even be up?"

He wouldn't be if he'd thought there was any chance of Foggy leaving with the door unanswered. "Someone was knocking on my door," Matt says, awkwardly maneuvering back out of the way. His ankle throbs, a steady beat inside the new cast.

"Sorry. I was worried about you." Foggy enters the apartment, closing the door behind him. He trails Matt into the living room, the plastic bag he carries smelling of pastrami and egg flower soup. "Which you would already know if you'd called me this morning instead of Karen. Dick move, by the way."

"I, uh, wasn't really prepared to answer any questions this morning." Forced to drag himself home to change out of the suit first, it had been ridiculously late by the time he'd gotten to the ER. The sun was coming up when he'd finally gotten out of there; all he'd wanted was to sleep.

"Well are you now? Because I definitely have questions."

"Is that for me?" he asks, gesturing in the direction of the bag. There wasn't anything close to a meal in his fridge when he'd checked earlier. He was still trying to decide what he was going to do about that.

"I grabbed you a famous Nelson pastrami before it occurred to me that you might not feel like eating. So I stopped at Lucky Dragon on the way and got you some soup."

"Thanks."

"You can thank me by sitting down. You're pretty pale under all those bruises."

He thinks about going to get a shirt. The bedroom feels a long way away with these crutches. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, you said that. Just sit down."

Matt lowers himself down onto the couch, lays the crutches on the floor. Foggy goes into the kitchen with his bag. "So which do you want?" he asks. "Cuz I'm eating the other."

His stomach growls. "I'll take the sandwich."

"Wise choice, Counselor. You want anything to drink with that?"

"Grab me a beer?"

The refrigerator door opens and closes. "So I'm guessing you said no when they offered you the good drugs?"

There's a crumpled prescription on the hallway table next to his keys and glasses. "I took some ibuprofen." Hours ago now; he'll take some more after he eats something.

"Ibuprofen, huh? Must be bad then." It's said lightly, but Matt knows Foggy's well aware of how reluctant he is to take any kind of medication.

"That's what the beer's for," he says, only half joking.

Foggy reappears in the living room. "Here." He hands Matt an open bottle and the wrapped sandwich. The metal legs of the coffee table whisper across the floor as the piece of furniture is dragged closer to the couch. Foggy grabs a pillow. "Put your foot up."

Matt complies; Foggy throws himself down into one of the chairs. "So what happened?" he asks, blowing on his soup.

"Freak thing," Matt says, unwrapping the pastrami sandwich. It's warm, and the smell of it makes his mouth water. "Landed wrong." He decides not to mention he was dodging bullets at the time. Or that one had been deflected by the suit, the punch of it throwing him off balance.

"Wait, this happened last night? How did you get home?"

Swinging painfully across the rooftops, with a lot of excruciating and undignified hopping in between. "Slowly."

"I bet. That must've sucked."

He shifts on the couch, already uncomfortable in this position. His ankle aches. "Wasn't fun."

Foggy's fingertips scritch across the styrofoam cup. "You should've called me. I could've gone with you to the hospital."

"And then neither of us would've gotten any sleep."

His hair brushes the shoulders of his suit when he shrugs. "I can still pull an all nighter when the situation demands it."

The first thing Matt's eaten today, the sandwich is half gone already. He takes a sip of the beer. "I appreciate it, I do. But it really wasn't necessary."

"Well I'd say 'next time,' but I know both of us are really hoping this never happens again." Matt toasts this sentiment with his beer. "So what did you tell Karen?"

"Just that I was taking the day off. I, uh, needed some time to come up with a story." He feels the heat rise in his face as he says this.

He's going to have to tell her he tripped. She'll treat him like he's fragile for a week, at least.

"Come up with anything yet?"

"Not really."

Foggy gets up, leaving his soup on the table. He heads toward the kitchen. "You could just tell her the truth."

"I —" The sentence falters, crumbles into tiny pieces. He's not sure where it was going anyway. "I'm not ready yet. Soon. I'll tell her soon. I swear."

"Just so you know, that's messed up." Foggy returns from the kitchen, holding out a hand. "Here. Take these. They're ibuprofen."

"What?" It's automatic, already out of his mouth. "Why?"

"Because you're wincing every time you move around. Which is a lot. You need them."

Matt concedes, stretches out his hand. Feels the pills drop into his palm. Washing them down with the beer feels defiant, even if he's not sure who he's rebelling against. "Thanks."

"Sure." Foggy sits opposite him again, picking up the styrofoam container.

He needs to tell Karen. He's going to tell Karen. But the less people who know, the better. And he's not sure how she's going to react.

Still. He really should tell Karen.

"I forgot how good this is," Foggy says. He returns to his soup with enthusiasm.

Leaving Matt alone with the echoes of a conversation and half a pastrami sandwich. His ankle complains when he adjusts his position; the pillow shifts under the cast. He takes a bite of the sandwich.

He's going to tell her. Soon.

#whumperless whump event #wwevent 2025 #wwevent day 9

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