#I only sink deeper the deeper I think.

[spiltcandycoatedpunkblood]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Adventures of Tintin (2011) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Milou | Snowy & Tintin, Archibald Haddock & Tintin Characters: Tintin (Tintin), Milou | Snowy, Archibald Haddock Additional Tags: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Depression, No Dialogue, Internal Monologue, Mental Health Issues, Past Torture, Past Violence, Worry, Scars, Bruises, Animal Abuse, Vulnerability, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Heavy Angst, Major Character Injury, Beating, Drowning, Electrocution, Flashbacks, Insults, Stabbing, Sadism, Beds, Starvation, Catatonic Tintin, Delirium, Anger, Rage, Dissociation, Inspired by Music, Showers, Pain, Agony, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2023, no.24, I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule., Neglect, no.29, I only sink deeper the deeper I think., Troubled Past Resurfacing, Self-Reflection, Tears, inspired by 'jabberwocky' by redhook, it is extremely suitable, song is sung by a sexual assault/trauma survivor, i highly recommend it it's so GOOD and so so SO important Series: Part 16 of Tintin Whumptober 2023 Summary: "Even on a beautiful sunny day when the flowers were at their brightest and you could smell the freshness in the air, he didn’t want to go out. He didn’t have the energy to.

When Tintin did have a shower, it was often to only stare at the bathroom wall, or sit down in it, knees up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs.

At least the constant pattering of water during a shower was relaxing, and drowned out the flashbacks."

[hummingbird-of-light]

No. 29 “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.” (“What happened to me?”)

A/N: This one's for a friend of mine who always wanted me to write this story. I hope they like it.

~

'What happened to me?’

His head was spinning and he felt incredibly nauseous. He wanted to roll onto his side, wanted to just throw up, but his body didn't move an inch.

Even the desire to look around was ever destroyed when McCoy realized that his head was also paralyzed.

All he could see was the blue sky above him, accompanied by many pink tree tops.

Right.

They had been on a new planet to explore it. And then he had come into contact with this strange plant, had accidentally touched it. He had staggered backwards and fallen.

The plant! It must have paralyzed him!

McCoy wanted to call for help, wanted to just scream out loud, but not a single sound left his throat. He was completely helpless.

His breathing became more frantic and he struggled for air. Why was he so nauseous? Had the plant poisoned him badly? And why did he feel pain in his stomach area?

McCoy tried to move his eyes enough to see his stomach, but he couldn’t.

‘Help! Please help me!'

It was a miracle, but his silent prayers were actually raised.

For suddenly a voice rang out.

"Bones? Bones, where are you?"

Jim! That was his captain!

McCoy would have liked to smile, but not a single facial muscle stirred. Somehow, however, he managed to breathe a little more calmly.

His friend would help him.

"Bones, where- fuck! Bones!"

McCoy's blood froze in his veins as he heard Jim suck in a sharp breath and then curse.

Only a moment later, the captain appeared in his field of vision. His face was pale and his eyes wide.

"Bones, what happened? Talk to me!"

McCoy cursed inwardly. He'd like to, but he couldn't talk!

"Bones, can you hear me?"

He was aware of Jim putting a hand on his shoulder, but he couldn't respond. The look in his eyes, however, seemed answer enough.

"O-okay, y-you can't speak. I see. I'll, uh, we'll figure this out, okay?"

McCoy noticed that his friend's gaze kept going toward his stomach. What was going on?

"Y-you tripped. And... I don't know how exactly it happened, but... but there's some kind of pointy boulder i-in your stomach."

Somehow, McCoy's eyes managed to widen. Immediately, his breathing became more frantic again.

A boulder?! A fucking boulder had pierced him?!

"O-okay, just... just take it easy, okay? I... I know you taught me what to do."

Yes. McCoy had indeed. He had always made sure Jim had been to all the first aid classes.

"I... have to stop the bleeding first."

Searchingly, the Captain looked around before his gaze fell on his dress shirt.

McCoy just wanted to shake his head.

Call for help! Jim should call a medical team first! Christine, M'Benga - somebody!

But his friend was obviously in shock. He wasn't thinking about the obvious.

Instead, he took off his yellow dress shirt, and just a moment later, an excruciating pain shot through McCoy's body.

He wanted to scream, to curse loudly, to hit Jim.

He was squeezing too hard! The damn bastard was pressing too hard on the wound!

Tears welled up in McCoy's eyes and he tried to shake his head.

"I'm sorry, Bones. That... that's got to hurt like hell, but... I've got to stop the bleeding somehow."

Jim looked at him desperately and McCoy didn't know whether to hate him or feel sorry for him. His friend tried his best.

"And now... now I have to... oh fuck! Call for help! I have to contact the ship!"

With trembling blood covered hands, Jim raised his communicator to his mouth.

"Kirk to Enterprise! Kirk to Enterprise! We need a med team! Now! Injured crew member! Heavy bleeding! Puncture wound in abdomen!"

McCoy listened to the murmur on the other side before a response sounded.

("Roger that, Captain. We're sending the team down. However, outside the forest you are in due to interference.")

McCoy's heart stopped.

This was very far away! How would the team ever make it in time?

"C-copy that. Kirk out."

With those words, Jim dropped his communicator and refocused on the injured doctor.

"Help is on the way, Bones, you hear me? They... they'll be here soon, I'm sure."

McCoy felt another wave of pain surge through his body as Jim once again applied pressure to his self made bandage.

He begged for Jim to stop, but his friend failed to understand the look in his eyes.

He just stared at the wound, muttering to himself.

"Everything's going to be all right. Everything's going to be okay, Bones."

McCoy could only hope so. If the team hurried, then he would have a chance.

There was silence for a moment, then Jim groaned.

"Where is the team? This is taking way too long!"

McCoy wanted to groan as well. Jim was just always too impatient. He wanted a solution. And quickly.

And a second later, the doctor knew that would be his undoing.

Jim's eyes widened.

"I... I have to take you to them."

Panic filled McCoy as he heard those words.

No. No, no, no!

"I... I can do this. I'm fast. And the faster we get you there, the faster you get help, Bones."

That idiot! That fucking idiot! Hadn't he ever listened? Foreign bodies were not to be removed from the wound! The risk of injuring vessels was far too high!

He pleaded and begged, tears in his eyes. Jim was not allowed to do this!

"I'll... I'll lift you up. On three, okay?"

McCoy yelled. He yelled at Jim not to do it. He yelled at him to stop. But his friend couldn't hear him.

"One."

No...

"Two."

Please...

"Three!"

The last thing McCoy saw was Jim's desperate look before the blood poured out of his body like a waterfall, ending his life in short order. If only Jim had listened to him better.

[serickswrites]

Sink Deeper

Warnings: referenced captivity, injuries, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort

“Can you….can you light the candle? The one that smells like hugs?” Whumpee asked quietly from the bed. They were under a pile of blankets and still cold. They were always cold ever since Whumper took them.

Caretaker smiled. “Course I can, darling. Do you want some hot chocolate, too?”

Whumpee nodded. They didn’t deserve Caretaker. Caretaker was far too good to them. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” Caretaker said as they dashed out of the room.

Before long, Caretaker was back and both they and Whumpee were tucked beneath the blankets, steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the night stands. “Come here, darling, let me hold you.” They held out open arms to Whumpee.

Without hesitation, Whumpee rolled into Caretaker’s arms. Caretaker was careful to hold them in such a way so as to not jostle their injuries. Whumpee was so glad to have Caretaker. Caretaker was so wonderful. “Why are you so good to me?” Whumpee murmured into Caretaker’s chest, feeling themself sink deeper into Caretaker’s warmth.

“Because I love you, darling, and I am so glad to still be able to hold you. To kiss you. And to take care of you. I love you, Whumpee. And I am so, so glad you are still here.” They leaned down and kissed the top of Whumpee’s head.

“Me too,” Whumpee murmured as sleep began to suck them under. But this was a welcome sleep. One that they knew wouldn’t be filled with nightmares of before. Because Caretaker had them. And they would always be safe in Caretaker’s arms.

[dirtytransmasc]

hey there, cool blog <3 I love reading your takes on things

so I wanted to ask your take on larycent and what you think we’ll see in season 2

(wrote this whole thing out and then my computer died before I could post it. my first attempt at this was much better. this is cruel and unusual punishment, this whole thing is now infused with anger. not towards you, just in general.)

I should first start off by saying, thank you, I'm so happy you like reading my stuff, second off, I'll say I may be one of the worst people to ask, cause Larys is one of those characters I hate so much, plot be damned, he could choke on one of his stupid flowers within the first 5 minutes of season 2 and I couldn't give less of a shit. I'm not typically like that with characters, I tend to try and give a character enough grace to care about their place in plot, but Larys just makes me that angry. despite this, I will try to be appropriately opinionated and give you a proper answer lol.

from a story point of view their dynamic is fascinating. here's this guy with such little standing (compared to her as queen) who wields so much power against her. it starts out when she is young and alone, he spots this weakness and befriends her, giving her information, gives her company she so longs for, slowly spinning this web around her. then as she gets older, he becomes a sort of confidant, biding his time, until he finds the right moment to strike. he bends her words, given in great trust and secrecy, most likely not the first dangerous secret they've shared, and uses it to 'justify' (he didn't need her command to do it, he just waited to do it in a way that he could hold her accountable for it) killing his father and brother. this gives him power, he can use this against her, to keep her close. he's piled up blackmail at this point, he's got her bound in his web of secrets, she can't leave.

she knows he's dangerous now, she has to keep him close, or he could hurt her, her kids, her image, the people around her.

the other thing is, he gets off on it all. he gets off on bringing her to his level, by stripping her of her agency as queen so that way they are equals.

then by some means, he gets her to give herself up in a sexual manner. he had already been doing this, in a way; I vaguely remember some sort of statement or interview from Matthew Needham about how Larys gets off on bringing her down, on filling her with shame and guilt, on making her feel dirty. so getting her to truthfully give herself up to him for whether it be to keep him satisfied (I'll come back to this point in a second) or for information, gives him the ultimate gratification.

he was like a parasite, taking and taking and taking from her until he was satisfied. she couldn't get rid of him, as he posed a threat to her and others, she couldn't ignore him because then he would act out and be a threat. he had to be kept satisfied. she had to give him a purpose, a use, an outlet to feel like he had power. like a dog, if he was left to himself, he would grow bored and unruly, she had to offer herself to keep him entertained.

both Olivia and Matthew played this dynamic out so well. Matthew played Larys so slimey and gross and just irksome, I was uncomfortable whenever he was on screen. Olivia played Alicent's discomfort and forced compliance so well, I just felt insanely bad the whole time.

it really built Larys up as this thinly veiled evil, he could be... well behaved and friendly, he could be useful, he could be an ally of sorts, all for a price, and if that price went unpaid or he felt undervalued, he could quickly become something so downright awful. he could be something downright evil if he wanted to really, that he was willing to bend words and step on toes (ironically) to get what he wanted and show off his power.

it also built up Alicent, adding onto her list of horrors in life, and putting her in this power limbo. she was queen, yet she was felled by this nobleman, brought down to his level if not lower. while some (*ahem* team black stans *cough cough*) saught to demonize her for her suffering, it really led me to sympathize with her more than before. she had suffered this mans sick and twisted game since she was a child, and he shows no signs of stopping. she's always stepping around fear, knowing the monster she let into her chambers, unable to get him out.

so, outside of the fact that I hate to see my girl suffering so horrible, I can't say I love their dynamic, but I don't hate it... its like, so horrible but so interesting, and I hate it not because it's poorly done or unnecessary, it just makes me feel gross and horrible. 10/10 characterization, 10/10 portrayal, 10/10 plot building -100/10 making me feel nice lmao.

onto predictions: I think she's going to attempt to stand up to him and fail. at the end of season 1 we see her lose Viserys (abuser number 1) and stand up to Otto (abuser number 2) finally putting him in his place after years of biting her tongue to him, acting against him (ordering Aegon be brought to her, that the crowning of aegon/treatment of Rhaenyra be under her command, etc,). I think she'll attempt to continue this pattern and stand up to Larys, who has been nothing but an aching wound in her side.

its only then that he will truly show how evil he can be. he will show his anger, his wrath, the power he holds over her head. he has years of blackmail against her, he will make this evident. it wouldn't surprise me if we get a scene paralleling Daemon and Rhaenyra and the choking scene, if even if only slightly. he will do something to make her keep him at her side. I think he will be the first to bring true horror to our girl. we have seen fear, strife, anxiety, worry, and disbelief, but we have not seen horror. truthfully, I think he's the only one I believe capable of doing that to her.

he is happy to remain sat loyally at her feet (again, the irony) so long as she respects him and lets him use her to get off when he pleases, so after his little show of power, when he instills fear into her once more, he will lie back down like a good little parasitic inside man, while she waits in fear, forever caught in his web. it brings this new air of sick and twisted to it all; his true self has been revealed, he can no longer be looked at with any level of incapacity or harmlessness (not that he really could before, but I don't really know how to describe what I'm thinking of in any other way), yet he reverts back to his normal self. he may be more assertive of his power over her, his word may have a sharper edge to them, but he will still play his role as her obedient servant, while she suffers the stresses of it all.

its this forced 'trust' Alicent is forced to reenter that will keep him at her side up until the end of it (I believe they separate when he is to smuggle Maelor out of the city, but I'm not sure if/when Maelor will be brought into the city, so we'll see how that goes) and I think that dynamic will be equally awful as it is interesting to watch play out.

[oxideblack]

[what-the-whump]

Whumptober 2023 | No.29

"I only sink deeper the deeper I think."

Leo Kosov-Meyer, aka 2Dads in Sea Patrol - 5x08 - Lifeline

[allbuthuman]

Reading Dazai, Chuuya, Fifteen and I have thoughts on the importance of the scene where Dazai shoots that guy who's already dead.

“But you’re showing me something extremely valuable – your death – so I want to pay you back.”

Firstly, he wants to die himself. In that sense, by mercy-killing someone, he's gaining an excuse to look into the thing he thinks he most desires. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, he wants to see if the new thing he is acquiring, the knowledge of death, of what it is to take a life, will ignite something that’s enough for him to be pulled out of his emptiness and boredom.

“Dazai was puzzled. His expression was bizarrely childlike – fit for a boy his age, yet unlike any he had shown before. His lips suddenly curled into a gloomy smile.

The same things that another child would seek elsewhere, he can only seek in violence. His manic state can be seen as an eager, desperate request of “Will you be the one to give me what I need?”. While he is hopeful that it will, and will continue to try ("...yet unlike any he had shown before") , his "gloominess" also hints to the reality of him becoming simultaneously aware that No, it’s still the same, which furthers his exasperation. I see it like a bizarre coexistence and at the same time conflict between the exultation of "I'm testing new waters that might give my life meaning" and the desperation of "Wait, why isn't it working?", which only seems to escalate throughout his mafia days, until he can finally understand and accept that it will never work.

[celira]

day 29

When she fronts them– which is an awful way to think about the body that is rightfully hers, which strains with the pressure of both their souls, which he should not under any circumstances be clinging to from inside her mind…but there he is, nonetheless– he goes back down. He's blessedly not in that study any more, but he also doesn't have a fixed destination, either. It doesn't feel right setting up shop, putting up structures and making himself at home more than he already has.

Because she is home, and it's all too easy for him to kick his feet up and nestle into her. It's all too clear how he always has.

He traveled the winding corridors of the Sixth with her, all massive panels and cramped stacks, side by side– sometimes behind, when she was impatient and he was slow– until the year she started shadowing him half a step behind. There's hardly a memory of his that doesn't feature her from that point forward.

Sometimes he forgets that the same can't be said for her. His right hand, his cavalier, goes above and beyond the call of duty; she finishes the paperwork when he's fallen asleep over it, takes his glasses off his face with aching tenderness so they don't dig into his face, grants herself the momentary indulgence of watching the Warden sleep as she signs and seals forms. When the last sheet of flimsy hits the outbox, he rolls his shoulders, tilts a crick out of his neck, and reaches over to wake himself up–

Wait.

What the actual hell.

He briefly considers the ironic cosmic cruelty of not only seeing the world through her body, but seeing her own memories through his insertion; then he curses in as many languages he's ever bothered learning swears in, and invents a few convoluted compounds that must be novel.

When he next surfaces, he has some unpleasant theories about Lyctorhood to run by the person whose edges he blurs around and the only person he cares to continue melting into– if either of them gets to decide that.

[nyastri]

My second attempt to contribute to Whumptober

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Hyrule & Legend (Linked Universe) Additional Tags: Self-Harm, Derealization, Angst, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Anxiety Attacks, Really not sure if this is graphic but it's detailed, So be warned, Whump, Still not sure if this is technically whump but I hope so,  Series: Part 2 of The Nature of Dreams Summary:

Sometimes, Legend would think he was stuck in a dream again. Thankfully, he now had a method for verifying if he was in reality or not. But according to Hyrule, it's not a very "good" method.

Whumptober day 29: Troubled past resurfacing, "I only sink deeper the deeper I think"

[beautifel]

seems like my heart does nothing but break lately

[theloveinc]

Imagine cello player balugo having a crush on his accompanist who’s trained themselves to play exactly in tune to his pace and tune, after so long of him scrutinising them because he insisted no one was good enough for him

he is so fucking annoying because i know for a FACT by the time his little crush on you develops, you're already sooooo damn sick of him and absolutely convinced he's lying to you whenever he says anything nice.

sure, you learned to play right along with him (because ofc you could) ... but that doesn't mean you actually LIKE it or him after how much he put you through. at last he's ready to sweeten up and start praising you, yet you're just rolling your eyes and leaving after every single performance together before he can even get a single word out. and he's so confused about it too LMFAO

(esp. when you have to go to events together before/after and you're just turning your nose up at him the whole time... when he's literally TRYING to be nice bc he wuvs u :(( ...)

i hate him so bad. someone needs to help you two.

[sheppardsmckay]

Whumptober2023

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”

[whumpookies]

Day 29 title: I only sink deeper the deeper I think.

Prompt: troubled past resurfacing

[ohanahoku-ao3]

Whumptober 2023 Day 29

Teen & Up - Gen - Merlin (TV)

Those Empty Eyes (How I'm Pained to See Them)

     Hunith knew her son well and had always been able to tell what he was thinking when she looked at him, his expressive eyes as plain to read as words written on a page. So when Merlin came home for a visit in his fifth year of living in Camelot, she immediately knew something was wrong. Merlin’s eyes, once so open and emotive and bright, were dull and distant, blank in an unsettling way she’d never seen.

     Even as he smiled and hugged her, there was no change in those eyes, no flicker of happiness or joy, even as they wrinkled slightly in the corners. But Hunith knew better than to press her son for answers right away, instead welcoming him inside to the small home they used to share, sitting him down as she chattered about their small-town gossip, regaling him with tales of what his old neighbors had been up to recently.

     Merlin was with her for two weeks, the longest time he’d come back for, and she hoped that he would perk up over the first week, but it never happened. Merlin helped her with chores, talked to their neighbors, and even told stories of his time in Camelot. But the whole time, his eyes had that dull, blank look about them. It was sad to see, but Hunith knew her son well, and these people didn’t; the villagers were completely fooled by his smile and charm, believing Merlin had it made in Camelot.

     The first time she saw even a sliver of emotion was one night when a drunken villager tried to get too familiar with her. Merlin was at her side instantly, hand gripped painfully tight around the man’s wrist as his eyes blazed with a fissure of anger cracking through the haze. “You will leave her alone.” He ordered, pushing him away with a little more force than necessary as his eyes flared gold for a brief moment.

     Then he turned back to her, the anger fading to a thin layer of concern as he checked that she was okay. When they reached her house, his eyes were back to that lusterless veneer.

     Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore and sat him down, resting her hand on his forearm and squeezing gently. “Merlin, speak to me. What’s wrong?”

     “Nothing’s wrong.” Her son tried to assure her, his lips curved in a reassuring grin but overshadowed by the numb look in his gaze.

     “Don’t you lie to me, Merlin. You’ve not been yourself since you came home.” Hunith said, pleading with her son. “Please, just talk to me. You know I am here for you, no matter what manner of problem you are dealing with.”

     Merlin’s gaze trailed away from hers, drifting to the floor as he ducked his head and played with the lace of his boot where his leg rested on the bed. “I can’t.” He said after a pause of silence, his voice thick and low as though he were fighting to speak past a lump in his throat.

     “You can.” Hunith insisted, dipping her head down to try and catch his gaze, but he only turned his head away. “Merlin, I am your mother. No matter what it is that’s happened, all I want to do is help. I know destiny has been cruel to you, my love. But I cannot stand to see you like this because of it. Let me help, please, Merlin.”

     Finally, Merlin looked up at her, his eyes shining with pure grief and brimmed with tears that clung to his lashes. He opened his mouth, but no words came forth, just a sob that broke Hunith’s heart in two as she pulled her son into a safe embrace. “Merlin, my son, my sweet baby. It’s okay now, I’m here.” She soothed, holding the young man close as he shattered in her arms.

     They sat there all through the night as Merlin spilled his soul out to her, explaining in detail the things that he had seen, the hurts and sorrows he endured, the things that he had done, the good and the bad, and the entangled way the two parallels wound together until he wasn’t even sure which decision was truly good or bad. He told her about the prophecies he’d seen, the way some had come to pass, and how some had resulted from his actions. Merlin shared with her all the shame and guilt that burdened his shoulders and confided in her about his self-hatred and the bitterness he’d begun to feel towards fate and destiny. He told her about the nightmares and the terror that resided in him day by day, even when awake, the constant fear of being found out, being betrayed by Arthur and sentenced to death by flame or sword, and which he thought would be the best way to go. Every dark thought he had, every moment of resignation where he wished for death, thought to kill, or wanted to destroy everything he should have been fighting for because it was all too much and he just wanted it to be over.

     And Hunith sat there, holding him, listening to him, and watching as Merlin sank deeper and deeper into a cavernous pit of depression and anger the more that he thought, spoke, and explained. She watched as a myriad of emotions passed through his eyes, every one overshadowed by his grief and tinged with anger. She stayed mostly silent, letting him get every last worry off his chest, but was quick to answer when he finally stopped and asked:

     “What happened to me?”

     “Oh, my boy.” Hunith cupped his cheek, wiping away a few tears. “You were given such a burden by the forces of this world. You’ve been forced to carry so much on your shoulders. But you are still my son. You may think you’re a monster, but all I see when I look at you is a young man who is so brave and kind. I see my son, who has been hurt, so hurt, and yet who keeps trying to do the right thing.” She pulled him close and kissed his forehead. “My boy, I always knew you were meant for great things from the time you were little.” She said, pulling back and looking into those vulnerable, open, and hopeful eyes. “I still believe that. But I also believe you have done enough, Merlin. If you want to cast destiny to the roadside, I won’t protest. I’d love to have you stay with me, maybe settle down with a nice family?” She suggested with a smile, her heart aching for her son, wanting nothing more than his happiness, Camelot and Albion be damned!

     Merlin’s lips curled into a half smile before faltering, and he took his mother’s hand in his. “I can’t just leave Arthur unprotected.” He told her, voice and eyes heavy with guilt and regret but firm in his belief. After a moment, a little humor poked through, and he quirked a small smile at her. “The prat can’t even find his boots on his own; he’d never survive long without me.”

     Hunith sighed, watching him for a moment before smiling herself. “I knew you wouldn’t leave. No matter how much it pains you, you’ll always protect Arthur. That’s how I know you’re still my son. You’ve always been so loyal, Merlin.”

[loopielupie]

Whumptober Day 29 & Day 31: "I only sink deeper the deeper I think" & Emptiness

His ears are still ringing when Katsuki sinks down against an overturned crate. The adrenaline that got him through the fight is long gone, leaving nothing but empty weariness and tremors in his limbs.

Out of sight of the media, though he can still hear them heckling and shouting questions towards the police and other heroes still on the scene, Katsuki wilts. The cold concrete prickles overheated skin through his hero suit, sending an involuntary shiver along his spine. 

Tipping his head back, he wonders idly what this store used to be, taking in the scattered crates similar to the one he's co-opted as a seat. Maybe a greengrocer? But it's a distant sort of thought and he shoves it down with a bitter snarl. 

It's impossible to tell with more than half the shopfront gone and the interior fucked six ways from Sunday.

Because you weren’t fuckin’ good enough

He swallows the sudden acid lump in his throat and fiddles with the bandages wrapping his bicep in some attempt at distraction. They come loose and he curses under his breath and tries to fix it. But his fingers are clumsy and his arms burn him for the unnecessary movement, the dull ache of overuse sharpening until he gives up.

The screech of a siren has him wincing, a heretofore unnoticed headache making itself known as he grinds his head back against the wall and screws his eyes shut.

"Kacchan?"

He opens one eye to find Izuku squatting next to him, worried, one hand hovering but hesitant over his arm. His hair is sweaty and fight-tousled. He looks enhausted.

"Oi, have you been seen by-"

"Yes, Kacchan. I was just with one of the paramedics-" he lifts his bandaged arm. "They're the ones who told me where you'd gone off to."

The "Why?" is growing more insistent in Izuku's expression but Katsuki isn't going to admit shit.

"Yeah, well. Good. 'm not havin' you bleed out or some shit because you're irresponsible."

Izuku hums and shifts a little closer, his remaining iron sole scraping across the buckled path as his legs slump down. A quick scan tells Katsuki all he needs to know about how Izuku fared during the fight: the road rash under his torn suit, the scrapes and fresh bruises that have Katsuki wincing just to look at them. Not important enough to warrant any on-scene paramedics attention more than cleaning, but sore as hell.

Katsuki releases a rattling breath. He's had bad days before, days where he’s lost civilians and even colleagues. But something about today makes his skin feel too tight. Everything had been wrong: bad intel, not enough heroes on-scene, an unexpectedly destructive villain, too much “collateral damage”- Fuck, Katsuki hates that term.

He’s rather they just call it what it fuckin’  is: civilian casualties. He'd rather people face up to the reality: people hurt, homes, businesses, livelihoods destroyed. All because they weren’t good enough. Beside him, Izuku is quiet. He just stares at a crack in the concrete, shoulders slumped, lips bitten into a frown. A small part of Katsuki wonders if Izuku's feeling the same, but he brushes it off before he can do something stupid like ask. 

His fists clench in his lap and he thunks his head back against the wall behind him. It does nothing to shake loose any of the thoughts swirling in his head, it just makes his headache worse.

His phone buzzes. It's likely a summons from the agency for debrief and probably even a press conference. Izuku tenses at the sound but when Katsuki makes no move to heed it, he turns his attention to him, eyeing him with a quiet "Kacchan?"

"What," he snaps, already knowing what's coming. Izuku checks his own phone.

"They're calling us back," Izuku prompts. His voice is hesitant, though. Like he doesn't want to move any more than Katsuki does.

"Yeah, well. They can wait 10 minutes."

Don't ask me to fuckin' go out there yet.

He rails against this cowardice, but he's just so fucking tired.

Izuku says nothing for a minute, searching Katsuki's face. He looks exhausted, too. This close, Katsuki can see the smear of old blood from Izuku’s nose, the dirt streaked across his cheeks. It obscures his freckles and something gives in Katsuki’s chest. He yanks his glove off. Izuku doesn't stop him when he reaches out and brushes a thumb over his cheek, idly aware of the dirt and blood flaking off under it. Izuku leans into the contact but Katsuki feels his expression pinch into a frown when a few tears gather on dark lashes. Izuku tips forward against his collar, Katsuki takes the weight and lets it ground him.

They'll have to get up soon, they both know it; the agency won't give them much of a reprieve from their PR responsibilities. But for now, just for a moment, he lets Izuku hold him, buries his nose in damp curls and breathes it in until he feels a little less hollow.

[seldomscilence16]

Whumptober day 29:

"I only sink deeper the deeper I think."

Scented candles | troubled past resurfacing | "What happened to me?"

Fandom: Voltron

Prompts used: all

Oof so this ones a little rough, but it was what I could come up with. Yell at me if you will :)

TW for implied abuse, injuries, blood mentions but not major.

…

The candle is oddly shaped- though he couldn't tell you what he thought it was supposed to be shaped like- and sat innocently in the center of the dining table. It was a gift, for some reason, and Lance felt like it was a test of some kind. It wouldn't be first.

Lance doesn't lite it, not today, he'll wait until HE says it's okay. Just to be safe.

The candle is lit, HE is gone again, and Lance has just awoken, the smell is new and fills the space so fully it's suffocating. He feels a headache building and turns to bury his face in his pillow.

/

"Leandro! Don't go too far! Pequeño bribón, Lancito!" The voice is worried but fond. (Little rascal)

"I'm fine mama! I'm gonna-" a shriek, cuts off the sentence, blurred view of tumbling down a rocky hill.

"LEANDRO!"

Something snaps, and pain erupts up his arm, there's blood- his arm?

/

Lance wakes from the light doze confused, a phantom ache in his arm. He sits up, cautiously dragging his sleeve up, he stares like he'd never seen it before, and wonders if he had. Scars litter the tan skin, old and newer, healing bruises doing little to hide them.

He presses on one-

/

The boy beside him holds his arm tenderly beneath cool sink water,

"Hermano, it's not that big a deal, I burn myself all the time, so do you!"

"But I burned you! I didn't-"

"Didn't mean to? I know, I was in the way and the pan was bigger than I thought. Give me a cookie and we're all good."

/

He gasps, the teen burned into his eyelids. His heart aches and his head pounds, as he tries to place where he knows him from. He'd looked like Lance, not like HIM, or the weird people on TV, he looked like Lance-

Human.

He had been human, like Lance. Lance was a human, who knew other humans at some point. He stumbles to his feet, dizzy as he makes his way to the bathroom, he splashes water on his face and meets his own eyes in the mirror. One Brown, one Blue.

/

"Think the team will notice, beautiful?"

Perhaps, if they can look up for a moment.

"Ha! You are not wrong there… maybe I can find contacts, switch back and forth and see who notices first…"

Amusing, they do claim to be observant.

The mocking in her mental voice makes Lance chuckle again.

"Don't worry Blue, I'll always appreciate you even if they don't."

And I you.

/

He stumbles back, hands in his hair as his head seems fit to burst with how harshly it pounds-

/

Cub, breathe.

"I shouldn't be c-cold. Why is it s-so c-c-cold?"

I have raised the temperature, you are within the safety of my walls, I will not let any harm come.

"R-red, why m-me? W-why is i-it always m-me?"

I wish I knew cub… you do not deserve it. I am here.

/

Blue, Red, voices, presences in his mind, how could he forget about two whole presences in his MIND! What is going on?!

He struggles to dress himself, the clothes ill fitting- HE likes them loose- but he manages, he doesn't have shoes- he doesn't leave this place- but the cloth on his feet resembles socks. SOCKS how did he forget what SOCKS were!? He slides into the main part of the building, his eyes fall on the candle and the purple flame-

/

Seventh wheel.

Too many paladins.

Leave the math to Pidge.

Not now Lance!

I told you to stay out of this!

Lance! Don't ever scare me like that again!

Lance, I'm sure you can find something to do without getting into trouble hm?

Mighty paladin, fallen before my feet, mine I shall make you, my quite the feat!

/

"What happened to me?" He's curled up on the floor, tears tracking down his face.

His heart thumps heavily in his chest, longing for something, he needs to get out of here. He had a life before this- however complicated it seemed- but if he stayed, he may not have a life after.

The Alien that had been parading around here, talking about some life they had together, making up quiznaking BS about life long mates, was a phonier phony than he thought.

Lance had not lost his memory in some weird accident, it had been on purpose! Maybe…. he still didn't know, but HE would be back eventually, and HE would surely be mad again. Lance needed a way out.

"Alright memories… I only sink deeper the deeper I think. So chill out for a minute, bueno? Bueno…"

He drags himself over to the table, snuffing the candle-

/

Burning.

Burned flesh.

It fills his nose.

Everything's bURNING!

HELP!

/

"Mierda!" Blood dribbles down his chin, lip sore and throbbing where teeth had bitten through skin.

Out. A way out. Come on Lance, you've been cleaning this place as long as you can remember- ha- there's gotta be a way out!

He starts with the front door; biometric lock, Lance can't find a panel to open.

The windows; thick, tinted, none openable, does not break with a chair, no ground in sight.

No back door. No laundry chute, no neighbors he can hear, no skylight, Garbage chut-

Garbage chute!

Disgusting, but his only option.

The thing is large, to fit the large bags he assumes, it does not smell, it seems pretty clean considering, but Lance can only assume what's at the bottom. Rotting food, alien bugs, an incinerator!? This could be a terrible idea.

But… it's his only one. He grabs the biggest knife from the kitchen, wraps it up to hopefully avoid stabbing himself, and stares at the chute. He sits in it awkwardly, his brain niggling on the idea of a 'slide' but Lance doubts this will be fun.

His scream is a squeaky breathy thing, to remain as quiet as possible and still release his terror as he goes down into the dark unknown. Falling for several long moments before a light appears and he slows his descent with protesting skin burning all the while.

His chest heaves as he stares at the opening, a pile of trash bags, no heat, he sends a prayer to whoever's listening, and falls.

.

.

.

He must look like a loonatic, running around as he is with no idea where he is or why. But he stops for no one, no rushing memories coming to him at anything he registers before him. He runs, he doesn't look back, everything aches, but he pushes, he's been through worse-

Gods he's been through worse.

He only slows as he reaches some sort of port, spaceships coming and going. He has no money, but he will be leaving this place, if it's the last thing he does.

He doesn't see the screen beside him light up with his face:

Missing:

Paladin of Voltron

*image*

"What happened to me?"

Tips or info sent to xxxxx

He doesn't look back.