#No.9

[jasmines-library]

Survivors Guilt

WHUMPTOBER DAY 9: ALT prompt: Survivors Guilt

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Summary: When jason dies after taking your place, you experience survivor's guilt.

Word count: 1k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER 2024

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

You should have died that day. His screams will forever be ingrained in your consciousness; whispering away in the back of your mind. Weaving their way through the cracks like a stubborn weed. You should have died that day, but Jason’s pleading to take your place was enough to satisfy the sadistic man before you. The way his eyes twinkled with a sadistic gleam made you feel sick. You have tried. Tried impossibly hard to get the Joker to leave Jason alone. Tried to tell them that you would take the torture as you were supposed to. But Jay was far too caring for his own good and his pleas to spare you amused the Joker more than you did. Your shreeks of terror and your desperate cries; the ones that ricocheted off of the walls satisfied the Joker. But they would never bring more of a grin to his face than watching the light leave Jason’s eyes. 

By the time Bruce arrived it was already too late. Jason’s heart had long stopped beating. But once they had untied you, they had to drag you away from his body to tend to your injuries. 

You didn’t sleep for weeks after that. You would often wake up in the night screaming for him. You couldn't so much as close your eyes without seeing him. It was like he was haunting you. A ghostly reminder that he died to save you. Because of you. That it should have been you. The guilt hung heavily over your head, weighing you down. And you began to change. It eventually got to the point where you practically refused to sleep. Or rather couldn’t. It was much easier to force yourself to stay awake than to Soon you became more withdrawn. You stopped making appearances at breakfast and dinner and it grew increasingly harder for anyone to find you anywhere other than inside your bedroom. Slowly, you began to lose interest in the things you were so interested in before. You didn’t have the energy to even think about doing them.

The other members of the family noticed of course. At first they had decided to give you some space, offering support when they thought you needed it. They knew they were grieving. They were grieving too. But as the weeks passed they slowly began to notice your withdrawn nature. They missed your lively presence and just seeing your face. 

Late one afternoon, there was a knock on your bedroom door. You tried to ignore it first. Hoping that you could pretend to be asleep and that whoever it was would go away. But then the knock came again followed by your name. 

You could tell that it was Dick on the other side of the door and from his tone of voice you knew he was worried. Of course he was worried. And there was just something about the way he said your name that forced you to get up out of bed and crack open the door. 

Dick seemed rather startled when you opened the door. Truthfully, he hadn't expected you to. But he wasn’t alone. Tim and Damian were with him. 

“Hey….” he said gently. “Do you mind if we come in?”

You hesitated for a moment but let them in reluctantly before shuffling onto your bed.

“Where you been, princess?” Tim asked you “We’ve not seen you. You doing okay?”

“Yeah…” you responded quietly. “Just been…….busy.”

It was a complete lie. You hadn’t been doing much of anything, you couldn’t bring yourself to. Tim frowned a little, but didn’t comment on the matter, instead he placed a hand on your knee, rubbing over the skin gently with the pad of his thumb. 

“You've been sleeping okay?” Damian asked you. The bags under your eyes were far from subtle. 

“...better.” You just answered shortly. That guilt still hung heavy above your head. 

“Good.” a sliver of a smile appeared on Dick’s face before it morphed into a sad look. “We’re worried about you, kid.”

“I’m fine.” You tried to dismiss them. 

Tim tilted his head at you. “You don’t have to keep it bottled up, sweetheart. Talk to us.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but your words failed you. You were scared to open up.

Dick squeezed your hand. “It's alright. Tell us how you’re feeling. We’re listening.”

“I…..it should have been me.” Your words cut through the silence. Honest. And brutal. Raw and real. “He begged him to leave me alone. And he–”

“Shh…” Dick tried to soothe you. “It’s alright. You're okay.”

“Its not okay! he died because of me!”

Damian shook his head. “No. Don’t think like that. Jason died because the Joker is sick.”

“He took my place!” You said. You were on the verge of crying. You could feel the tears prickling at the back of your eyes. They could see the guilt you were experiencing. 

“What happened was not your fault. You hear me?”

“I should have tried harder.”

“No. No sweetheart….” Dick shushed you. “You couldn’t have done anything. The Joker had his mind made up. No one could have done anything to have stopped him. But Jay did what he did because he loved you. Not because you didn’t try hard enough to stop him.”

That was what pushed you over the edge. The tears began to flow. Dick pulled you close to his chest, wrapping you up tightly in his arms as you wept. Tim ran his fingers gently through your hair as Damian laced your fingers with his and traced gentle, soft circles on the back of your hand. 

“Shh…we’ve got you…. It's okay ....”

The three boys held you close, reassuring you and letting you cry. 

“We’re here for you sweetheart.” Tim said. “We’re always gonna be here for you.

“We’re gonna work through this together, okay? It might take us a little while but that’s okay.” Dick explained to you gently. “We’re here for you, kid. Always and forever”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

<- DAY EIGHT ⛤ DAY TEN ->

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

TAGS:

@hearts4robs @kingshitonly @alicedawitchbish @hell-o-kittys @azure-drag0ness @harleycao @thewhispersofthewaves @batfamsstuff @xxrougefangxx @rosecentury @noisymutantherelol @killxz @rhiodes @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @canthavetoomuchchaos

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[silvrash-797]

Febuwhump 2025 - Wild Child

Read on ao3

This is more crack than whump, but I had fun!

Late at night, the Chain gathered around the fire, telling stories of their adventures. Wild was in the middle of an excited retelling of some of his favorite battles. “…So when I could finally take on a guardian stalker without dying, I knew I was ready to-”

“Wait wait wait,” Legend interrupted. “What do you mean without dying?”

Wild stared at him blankly. “Uhh,” he said eloquently. “Y'know, stop breathing? Cease being alive?” He shrugged. “How else do I explain dying?”

“No, I know what dying means,” Legend sighed, pinching the spot between his eyes like his brain hurt. “Why are you so cavalier about your own death!?”

“Okay, first of all, I don’t know what that word means,” Wild defended, “and second,” he shrugged again, “it’s always been that way. Ever since I woke up from the Shrine of Resurrection there’s been something around to bring me back to life.”

“Okay, back up again. Shrine? Isn’t that what you call your Sheikah training centers? Why are the Sheikah involved in necromancy?”

“Actually,” Four interjected, his eyes purple in the fading light. “Necromancy involves, among other things, the summoning of spirits to influence the course of events, not raising the dead back to life.”

Legend stared, unimpressed. Four shrugged and returned to his book. “Just saying.”

Wild also stared at Four, but for a different reason. “Huh. Yeah, when you put it that way, I kinda had necromancy during my adventure too!” He grinned sadly, getting back into his story. “Y'see, when the Calamity attacked 100 years ago, it killed the Champions in their Divine Beasts. But their spirits stuck around! After I freed the Divine Beasts from Ganon's control, their spiritual gifts passed to me. If it weren’t for them, I still might have lost. Sometimes, I could swear I heard their voices-”

Legend threw up his hands in surrender and left the fire amidst the good-natured giggles of his brothers. Twilight simply shook his head.

[amethystfairy1]

"It's only mildly bruised!" -Etho, lying through his teeth.

The whumptober prompt for today is up, I hope you all enjoy it! With gorgeous at from @khoirkid as always!!!

[noforkingclue]

Human (dark!10th Doctor x reader)

Summary: you're exactly where the Doctor wants you and now he's not going to let you go any time soon

Warnings: dark, NSFW themes

You curled up onto your side and pulled the blankets up around your waist. You felt the person next you shuffle around and wrapped their arms around your waist, pulling you tightly against them. Lips brushed against your shoulder and you stiffened at the action.

“Relax,” said a familiar voice, “calm down. You did great.”

“I-”

The Doctor raised one of your wrists and brushed a thumb against them. You winced as he pressed against one of the bruises he left. You couldn’t see it but you knew he was smiling. You had spent so long trying to avoid him, to escape his obsessive clutches.

“I forget,” the Doctor said idly, “just how easily humans bruise.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re so fragile,” a calloused finger trailed along your wrist and up your arm, “so fragile. What’s it like to only have one heart? One life to do so much. How do you manage to do so much in so little time.”

“Doesn’t feel like we do.”

“I guess not. Not in a human lifetime.”

You winced at the almost gleefully curious tone of his voice.

“You fascinate me,” he said, “amazing. So fragile and yet so persistent. You keep throwing yourself into so many dangerous situations, even ones that would result in your deaths. Why?”

You didn’t answer but hissed when he squeezed your wrist tightly.

“I asked you a question,” he said, “I want you to answer.”

“Because you inspire us.”

“Inspire,” the Doctor said slowly, as though it was the first time hearing the word, “that all?”

“Why?”

“It’s just so… expected. So human.”

“I am human.”

“So you keep reminding me.”

You felt his lips brush against your cheek as he pressed back against you. He wrapped his arms back around you and pulled you tightly against him. You knew better than to struggle, not if you wanted to get more bruises.

“You humans,” he said, “and your obsession with doing the right thing.”

“Isn’t that what you want us to do.”

The Doctor remained silent after this. He lifted up your wrist and inspected it. You glanced at him over your shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Just how much these bruises suit you.”

You winced as the Doctor spun you onto your back. You looked up at him and raised a hand to his cheek. You could see that look in his eyes. The one he had when you were hunting you down. The one he had when he started these… experiments?

“Let’s see just how good they’ll look elsewhere. Or how long it’ll take before you break.”

[losthavenmine]

Whumptober 2023 Day 9 || Betrayal

Gladiator (2000)

[ladtheove]

Tim obsesses over Jason to the point of stalking.

[azurem00n]

broken souls

[wizisbored]

fun fact about the nimona centaur au is that i am collecting images of horses fighting in order to draw nimona and gloreth ✨beating the shit out of each other✨

[iceclew]

I am the monster you created You ripped out all my parts

And worst of all, for me to live, I gotta kill the part of me that saw that I needed you more

---

Wow, definitely not what I expected from myself today, but since I started practicing backgrounds, I've been drawing more artsy/painterly and well... then - as often happens - a certain soundtrack hit me and I couldn't stop.

Had no Mr. No. 9-art here anyway on my blog. He's a very fascinating villian character to me. I'm always wondering what he's doing next, what he might be feeling. IF he is feeling and what he is thinking. Kudos, Matsumoto, tha's a good villain here (even if one might want to argue the late game overpowering, which I agree to, but that's more of a typical genre trait to me)

music-wise - going back and forth these songs from Arcane: What could have been - Sting, Ray Chen Goodbye - Ramsey Guns for Hire - Woodkid

[crimsonwolf715]

Home Sick

Gojo can hear coughing before he even opens the front door. It quiets down as he unlocks the door. He opens it. 

“Megumi?” 

Megumi’s arm reaches over the couch to wave at him for a moment before dropping back down. Gojo shuts the door. 

“I brought your favorite dumplings. Are you alright?” 

Instead of the normal, “I’m fine, leave me alone, Gojo”, he gets silence from Megumi. 

Gojo walks over to the other side of the couch and Megumi looks terrible. His face is swollen and his cheeks are flushed. His eyes, which are currently open but staring at the TV, are bloodshot. 

“Megumi!” 

Megumi jumps at the sudden rise in Gojo’s volume. 

“What?” he hisses. 

“You’re sick!” 

“Your observation skills are impeccable as usual.” 

“I have to call Shoko.” 

“It’s just a cold, Gojo. You’re overreacting.” 

“You look terrible.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I’m being serious. It looks bad. Have you taken anything?” 

“Yes, I have. I’m gonna take more medicine when the alarm on my phone goes off. Like I said, you’re overreacting.” 

Gojo sighs. “Have you eaten anything?” 

Megumi shakes his head. 

“I’ll make you something.” 

“I’d rather you not. You’re not a good cook.” 

“I’m going to go make soup,” Gojo says, then heads into the kitchen. 

After digging around in the cabinet for a couple minutes, he finds the pot and puts it on the stove. Megumi walks into the kitchen, looking more like he’s dragging himself. 

“You don’t need to supervise me,” Gojo says, waving his hands dramatically. “I can make this. Go, sit down. You should be resting.” 

“You shooing me away doesn’t give me a lot of confidence,” Megumi replies as he walks back into the living room. 

“I’m doing it for your own good. Go rest on the couch.” 

“Sure thing.” 

Gojo starts putting everything in the pot and turns it on. He then pulls out his phone to text Shoko.

Me: Hey, can you bring some cold medicine and sports drinks once you’re done with work? Not the purple ones because Megumi hates those. 

Shoko: Of course. Is he sick? 

Me: Yeah, I was out yesterday and most of today so I only figured out about it a little bit ago. 

Shoko: Just don’t be weird. 

Me: I’m never weird. 

A pause, even though it says she’s read the text. 

Shoko: Yeah, definitely not weird. I’ll swing by later because I’m about to leave. 

Me: Thanks, Shoko. 

Shoko: You’re welcome. 

Gojo finishes up the soup and puts some in a bowl for Megumi. He lets it cool while he finds the dinosaur cup that he bought Megumi ages ago, like when he was eleven. He makes tea, then pours it into the dinosaur cup. He takes both into the living room and sets them down. 

“Why that cup?” Megumi asks. 

“Because it’s cute. And rawr.” 

“Rawr?” 

“Rawr,” Gojo answers with a nod. 

Megumi shakes his head, then turns his attention to the soup. He looks at it skeptically. “So you made this?” 

“Yes, I did. It’s something I actually can make. Please try it.” 

Megumi nods, then obediently tries it. 

“Is it bad?” Gojo asks. 

“No, it’s fine,” Megumi answers. 

Gojo fist pumps. “Yes.” 

Megumi smiles for a moment before resuming slowly eating. Gojo goes and gets a bowl for himself, then comes back. Megumi eats half a bowl of soup while Gojo eats a whole bowl of soup. Once they’re done, Gojo takes the bowls back into the kitchen. 

When Gojo comes back, Megumi’s on his phone. Gojo sits down on the far right side of the couch, then leans his head back. Megumi lays down with his head on Gojo’s leg, causing Gojo to pick his head back up. Megumi’s facing the TV. Gojo smiles. 

“I will move if you start becoming unbearable,” Megumi says. 

“I will not become a problem,” Gojo promises, raising his hands in surrender. 

Megumi quietly watches the TV while Gojo scrolls on his phone. 

"I wish she was here right now," Megumi says quietly. 

Tsumiki. He probably constantly wishes that. I wish that she was here too.

"Me too," Gojo replies. 

When Megumi dozes off, Gojo turns the TV volume down to eliminate the risk of it waking him up. 

After a while, a quiet knock on the door draws Gojo’s attention away from Megumi. Shoko opens the door with a grocery bag. 

“Hey, Satoru,” Shoko says quietly. 

Gojo waves. 

“Is he asleep already?” 

Gojo nods. “Yeah, isn’t he cute?” 

Shoko nods, then Megumi huffs in his sleep. 

“I think he knows what we’re talking about,” Shoko says with a smile. 

Gojo shrugs. 

Shoko puts the grocery bag down on the counter. “The medicine and the sports drinks you asked for.” 

“Thank you.” 

She leans her back against the counter. “Do you need me to stay?” 

Gojo shakes his head. “Nope, I’m all good. I’ve calmed down a little and am not overwhelming Megumi anymore.” 

“That’s good.” 

“It… I know it shouldn’t have, but it kinda reminded me of…” Gojo trails off. 

It takes a moment, but Shoko sighs. “He’s alright. It won’t be the same, Satoru.” 

“I know, but I worry sometimes. I know that I pay attention now, but sometimes I think that I could miss something. That it’ll snowball out of my control. Not just with Megumi, with Itadori and Nobara too.” 

“But it’s not the same with them because it’s not the same connection.” 

Gojo nods. “Yeah, he’s my buddy.” 

“I know,” she says. “I’m glad.” 

“Me too. What would I do without my buddy?” Gojo replies. “I’d be sad, I already know the answer to that. It was rhetorical. Do you want soup before you go?” 

“No thank you. I am gonna head out though. I’ll come back and check on you two in the morning,” Shoko says. 

“Bye, Shoko,” Gojo says. 

Shoko heads out and locks the door behind her. Gojo ends up dozing off not long after Shoko leaves.

[abneyart]

Whumptober Day 9: "You're a Liar."

Gale: best night of sleep since Mystra Ros: up all night terrified that he was just lying to placate her and is still planning on blowing himself up

Uncensored on Patreon!

[silvrash-797]

Now that the holidays are done, I bring you this!

Gloomstruck

Chapter 6: Obsession (picks up immediately after the events of chapters 1 & 2)

Prev

Read on ao3

Shadow didn’t know how long he lay in this section of gloom, absorbing its power into himself, letting it heal the bruises and lacerations he received from the monster camp.

Long enough that the substance below had grown warm and dull, blackness eclipsing the beautiful red.

Wearily, Shadow rose and took a dozen paces, nursing his bruised ribs and bad shoulder. He sank into another patch of gloom, relaxing as cold relief swept across his body.

He let the gloom particles settle on him, soak into him, and vowed revenge: on those monsters, on whatever brought him back, and most of all, on Link.

Link, the “Hero.”

Link, who betrayed him.

Link, who made a fool out of him in front of his own minions.

Link, who always got all the glory.

Well. No more. Shadow would show him who really deserved to stand at the fore. He’d take everything Link held dear for himself.

But first…he needed more power. And the gloom was gonna give it to him, or he’d take it by force.

Shadow didn’t know how long he spent wandering amidst the gloom, only that he left a trail of dull black behind him as he absorbed more and more of that delicious power. He kept diligent distance between himself and any other monsters – he’d meet them on his own terms.

Once the gloom he’d assimilated healed his wounds, he began practicing with the magic it gave him, unwilling to be caught unprepared again. He sent shadowy tendrils flicking out in all directions, focusing on making them as sharp and strong as swords, then morphing them so they were blunt and devastating like the hammers he’d had to face.

One of these tendrils struck a tree, startling a swarm of small, frog-like creatures from behind it. They ran, yipping and barking, a short distance away before they turned and snarled at him.

They were…kinda cute; the noise they made was not. Shadow sent out his magic as a dozen spears, killing each baby monster before it could charge at him. Their dying squeals echoed through the power he held, ringing like music and whetting the desire to rend, to destroy.

And so he went. He traveled through a few more lengths of gloom, until the power and malice were practically bursting from him, practicing all the while. By the time he made it back to the scene of his great defeat, he’d honed the power into a razor’s edge, intimately familiar and supremely confident he could finally hold his own.

Time to begin the hunt.

He swept through the camp, killing each monster that opposed him and absorbing their life force. He left their swords, spears, and hammers where they lay, content with the magic he could shape to his every whim. He checked inside the chest they were guarding, but found only a flower that glowed like the sun. He left it lying in the dirt.

He walked on, taking out two more camps before he discovered – quite by accident – that he could shadow-travel between pockets of gloom.

He had stepped into a slightly deeper patch that pooled at the bottom of a slope when his foot slipped into intangibility, sending him plunging face first towards the ground. He yelped and covered his head with his arms, squeezing his eyes shut.

The impact he expected never came. Instead, the cool liquid closed over his head and sent his consciousness careening through space. He emerged someplace where several of the monsters were shrouded in ice, although the temperature of the air hadn’t changed.

A piggy lookout with a blue pelt and forked horns spotted him immediately, sounding an alarm.

"Bring it on!” he challenged, snapping a dark tendril at the bowbeast to silence its horn.

An icy bat and silver lizard charged him first, but an effortless dodge and swipe of his shadowy blade dispatched both within moments.

Shadow cackled, turning to face the next challengers. A pair of the bauble-horned silver pigs approached, but these two looked different. These two had baskets on their backs and some sort of armor covering their entire bodies. No matter how he slashed with his blade, the armor blocked them from all damage.

Distracted by the pair as he tried to figure out a blade that would get them out of his way, Shadow forgot about the two ice monsters clinging to the rock walls of the camp. They shot streams of icy balls at him, catching him off guard and freezing him in place.

Cold became his every thought. He struggled to free himself, to do so much as breathe, but was helpless as the two pig monsters sheathed their weapons and pushed his frozen body to the edge of a cliff. With malicious grunts and snorts, they pushed him over.

Falling took forever. Shadow battered at the ice with his magic, finally freeing himself as he hit the ground and rolled several feet.

Instantly, burning replaced the cold. Shadow gasped as he took stock of where he’d landed. Bright, divine light shone all around him, unraveling the tapestry of power he’d woven for himself. His skin tightened as it burned in the all-encompassing radiation, worse than any sunlight he could remember.

The light kept pulling the gloom from his body, mutating and poisoning the memories he’d received from it.

Instead of Zelda's pity, he saw her confidently telling him he was a hero.

“You are one of the ‘Links,’” she said warmly. “You are actually a hero yourself.”

Instead of staring down the tips of the Four Sword at four angry copies of Link, he lay in a pile of shattered glass as they hovered over him in concern.

“Shadow!” the purple Link – Vio – cried, uncharacteristically emotional. “Why would you do that?! I thought you-, hang in there, I-”

Shadow screamed as he weakly dragged himself through sand and grass, scared of the light and desperate to escape the burning agony it brought to his body and mind. Even after its influence faded behind him he crawled on, moaning, until he sensed gloom nearby. He collapsed into it and sobbed, choking as it prodded at the holes in his power.

What was true? Was he a hero, or a villain? He was irrefutably a creature of darkness, but could he live in the light?

Who was Shadow Link, really?

Beneath him, the gloom hissed, pulsing faster as it seamlessly patched the holes the light had left behind. A shroud of darkness flicked into place across his mind, drowning out the questions, leaving only vicious anger.

He emerged a new creature. Malice fairly sparked from his fingertips; hatred and anger turned his eyes a brilliant, blazing red.

Between one blink and the next, he’d traveled through the shadows back to the camp at the cliff’s peak. He formed his magic into a massive mallet and swung, obliterating the armored and ice creatures alike.

Nothing was safe after that.

He defeated pig monsters and lizards; tall, lanky creatures with snouts and enormously fat pigs with bugles; huge, walking stone piles and giant versions of the babies he’d first killed.

He took out winged creatures large and small; monsters that spat rocks or other elementally charged projectiles and strange, lumbering mummies, some of which spat acid – those were his favorite.

He took great pleasure tearing the cuboid automatons and any stal monsters that appeared apart piece by piece until there was nothing left.

The sleeping, one-eyed giants and rampaging beast-men offered some resistance, but ultimately they fell to his might just the same.

He barely paused to think about the banana-loving, white-masked weirdos he kept finding throughout the land. He would have left them alone, honestly, but they had the only edible food, so they had to be vanquished as well.

He even found a few arenas, each containing three-headed dragons, molten spiders, flying centipedes, giant moths, or dirty fish blobs. Those took much more effort and ingenuity.

He’d just defeated his third giant moth when he felt…something…shiver through the air and vibrate amidst his very core.

People – non-banana-weirdos people – had just entered the wasteland, and they were close.

Cautious and intrigued, he made his way to where he could sense their light, their goodness, like a blight in the beautiful darkness. He caught up to them as they spilled out onto a plain near his resurrection site.

Nine men or boys, of varying ages and sizes. All armed to the teeth with projectiles and short-range weapons. A low, involuntary growl slipped between his teeth as he saw his doppelganger among the men. “That’s why they all reek of light and goodness,” he snarled quietly, “They must be ‘Heroes.’”

Three of them turned towards him suddenly; he dropped into the gloom they’d just crossed, hiding but not traveling. He didn’t want them to know he was there, not yet.

Not until he decided what he’d do with them.

Voices filtered down to him as he hid. He let just his eyes manifest to see which of the heroes was talking.

 “What is it?” Red-shirt demanded.

“I thought I felt something,” Link whispered.

“Heard something,” Wolf Pelt added.

“We’re being monitored,” Tattoos intoned.

Well, that won’t do. Their senses were sharper than he thought. Shadow let himself travel to some gloom close to the camp they were headed for, the first one he’d decimated, and settled in to wait.

He watched them approach, watched Scarface climb up and over the rocks. He laughed to himself as the rest tiptoed around the camp, talking quietly to each other, but cut it off abruptly as three different heroes – Red-shirt, Scarf, and Greenie – mounted the rock and looked around.

Cursing, he melted into the gloom and left, hunting for more monsters to kill.

Some hours later, a braided thread of panic, pain and fear reached around his heart and mind and tugged. A weak, insignificant spark in the back of his head responded, pulling him through the gloom before he could figure out what had happened.

He emerged in a narrow streak of gloom at the base of a cliff, behind some tall, rocky pillars. Across a gap, he saw Tattoos holding his doppelganger on top of another pillar. Link looked pale as death, lips blue and shaking like a leaf. An arrow had pierced his lower leg, staining the surrounding tights a deep maroon.

The weak, insignificant spark in his mind nearly wept at the sight. Shadow ignored it.

Something on the other side of the rocks shattered, then sinister laughter echoed off the cliff face.

“Cub!” someone above him shouted. A dread chill shuddered across his soul; he retreated into the gloom as Scarface sprinted past, scrambling up the cliff.

Shadow stared at Scarface, perplexed at how he could possibly stay up there, but was distracted as an empty, malicious presence writhed over and through the gloom he hid in.

It felt like Ganon. Shadow retreated further into the gloom, making himself as unobtrusive as possible, ready to flee at a moment’s notice.

Another hero yelled something, but Shadow was too deep to make out the words. Finally, the Ganon-presence withered away, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief.

He might be a menace and a monster, but that thing was infinitely worse.

Shadow surfaced slowly, curiosity at what the heroes were up to driving him forward.

He peered around the closest rocky pillar, watching as Red-shirt fed Greenie something, Scarface sat with the Kid, and Scarf bandaged Link's leg. He couldn’t see Tattoos, Wolf Pelt, or Cape.

When Link got up and walked to where the Kid and Scarface sat, Shadow flickered into his place under his doppelganger. That niggling, weak part in the back of his mind nearly purred in satisfaction, handily evading the malice that tried to drown it.

He listened as they discussed the existence of “gloom spawn” and their rate of appearance, the gloom he'd assimilated wriggling with unbridled pleasure at the fear in their voices.

Disturbed, he shadow-traveled to a place far from the heroes.

Who was he, really?

The malice burned in his veins, but no matter how hard it tried, it could not contain that small part in the back of his head that demanded to be noticed with more and more urgency.

Shadow spent hours traveling through the darkness, alternatingly pulled towards destruction and concern. Every time he popped up near the heroes, one would turn, hand on a weapon, and stare in his direction. Rather than be seen and known, he’d let the malice pull him towards more monsters, destroying their camps as much for the thrill of destruction as for the growing light in the back of his mind.

Who was Shadow Link, really?

When the heroes appeared to be stopping for a time, Shadow flew over their location, resting on a large arch of bone or stone, and stared across the camp, conflicted.

The hatred and anger he’d felt after that horrid divine light still pulsed throughout his body, darkening his thoughts and writhing through his being. But the holes that same divine light had exposed were growing, fighting back, shedding light gently but firmly across the malice.

It was tearing him apart. Who was he??

Back and forth he went, while the heroes slept, traveling through the gloom, destroying monsters, keeping an eye on their camp, his thoughts a whirlwind.

Villain.

Hero.

Darkness.

Light.

Malice.

Peace.

Suffering.

Hope.

Shadow.

Link.

Finally exhausted, Shadow settled at the edge of a wide mass of gloom he found on the open plain near the heroes' camp; half in, half out, he begged for numbness, for rest, for relief.

Oblivion came, and he welcomed it with open arms.

Some time later, the low hum of voices woke him. Sound traveled far, he’d discovered, but even still he secreted himself among the shadows at the edge of the gloom, hiding, waiting, and watching.

The heroes, loosely led by Scarface, passed within feet of his hiding spot, but no one noticed. He smirked, pleased.

He was just about to leave when something shrieked; the gloom surrounding him suddenly rippled as the Ganon-presence manifested right in the heroes' path.

Five writhing hands emerged from the gloom, preparing to strike down the heroes, ready to consume everything in their path.

The malice they contained pulled on his soul, constraining him to act, to destroy.

Link’s light and goodness pulled on his being, urging him to rest, to be whole.

Shadow’s heart hammered in his ribs, blood rushing loudly in his ears. He clutched his head and squeezed his eyes closed, unable to think straight through the conflicting messages.

WHO WAS SHADOW LINK?

The heroes scattered back the way they’d come.

Shadow joined them.

Invisible and intangible, Shadow darted past Scarface standing alone against the gloom spawn, past Wolf Pelt and Cape, through the cluster that was Tattoos, Scarf, Greenie, and the Kid, until he found his place in Link's shadow, right as he took an item from Red-shirt and rocketed halfway up a tree.

He did his best to ignore the siren call of the gloom behind him. It festered in his blood and surged through his magic; it planted thoughts, images, and ideas in his head, like just how easy it would be to materialize and knock Link from the tree to crash to the earth below. With luck, he’d take more of the heroes down with him.

Shadow doggedly shook his head, clinging tighter to Link's magical core. He curled up tight and pressed close to the space between Link and the tree – Link's violet eyes flickered his way briefly – trying to shut down all his senses and just exist.

He heard shouting, and screeching, then finally blessed silence. Weary beyond anything he could remember, Shadow released a shuddering sigh and lost consciousness.

Light at the edge of his being roused Shadow from sleep to alertness in a heartbeat. It held the same divine signature as the stuff that had burned him before; even proximity to the light was fraying the power he held.

Despite the questions over his identity that plagued him, Shadow knew he didn’t want to lose the power he’d gained. He dove from Link's shadow into a tiny patch of gloom, just far enough away from the light that it couldn’t affect him.

He watched the heroes sprint towards the light, confused for a single moment. He understood why when another gloom spawn erupted where they’d just been standing.

He held his breath, hoping it wouldn’t notice him.

Its ravening form pursued the heroes until, as if slamming into a barrier, it stopped amidst the trees. It writhed and shrieked, but the divine light held it at bay. Finally, with a vicious hiss, it faded away, and Shadow could breathe again.

He stayed in the small bit of gloom, watching as most of the heroes fell asleep under the root-like structure and Scarface started a fire, cooking something that made his mouth water. He rose in idle curiosity as Scarface climbed the outside of the root, looked around, and glided back down.

A tug in the pit of his stomach startled him a step closer to the heroes. He stared in wonder as a Dark gate – in defiance of all that should have been otherwise – spiraled into existence at the far edge of the bright clearing.

The heroes rose, packed up, and started walking through the portal, but Shadow remained frozen in place.

Should he go? He had power here.

But power wasn’t enough now. He’d proved it by denying the gloom's compulsion and following Link.

Link would know who he truly was.

Link was disappearing through the portal!

Shadow plucked up his courage, gritted his teeth, and sprinted across the lighted clearing, enduring the burn to slip into the narrowing band of welcome darkness.

[aprocessionofthoughts]

To succeed is to fail

whumptober2023 day 9- mistaken identity fandom- Danny phantom x Batman TW- nothing summary- The Amity Parkers have the opportunity (they didn't want) to explore Gotham. It's just too bad that Danny looks a lot like adoption bait.

First of all, I’d like to state that I know this is whumptober. But the story disagreed. So now we have whumpcracktober.

ao3 masterlist part 1 of APVG

They were not supposed to be here. They didn't want to be here. They hadn’t even tried to be here. Yet luck had never been on the Amity Parker’s side before, and they should have realized this would be no different.

It was their senior year and things around Amity had calmed down. Or at least everyone was used to Amity’s special brand of crazy.

He had told his parents about Phantom and they had helped hunt down the GIW. Most of Amity was discovered to be liminal and most of the young people had developed some basic abilities. 

And then Mrs. Abernagaby decided that their science final would be a group project. This wasn’t anything new. Every year Casper participated in the Helping Intelligent Minds Be Outstanding competition–better known as the HIMBO competition.

And usually the smartest seniors would be picked to work on a group project to submit. Casper High had never won. So, this year Mrs. Abrnagaby decided that all the seniors could work on it together. Because more heads were better than one!

Obviously she didn’t remember what being part of a group project felt like. And she obviously didn't account for the fact that no one would care.

They weren’t even told what the award was since it varied year to year and was meant to be a surprise.

All they were told was that they had to design a new air filtration system.

So, being seniors who had survived ghost attacks, invasions, their town being pulled into another dimension, dealing with the GIW, and making it through adjusting to Amity shifting to the stranger side as everyone's liminality began to show, they did not try.

Which was how they ended up with this masterpiece.

The challenge was to design a new air filtrator. Which if they had wanted to, would have been easy since air filters that would reduce the amount of ectoplasm in the air had been designed before the residents realized it was too late to do any good, and so they had never been made.

They didn’t even submit a design; it was a paper mache volcano covered in everyone’s failed tests. The accompanying research paper they were supposed to submit had Dash’s and Paulina’s self-insert fanfics with– you guessed it– phantom as the love interest. Danny had tried to make them remove it since it was awkward now that they knew who he was, but they had claimed they wrote it before they knew. Danny knew this was a lie because they were lying liars who lied. 

The paper also included one of Sam’s activist papers, Wes’s conspiracies about Bruce Wayne being Batman’s sugar daddy (now that everyone knew Danny was Phantom Wes didn’t feel the need to include that research (he also believed that Batman was Bruce Wayne but didn’t want to antagonize the furry who could ruin his life)). 

Tucker had included evidence of a Pentagon hack he had done a few years ago, Mikey had drawn some incredible fanart about Green Lantern (he said this would have the greatest effect on Gothamites and Wes agreed saying Batman didn’t like Green Lantern. How he knew this, no one asked.).

And lastly, they attached a file of them doing the Harlem Shake.

Mrs. Abernagaby hadn’t even looked at it before sending it off.

And then of course they had won. And what a grand prize it was! They won a trip to Gotham to explore the various big businesses, as well as a chance to apply at those locations for internships. Yeah… Sam had found out all the other schools had dropped out after finding out the prize. No one wanted to go to Gotham. But the school said it was a learning opportunity! To see what it was like outside Amity! To see what normal was supposed to be like!

So, they were forced to go, but at least they got Mr. Lancer as their supervisor and they wouldn’t even have to take a long bus ride because Amity was friends with Gotham. Apparently there weren’t very many Living Cities and the two liked to talk. They also thought it would be hilarious if the Amity Parkers went to Gotham. So, Amity had temporarily turned the road that left the city into a portal that led to Gotham’s border, and at the end of the week Gotham would return them.

And that was how he had ended up here. In the back of a smelly van with a smelly bag over his head surrounded by smelly men probably heading to a smelly, sketchy location. All because these men were stupid and thought he was some Wayne kid.

Sure, he could have gotten out. But this was honestly more interesting than touring another boring building and having to almost get mugged again.

..........

AN-I plan to continue this but it probably won’t be until after October because I want to focus on completing the challenges I'm participating in.

[everythingandthekitchensink]

Tim,” Jason says slowly. “You can’t just keep me here. I’m not a fucking- emotional support dog.”

Something in Tim’s eyes goes cold, blank, like a little baby shark. “I think you will find that I can keep you here, actually.”

[whumble-beeee]

Whumptober2024 | Day 9 | The Bee's Whumptober Masterlist

The Giant Won't Save You

AI-less Whumptober: Hypothermia, heatstroke, “You look pretty pale.”

Whumptober: OBSESSION | Broken Window | Bruises | “Frame me up on the wall, just to keep me out of trouble.” (Fall Out Boy, Irresistible)

* * * * * * * *

“You're so beautiful,” the creature boomed above them. “I've been looking for a specimen like you for years, no, decades, you're going to revolutionize–..”

Their voice practically cut through whumpee's eardrums, shook their entire soul in their chest as they sat shivering and pinned in the giant's warming hands. They knew they should run. They knew they should fight the hands and bite and kick and punch until they were free to fly away. Right back out into the cold. Into the frigid air that practically pierced through their skin.

Made them unable to fly.

Unable to get home.

Unable to escape.

They should fight.

But they were so, so tired. Even the jumbling around of the giant as they ran who knows where didn't rouse them from the impending unconsciousness, the dip into the dark. The blackness closed in on them, just like the hand that had snatched their frigid and fragile body out of the freezing snow.

Then suddenly there was bright! And warm, even warmer, not just the hands enclosing them, but the very air around them was warm.

They must be in a home of some sort. A home of the giant's.

Their heart skipped a beat as clarity flooded through their head.

No.

No no no no NO.

They needed to get out NOW before it was too late.

They started kicking in the giant's grasp, and the giant recoiled slightly, their hold growing looser so that whumpee felt the joy of promised freedom. RIght before the hand closed around them even tighter, pinning them completely.

“OW!!” The giant cried. “NO, no, I'm sorry, no escaping for you. I need you here. And you're in no shape to be by yourself anyway! Just let me help you, I want you to be the best you can be!”

Whumpee wanted to cry. They didn't understand a single word the giant was saying, the language a constant patter of deep vowels and slewed gibberish. Pain and surprise laced through their voice as they reprimanded their tiny captive, but somehow, thankfully, not anger. If anything, there was a sort of tenderness to their booming tone. As if they were another Faery, speaking to one of their young.

Whumpee spotted a golden cage. They were headed right for it.

I'm going to be caged like an animal.

They tensed, frozen not by the icy freeze that still hung around their body, threatened their fleeting consciousness, but by stone-cold fear.

“Oh!” The giant seemed to remember something, then suddenly their course altered, and Whumpee was staring at a wall. Their energy continued to sap out of their body and into the imprisoning hand. “This is where you're going to go! Well, not now of course, just when you die. Hopefully that won't be for a long time...”

Whumpee's heart seemed to stop beating. Their eyes widened as they beheld the sprawling wall.

Wings. Butterflies. Pinned. Pinned up on the wall. Faery wings. All types of wings with little placards explaining in foriegn type and blocky, unrelenting letters, sprawling out and out seeming to go forever, so many wings, so many insects, their fragile blood seemed to all but drain from their face, they shook at the sight, so many wings so many wings, they looked like whumpers wings was this what was going to happen to them was the booming giant going to hang them up alive and let them suffer pinned up until they die?? They fought and they fought within the grasp but it did absolutely nothing and they still remained pinned in the vice grip and their blackness threatened the edges of their vision, threatening to swallow them entirely, forever–

Then the wall was gone. They saw the cage. The booming voice of the giant rumbled through their body like wind through rickety tree branches, soothed their chest, filled their being as their limp body was laid among some sort of surprisingly soft furs and leaves and dry, comfortable down. They were still so cold.

“Sorry. Guess that must've been upsetting, I should've guessed. I'm not going to hurt you, though, I promise. You're safe here. You've had a long day now, so just go to sleep, recuperate, get warm... Science is going to love you, little creature.”

Whumpees head laud heavy against the plush they laid upon. They tried to move, but their body simply shook with violent protest. The cage door closed gently, almost daintily between the giant's forefinger.

They settled deeper into the cushions. So comfortable. Thr darkness swirled around them. Inviting. They really should try to escape–...

They jerked awake. Had they nodded off? No. Dont–... dont–... dont give in don't let it–

Then they fell away into a warm, plush, comfortable nothing.

* * * * * * *

Whumptober Taglist: @whumperofworlds | @whumptober-archive | @regular-whump-sfx | @whumpninja

(If you'd like to be added or subtracted from the taglist, don't be afraid to ask!)