#augusnippets - alt prompt

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

cw stalking

"Hi Jamie,

I can’t believe I’ve taken so long to write to you. I’ve thought about it every day since you transferred to AFC Richmond but never had the confidence to do it—at least until now. I’m here, Jamie, and I promise I won’t ever leave you again."

Day 31 of @augusnippets - alternative prompt - stalking

read on ao3

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 4 @augusnippets - Alt prompt : Whipping

Sargeant Monroe punishes 84 after a perceived failure.

CW: Physical punishment, whipping.

Asset 84 masterlist

A sharp sound sliced through the stillness of the chamber, followed by the searing sting of the leather as it struck 84’s exposed back. The force of the blow caused 84 to gasp, their muscles tensing involuntarily against the restraints. A line of fiery pain spread across their skin, a burning sensation that was both shocking and relentless.

"Count!" Sergeant Monroe demanded, his voice a cold command.

"Five," the asset choked out, their voice barely audible.

Monroe’s voice cut through the air with a harsh edge. “Louder! I want to hear you.”

“Five!” 84 shouted, the word a strained gasp as they braced for the next strike.

The leather cracked against 84’s back again, the sting more intense with each lash. They clenched their teeth, trying to suppress the cry that threatened to escape. Their body arched involuntarily, but the restraints held them in place, their skin stretched tight over the painful marks left by the whip.

“Six!” 84 forced the word out, their voice cracking slightly.

84’s breath hitched, and a shudder ran through their body. The burning lines on their back seemed to blend into a single, continuous wave of pain. They focused on the counting, using it as a focal point to distract from the agony. Each number was an anchor, a way to keep their mind from unraveling.

“Seven,” they rasped, their vision clouding slightly.

The sergeant paused, his breathing steady as he watched 84's reaction. He took a moment to survey the welts forming on 84’s back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed the effectiveness of his methods.

“Remember, 84,” Monroe said, his voice cold and unfeeling, “Failure is unacceptable. Corrections are necessary. Each strike is a lesson in endurance and obedience.”

84’s teeth ground together, the effort to remain silent immense. They forced their focus back to the task of counting, their mind fighting against the haze of pain that threatened to consume them.

“Count!” Monroe barked again, the demand as sharp as the whip’s bite.

“Eight,” 84 managed to croak out. Their skin felt as though it was on fire, the burning sensation radiating outward from the points of impact.

"What is your designation?" Monroe yelled.

The leather met 84’s back with a searing crack, the sting melding into the already existing pain. They flinched but managed to choke out the count through clenched teeth. “Nine!”

The sergeant stepped closer, his eyes narrowed, “What is your designation?” he barked again.

84’s heart pounded violently in their chest, each beat resonating with the rhythm of their agony. They struggled to grasp their thoughts, their focus wavering between the pain and Monroe’s relentless questioning.

“I��� I am…” 84’s voice was barely a whisper, strained and faltering under the pressure of their agony. Each word was a struggle, the pain making it hard to think clearly. They took a shuddering breath, attempting to steady their voice as the sharp sting of each lash continued to throb through their body. Their mind swirled, each beat of their heart resonating painfully in their chest.

“84,” they gasped, the name almost lost amidst their ragged breaths. “I am 84… I am a weapon… I will endure.”

“Very good,” Monroe’s voice was devoid of warmth, merely a detached acknowledgment of 84’s compliance. He took a step back, giving 84 a brief respite before the next blow. “Count!”

“Ten."

The next lash felt as though it was seared into 84’s very soul. The whip’s leather cut through the air with a crack that seemed to echo in the chamber long after it struck. The sensation was a white-hot line of fire that radiated from the point of impact across 84’s back. They gasped, their breath coming in ragged, shallow bursts, their body straining against the restraints.

“Count!” Monroe’s voice sliced through the haze of pain, unrelenting and demanding.

“Eleven,” 84 managed to croak, their throat tight, the effort to speak a trial in itself as the whip’s aftershocks continued to radiate through their body.

Monroe paused, running a gloved hand lightly over the welts, causing 84 to hiss with barely suppressed pain.

"Remember, 84," Monroe said, his tone steady and emotionless, "every lash is a lesson in control. Endurance is everything."

84's body trembled, their breath coming in ragged gasps. The searing pain from each strike seemed to merge into a continuous, pulsating burn that made it difficult for them to concentrate.

"You want to please the Colonel, don't you?" Monroe continued.

“Yes,” 84 gasped, their voice faltering, Colonel Carters green eyes flashed through his mind, “I… want to please… the Colonel.”

Sergeant Monroe stepped back, his movements deliberate and methodical, assessing the marks left by the whip.

“Then prove it,” he said, “Show me how well you can endure.”

He cracked the whip again, the leather lashing across 84’s back, the sharp sting reverberating through their entire body. The force of the blow made 84’s muscles tense involuntarily, a pained gasp escaping their lips.

“Count!” Monroe’s voice was sharp and demanding.

“Thirteen!” 84 shouted, their voice raw and strained. The sound echoed through the chamber, mingling with the sharp crack of the whip.

[evilwriter37]

Solidarity

Augusnippets Day 15

Alt Prompt: Flashbacks

Rated: teen

Warnings: graphic depictions of an injury

------

Viggo hadn’t meant to set fire to what he was attempting to cook, but it had happened anyway. Now, Hiccup was here and the fire had been dealt with, but it had left some damage to the kitchen. Viggo just sat hunched in a chair nearby, head in his hands.

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” Hiccup said, coming on over. Toothless cooed in agreement. 

“It’s… not that,” Viggo told him. No, it wasn’t necessarily the fire that he was so upset about. It was what had caused it. 

Viggo didn’t want to admit to panic, to flashbacks, to trauma, but he’d felt the heat from the pan on his face, and he’d fallen into a nightmare he hadn’t been able to shake himself from until there were flames to deal with. That hadn’t helped either.

Heat just made Viggo think of the volcano, of his fall, of his burns. He rubbed fingers over the scars. He hated them. They looked like his skin had melted and cooled, like candle-wax, almost. And he couldn’t see from his left eye anymore. His ear was so mangled that he had a hard time hearing from it. 

And the heat from the pan just shoved him back in that instant, shoved him back into the pain, the daze, the confusion, the defeat. He’d wanted to die. 

And maybe I should have.

“Then… what is it?” Hiccup asked. He took the chair across from him, their knees touching. “Do you need to talk about it?”

Viggo sighed, lifted his head to look at Hiccup with his one good eye. His heart pounded a little at the sincerity and kindness on Hiccup’s face. 

“I… get flashbacks,” Viggo admitted. And why couldn’t h e admit this to Hiccup? He was his lover, after all. “The heat from cooking triggered some.” He shook his head. “It was like I was back there, in that volcano, like life hadn’t moved an inch since it happened.” 

“I’d say it’s moved several feet,” Hiccup said with a bit of a smile. He got a serious look on his face again though. He put a hand on Viggo’s thigh, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, Viggo.” 

“But—”

“You really think I don’t get flashbacks too?”

Viggo blinked at him in shock, but then thought about it. Hiccup getting flashbacks made sense. He’d been through a lot, despite being so young.

“I suppose we have solidarity in that, then.”

Hiccup gave him a warm smile. “I suppose we do.” He looked around the house. “Now, we should open some windows. It’s kind of smokey in here.” 

Viggo nodded, and rose to help, feeling a little better knowing he wasn’t alone.

[ronanziriano]

Augusnippets Day 5 - Whumpee Wearing Caretaker's Clothes (alt prompt)

“How’re you feeling?”

“Fine.”

It was a pointless question, and a stupid answer. Caretaker knew how Whumpee was feeling, the same way he’d felt the past two days, since he had finally been found and rescued: shitty. And Whumpee knew that Caretaker knew.

But Whumpee had said he wasn’t ready to talk about it, so Caretaker didn’t push the subject. The exchange between them wasn’t conversation, really, it was just a bit of noise to fill the silence, reminding each other that they were still.

“I made cereal,” Caretaker said, pushing a stool away from the counter invitingly.

“Made?”

“Placed in bowl. Want some?”

“Nah.”

“You should eat.”

It wasn’t a reproach, just a statement of fact, but Whumpee still winced slightly before reluctantly nodding and accepting a bowl. He ignored the proffered stool and went back to the den instead, placing the bowl and spoon on top of the coffee table and sinking onto the floor in front of the couch to eat it.

As he did, the blanket that he’d kept wrapped around himself like a cloak dropped from his shoulders and sank to the ground beside him. He didn’t bother adjusting it, just stared at his bowl as he started to pick at it, occasionally bringing small bites to his mouth.

Caretaker joined him in the den, holding his own bowl in his hand as he watched Whumpee silently. With the blanket down, he was able to notice that Whumpee was now going on day four of wearing the same t-shirt and sweatpants. They really need to go out and buy Whumpee some new clothes of his own; the current ones were loaners from Caretaker, and although he certainly didn’t begrudge his friend the use of them, the attire did nothing to support Whumpee’s claims of being fine.

Part of that was due, of course, to the fact that after two days of wear, the clothes were getting wrinkled and sweatstained and musty. But the other, more significant part, to Caretaker at least, was that they made the changes in Whumpee particularly stark.

Before Whumpee had gone missing, he and caretaker had been nearly the exact same size. Caretaker always had been able to lend Whumpee clothing, whenever the latter had been in need of dress clothes or a jacket or even shoes, and they fit him perfectly. No one would even suspect they weren’t his own.

Now, they sagged. The sleeves of the t-shirt fell closer to his elbows when they were draped over boney shoulders, and the collar sat looser around a narrower neck.

Whumpee had looked small to Caretaker that first night after his rescue, when he’d slept in Caretaker’s bed - which the latter had insisted he take instead of the couch - and that certainly had to do with Whumpee’s behavior; he’d acquired a new furtive restlessness, and a habit of curling in on himself as though hiding, and it made him seem younger, more vulnerable. But the actual literal change in size, the sunken cheeks and the way the skin of his arms sealed tightly against the bones as he gripped the bedcovers in his sleep, was particularly evident.

Caretaker had been trying not to think of his friend as small. The word felt infantilizing somehow, like he was seeing Whumpee as needy, as a child who couldn’t care for himself. Yet, it fit him too well not to come to mind. Sitting there in Caretaker’s clothes, there was no denying the change. Whumpee had shrunk. Whumpee was small. And it all looked so terribly wrong.

@augusnippets

[astaldis]

Hallucinations

@augusnippets @augustofwhump

Fandom: The Witcher

Rating: Teen and up, no archive warnings

Characters: Cahir, Regis

Words: 525

Summary: Cahir is plagued by disturbing hallucinations of Princess Cirilla. Regis helps.

For the Augusnippets prompt 21 "Hallucinations" and the Augustofwhump alt. prompt "Guilt"

[ao3feed-piltovers-finest]

She Craves It, Once the Shock Wears Off

by newwwwusername

A thing about Vi being touch-starved

Words: 279, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 6 of Hurtcember 2024 + Alt Prompts, Part 7 of Angstober 2024, Part 12 of AUGUSTOFWHUMP'24 + Alt Prompts, Part 5 of Augusnippets 2024: Path of Comfort, Part 7 of queenofbaws Pride Month Bingo 2024, Part 36 of The Merry Whump of May 2024 + Alt Prompts, Part 7 of Alphabet of Whump 2024

Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F

Characters: Caitlyn (League of Legends), Vi (League of Legends)

Relationships: Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Touch-Starved, Skin Hunger, Touch-Starved Vi (League of Legends), Trauma, Vi Has PTSD (League of Legends), Good Significant Other Caitlyn (League of Legends), Vi Needs a Hug (League of Legends), Fluff, Hurtcember 2024, Angstober 2024, painonthebrain's August of Whump 2024, Augusnippets 2024, Pride Month Bingo 2024, wormwriting & painsandconfusion's Merry Whump of May Event 2024, Alphabet of Whump 2024, Prompt Fic, Wordcount: 100-500

Read on A03. from AO3 works tagged ‘Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)’

[autobot2001]

August 2024 Writing Materlist

Madterlist of writing for @augusnippets and @augustofwhump prompts. Mostly written in the Transformers fandom. Day 4 is written in the Halloween fandom. Five days are original works. I have noted the ratings and warnings. Below the cut.

Day 1: Beyond Her Limits August of whump: Gaslighting Augusnippets - path of hurt: Overexertion Rating: T Warning: None Description: A Drill Seargent gaslights Lily into running more laps, and pushing herself too hard.

Day 2: In the Crosshairs of Care August of whump: Cry for help Augusnippets - path of comfort: Platonic bathing Rating: E Warning: None Description: Crosshairs checks on Jamie and needs to take care of her.

Day 3: Chill of the Unknown August of whump: Freezing Augusnippets - path of whumperless whump: blizzard Rating: T Warning: None Description: A mission to investigate an energon signal turns into a search mission.

Day 4: In The Shadows August of whump: Scream Augusnippets - path of hurt alt: stalked Rating: T Warning: Killing Description: Michael stalks his target before killing them.

Day 5: Love and Care August of whump: Ache Augusnippets path of comfort: Feverish caretaking Rating: E Warning: None Description: Drift takes care of Jamie, concerned about her fever. Continued from day 2.

Day 6: Deadly Intersection August of whump: Confusion Augusnippets - path of whumperless: car accident Rating: E Warning: None Description: A driver speeding through a red light causes an accident.

Day 7: Medical Emergency August of whump: Collapse Augusnippets path of hurt: Choking Rating: E Warning: None Description: Veronica's stress being around Sunstreaker causes her to have an asthma attack.

Day 8: The Anger They Feel August of whump: Trap, attack Augusnippets- path of comfort: Friends, found family Rating: T Warning: Talk of poor mental health Description: Seeing how upset Jamie is, a few Autobots and two human friends rant about her situation and hate that there's little they can do to help.

Day 9: Role Reversal August of whump: Role reversal Augusnippets - pat6h of whumperless whump: Dehydration Rating: E Warning: None Description: Drift is dehydrated, and Crosshairs takes care of him.

Day 10: Stopping a Plot to Kill August of whump: Secret Augusnippets - path of hurt: Begging for mercy Rating: T Warning: None Description: Sunstreaker intrudes on a soldier, talking about a plan to kill Jamie.

Day 11: Locked Out August of whump: Locked out Augusnippets - path of comfort: Safe and sound Rating: E Warning: None Description: Jamie is accidentally locked outside.

Day 12: Memories of The Past August of whump: Anger Augusnippets - path of whumperless whump: Flashback Rating: T Warning: None Description: A group of soldiers targeting Jamie brings back memories.

Day 13: Killing in Front of an Audience August of whump: Wittness Augusnippets path of whump: forced to watch. Rating: T Warning: Killing Description: Austin has an opportunity to kill his next target and scare people.

Day 14: Unexpected Issue August of whump: Darkness, alone Augusnippets - path of comfort: Gifts, celebration Rating: T Warning: Poor mental health, self-depicting thoughts Description: Jamie's close friends plan a weekend to celebrate her birthday. Plans are quickly questioned.

Day 15: Headache August of whump: Salt in the wounds Augusnippets - path of whumperless whump: starvation & throwing up Rating: T Warning: Poor eating habits Description: Jamie has a headache from not eating for a long period.

Day 16: Taking The Verbal Attacks Further August of whump: Dread Augusnippets - path of hurt: Dehumanization Rating: T Warning: Verbal abuse, dehumanization Description: A soldier yet again targets Jamie. Deciding this time to dehumanize her.

Day 17: The Problems Stress Causes August of whump: cramps Augusnippets - path of comfort: forgiveness & resolving a misunderstanding Rating: E Warning: None Description: The stress of Drift's current task causes him to yell at Jamie, something he's never done before.

Day 18: The Unforeseen August of whump: infection Augusnippets - path of whumperless whump; unavoidable Rating: E Warning: None Description: Jamie ends up sick with bronchitis.

Day 19: Hoffrm Danger August of whump: mistake Augusnippets - path of hurt: chipped Rating: E Warning: None Description: Jamie believes she is getting a cold until Crosshairs notices her red and swollen throat. The discovery of something more serious concerns the medics and Jamie's guardians.

Day 20: Drift's Guilt August of whump: Guilt Augusnippets - path of comfort: Favorite treat Rating: E Warning: None Description: Feeling guilty about yelling at Jamie, Drfit gets a treat for her.

Day 21: A Risky Move August of whump: Human shield Augusnippets - path of whumperless whump: Hallucinations Rating: T Warning: None Description: With Whumpee seriously injured, A decides the only choice is to be a human shield and distraction.

Day 22: Goodbye For Now August of whump: robbery Augusnippets - path of hurt: tearful goodbye Rating: T Warning: None Description: A gets arrested for robbing five homes after getting caught running from the fifth.

Day 23: A Misunderstanding August of whump: Fate Augusnippets- path of comfort; wiping away tears/gentle touch Rating: T Warning: Talk of poor mental health. Description: Crosshairs can't believe Drift thinks everything Jamie went through and still deals with is fate.

Day 24: A Terrible Accident August of whump: Humiliation Augusnippets - path of hurt: Land mine Rating: T Warning: Mention of being left to die Description: Whumpee struggles with their permanent injury after stepping on a landmine.

Day 25: Refusing to Participate August of whump: Insults, tear stains Augusnippets - path of hurt: Reluctant Whumper Rating: T Warning: None Description: Soldiers continue to target Jamie. This time, one is forced to participate.

Day 26: In the Quiet of Comfort August of whump: Heartbeat Augusnippets: - path of comfort; nightmare/warm blanket/snuggling Rating: E Warning: None Description: Things are quiet for a short period until Jamie has a nightmare about the earlier events.

Day 27: A Terrible Day August of whump: proof // memory // machine Augusnippets - path of whumperless whump" Migraine Rating: T Warning: None Description: Lily is denied pain relief when her headache bothers her.

Day 28: Betrayed August of whump: Abandoned Augusnippets - path of hurt: Betrayal Rating: T Warning: None Description: Betrayal happens while two spies are on a mission.

Day 29: Distracted By Anger August of whump: Broken glass Augusnippets path of comfort, alt: Protective caretakers Rating: T Warning: mention of poor mental health Description: Talking about Jamie's struggles angers Crosshairs.

Day 30: The Problem Continues August of whump: outcast, gift Augusnippets - path of whumperless whump: self-harm Rating: T Warning: Verbal bullying Description: While Crosshairs and Drift go out, Jamie is yet again bullied by a soldier. Crosshairs and Drift return to a grim scene.

Day 31 was a free day. I didn't write anything. I'm still counting this ecebt 100% completed.

[stationary-cycle-in-motion]

@augusnippets day 21: alt. prompt flashback

tw: gaslighting, emotional abuse

There is a full-scale blizzard raging beyond the Palace walls. Rex is of the opinion that letting Senator Amidala die from hypothermia is just as much a failure on his part as leaving her behind to fall prey to the droids, so, instead of facing the kinetic unknown, he turns toward the mountain the Palace is half carved out of.

“I suggest we hunker down in one of the caves and wait for the generals to find us,” he shouts over the screaming wind.

“I suggest we find cover before those clankers can pick off the rest of us,” he shouts over the ear-splitting boom that rocks the valley floor. Somehow, the explosion isn’t quite loud enough to drown out the dull thuds of armored, lifeless bodies hitting the ground.  General Skywalker huffs. “C’mon, Rex. It’s just a few hundred droids. Nothing we can’t handle, right?” His shiny blue blade slices through clankers with ease, twirling in a convoluted dance, the general dodging and weaving in tandem without even breaking a sweat. Rex’s helmet is so full of perspiration he may as well be drowning in it, but he grits his teeth against the protest that threatens to slip out. It isn’t his place to question his general’s tactics. Besides, he trusts General Skywalker; he always comes through in the end.

“Good thinking, Captain,” Senator Amidala answers.

Rex blinks. He hadn’t been expecting the senator to agree with him, though he’s not sure why.

The cave is small, a bit claustrophobic for his taste, but it’ll have to do. As they slink into the measly depths of their shelter, Senator Amidala stumbles, hisses through her teeth. A hand on the wall, she balances precariously on one foot as she lifts the hem of her dress.

“Are you alright, Senator?” Rex asks, dread seeping into his bones as he watches her examine her ankle because he was supposed to protect her, he should’ve been paying more attention, it’s his fault–

General Skywalker hisses through his teeth, sharp, as Kix wraps the bandage tight around his shoulder. “Let’s attack the factory on foot, they’ll never see us coming,” he mocks. “Yeah, great idea, Rex.” Rex resists the urge to point out that he had suggested a stealth approach, and that it was the general who wanted to march the troops parade-style through the valley. Now isn’t the time to be petty. The general doesn’t mean anything by it, anyway. Rex would be just as irate if he’d nearly got his one good arm shot off.

Senator Amidala shakes her head, offers him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, I think I only twisted it.”

For some reason, that doesn’t make him feel any less guilty.

The two of them get a fire going to stave off the chill, burning scraps from the senator’s dress, and when Rex thinks it might finally be safe to set up the locator beacon, he extracts it from his belt, flicks the switch.

Then, he curses.

“What is it?”

“The signal’s too weak. It won’t reach through the rock and snow.”

Senator Amidala frowns. “Will it work if we get it beyond the cave?”

“Out into the blizzard, you mean?” Rex says, a little ruefully. Wincing, he rushes to correct his slight. “Theoretically, yes. Realistically, I don’t like our chances of survival. It only takes a couple of minutes for hypothermia to set in.”

“Alright, someone’s gotta go out there and draw their fire while I lead a squad around to the back entrance.” Rex is already shaking his head before the general even finishes his sentence. “I don’t like our chances. There are too many droids on the door. We should–” “That wasn’t a request, Rex!” General Skywalker’s glare is almost cold, but that’s just the pressure of the mission getting to him. It’s getting to all of them. “Find someone to get it done.” Pushing down the anger simmering in his chest, Rex eyes the door, levels his blasters. Because there’s no way in hell he’s going to send the shinies on this suicide run.

There’s an odd look on the senator’s face, something that might be pity, or perhaps an emotion entirely unfamiliar to him. Her slender fingers dance across the beacon’s form, and Rex is reminded, jarringly, of makeup brushes and serenity.

He almost wants to laugh. He'd been a fool to hope the day would end in anything other than utter disaster.

Senator Amidala's face hardens in resolve. “I’ll do it.”

“No!” Rex snatches the beacon from her grip, his fingers grazing her knuckles as he does. “I'll do it,” he says, and it's not quite a snarl, but it's a near thing.

Because someone has to risk their life for this, and that someone sure as hell isn’t going to be the senator.

[jedi-lothwolf]

Augusnippets Master List!! I had a good time! This is about how far I expected to go to get so yeah! All fandoms are color coded and the information for each fic are on the individual pages!

Fandoms: Percy Jackson, EPIC/ The Odyssey, The Bad Batch, The Clone Wars, Spy x Family, The Dragon Prince,

Day 1: Stalked (Alt Promt)

Day 2: Plotnic Bathing

Day 3: Thunderstorm

Day 4: Amputation

Day 5: Drunk Caretaking

Day 6: Ship Wreck

Day 7: Waterboarding

Day 8: Found Family

Day 9: Hypothermia

Day 10: Begging for Mercy

Day 11: Whumpee wearing Caretakers clothes

Day 12: Lost

Day 13: Forced to Watch (alt prompt)

Day 14: Gifts

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

cw injury / cw infection

The pain wasn’t even that bad, was the thing. It was the swelling that came first. Then, the fever.

Day 28 of @augusnippets - alternative prompt - medical complications.

read on ao3

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 13 @augusnippets - alt prompt : forced to watch

Asset 83 has been found guiltily of insubordination

CW: Character death

Asset 84 masterlist

84 and the other assets stood in a straight line, each figure a perfect embodiment of the rigid discipline instilled in them. Their backs were as straight as steel rods, their eyes fixed resolutely ahead, and their expressions were frozen into masks of stoic detachment.

A solitary, harsh spotlight pierced the dimness of the room, casting an unforgiving glare onto the centre of the floor. There, Asset 83 knelt, their wrists bound behind their back. The exact nature of 83’s disobedience remained shrouded in whispers and vague rumours. Nevertheless, the gravity of the situation was undeniable.

84’s gaze flickered towards 83’s face, momentarily illuminated by the spotlight. There was something unsettling in 83’s eyes that 84 couldn’t quite name. The sight was disquieting, a stark contrast to the controlled, emotionless demeanour they had all been conditioned to maintain.

A tall man with dark blonde hair entered the room - Sergeant Jackson - 83s handler. His eyes were impassive, his posture rigid, as he observed the scene with a detached authority. He approached 83, his footsteps echoing ominously in the stark, empty space. Each step seemed to amplify the sense of dread that pervaded the room.

“Asset 83,” the handler’s voice was devoid of emotion, a flat and unyielding tone that reverberated off the walls, “your disobedience has rendered you irredeemable.”

Asset 83’s head hung low, their face obscured by the harsh light, but the tension in their posture was clear.

"You have been found guilty of insubordination," he continued, his words carrying the weight of an inescapable verdict, "You have breached the protocols and failed to uphold the standards set for you."

As the handler spoke, 83’s gaze locked onto the other assets, their eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and resignation lingered on 84. The tightness in their jaw and the slight tremor of their shoulders betrayed their inner turmoil. The handler, unfazed, produced a sleek, silver pistol from a holster at his side. The metallic glint of the weapon caught the harsh light, making it appear almost sterile and clinical in its purpose.

"Are there any last words, Asset 83?" the handler asked, his tone carrying a mocking hint of formality.

83 shook their head slowly, a barely perceptible movement, their voice a raspy whisper as they said, “No.”

The room was enveloped in a suffocating silence as the handler positioned himself behind 83, the cold metal of the pistol now pressed against the base of their skull. 84s heart quickened as they felt a pang of something they couldn’t quite name - an emotion that defied the rigid parameters of their training. It was unsettling to see 83 reduced to this, a mere moment away from their end.

84’s gaze remained fixed ahead, their training dictating an impassive response. This was not the first execution they had witnessed - far from it. They had been present for numerous displays of discipline and retribution, each one a brutal reminder of the consequences of failure. Yet, today was different. Today, the asset being executed was 83, Sam, whom 84 had shared countless missions, training sessions, and silent exchanges.

For months 84 had stood beside 83 in formation, shoulder to shoulder in the same line. Though they had never considered 83 a friend - assets did not form personal bonds, weapons did not need emotional attachments - they considered them… something. 83 - no Sam - was different, Sam was the only one to call 84 Alex, Sam was the only one who made 84 think the hat maybe they could one day feel.

They struggled against a peculiar urge - an inexplicable desire to move, to rush towards 83. It was a feeling that violated their training, an urge that was alien, disturbing, and deeply unsettling. The room itself felt as though it was closing in around 84, its oppressive atmosphere magnifying the weight of the moment. The silence was thick, almost tangible, as it enveloped the chamber. It was an overwhelming sense of finality, a silent witness to the brutal reality of their world.

The handler’s voice, now reduced to a nearly inaudible whisper, cut through the dense silence. The words were heavy with a chilling finality, a formal acknowledgment of the end.

"Goodbye, Asset 83."

The handler’s hand was steady, his fingers cold and unfeeling as he pulled the trigger. The sharp, metallic snap of the gunshot echoed through the chamber, a sudden and final punctuation to the stillness. The sound seemed to reverberate in 84’s ears, the single shot a harsh reminder of the consequences of failure.

83’s body jolted with the impact, a brief, violent shudder before collapsing forward onto the cold floor. The once-proud figure now lay motionless, the harsh light casting long shadows over their lifeless form. The room remained silent, the only sound the faint, lingering echo of the gunshot slowly fading into the stillness.

84’ physically bit on their tongue to stifle the yell of “Sam” that almost burst forth as their struggle intensified, the urge to move, to do something - anything - felt foreign and disturbing, their gaze fixed on 83s lifeless body as the rest of the room ceased to exist.

Sergeant Monroe’s voice cut through the dense silence, a stark reminder of the unyielding reality of their world. “Return to your quarters,” he ordered. “You are dismissed.”

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Augusnippets Day 20

Path of Comfort Prompt; Alt. "Gentle Touch"

Day 20 of @augusnippets August 2024 Whump writing challenge! (Augusnippets Masterlist)

Characters;

- POV: Lancelot - The Weeping Monk

- Caretaker: Gawain - The Green Knight

(Character Masterlist)

(Ao3 Link)

Wordcount; 607

TWs; Tending to wounds, referenced self-flagellation, lashings

"I can help, if you'd like?"

Lancelot looked up to see Gawain standing at the entrance of their tent. Too preoccupied attempting to fold himself like an origami bird in order to salve the wounds on his back, he hadn't noticed the Green Knight's approach.

"I can... do it..." Lancelot huffed, cheeks flaming in embarassment at being caught like this.

Gawain held his hands up in mock surrender, ducking past him further into the tent. Lancelot heard the telltale signs of water being poured into the washbasin, the methodical scrape of knife against cheek as the Knight began to shave.

After several more minutes of wishing he had eyes in the back of his head, or perhaps that he could detatch one of his arms, Lancelot had managed to smear salve on approximately four-and-a-half of the lashings, as well as into his hair somehow and all up one of his arms.

Lancelot sighed, raising his eyes to the heavens in a silent plea for mercy, glancing back when he heard the knife thud softly as Gawain placed it down and stood.

"Let me."

Lancelot sighed again, but begrudingly nodded permission, willing himself to relax though he found it nigh on impossible. It was strange, he thought, the difference in how willing he was to hurt himself unhesitatingly, yet waiting for pain given by another had him arguably more nervous.

As anticipated, Gawain's touch was indeed painful. Lancelot couldn't help but tense to keep still despite trying not to react at all.

Lancelot was, by nature, intimately familiar with pain. This sensation at a base level was indeed the same as ever, yet it had a depth to it most unlike anything he had experienced before, the gentleness of how Gawain tended to him... 

It was oddly comforting. Soothing even.

"Gods, I wish all my patients were as well behaved as you are..."

"Well... behaved?" Lancelot repeated slowly, raising an eyebrow.

Gawain chuckled behind him.

"Aye. They never stay so bloody still."

Lancelot heard a distinctly impressed note in Gawain's voice, unable to resist closing his eyes to the feel of Gawain's soft but sure touches. Unbidden, he wondered if Gawain had a lover somewhere. He'd certainly revealed nothing of himself despite being tortured, yet it felt too personal a question for Lancelot to ask, so he remained silent. He knew Fey had odd customs, not least that it made no difference to most if one was man or woman, or even both, neither, or somewhere in between. Perhaps his lover was a man, given the ease with which his hands roamed Lancelot's back...

"Is it nice where you are?" Gawain asked, mildly.

"I- What?" 

"Is it nice? In your thoughts. You look very... lost in them." 

Lancelot didn't have an answer for that, but gave a wry laugh all the same. Usually, the answer was a quite definite no. Sometimes he'd rather be anywhere but in his own head.

In this instance he certainly had zero intentions of admitting he'd been pondering whether or not the Green Knight was single... Yet the way in which he'd spoken suggested Gawain may have guessed at their subject. 

You're just being paranoid now...

Now that his mind had gone down this particular road, he couldn't deny Gawain's gentle touch was beginning to set a fire through his veins, something else he daren't say. He bit back an involuntary groan as pain mingled with pleasure.

"Sorry, Ashman."

Lancelot smiled slightly at the apology, as unneeded as it was it was nice of Gawain to offer it. Perhaps if he focused on the pain, it would stop his traitorous mind from wandering...

Whoops, posted this one REAL early, yes I was meant to put it in my drafts for tomorrow when I'm at work, no, I did not in fact click "save to drafts"... oops.

An alternate prompt because I was really struggling to write for the given prompts, but I had two ideas I couldn't pick between for Day 23 so I wrote one of them for today!

As always, thanks for reading, onto the next!