#augusnippets - day 24

[whumplump]

Day 24 of @augusnippets

Prompt used: medical complications (bonus prompt)

CW: medical whump, sickfic, mentioned lung injury, mentioned intubation

Although it dawned and dusk every day, that strong white light in the hospital seemed like it was always daytime. Whumpee woke up but immediately closed their eyes shut, uncomfortable with the brightness. Caretaker's hand holding theirs made them feel a little calmer.

Caretaker could hear the distant sound of the mask helping Whumpee breathe. They squeezed their hand to get their attention.

“The doctor said your lungs are really bruised, Whumpee." They came closer to whisper the last part, being careful with Whumpee's sensitive ears to loud sounds. "They said they might have to intubate you."

Whumpee's eyes brimmed with tiredness. They weren't listening properly because of their deplorable state. If they were, they would certainly be panicking.

Caretaker reached out to stroke their sick friend's hair.

"It's going to be okay... It's going to be like taking a long nap…”

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Augusnippets day 24: Bear Trap

cw: blood, injury

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 326

=~=~=

The pain was sudden and thunderous and searing, throwing the mer from curiosity to panic in a violent burst. It was their first time out of the waters, their first time adventuring to the world above, but every bit of wonder at the new experience vanished in an instant.

What had them?

They could hardly even think through the sudden surging fear. Were there predators here too? Ones that swam up through the ground to bite? A hurried glance at their split fin---leg, those who'd walked the dry realm before called them legs---showed them shining teeth, buried into the flesh, blood pooling at the wounds, pulled downwards by the weight of the air.

Something had them in its jaws, but what?

It didn't move, didn't jerk their body around or pull them deep under the crunching leaves. It just stayed there, teeth clamped around their throbbing leg.

After a moment frozen in terror, the mer dared to glance at the creature once more. Was it dead? They knew little about the things that walked the ground or swam in the air; even the most experienced wanderers hadn't seen everything, but everything they knew told them if this thing wanted to tear them to pieces, it would've by now.

Mustering courage through clenched teeth, they curled their body in, reaching for the clamping mouth with shaking hands, half certain it would attack if they touched it at all. To their relief, it didn't move. It was cold to the touch, its surface alternating between smooth and black and bumpy and brown.

Was it dead? Had it ever been alive to begin with?

On closer inspection, it looked human-made, like the heavy things that sank to the sea floor. Not trying to kill them, but still very much holding them captive.

Why was it here? Who would set up a big metal mouth to bite hapless wanderers?

The mer didn't know.

But they hoped they didn't find out.

[jamiesfootball]

Augusnippets Day 24

Alternate Prompt: flashbacks

cw: implied/referenced child abuse, referenced past choking/strangulation, flashbacks, panic attacks

Summary:

He shakes his head and swears warmly, the way he must’ve done a million times before– “I should fucking strangle you.”

Sequel to this

Here on AO3

It’s a fucking joke. Roy doesn’t really mean it.

It’s the third time that morning that Jamie tries to steal a sip from Roy’s water bottle, despite the fact that his own bottle remains halfway full. He’s spent all morning doing his best to rile Roy up – jogging faster than Roy can keep pace, singing the same four lines from that annoying pop song on repeat, running backwards ahead of him despite Roy’s repeated shouts that he’s going to trip and fall and then Roy’s going to make him crawl home.

Jamie grins at that. His bright orange water bottle sloshes as he tosses it back and forth between his hands, and he smarts back that that’s the only way Roy could beat him in a race. Then without pausing, he asks if Roy’s planning on using last night’s chicken to make chicken salad for lunch, because that’d be mint.

It’s a normal fucking day.

So when Jamie ducks into Roy’s space again, grinning wildly and unabashedly pleased with himself, it’s second nature for Roy’s arm to raise up to fend him off.

Also second nature: the low growl it elicits when Jamie dances out of reach. Roy doesn’t even consciously think about moving; his reflexes have him taking a step forward to catch his would-be water poacher by the nape. His hand cups around the back of Jamie’s neck. He gives it a short squeeze, and something irritatingly, blisteringly fond digs fingers into his ribs. He shakes his head and swears warmly, the way he must’ve done a million times before–

“I should fucking strangle you.”

Jamie, bouncy and restless and maddeningly cheerful, goes completely still. The skin under Roy’s palm goes cold, chilled like he’s been doused by a bucket of ice water. The light in his eyes flicks off, all traces of emotion blinking out of existence between one second and the next, replaced with a horribly blank nothingness. Like Roy’s accidentally gone and found the button that finally turns him off.

The neon-bright water bottle, with its stickers and spare headband wrapped around the lid, slips out of lifeless hands to fall dead on the grass. The cap spills open. Water sloshes everywhere. Jamie takes a quick step back. Then he wobbles, then his legs give out, and Roy barely manages to grab him by the shoulders. He guides him shakily to the ground.

“Hey. Hey. That’s it, easy. Down, that’s a good lad, that’s good. Come on, now, breathe for me..”

Jamie pulls his legs up to his chest, his forehead digging into his knees. He’s gasping now, his breaths turned into sharp, whistling hitches. One of his hands fists into his joggers; the other curls into his shirt, pulling the neckline away from his throat as he struggles to breathe.

Roy crouches beside him, running his hand along his back in rhythmic, steady circles, the way he would if it were Phoebe or Keeley or any of the people he was somewhat qualified to console.

After what feels like a million aching years, the panting begins to subside. The tension in his back unwinds. His hands uncurl, his fingers white with how painfully tightly they’d been twisted up. The front of his shirt is stretched beyond ruin, and his hand trembles as he tries to flatten it back down.

Jamie finally reappears, warily peeking up. He’s still pale-faced and blank, but there’s an alertness behind his red-rimmed eyes that wasn’t there before. Confused, he takes in the park and the grass and the old ladies in the distance and the parents with their prams and picnics before his attention finally lands on the person kneeling in front of him.

He croaks out a hoarse, “What?”

“Here,” says Roy. He holds out the water bottle that started this mess. “Drink this.”

He waits anxiously as Jamie unscrews the cap. He doesn’t take more than a sip, and even that small amount makes him sputter, coughing weakly into his shoulder.

After an elastic stretch of silence, Roy dares to ask, “Has that happened before?”

Jamie chokes on a laugh. It’s a scornful, cutting noise that Roy never wants to hear again. “Yeah. Yeah, you can say that.”

Roy frowns. “More than once?” He’d fucking hoped it was a one-off.

Jamie spins the bottle absently between his palms, watching the liquid swish around. With feigned indifference drawn around him like a shield, he shrugs. “A few times I guess.”

“Ok.” Roy nods woodenly. “All right.”

He settles his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. Jamie jumps a bit at the contact, but he doesn’t pull away, and Roy considers that a victory. He doesn’t know what the fuck else he’s supposed to be doing here. After witnessing something like that, it feels like he should have something to say, but he doesn’t. He should’ve asked Ted more questions. He should’ve joined the Diamond Dogs years ago, if only for the practice. He should’ve started therapy when he was nine.

After going in circles over whether or not it’s a stupid question, Roy takes the risk and asks, “Is there something specific that triggers it or some shit?”

Is there anything I can avoid to make sure that never fucking happens again.

The hastily drawn bravado trembles like a mirage. Jamie cocks his head, confused. A vulnerable shadow flickers across his expression. “What?”

“Is it you know-,” Roy spins his hand in the air, “-is it brought on by anything?”

They stare at each other blankly, two hamsters spinning on different wheels. Jamie’s speedy little rodent gets there a half second sooner. He shrinks back, his shoulders bunching up protectively around his ears. “Oh. Oh. You thought I meant-“

“What did you think I was talking about–“

It clicks.

Roy hates that it clicks.

He sits down on the grass; his sister can come pick him up later if he has trouble standing up. This is too important.

“Thought for a moment there that you were gonna choke me,” Jamie spells it out. Simple, ugly words that bruise to hear. “Knew you wouldn’t, but–“

“It’s happened before,” Roy finishes.

Jamie drops his head back onto his knees with a sharp exhale. Nods.

“I never knew when it was going to happen,” Jamie confesses. “I mean, I could usually tell when he was in a bad mood. Whether it was a bad day or whether it was something I had done. But I could never tell if it was gonna be… that.”

It isn’t news that his dad’s a piece of shit; it’s just the breadth of it that’s staggering.

Roy doesn’t think he’ll ever get to the point where hearing the details doesn’t make him want to put his fist through a wall — or better yet, James Tartt’s face. Honestly, he never wants to; he never wants to get to the point where he takes these harsh glimpses being shared with him for granted.

More important than all of that is the hunched figure sitting beside him, tearing grass from the earth in tense clumps as he waits for Roy’s verdict.

“Shit,” Roy says under his breath. “Jamie. That’s fucked up.”

Jamie freezes. Slowly, he unclenches his fist. Blades of grass trickle out of it, blown free by the wind. With a note of hope in his voice, he says, “Yeah?”

It’s such an earnest question it breaks Roy’s fucking heart.

“Yes,” Roy insists. “Fuck. Christ, Jamie. You didn’t deserve that shit.”

“Might’ve. You don’t know.”

“The fuck I don’t,” Roy snaps. “No one deserves that shit.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t always tell that, could I?” Jamie bites back. His shoulders rise defensively. “You know what they say: the pot doesn’t fall far from the kettle.”

Jamie flops back in the grass, arms folded petulantly across his chest like he’s won the argument. The neon orange bottle lays empty at his feet, and Roy’s plain black one sits next to it like a menacing shadow.

Roy inhales sharply between his teeth. He’s trying not to be the shadow.

“That’s not what they say.”

“I’m pretty sure it is. You know, how once a table’s been flipped over, they can tell where it was standing before because everything sort of falls in the same direction?”

“That’s not–,” Roy cuts himself short. He takes in Jamie, the way he’s splayed out like a frog ready for autopsy: pinned open and vulnerable to poking. He is, Roy’s beginning to realise, eerily good at pretending his trauma isn’t on display, and even better at getting Roy to fall for the act.

Like there's a chance Roy might go home and forget he ever said anything.

Roy shakes his head. “Actually that makes some sense.”

“See? Told ya.”

“But it’s just a metaphor. That doesn’t make it true,” he adds forcefully. “If anything, your dad isn’t the kettle in that situation; he’s the man flipping the table.”

Jamie blinks up at the sky. His eyes shine. “Yeah. Maybe.”

After a brief moment’s hesitation, Roy lies down next to him. He’ll regret it when he tries to stand up again, but for now that doesn't matter.

The sky is stupidly blue. A brisk wind slides in from the north. Families and old ladies and loud teenages and sloppy, happy dogs circulate around the park, lives continuing on their merry way with no concern for the two resting figures in the grass.

“Do you ever wish you were a frog?” asks Jamie, already moving on, lacing up his boots, and preparing to leave the moment in the wind.

Roy lets him. It’s the least he can do. That, and brace himself for the day it all catches up. Roy doesn’t need to win the race; he just needs to be waiting at the finish line.

Until then, it’s a normal fucking day.

[shyday-ao3]

@augusnippets Day 24. Prompt land mines. Peaky Blinders fandom, set early in the series. S2 maybe?

It’s late, the long line of petitioners for Shelby beneficence finally thinning out. Arthur’s gone to grab another bottle, and really Tommy should have gone with him. He should have known better. Left alone for the moment in the Garrison’s private room, he certainly hadn’t meant to close his eyes. Sleep claims him quickly, ever eager to get her hands on such a recalcitrant son.

He’s returned as always to France, to the mud and the piss and the gore. Land mines explode in every direction above them as they dig, tearing bodies asunder and rattling the dirt from the crumbling walls they build. His arms shake from exhaustion and his legs from fear; impossible to breathe down here, and yet they must. Every shovelful of dirt gets them closer to their objective. Every shovelful of dirt gets them closer to death.

Somehow, down here, he can still hear them screaming as the mines above rip them apart. It rings like the pick in his ears.

He wakes before the usual cave-in, before the nightly accidental detonation, before the skeletal hands of his dead friends erupt from the dirt to paw at him and drag him under. A hard grip on his arm, Arthur’s face close and voice saying his name. His breath coming stuttered and shallow, heart thundering in his ears. Echoes of explosions scatter his thoughts about the small room. There’s a stunningly blank moment before he remembers where he is.

His brain fires danger and he’s on his feet; too fast, and he has to brace himself with a hand on the wall as the room greys out around him. Arthur’s yapping when it returns, muttered words that take Tommy’s muddled brain time to decode. A picture painted of him shouting at no one, a one-sided argument with Morpheus loud enough to be heard out in the bar proper. His brother had thought him to be under attack. Still hasn’t calmed down.

Tommy lights a cigarette, rubs at his gritty eyes with a knuckle. His pulse continues to drum its marching beat through his skull. Arthur pours them both a drink, and he follows its burn down his throat to where it pools in his empty stomach. He doesn’t want to sit back down. Fatigue’s fingers curl tightly around his bones, lying in wait until he slips up and relaxes again.

“Still a few more out there. You want to talk to them, or should I tell them to piss off?”

He wants to sleep without land mines. It doesn’t matter what he wants. “Send them in.”

Tommy sits. He holds court for another two hours. 

[scratchandplaster]

Bunny Call

CW: ace boy seduces his girl with some facts about rodents

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Elliot had begged her to come over again, so naturally, Amber waxed every inch of her body raw. All her hopes, all the lace poking into her sore skin, all the hints she threw into the void over and over still went unnoticed.

Now, she kneeled on the carpet of his spare bedroom, carefully handling a yogurt drop to catch Ginkgo's interest. The whole room seemed dedicated to these critters: hay, chopped straw and buckets of fodder stacked neatly next to each other. A shame, Amber thought, a few tweaks and the space would make an unbelievable lounge. 

Daisy, the tiny rabbit with scarlet eyes, started nibbling on her shorts.

"It wants to bite me," Amber whined and turned towards her boyfriend. Fortuitously, her hand slipped over his thigh and further up inwards. Yet Elliot, who hadn't spared a single glance at her, just picked the mangy thing up and pressed a kiss on its tousled head.

Quite tactless, for a trained professional.

"Look," he explained gently and pushed Daisy into her arms, "she just wants to say hi!"

The feeling of rough claws against her skin made Amber squeal: "As long as it doesn't pee on me..."

"They are housebroken, actually."

"Liar." She cocked her head to the side, something like amazement laced her voice. 

"I trained them," Elliot insisted, "Daisy even cleans up her toys every evening."

Before his boasting could charm his girlfriend further, Ginkgo cued in with an angry stomp. Another one let the thin floor groan.

"Oh, somebody's getting jealous," Elliot laughed and put her fuzzy wife back on the ground, "Sorry. That happens more often than you'd think."

One or two yogurt drops for the rabbit later, and one for him too, as Amber witnessed in horror, the atmosphere shifted. She finally knew what she was here for; certainly not the kind of fun she had expected since the last few visits. Why did he still play hard-to-get?

"So, did you think about my offer?" Elliot sounded very earnest out of the blue.

"What about it?" she asked while picking hay off her top.

"They are busy as always, but my parents can't wait to finally meet you. I'm sure we'll find a date that fits, if you like."

Her boyfriend didn't know her as well as he thought, either. For the moment, Amber would rather stick to the rabbits.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Prompt: animal attack/bear trap/land mine

@augusnippets Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername, @canislycaon24

[angelic-writer]

Blue Moon - The Night Erin Died

Day 24 of @augusnippets

Prompts: Animal attack/bear trap/land mine

Fandom: Blue Moon by @moonlightsmasquerade

CW: Blood, animal attack, gore, lady whump, (Temporary) character death

Erin was on top of the world. She finally had a chance to talk to her old high school crush again and reconnect with her. She thought she would never see her again after she rejected Anna's offer to go to college with her. She never realized just how much she missed her.

Anna... I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise.

She started to bop her head to the tune of Be My Baby when it started playing on her iPod, even singing along to the lyrics. It was the best night she could ever ask for. She couldn't wait to gush about her run-in with Anna to Mitchell when she comes to work again.

She had just entered the forest when she thought she heard something rustling in the bushes. She pulled one of her earbuds out, looking in the direction of the noise. "Hello?" She called out.

Nothing. She was just about to walk away when the rustling came again. This time, it was much more clearer. Erin wasn't sure whether to run or check out what's inside the bush. She has her phone on her. If something happens, she could just call the police. She picked up a branch and slowly advanced towards the bush. "Hello...? Anyone there...?"

Silence.

"Mitch? Is that you...?"

The bush moved more violently now. Just as she was about to swing the branch down, something jumped at her. It looked like a wolf, but it was much bigger. It had silver fur, golden eyes and teeth so sharp it can break through bone. Erin screamed and tried to hit the creature with the stick, but the wolf-like being clamped its maw down onto her arm, tearing through her clothes and skin.

It felt like her vocal cords were about to be torn apart as she screamed louder. Blood seeped down her arm as she tried to wriggle herself out. The wolf let go of her arm, giving Erin the opportunity to try and crawl away. However, the wolf was much bigger than her as it pounced on her, pinning her to the ground. It looked into her scared, amber eyes and growled "God, you're really annoying."

It raised its paw up and dug its nails into her chest, cutting deep lacerations into her skin. Something metallic bubbled up inside her mouth as her screams were reduced to gurgles. The crimson liquid poured out of her in large quantities, more than Erin had ever seen before. Before she could register what just happened, the wolf jumped off her and ran into the woods.

Erin laid there, the grass beneath her being stained red with her own blood. She tried to breathe, but it came out in a rattle. This... This couldn't be happening. She just patched things up with Anna. She was finally able to tell her how she really felt. She had so many things she wanted to do, things she wanted to say to Anna. And now... she won't be able to do them because she's going to die alone in a forest. Her phone was laying a few feet away from her, out of reach. She had no strength to even try to reach it. Her vision was clouding around the edges.

No... I don't want to die... I want... to live with the people I love...

She thought she heard something in the distance. It was a voice, but she couldn't figure out who it belonged to. Her question was quickly answered when a familiar face came into her view.

Mitchell... I'm sorry. I look like a complete mess right now.

They were saying something to her, but she couldn't hear the words. Something pressed onto her chest in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. She belatedly realized it was their own jacket and it was already soaked. Man, I really need to buy them a new jacket. She tried to move her mouth, but all that came out was something between a wheeze and a cough.

"H-Hold on, Erin. I'll call an ambulance. Just keep your eyes open!"

But... I feel so tired. I'm getting... so sleepy...

Mitchell had pulled their phone out and just dialed 911 when they noticed that Erin had stopped moving. "Erin?! Erin, no no no no no you're not doing this to me! You're not dying on me!" They shook her, trying to wake her up, but she didn't stir. Her head only lulled to the side. Pressing their fingers to her neck, they froze when they felt nothing.

Erin stared into the night sky, her eyes, once lively and bright, were now dull, the full moon reflecting off of them being the only light.

That night, Erin Hudson died.

That night, a monster was born.

[just-a-silly-little-whumper]

Bear Trap

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

Archer belongs to @that-one-thespian! For @augusnippets Day 24

Contains: Bear trap, minor blood, hurt/comfort

~~~

The peaceful walk was interrupted by the sound of metal screeching shut.

Altair was immediately at Archer’s side as he let out a ragged yell and doubled over. He cursed under his breath; Archer had said they should stick to the trail, but Altair had insisted that it would be fine since he knew his way around. Apparently that wasn’t enough, and now Archer was paying the price.

“Hold on, I think I can get it open,” Altair murmured, kneeling down. Archer’s ankle oozed blood around the teeth of the bear trap, but it didn’t look as bad as it could. “This is gonna hurt; want me to count you down?”

“I’m okay, just do it.” Archer’s voice came out strained but clear, his entire body rigid with tension.

Altair took a deep breath as he got his fingers into the trap. No time to waste. On the exhale he pulled, not paying any mind to how the trap fought him, only focused on getting his partner free.

Archer let out a ragged groan as the teeth of the trap pulled apart, the sound pulling at Altair’s heart, but less than a minute later he was able to pull his leg free. Altair was immediately up again, catching him before he stumbled and collapsed onto the ground.

“Hey, easy, I gotcha,” he murmured, soft and worried. “I’m so sorry, Archer.”

Archer looked up to meet his gaze with a slightly pained grin. “Good thing I brought a first aid kit, huh?”

Altair chuckled, even though the situation wasn’t that funny. “Yeah. Let’s get your ankle bandaged so I can carry you home.”

“I can walk-”

“Let me carry you, dear,” Altair said, pressing a kiss to Archer’s forehead before turning to find a place to get him patched up. Luckily, they were together, and Altair could carry him home, and Elze’ith could heal him when they arrived. He still felt guilty, but it was an easy guilt to assuage knowing that there were simple fixes for this hurt.

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Augusnippets Day 24

Path of Whumperless Whump Prompt; "Animal Attack"

Day 24 of @augusnippets August 2024 Whump writing challenge! (Augusnippets Masterlist)

Characters;

- POV: Lancelot - The Weeping Monk

- Unnamed Fey of various Clans

(Character Masterlist)

(Ao3 Link)

Wordcount; 499

TWs; referenced animal attack/s, hunter turned prey

Lancelot narrowed his eyes, examining the tracks before them. Large and wolf-like, they belonged to some massive creature that had been killing lone Fey hunters and stealing livestock.

They were to bring back it's head, the hunting party had been told. There were three Fey hunters and two other warriors all of varying clans, and as the best tracker the Fey had, Lancelot had been tasked to accompany them. None made any effort to talk to him, muttering in Old Fey between themselves; they'd outright insulted him three times in the last hour alone but he'd not deigned to inform them he both understood- and spoke- the language.

Silently he had lead them thus far, yet something was niggling in the back of his mind. Something... off.

The trail had been relatively easy to follow, a good ten miles into the encroaching woodland, but within the last mile or so the prints had become become... cryptic in their movements.

The patten was now strange and weaving, drawing them deeper and deeper into the forest. The pawprints darted nearly methodically to the left, ducked into the undergrowth, then veered right and did the same on the other side, repeating over and over.

At a guess they weren't too far behind it now, perhaps half a mile, given that Lancelot could not hear nor smell the telltale signs they were close. Not yet.

Lancelot crouched down, fingertips brushing into the impression of the pawpad that had caught his eye, drawing his hand back. Blood. This pawpad had a speckle of blood- as if the beast had trodden on a thorn...

He splayed his hand next to the mark, which spread several hand lengths, glancing back at the previous tracks that wove into the bushes this one had come from...

"Shit..." He whispered, doubling back, and sure enough, he confirmed his hunch.

The tracks wove between the undergrowth with such subtle differences between them that he hadn't noticed before, but now that he had it was glaringly obvious. Only one in every four or so of these individual paths carried a speck of blood on the front right paw...

Which meant this was not one beast... It was a pack. One smart enough to hide their numbers...

And these creatures had lead them out here on purpose.

"Draw your swords! We've been ambushed!" Lancelot barked, standing quickly.

At the same moment as steel scraped against scabbard did a low, rumbling growl sound from the undergrowth.

A pair of slitted amber eyes locked onto Lancelot's, it's long, curved teeth bared in a vast maw. It stepped forth into the dappled light above, a paw several times bigger than his face pressing into the dirt, laced with blood.

Flanking their left and right came the rustling of others, more yellow eyes fixed upon the group, snarling, hungry, ready to devour.

Lancelot faced the first, raising his chin in defiance towards the beast.

With a flash of black and brown fur it lept upon him...

I had fun with this one but oh BOY editing it down was difficult. I cut out an entire 400 word section describing all the undergrowth and the trees, and another several hundered words of the group finding an animal carcass... stupidly, I thought I had copied it into my forgot "Fridge Your Darlings" file, but alas I had not. Definitely think I'll rewrite this without that soft word limit for the main fic, and continue it!

Thanks for reading as always, onto the next!

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 24 @augusnippets - prompt : land mine

How 83 lost their first pairing (80's death)

CW: living weapon, character death, land mine.

Asset 84 Master List

On The Run Master List

The mission was supposed to be straightforward - get in, neutralise the target, and extract without being seen. It was a job tailored for 83, whose entire existence was shaped around stealth and precision. 80 was there as muscle, trained for combat, to take on anything that brute force could solve. Together, they made an unstoppable pair—until now.

They moved through the underbrush in synchrony, the target had been neutralised without a hitch, no one had even known they had been there. 83 felt a flutter of something unidentifiable in their chest, their handler was going to be pleased. All that was leaded was to get to the extraction point.

They had just cleared a small ridge when it happened.

There was no warning. No time to react.

A click. A sound so small, it could have been mistaken for a twig snapping underfoot. But 83 knew better.

“80—”

It was too late. The explosion tore through the night with a deafening roar. The ground shuddered, leaves and dirt flying into the air in a chaotic burst. 83 was thrown backward, the shockwave ripping through their body, but they barely registered it. All they could focus on was 80, the sight of their partner being engulfed by flames, the smell of burning flesh, the gut-wrenching knowledge that they were gone.

Silence returned, but it was a different kind of silence now. It was the absence of life, of breath, of everything that had been 80.

83’s ears rang, vision swimming as they struggled to their feet. The place where 80 had been standing was a crater now, a dark stain in the centre marking where their pairing had been reduced to nothing. 83’s chest tightened, a strange sensation clawing at their throat. Not grief—they weren’t built for grief. Not panic either. 83 was supposed to be unflinching, cold, just like the facility had trained them. But as they stared at the empty space where 80 had been, something broke inside them.

They staggered forward, dropping to their knees beside the scorched earth. Their hands trembled as they reached out, fingers hovering over the remnants. 83 was built for stealth, but what good was stealth when the one who shielded them was gone? They were the ghost, and 80 had been their shadow, and without that shadow, they were exposed, vulnerable.

But it was more than that.

A muffled sound escaped 83, halfway between a gasp and a sob. They clamped their mouth shut, pushing it back down. Emotions were a weakness. They had been taught that from day one. But the emptiness gnawed at them, deep and unforgiving.

83 stayed there for a long moment, crouched in the darkness, surrounded by the silence of a world that had taken everything. Their mission was complete, the target exterminated, they just need to return to the extraction point, but 83 couldn’t bring themselves to move. They felt numb, a hollow shell. What was the point? They were a weapon, but without 80, they were incomplete—broken.

[missr3n3]

Augusnippets Day 24

animal attack/bear trap/land mine

fandom: guild wars 2 TW: blood and injury, non-human whumpee word count: 342 @augusnippets

“Hazel!”

“I-It's okay Will!” Hazel gasped, attempting to wave his shaking hand dismissively. “I can- Ah, damn!”

Maybe Hazel should've listened to his twin's warning about traps taking up more space than one would expect. He could've also listened to her warning about not forgetting them after placing them down.

Curse this damn muscle memory, Hazel thought as he tried to remember how to release the bear trap digging into the bark of his calf, amber blood oozing around each metal tooth. It's not my fault I'm used to my “traps” exploding before I get anywhere near them.

Luckily, Willow was a speedy girl. She was by her brother's side, swiftly deactivating the bear trap before he so much as sat up straight.

“What was that you said?” Willow asked following the loud click of the metal jaws releasing.

“Damn?” Willow nodded as Hazel answered. “I-It's something the humans say. Heard Lord Faren say it when he stubbed his toe a couple weeks ago.” Hazel couldn't help but find a sense of relief in the way Willow rolled her eyes following his weak laughter.

“You and your fascination with humans,” Willow muttered. Her lavender eyes fell closed as she held a gloved hand above the bleeding leg, a blue glow gradually growing more intense in her palm.

“Will, I can handle i-” Hazel's protests were silenced by Willow holding her other hand up. A few seconds later, water was soaking into the legs of his pants, while flowers bloomed around the leg. Blood followed the flow of the water, returning to the injured, yet healing limb.

“I'm the one who should've done a better job teaching you how to avoid these things,” Willow muttered, eyes slowly opening, yet remaining fixed on the overgrowing ground. “So I'm the one who should fix this.” Hazel could only sigh. He knew better then to repeat the same argument they'd been having since they became commanders.

You have nothing to atone for, Willow. If only you could see how much good you bring to the world…

[udaberriwrites]

A drabble for @augusnippets' day 24!

Path of Whumperless Whump - Animal Attack

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character: Wyll Ravengard, Ulder Ravengard (mentioned)

Timeline: Childhood in Baldur's Gate / In exile

Rating: T

The owlbear struck with one mighty claw, rawr!

The owlbear is enraged. He tramples towards Wyll, uprooting trees from the base.

The hero nimbly evaded it and raised his sword, wooosh!

He fails to dodge and blood blooms under his torn armour.

He fought the owlbear with an iron will, bam!

Wyll tumbles down a slope. Only a fool would fight an owlbear head on.

Wouldn’t you be afraid, son?

He crawls into a small cave and waits, upending a healing potion over his shoulder.

Why? You’ll be there to help me, won’t you Father?

Reality is bitterer than dreams.

_

Full prompt list here

AO3 collection here

[abubblingcandle]

Augusnippets Day 24 - Bear Trap - Ted Lasso

cw mention of traps from the Saw franchise

Roy comes home to the aftermath of one of the Greyhound film nights and doesn't do the greatest job at managing his team's fears

A day late but still counts!

Here on AO3 @augusnippets

"What the fuck are you two idiots up to?" Roy growled, pushing Jamie backwards to flop over the arm of the settee. He landed with a little sharp exhale and flopped to lie across Dani's lap. 

"We're never sleeping again," Dani proclaimed, holding a screwdriver firmly in white knuckles fists up in front of him. 

"Why ... no I don't care. Go to bed," Roy huffed, pointing at the stairs. In the coaching courses they don't teach you that footballers in their twenties are idiots and you'll spend most of your time parenting them. It should at least be a seminar. 

"Nope, can't sleep. Researching," Jamie nodded, rolling off Dani only to shoot back up and burrow into his side. 

"That can wait until the morning," Roy raised his eyebrows as they both shook their heads in unison. 

"What is he comes in the night?" Dani whispers. 

"We need to know what to do!" Jamie waved his iPad in Roy's direction that was showing a video about escaping from bear traps. 

Roy sighed, massaging his temples. He had just done yoga. He should be calm, refreshed, centred not frustrated, annoyed and tired. 

"One of you. Speak. Full sentences. Now!"

Jamie and Dani both looked at each other, nervous flickering eyes. 

"We went to movie night at Isaac's with the team and he showed us the most horrible of films. The man who comes and takes people and puts their head's in increasingly awful situations," Dani rambled. 

Roy groaned, "why were you watching Saw at a team film night?" They should not be watching films like that without adult supervision. 

"Isaac said it was gruesome but in a fun way!" Jamie protested. "And now every time I close my eyes I think the puppet man is coming for us so I ain't closing my eyes for nothing!"

Roy prayed to anyone and anything that was listening for strength to get through this conversation. "The film isn't real. No one is coming to kidnap you and especially no one is coming to kidnap Dani and put your heads in a bear trap," Roy sighed. 

"Why is Dani less likely?" Jamie yelped, snatching the defensive screwdriver from Dani's hands. 

"Your whole personality," Roy replied blankly, fully prepared to have to dodge a flying screwdriver. 

"Now I'm definitely not sleeping," Jamie nodded, turning back to the iPad. 

"Fucking hell. Even if, which it won't, it does happen. You'll just get the key or ..."

"Wedge the bars shut and try and break the spring!" Dani supplied helpfully. 

"There you go," Roy waved his hands in exasperation. Maybe finally they'd go cuddle in bed like the little idiots usually did. 

"But what if there isn't anything to wedge it with?" Jamie supplied unhelpfully. 

"Then I'll avenge your deaths. I have plenty of saw trap ideas," Roy replied with a shrug. Time stopped, both Jamie and Dani froze eyes wide open in panic. 

"Dani run!" Jamie screamed, diving over the back of the settee with Dani in tow in an uncoordinated mass of limbs. They both screeched as they clattered up the stairs and Roy heard the guest room door slam shut and click locked. 

Ok maybe that was a mistake. 

Roy: I am going to kill you

Isaac: I'm sorry! Jamie said it would be fine and then it was too late

Roy: You never believe the idiots

Isaac: I know, it’s captain 101

Isaac: But in my defence Jamie said he had been meaning to watch it but then they ran screaming about sharks???

Roy: Think about it pretending to be Jamie

Isaac: ... I don't think I get it

Isaac: Oohhh I got it ... Jaws 

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

cw injury

“That feel better?”

Jamie nodded as Keeley replaced the cold facecloth on his forehead and she watched with relief as his body relaxed slightly. He was still too warm, but the nurses knew about the fever, and they had already started Jamie on antibiotics. Still, she worried.

Day 23 of @augusnippets - gentle touch

read on ao3

[autobot2001]

Hidden Danger

Author: Autobot2001 Genre: Fanfiction Fandom: Transformers Rating: E Warning: None Pairing: None Description: Jamie believes she is getting a cold until Crosshairs notices her throat is red and swollen. The discovery of something more serious concerns the medics and Jamie's guardians.

Day 19; @augustofwhump: mistake @augusnippets - path of hurt: chipped

When Jamie wakes up with a sore throat, she believes she is getting sick. She feels like she has a cold until the afternoon when her throat hurts more and feels like it is swelling. Crosshairs lifts her head by her chin, which Jamie finds odd. "Scrap, Drift." The two observe that Jamie's lower neck is swollen and red. Saying nothing, Crosshairs picks up Jamie, and the two mechs rush to the medbay.

The additional concern is Jamie's oxygen level is a little low. It's not an emergency, but with Jamie's lower neck being red and swollen, the medics are concerned about serious illnesses.

Because of the monitor chip's metal, an MRI is impossible. Jamie undergoes a CT scan. While the medics, Crosshairs and Drift are relieved Jamie isn't panicking, they worry about how calm she is. The medics confirm that Jamie needs surgery.

"Wow," Jolt says. The two observe that Jamie's throat is swollen and there are minor burns. They can tell the monitor chip malfunctioned. The concern is that a small amount of energon powers the chip. Ratchet takes a tissue sample to check for energon, while Jolt removes some burnt tissue. How was this not causing excruciating pain? Jolt questions. Even if this is a tiny section of her throat. "We can't put a new monitor chip in for at least two weeks," Ratchet tells Jolt, "The good news is no energon poisoning." "I know her throat needs to heal, but the risk we're taking." "We'll be fine, but I can inform Prowl that Drift will have two weeks off. Unless Jamie gets an infection in the next three days, she doesn't need to stay in the medbay. This never happened before. Why now? Add, it's been eight years since this one was out in." "I wouldn't worry about it." The two finish surgery, relieved the swelling isn't severe that they need to intubate, and move Jamie to an ICU room. Ratchet still plans on examining the malfunctioned chip.m, but for now, Jamie and her guardians are his priority. Hating the trauma Crosshairs and Drift struggle with whenever Jamie ends up in the ICU.

Ratchet assures the two worried guardians she'll be okay and mentions that he's keeping her in the ICU for three days before discharging her. The two guardians worry about the delay in putting a new monitor chip in but understand Jamie's throat needs to heal. They hope Ratchet can determine what occurred and if it's preventable. They wonder if their mistake was missing signs of the chip malfunctioning. Hoping the delay in putting a new one in doesn't turn into a mistake, but it's been years since the emergency system had to kick in. They sit by the bed. Jamie is on a little oxygen via a venturi mask. They wait for her to wake up. Ratchet suspects Jamie will feel as humans do after getting their tonsils removed, and recovery shouldn't be any different except that Jamie will need another surgery.

[jamiesfootball]

Augusnippets Day 14

Prompt: gifts

cw: implied/referenced child abuse

Summary:

Sometimes gift-giving ain't all it's cracked up to be, and sometimes it is. - A series of moments from Jamie's life.

Here on AO3

Age 4

Gasp! “Is this for me? Did you make this? Oh, Jamie, it’s beautiful, I love it. Come on, now, give mummy hugs.”

Age 7

“Oh, thanks baby. That looks wonderful. No, I do, I do like it! I do! Mummy’s just really tired today, I promise. Soon as the holidays are over, I’ll go back to working my normal shifts.”

Age 9

“Did you make me breakfast in bed? That’s so sweet! Thank you so much, love. …Was this by any chance the last tin of beans in the cupboard?”

Age 11

“What the hell is this? Did your mum put you up to this? Bit cheap, innit?”

Age 12

“No, of course I’d love to come to your match, Jamie. But you know with this new job I started, it’s not a good look if I ask for time off so soon.”

Age 13

“Did you think that I wouldn’t already have the new kit? Huh? You think I’m broke? Is that the kind of garbage your mother’s been filling your head with? Teaching you how to disrespect your old man?”

Age 14

“Look, junior. I know things got a bit heated between us last time I came around. Just the way it is with us men sometimes, am I right? I’m sure you said some things you regret too. But your mom and I, we’ve been talking, and I think I’ve got a shot there. Make us a proper family again. Now, what do you say you and me, we celebrate the occasion by taking ourselves a little father/son bonding trip? Ever been to Amsterdam?”

Age 15

“We can make a day of it. Get lunch, maybe go to the cinema? Oh. Oh, no, that’s all right, love. I didn’t know that you’d made plans with your friends already. Right. Right. Well, if you think you’ll be home in time for dinner-“

Age 16

“-right. Uh huh. No, I know you’re busy, love, but I was thinking. I know how stressed you’ve been lately and how hard you’ve been working. Maybe later this year, you and I can take a trip, hm? Around New Year’s? Just the two of us. Get away for a little bit before you skyrocket into superstardom.

“No, you don’t have to help pay for it any of it, Jamie-”

Age 17

“-No, I know you’ve got a match, Jamie. It doesn’t have to be this weekend. I told you, whenever you’re free-“

Age 18

“Now that you’re making money, I think it’s only fair you treat your old man to a drink.”

Age 19

“New fancy contract, and you’re telling me you can’t afford to do something nice? For your own dad? C’mon, son, I’m not asking for a Porsche here-“

Age 20

“I’m not saying you have to like him, Jamie! But Simon’s important to me, and I’d like you to actually meet him before-“

Age 21

“-lazy, uninspired, waste of fucking space on the pitch! Is it any fucking wonder that Pep’s got you warming the bench for the real players when you’re out there bottling penalties? Hey. Hey! You fucking look at me when I’m talking to you-!“

Age 22

“I know you’re still screening my calls, but I just called to thank you for the flowers. I’d ask about your birthday, but I’m sure you already have plans.”

Age 22

SMACK.

Age 23

“Oh, babes, I wish you’d told me. I already promised my mum I’d go ‘round hers for the holiday. Only she’s just moved down here, and she hasn’t been able to meet anyone yet- no, you do not want to meet her, trust me. But hey, you have fun in Spain- wait you didn’t already buy the tickets, did you?”

Age 24

“Would you look at that? City wins on my son’s birthday, and he ain’t even here to see it. All because he let some stupid yank make him soft, and now he’s too much of a pussy to stick it out when things get tough. What’s wrong, junior? Did Roy Kent calling you little bitch on TV hurt your widdle feelings? Huh? You gonna cry? You gonna cry about it?-”

[“Dad”]: Don’t you fucking hang up on me

[“Dad”]: Jesus Christ, no need to be so sensitive

[“Dad”]: Did you sort my tickets for the next match?

Age 24

“Yeah, but, you know, some folks might also consider that buying affection, you know.”

Age 24

“Jamie? Oh… we didn’t expect you to call. No, it’s fine, we aren’t going anywhere; Simon’s tinkering around in the kitchen… You tried them? Really. That’s- ahem, of course. Of course I’ll let him know.

“SIMON! Jamie tried your gluten free lemon pound cake! He said it was ‘fucking tasty’! His words!

“Jam, Simon would like to know what your nutrition guidelines say about – love, is this a list?”

Age 24

[Isaac]: Alright, everyone. Jamie’s birthday is coming up, so it’s time to start making plans.

[Sam]: Did you remember to remove Jamie from the group chat before you sent the text?

[Isaac]: Shit

Age 25

“...and this is going to sound so weird, but I promise I am not a stalker. I’m Roy’s sister. Yes, that Roy. Uh, you may be aware that he has a niece – Phoebe, yes – and she has something important she would like to ask you.”

“Hi Jamie! It’s Phoebe! Would you like to come celebrate Uncle’s Day with us?”

Age 25

“I love it.”

[whumplump]

Augusnippets works Masterlist

Doing this just to be organized.

Path of HURT:

Day 1 - Gaslighting

Day 4 - Vivisection

Day 7 - Drowning

Day 10 - Execution / begging for mercy

Day 13 - Drugging, poisoning

Day 16 - Humiliation, conditioning

Day 19 - Collared, branded

Day 22 - Captivity, recapture

Day 25 - Intimate whumper, stalked

Day 28 - Mind control, body control

Path of COMFORT:

Day 2 - Platonic bathing

Day 5 - Drunk caretaking, feverish caretaking

Day 8 - Reunion / found family / friends

Day 11 - Escape / safe and sound

Day 14 - Toys, gifts, celebration

Day 17 - Forgiveness, resolving a misunderstanding

Day 20 - Homemade meal

Day 23 - Gentle touch, protective caretaker

Day 26 (1) - Warm blanket, snuggling

Day 26 (2) - Tending to non-human Whumpee's non-human parts, phantom pains

Day 29 - First words

Path of WHUMPERLESS WHUMP:

Day 3 - Blizzard

Day 6 - Car accident / plane crash / shipwreck

Day 9 - Hypothermia, dehydration

Day 12 - Lost

Day 15 - Food poisoning / starvation / throwing up

Day 18 - Infection / self administered medicine

Day 21 - Delirium, hallucinations

Day 24 - Medical complications

Day 27 - Chronic pain

Day 30 - Self harm, addiction

Day 31 (bonus day)