#day eleven of whumptober!

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Day Eleven

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts For Day Eleven Fainting/Paralyzed/Adrenaline 

Alt. Prompt For Day Eleven Suffocation

Prompts Used for Day Eleven Paralyzed, Adrenaline, Suffocation

Tw's; Death/Child Death Mention, Suffocation, Panic Attacks, Gun mention, Medical Stuff, Dubious Medical Accuracy

Chapter Eleven under the cut :)

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

His body did everything on autopilot. Nightwing and Batgirl were yelling out as he felt the blanket of invisibility wrap him in its embrace.

He stumbled around. He started flying shakily and he couldn’t breathe, it was wrapped around his throat-

When things get hard, he’s supposed to stand up. He did stand up; he did things he never thought himself capable of doing. He fought ghosts. He befriended them. He died, and now he was trying to protect people that didn’t care.

He was beginning to see why some of the ghosts were the way they were. He’d probably be jaded towards humanity, too, if he still weren’t half human.

He’d done his best. Protecting Amity, going to school, trying to maintain an active social life while being relentlessly targeted and bullied. Putting up with the schoolyard crushes on his hero persona while he himself was never good enough for the people who had them. Teaching himself various first aid methods to keep himself and his team alive when his rogues and his own parents shot him.

The worst part is, he wasn’t angry about all of that. No. It was how the public had reacted.

The same public that had called him a troublemaker and a thief when Freakshow came around. The one that had never forgiven him. The same public that thought him capable of murdering a days-old baby and switching places with its corpse .

The public and the citizens of Amity Park had never cared for him, or his hero persona enough to realize he was just a kid. He wasn’t Robin, he hadn’t been trained for this life! He was just some kid from Illinois that made a dumb decision and now he was paying for it.

How many times had he helped them? Saved the school? Saved businesses? Saved their lives? Saved the world!

He vaguely registered it when he popped out of the ground. He was right- he was in someone’s house. He kept flying erratically.

Why did he have to go? Why was he the one punished? His parents are the ones that roll around in that thing that cannot be street legal and cause damage! And sure, the rogues do damage, but he tries to minimize it. He’s always tried not to cause too much damage. It wasn’t his fault that his rogues had no sense of mortal possession, and his parents and the GIW were too careless to realize what they were doing. It’s not his fault they blame him.

He was trapped in a nightmare. This couldn’t be happening to him. The one bit of help he might’ve been able to get, and it slips away from him the moment they start to get along.

They were going to go to the GIW. They’d know he was going to Metropolis next. They knew what he looked like. He was so screwed.

Now that he knows they’re real, he has to assume everything everyone online has ever said about them is, too. They probably were magic of some sort; they could capture him easily, and then they’d figure out halfas exist, and then...

Most of the town had ectoplasm exposure. He wondered if that meant that they’d capture the whole town and accuse them of being half ghost.

This was such a nightmare.

He was so angry. Why’d this have to happen to him? Why not literally anybody else who might want to be in this situation? People dreamed of being heroes all the time. He saw people online wax poetic about Superman’s position all the time , even knowing he was the last of his species. That had to be so hard. They didn’t get it. They’d never get it; to them, this wasn’t some game. It was life or death.

He was slowly remembering he didn’t need to breathe, and the invisible hands on his throat disappeared. Sometimes he forgot he wasn’t in his school’s hallway getting choked by Dash. He still couldn’t believe they’d never done anything. For a world so afraid, it was like they wanted to create ghosts.

Baby ghosts didn’t even need that much ectoplasm to start. Just a tiny bit and some time and boom, you’ve got a baby ghost. Ectoplasm can come from many things. People don’t realize that they make it themselves, though the concentrated stuff ghosts produce is much more potent.

All someone needs to make their stuff is a strong emotion. Although the happy stuff like joy and love wasn’t off the table, much more often it was fear and anger.

The attacks in Gotham often led to more ghosts in the zone. The fear and anger created stronger ghosts, of course, and their obsessions were often things like protection and vengeance. Many families had ghosts looking over them in the afterlife. Rumor has it that Bruce Wayne’s parents look over him, one obsessed with his protection and the other with getting comeuppance for their death.

Sometimes he’d think about it. Being a halfa, he hadn’t thought he’d had an obsession, then he met Vlad. He wasn’t sure what his was. He’d never had time to figure it out.

He slowed down. He wasn’t sure where he was. He spotted a roof top, flying down and sitting down on it, hidden from the world below by some big thing with a fan on the top and the door that probably lead to stairs or something.

He tilted his head back.

They weren’t kidding when they said you couldn’t see the stars from the city. His heart ached.

He had been little, and it was Christmas time. Most kids loved that time of year, the cookies and candy and presents. Other kids got to see family they hadn’t seen in forever and got to play with cousins and other relatives. They got to drink hot cocoa and be around a fire and watch movies, maybe go caroling. Not Danny.

Danny and Jazz listened to their parents fighting. That happened every year.

Maddie took the stance that even if Santa did exist, that he’d be some sort of ghost and they’d have to hunt him down. Jack would argue that he was magic and therefore not a ghost, and he also existed and was great. It never got violent, but it was loud. Their parents rarely fought about anything, so their insistence on this one big fight during what was supposed to be a happy time was upsetting for the kids.

Jazz would hold Danny in her lap. She would turn on the T.V. to drown out the noise. At the time, she liked watching some documentary channel, and Danny thought it was so dumb, but tonight was different.

It played a documentary about space. They sat there and learned about the moon, how it controlled the tides and why it changed shape. It explained natural eclipses, talked about the solar system and how the stars formed. It was like magic.

He’d been 3, and he knew right then what he wanted to do. He wanted to be an astronaut.

That year, he got glow stars as a present and he’d insisted on having constellations put on his ceiling. He and his parents spent ages pouring over different images of stars, mapping them out on their son’s ceiling. As far as he knew, they were still there.

All of his life, if there was a time he was upset, he could go upstairs into the observatory and see the stars. He could map them out wherever he went, telling their stories. His friends both had copies of the documentary downloaded to their computers. If he was upset and about to have a meltdown, the documentary went on.

It was something they could recite from memory.

He was constantly scrounging for every bit of information he could. He knew all about the different missions they’d had, followed the mars rover missions obsessively. He wanted to get tattoos mapping out all the stars like little freckles over his skin. Most days, it felt like he lived, breathed, and was space. It could never get old, talking about the stars and planets. More than once he wondered if he could go to different solar systems.

The accident took a lot from him. He was angry for a lot of the things that got taken. He could only mourn his dream of being an astronaut.

Unless he flew up there himself, assuming he could, he’d never see the stars or different systems. He’d never know how the milky way felt, how it looked close up. The day he’d connected that the accident changed his biology in such a drastic way that there was no way he would ever be cleared by the medical staff to go, his heart had ripped itself out of his chest. It felt like his very being had been torn.

Sitting here now, looking up at the sky and barely being able to see the waning moon, he felt like he’d been cheated somewhere.

He supposed he could send other people to space, but with his grades he’s not sure he’d ever be able to get into any self-respecting program. He didn’t blame them.

He’d studied every space accident there had ever been to find out what the mistakes were and how they could be avoided in the future. You had to have near-perfect records, otherwise you didn’t stand a chance. It felt like he’d never had a chance to stand.

He wanted to go back.

He missed the time he’d spent dreaming about space and having a shot at making them become reality. He was only 15 and he felt like his life had been ruined by a situation he didn’t have control of. Without this, could he even live a life that was worth living?

At least as a ghost, he could go to space. He may not have the need to breathe as a ghost, but he wasn’t sure if he could stand the pressure of space, being a halfa.

Maybe if he hadn’t been such an idiot he wouldn’t be in this situation now. Maybe if he’d said no. Maybe if he’d just come clean right then and didn’t make the situation harder than it needed to be.

He thought he could see the smog fade lightly. If he strained his eyes, he could just barely make out the beginnings of Leo Minor. He traced the stars with his finger, muttering under his breath. He could spot Praecipua at the tail. He could picture the little lion cub, about to pounce.

The lion had no story attached. He imagined it as the cub of the Leo constellation, forever playing with his dad. He imagined they got together with Ursa Major on occasion to talk and let the kids play. He bet it was a nice time.

He curled in on himself a bit more and tried not to think about how nice he thought it’d feel to be with his dad right now.

“Our sons already gone.”

He pressed his hands to his ears and thought of the documentary he’d watched so many years ago.

“We’ve raised this boy for 15 years already-”

Even though he couldn’t see them, he thought of the other two constellations that should be out right now. He imagined the cub getting into trouble, the adults right there to swoop in to fix everything.

“... He hasn’t done any damage.”

He didn’t want to think about that day. At this point, he wasn’t sure which one ruined his life more; the day he had the accident, or-

“Don’t ‘not in front of Jazz’ me!” he yelled. “You said it yourself; that thing killed our little boy!”

He could swear he heard his father’s voice in his ears. Out of everything that night, that’s what had hurt the most. His dad had time to think it through, had been willing to stick up for him, to love him. Had stood up to mom for him.

Then, he’d dropped him, just like that. Had taken a bat to his head and called him a thing. Had treated him like he was a monster, or something on the bottom of his shoe. That was the sort of thing that could make you feel like you weren’t worth sticking up for.

Oh, well. Things happen, right?

He wondered if this thing would even work, if the other vigilantes of the world could just look at one article and question everything that you’d been telling them. Maybe it was stupid of him to run, but he didn’t want to stick around long enough for them to put two and two together and get the GIW involved. Even with all his powers, they were bats. They were probably tracking him right now.

He forced himself to look at the stars he could just barely make out.

He was tired of running. Maybe, if he did get captured, things wouldn’t be so bad. He thought of Andromeda and Perseus.

Their story had always been one of his favorites. Andromeda lived as a sacrifice for her parent’s mistakes. Her mother had been arrogant and when faced with a punishment from Poseidon himself, her father sent her to die for their kingdom. The coward couldn’t even take responsibility for himself or his wife. They had cared for themselves and their kingdom, but not for their daughter.

Perseus, the son of Zeus, had spotted her and decided she was worth saving. Had talked to her father and got his blessing. He saved her with his sword arm, and they fell in love. Even with her safe, he never stopped fighting for her, turning her old betrothed into stone at their wedding with the head of Medusa.

The thing he liked best about the tale was that they lived happily ever after.

Hercules killed his wife in a fit of insanity and, when he attempted to take his own life to reunite with her, ended up blessed with Godhood instead. Orpheus, though he saved the world by convincing Hades to let Persephone back into the world, lost Euridice in the process. Achilles lost Patroclus, as well as his own life attempting to win the war. Had lost his mind to grief.

Perseus and Andromeda had kids. They grew old. They loved each other. They were the perfect fairytale.

Space, the stars, and the stories that surrounded them had blanketed him his whole life. A happy ending for a hero was seldom had, and he knew it. This life had been forced upon him. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was Andromeda or Perseus.

He thought back to just a few hours ago, when he’d been swinging on the rooftops with Nightwing. How happy he looked. The look on the spirit’s face when talking about her knights. He’d heard from the stories how heroes are beloved, almost sacred and untouchable. He’d never been that, not really.

Sure, he’d been idolized. Nearly everybody at school either wanted to be him or to date him. It was like they’d never considered the horrors they’d have to experience. They’d never been faced with what it meant to be the hero.

There’s always some price to pay and paying it could very well cost you your soul.

It was knowing that there are some that can’t be saved. Innocent lives completely ruined and changed forever, all because of one act. It was being blamed for not being there in time. You were always going to be too slow; you were always going to miss something. There were some people that just didn’t want to be saved. It was you who had to go home and face yourself down in the mirror. At the end of the day, you still had to live with yourself, knowing that you couldn’t be perfect.

There was always going to be a bruise or a cut. A gaping wound. A life-changing accident that takes away your dreams is never a blessing in disguise.

It sucked. It hurt. Being in the portal was like going through hell. Some days it felt like he never left.

He was sick of running away. He was sick of feeling like he’d been chained to a rock. He was sick of feeling like he was still in the portal, getting electrocuted over and over again.

He was going to sit here. He was going to have a good cry about it, a heart-wrenching sobbing thing. He was going to find where the kid was and get his backpack back.

He was going to go to Metropolis, and he was going to fight for his people.

He couldn’t wait for his Perseus to show up and save him. At some point, he had to save himself. That didn’t mean he couldn’t feel upset about it, or anything like that. It just meant he wasn’t going to take it lying down anymore.

He was vaguely aware of the sun just beginning to rise when his tears finally slowed. He stood up from his spot when he heard sounds from the alley below.

“LET ME GO!” it shouted.

He peaked over the edge of the building. What he saw made his blood run cold.

It was Robin. He could make out the colorful uniform from here.

He looked a little different than he did in online renditions, which he was beginning to realize were probably actual pictures and not hyper-realistic drawings or staged shots. He had black leggings and a black facemask attached to his outfit.

He was trying to fight off some guys-in-white. Danny could see him struggling. He could feel something sending distress signals to him from here.

He had a choice to make. He could either help, or he could turn away and pretend he saw nothing.

He was so, so sick of running.

He floated a few inches from the ground. He took a deep breath. He was doing this.

“HEY!” he shouted, flying down and towards the danger. “LEAVE HIM ALONE! IT’S ME YOU WANT!”

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

Robin cursed as the plane shook.

Taking off had been rough as they dodged shots. It was scary, seeing Batman’s face when he ran towards the cockpit. They had only just managed to pull up and out of the air.

Helicopters flew after them, trying to shoot them down. Batman was focused on getting them to safety, leaving Robin to man their defenses, even as he scolded him and told him to get back to the cot.

Robin listened to the whistles and bangs outside. He went over evacuation plans in his head.

“Parachutes under the blanket cupboard if it goes completely down, this is the plane with the escape pods but those are only good if the people outside don’t know-”

The cacophony of noise outside turned up. There were bangs and shouts and he’s pretty sure they just launched a missile at them.

The bat pulled the plane close to one of the helicopters, moving it in the last seconds to make the projectile hit them instead. The craft went down. If Jason strained his ears, he could hear the splash as they hit the water.

He deployed the lasers, aiming for the helicopter’s rotor mast. He shot. They dodged.

It went on like that. Each party desperately trying to shoot the other out of the sky only to watch as the other did something to avoid their watery fate.

The bat was trying to hide it from him, but he could see they were running out of fuel. They had to act.

All at once, another plane approached them. The missiles they had were bigger than the ones that had been firing at them. Batman cursed.

“Robin,” he growled, “Get out of here. Take Talia with you.”

“No,” he said firmly. “If we get out of here, we do it together.”

“Robin-” the plane was aiming the missiles.

“No. I just got back. I’m not losing you this soon,” he insisted.

They just needed a little more time-

The other craft deployed their projectile.

Their plane wouldn’t be able to get out of the way that fast. Even if Robin managed to hit a missile with the laser, he still had two more coming at full speed and there’s no guarantee their plane wouldn’t get caught in the blast-

Robin braced both hands on the dash. He felt his entire body go weird. Why did he think he could do this, why did he think he could do anything?

He squeezed his eyes shut. Something weird happened.

It was like the plane was a part of him. He could feel every inch of the plane and the people in it. Three hearts beating in separate erratic rhythms, each hole caused by the bullets, every single piece of equipment they had stashed in various parts of the plane.

They all felt weird, like he could feel their weight in his hands, but he couldn’t see them. It was like something important had been stripped from their very being. He didn’t know what was happening, but he had a feeling he better keep it up.

He felt something going through the plane. It passed cleanly through, no holes or scratches. It hadn’t even made a noise.

Robin kept his hands planted firmly on the dash. Batman had looked at him, probably barking orders. He closed his eyes tight, focusing on the feeling.

Whatever had entered the plane had gone. He pulled his hands from the dash like they were on fire, he was… catching his breath?

“’obin? Robin! Report!”

He stood still for a second, then spoke. “When I pressed my hands on the dash, everything felt off. I think I might’ve just made the plane untouchable for a minute.”

The plane jerked. “What?” he growled.

Robin shrugged. “I have no clue. Whatever just happened has me, um,” he blinked back spots. His mouth felt impossibly dry. “I think my blood sugar’s low,” he said, gripping onto his chair.

Batman grunted. “Go get a snack and a drink, make it juice if we have it,” he flipped a few switches and checked around them. “I’m going to see about losing our tail and landing. Welcome back, Robin.”

He grinned. That was the old man he knew. “Roger that. Good to be back, Batman.”

The plane shook once more as he made his way into the cabin of the plane, where Talia sat buckled into her seat. She looked almost like she was questioning her existence.

He got some apple juice first. He had to stop a couple times, trying to keep himself from passing out. This was so weird.

What had just happened? He didn’t understand it and he had the feeling that, once he did, there would be more life-changing complications that, as of right now, being chased thousands of feet into the air by fuck knows how many helicopters and another plane that had an unknown number of missiles on it? This moment? He didn’t have the emotional availability to be able to process the fact that he just phased a missile through an aircraft. Or whatever the opposite would be.

He sat down next to Talia, who had started staring at him. Again. He ignored her and opened the juice.

It was one of those character juices with the plastic figure on top. It was the only kind Nightwing would drink, so the bat bought it in bulk. For someone who wanted to seem so mature, that man had some weird quirks and awful ideas. He’d been going out for months in that awful ‘Disco-wing’ suit before he and Batgirl double teamed relentlessly making fun of him until he changed it. Even then he’d only done so because Alfred showed up, and nobody could deny Alfred.

He took a sip. It was weird swallowing around the tube. He vaguely wondered if he should be doing this before he remembered all the times Dickface had ended up on one of these and had his speedster friend bring him all sorts of different fast food. The bat had just shook his head and told him he wasn’t helping him hide this from Alfred.

He figured he was fine to be drinking juice. He continued sipping.

The weird feeling after the second weird feeling had been, without a doubt, a blood sugar issue. He drank the juice greedily, finishing the bottle within seconds. He went for a second.

“So,” he began, trying to sound casual. “Any idea why there are people chasing us down right now?”

The plane shook as something impacted it. Seconds later, a helicopter fell out of the sky past the window. They watched it hit the water below.

“My father found out about the pit, and that I helped you. I do not know how.”

He took a deep breath. “Cool, cool. I’m gonna go let Batman know.”

Talia stood up. “Let me come with you, habibi,” her voice was uncharacteristically soft, “I have a plan.”

He nodded.

They made their way into the cockpit, Robin going for the chair that was closest to all the weapons buttons. Talia sat next to the bat.

Robin took over attempting to blast the assholes chasing them as Talia talked lowly with Batman. He didn’t want to know, thinking of the many times eavesdropping on the bat with Selina ended poorly for him. He stuck his attention to the helicopters and the plane behind them and didn’t refocus it anywhere else for his own sanity.

He shot down two of the helicopters. They almost seemed to throw themselves in front of the other plane, never allowing anything he threw at it to touch it. It wouldn’t have made sense if Talia hadn’t filled in the blanks earlier.

The bangs were beginning to permeate his brain. He kept expecting to feel the heat of a blast and the sheer freezing sensation after. His scars throbbed in beat with the noises around them, flaring up as if they were fresh. He pretended he wasn’t nauseous and kept his focus on the people hunting them down. The adrenaline that pumped through his veins kept telling him to run, but there was nowhere to go. Even if he did grab a parachute from the cupboard below the blankets, he’d be in the freezing ocean, and hypothermia would set in. His joints themselves would be paralyzed by the cold and he would slip under the waves and then he’d truly never see his family ever again.

He sipped from his juice and pretended he was playing video games in that one teacher’s room with the baby bird. If he pretended hard enough, he could picture his cute face scrunched up in concentration as he kicked his ass. It was almost insulting how good that kid was at videogames.

He cursed as they began shooting at them again. The same weird feeling from earlier bubbled up in his stomach.

He pressed his foot to the floor, curious. He, once again, could feel everything and everyone in the plane. He could feel bullets go through without causing any damage. He swore he could feel one going through the bat’s throat. It likely would’ve stuck in the metal of the plane, but the flash of fear he felt with that realization kept him motivated to latch onto the feeling.

He had no idea how he was doing it, which would normally make him nuts. Instead, he was grateful; whatever it was, it was keeping them alive.

Batman said something about how Talia had another island. Robin was so sick of Talia’s islands, given the circumstances, but there was nearly no choice. They were running out of fuel and the plane wasn’t safe anymore; the outside surely looked like Swiss cheese and it was a miracle that the plane hadn’t gone down yet.

The panic that had threatened to wrap him up was beginning to lap at his heels. He swallowed it. He couldn’t afford to think of what happened just a few... how long was he out?

He pushed that down too.

A new weird feeling bubbled up. When he next opened his eyes, he couldn’t see anything.

Let him rephrase. He could see the dark, inky waters. If he looked out to the distance, he could see a mass of land. When he looked behind him, he saw the plane and its fleet of helicopters going past them, not even stuttering as they went.

He turned where he heard muffled voices. He couldn’t tell if they were muffled because of the blood in his ears and the awful feelings he was getting, or if they were doing it to obscure his hearing of them.

He didn’t see them. He couldn’t see them, or the walls of the plane, or the plane’s dashboard. He could feel every apple juice container in the fridge. He could feel the blankets and Flynn in the cupboard above the parachutes. He could feel the bat and Talia next to him. He could see none of it.

He took a deep breath, deciding to keep the weird feelings until they dipped below the tops of the trees. When he dropped it, he was sweating.

… That was freaky. His vision swam, and he vaguely went for his apple juice. He felt the bat’s hand on the back of his head.

He felt the bottle being pressed to his lips. He reached up with shaking hands to take it, drinking it like he hadn’t downed one earlier. He drank like it was the nectar of the gods instead of cheap apple juice with a little plastic Blue on it. His senses slowly came back online to Batman talking him through it.

“That’s it, Robin, just drink and breathe, chum. You did great,” he rubbed his shoulder. “When did that start?” he asked when he noticed Robin heard him that time.

“I....” he slurred and drank more juice. “Um. Just now. Like, today,” he said.

A sharp inhale made itself known. “Talia-”

“Are you going to accuse me of doing something again, Bruce?” she sniffed.

He glared at her and grunted. “I was going to ask if this had ever happened before.”

“No,” she said simply. She did not elaborate.

The bat hummed.

When Talia landed the plane safely, they stood up. Robin swayed and Batman held him by his shoulders until he didn’t anymore. They made their way to the cabin and began grabbing supplies.

The bat grabbed various character juices. Robin made his way back into the small medical area, getting into the cabinet to grab Flynn. He stumbled back into the cabin to find the bat already looking for him, walking briskly towards him to shove an opened apple juice in his hand and urged him to drink. He grabbed a bag seemingly out of nowhere to stalk back to their snack cabinets, popping one open to fill with the seemingly endless supply of cookies and crackers Nightwing had stuck in there. That felt like eons ago.

While Batman did that, he set Flynn down on a chair and dropped to his knees in front of the clothes cabinet. He grabbed a hoodie Dick had shoved in there, as well as a pair of his own sweats. He put them on over his suit. He was so cold.

Now dressed warmly, he made sure to grab Flynn before he followed Talia and Batman off the plane. He was still Robin.

He was just Robin with all of Jason’s comforts.

And maybe that meant he was compromised. Maybe he was.

After all he’d gone through the last time he was Robin, he felt he was entitled to it. He didn’t want to take the suit off just in case he had to fight again, but the soft fabric against his hands and legs made it easier to remind himself that he wasn’t there. There was no cigarette smoke and there was no manic laughter.

The bat placed a hand on his shoulder to guide him to Talia’s helicopter. He’d already finished the second container of apple juice. He’d tried to shove it into the pocket of the hoodie, but the bat had caught his hand before he could and softly asked Talia where to put it. She’d looked at it a moment, reaching out almost as if to touch it. She said something that sounded like “colorful” before she called for a servant. They whisked it away as if it had never existed.

The bat handed him a new, somehow opened juice and a Ziplock bag with a portion of animal cookies. Nightwing was going to be mad. Robin opened the bag and plucked an elephant out of the bag, chomping on its head before he went for the legs. Talia watched him. He decided to hide in the bat’s cape.

He didn’t like it when people stared at him, especially when it was someone who’d participated in trying to kill them before.

He still didn’t know where he stood with Talia. Her relationship with Bruce was a weird one, way more complicated than it had ever been with Selina. He thought she was beginning to warm up to him, the way she’d tried so hard to save his life and held him when he had that embarrassing breakdown. Maybe she was just conflicted that he’d just gotten revived, and he was already working as Robin? Batman definitely was.

The man didn’t usually watch over them this much. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, or that he didn’t care for them. He was normally more focused on solving whatever case he’d deemed worth his attention, on solving it and saving the day. He normally didn’t have to worry about them this much, and he was incredibly guilty for worrying him as much as he had. He couldn’t imagine how Dick and Alfred were feeling right now.

Instead of up front with Talia, the bat stayed in the back with him. He made sure he was feeling better, feeding him animal crackers and juice. He was almost certain that when they got home, he’d be obsessing over his blood. His sugars, his pressure, white cell count, red cell count, the whole works. He’d probably run tests for hours. He already had a headache thinking about it.

He knew Alfred would try to stop the bat from putting him through it, but the bat would do what the bat does. He’d pretend to be annoyed by it, but he would be secretly grateful for the attention. He’d have to remind the bat to call Nightwing and Batgirl. They’d want to know he was back and they’d want to help him make the bat a target for their teasing. It was their favorite bonding activity.

He would probably explain what happened to Nightwing and prevent the whole “the bat and Nightwing are mad at each other and it’s your job to be the in between” thing. He hated it when they did that.

He couldn’t wait to get in his own bed. He then wrinkled his nose. He’d almost forgotten he’d rushed packing and left food in his room. Something told him it’s been a lot longer than a few days; the bat wouldn’t be desperate enough to rely on the pits from the get-go. He didn’t even want to know how gross the food was by now. He’d have to apologize to Alfred for the dishes.

He stroked Flynn’s mane. Maybe he was too old for stuffed toys; he was almost 16 now. He didn’t care. It was his life; it’s not like he hung around anybody who could make fun of him for it. He knew Dick still had Zitka on his bed, and Babs had never made fun of him for it.

It was usually an unspoken rule that they didn’t make fun of each other for having comfort items. They didn’t want to be those people, and in most cases in the hero community, it was highly hypocritical.

They flew into Gotham and began their descent. Jason started feeling giddy; he couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces. The trio landed the helicopter on the pad.

When they walked into the cave, they came upon an unusual scene. Dick and Babs were pacing in front of the computer. Alfred was next to them, trying to calm them down. Abandoned food lay on the table next to them.

“What happened?” Batman growled out.

Dick and Babs looked at him. Alfred didn’t say anything. Dick had tear tracks under his eyes, his mask off.

“I got a hit!” Babs suddenly yelled out.

“A hit on what?” the bat asked. “What happened? Hey- what happened?”

“Guys!” Jason shouted. Everybody stopped in their tracks, looking down at him.

He suddenly felt like he was a much smaller child playing dress-up in his older brother’s clothes.

He straightened, ignoring the feeling. “What happened?”

Still, nobody answered.

“What happened?”

Dick looked at Babs. Babs looked at Dick.

“You’re okay,” he breathed.

“Dick, you need to tell us what happened,” he insisted.

“There was a boy,” Babs started. “’Wing found him on a rooftop. He was panicking and dissociative. He brought him back to the cave.”

“He mentioned something about how there was a government agency that invaded his hometown,” Dick continued, keeping his eyes on Jason. “He said that they were hunting ghosts-”

“Ghosts,” Batman deadpanned.

“I wouldn’t believe it either,” he said, “Except, when I looked some things up, the kid got scared. He was so scared the whole time, and I made it worse. I made it worse, B,” he said, voice breaking. “I think he was a ghost. A little kid, about Jason’s age,” he added. “Looked nearly exactly like him, but the hair and eye color was wrong. He ran. We’ve been trying to find him.”

Jason’s blood ran cold. “Looked nearly exactly like him...”

They didn’t notice as he left the room.

He went into the changing area, managing to find a pair of kevlar leggings Babs had for her costume ages ago that no longer fit. He took off his sweats and his shorts, putting them on before pulling the shorts over his legs. He folded his sweats and placed Flynn gently on top of them.

He remembered that he had a black face mask in his locker and began to dig for it. When he found it and went to put it on, his fingers hit his tube.

He knew nobody would remove it for him if he was going to go out tonight. He pealed the tape off himself and started gently pulling on the tube.

He finally got it out and walked to the med bay to throw it out. He took of the stolen hoodie and carefully removed his I.V. lines, sticking some of the Bluey band aids Dick insisted on getting over the bleeding holes. He made sure his gloves were in place, that his domino was secured, and put the face mask on.

He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked as ready as he’d ever be.

He walked out to them fighting. He wasn’t doing this today.

He wasn’t going to let his experience with Sheila ruin anything else for him. If he had a twin, and if that twin was in trouble, he was going to help him, everybody else be dammed.

He walked over to the computer to see the location. He grabbed a com and popped it into his ear, then switched ears when he noticed his left was screwy. It worked fine in his right.

He turned to face the rest. Alfred was the only one who’d noticed his presence, giving him one of his patented “I don’t approve but I know you’ll do it anyways, so be safe” looks.

“Hey!” he shouted. Everybody turned to him. “I’m leaving, whether you like it or not. No matter what’s happening with him right now, he’s a kid in trouble,” he said, holding a hand up when Dick went to interrupt him. “I’m going. So, are you guys coming or what?”

[clerifik]

Whumptober 2022

( Also posted on my AO3 @/clerifik )

Day 1: A Little Out of the Ordinary

Adverse Effects | Unconventional Restraints | "This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Eddie found himself slumping against his chair, a lazy smile worming its way onto his face as he watched the party crowd around and pump their arms in triumph. The campaign ran a little over seven hours, and it was nearing the time that Steve would be here to pick them up for their weekly sleepover at Casa Harrington.

He stood from his Dungeon Master’s seat and popped out a few muscles in his back, already reaching in his back pocket for a cigarette. Dustin made a face when he saw him take the stick out and place it behind his ear. Eddie resisted the urge to flip him off.

“It’s too hot in here, and your babysitter is going to be here soon anyway. C’mon.” He placed the cigarette precariously between his lips, and ushered the kids towards the exit. Eddie allowed them to leave first, whilst he went around blowing out candles and then joining them outside. 

He lit the cigarette, and absentmindedly kicked some loose rubble around on the ground.

“Hey, Eddie?” Mike said. Eddie looked up at him. “What’s up Wheeler?”

“How long did it take you to plan that campaign?”

A smirk wedged its way onto his face. He took a puff from his cigarette before answering. “Too damn long. I nearly pulled my own hair out trying just to plan the damn thing.” Mike made a face. “I thought you liked planning the campaigns.” 

Eddie let out a hum. “I do. My imagination is only so extensive though, so running out of ideas isn’t exactly a walk in the park. It’s like having writer's block.”

“Well, of course it’s like writer’s block, you write out your campaigns.” Dustin snarked, Eddie swatted him in the back of the head. “If you’re gonna be smart I’ll tell Harrington to make you walk home.”

Dustin rubbed the back of his head. “I’m right though!”

Eddie gave him a look before stubbing his cigarette out against the brick of the building, and putting the half-smoked stick behind his ear for later. Steve was to be there soon and he figured that he should at least make it easier for himself. He went back inside and started collecting the now cooled candles, placing them in a box. He continued to pack his books, dice, board, and anything else he had laid out for the campaign.

He awkwardly balanced the box on his knee to grab his keys, and then continued for the door which thankfully decided to stay open. He flicked the lights off and then exited. He had to balance the box on his knee again to lock the door, and he took note of the wheels pulling into gravel.

The kids all shuffled towards the car, Eddie noticed Max and Eleven, he gave them a quick nod. Steve rolled his window down, “When are you paying child support? I’m gonna get wrinkles before I see the paper in the mail.” He chuckled with a sly smirk. Eddie gasped in fake offence, his hand coming up to his chest. “You’re the breadwinner of this family, I think I should be the one expecting a check.” Eddie said. 

Eddie looked into the backseat of the car. “Watch him, he’s been sassy,” he said, pointing his finger directly in Dustin’s direction. His eyebrows furrowed and he raised his arms in innocence. “I did nothing!”

Steve completely dismissed him. “It’s his tone, right?” Eddie nodded. “Yes! Glad I’m not the only one who’s aware of it.” Eddie said and then watched as Dustin sank himself into the cushion of the backseat.

Eddie adjusted the box in his arms with slight struggle, Steve watched him, amused. “Do you need any help with that?” Eddie dismissed him.

Steve eyed Eddie as tried to get a better grip on the box and nearly dropped the thing in the process. Steve hummed. “Yeah, I’m helping you.”

Eddie sighed in defeat and let Steve get out of his car. He took the box straight from Eddie’s arms and then walked over to his van. Steve set the box down in front of the trunk and watched as Eddie reached in his pocket for his keys. 

Steve snorted at Eddie while he struggled to get the key into the lock of the van. Eddie eyed him in a way that said, “don’t test me.” He bent down to pick up the box that he had abandoned on the ground and just as he went to stand back up again the trunk popped open, hitting him square in the nose.

“Shit.” Eddie said instantly. He watched as the box of stuff fell back out of his arms and landed on the ground with a thud. In any other circumstance he’d probably deck Steve for being so careless with his stuff, but this is excusable. 

Steve groaned and his eyebrows furrowed. His hand came up to cradle his nose when he felt the first gush of blood come out. Eddie stood there uselessly for a moment before his brain clicked back in and he scrambled to find something for Steve to put against his nose.

Steve leant himself against the edge of the van, already feeling himself grow lightheaded. His hand was pinching his nose tight but blood was still managing to escape.

Dustin had found himself growing restless in the car. He groaned, looking down at his watch and realized that it had been a few minutes since the two of them took off. He pushed himself out of the car and went around the side of Eddie’s van.

A gasp left Dustin’s mouth when he surveyed the scene. Steve leaned against the van, half conscious, whilst Eddie hung half out of the front seat, searching frantically for something. “What the hell did you do Eddie?!” Dustin shouted, alarmed. Eddie stuck his head back out from the van. “I didn’t do anything! Harrington’s an idiot.” He went back to rummaging through the van.

Dustin turned to Steve instead, quizzically. “What happened? Do I have to kill Eddie?” Dustin heard Eddie groan in annoyance from inside the van, and then his attention was back on Steve.

Steve’s eyes were squeezed shut, his eyebrows furrowed in pain. He choked on a cough suddenly, and Dustin watched in horror as he spat out blood.

“Shit, shit shit shit! Eddie hurry it up in there!” Dustin spoke frantically. “Hey, hey, Steve buddy. Lean forward, I don’t want you choking on your own blood.” He continued, pushing Steve to lean his head forward. A groan left Steve’s lips just as Eddie hopped out of the van.

“I couldn’t find anything inside but here, use this.” Eddie panted as he pulled the handkerchief out of his back pocket and gave it to Steve. Dustin turned to look at him instantly. “But that’s your-” 

“I know.” Eddie cut him off, then ran a hand through his hair.

They stood in silence, both eyes on Steve to make sure he wasn’t gonna collapse at any moment.

“Shit, now we’re gonna have to cut a movie. Thanks, guys.” Dustin sighed, his hands coming up in the air dramatically.

“Well, this wasn’t exactly supposed to happen. My deepest apologies for trying to make sure Harrington doesn’t bleed out in the middle of this goddamn parking lot. Heaven forbid you have to cut one of your movies.” Eddie defended, voice rising in annoyance.

Dustin pushed himself up off the van and turned to Eddie. “I’ve been waiting for over a month to try and convince them to watch the movie, and now that they finally agree, we can’t watch it! I have a right to be upset.” 

Eddie went to argue back, but Steve cut him off with a groan. “Shut up, m’ head hurts.”

Eddie huffed. “Go tell the others to get in the van, I don’t need Steve-o ruining his pretty pretty car with all that blood.” 

Dustin scampered off, and Eddie came up beside Steve. “Sorry about your nose.” Steve snorted, and then his face twisted up in pain. Eddie had to restrain himself from laughing.

“It’s fine as long as it’s not broken, I’ll put your head on a stick if it’s broken.” he replied, his voice coming out nasally due to the lack of oxygen going through his nose.

Eddie put his hands up defensively. “Hey, you’re the one that didn’t look to see what you were doing. That could’ve been avoided.”

Eddie’s hand came up to Steve’s shoulder to gently guide him towards the passenger door. “Do not make me hit you,” Steve said pointedly, and allowed himself to be led.

The kids joined them in the van, and Eddie drove a little over the speed limit on the way to Steve’s house. He found himself looking over nervously at Steve to ensure he wasn’t going to die in the passenger seat of his van.

The blood stopped half-way there which eased Eddie’s nerves a little bit, but Steve was still covered in blood.

It was all over his face, and his hands. The sleeves of his yellow sweater were now crimson, and Eddie’s hanky went from having white skulls to red. The front of Steve’s shirt wasn’t as bad, it had a few stray drops of blood and fingerprint marks. Eddie thought about how expensive his shirt probably was, and now he’d have to scrap it.

Eddie frowned at that thought.

When they arrived at the Harrington household, Eddie made sure he stayed with Steve just in case he got too lightheaded. The rest of the kids shuffled their way in, making the house their own. Dustin trailed behind Steve and Eddie quietly.

“Y’know I don’t need a babysitter,” Steve joked when he noticed the two watching him like a hawk.

“I think you’re wearing half of the blood that was in your body, I beg to differ.”

Steve gave Eddie a look but didn’t say anything else. 

Eddie doesn’t usually stay the night at these Harrington movie marathons. He usually has something better to do, like get high or plan next week's campaign. He didn’t know how he felt about Steve being the only semi-coherent adult watching over a group of rambunctious children, so he stayed.

Steve excused himself to the bathroom to get a shower, and probably to scrub the absolute hell out of his blood stained clothes. Eddie listened a little too closely to the shower from his spot on the couch, preparing himself to hightail it in there if he heard a thud.

Eddie didn’t realize how truly exhausted he was. His blinking started to get sluggish, but he didn’t even notice because he was too damn focused on the sound of the water in the shower.

He relaxed further against the couch, kicking his feet out and onto the arm of it. It got harder to stay awake, so he just decided to close his eyes for a moment. The sound of the kids having a hushed conversation in the other room just relaxed him further. He can’t go to sleep without some noise anymore.

He closed his eyes for a little bit too long, though, because before he knew it quiet snores were escaping his parted mouth. Steve was out of the shower clean of blood. His shirt was non-salvageable, though and he was kind of bummed out over it. The trunk really did a number on his nose, it was already a gnarly shade of purple and blue and swollen. It wasn’t broken, thankfully. Steve might’ve cried if it was broken. Once he came downstairs they all shuffled into the living room for movies. The kids had already raided his pantry and were all sat with bags of popcorn, chips, candy, chocolate and sugary drinks. Steve gathered blankets and pillows out of the linen closet, and then finally-finally allowed himself to sit down.

He noticed Eddie propped up in what looked to be a very uncomfortable position. His legs hung over the edge of the love seat, his arms crossed against his chest, and his back propped half-up by a stray throw pillow. Steve kind of wanted to wake him up just so he wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of a sore back tomorrow.

He decided against it, and took a seat right next to Eddie instead. Dustin popped the movie into the VHS and they all sat back in their respective spots. Steve let Dustin play his movie first, because he might’ve had an aneurysm if he didn’t get to watch it. The movie was Back to the Future. Sure it’s a great movie, but they’ve all seen it plenty of times already and don’t want to have to endure it again. Dustin seems to have a weird sort of attachment to it, so Steve decided he could make an exception.

It didn’t take long for Steve to grow tired as well, he pulled the handle on the side of the love seat and the legs sprung out. The jerk from the couch caused Eddie to shift, and his head fell onto Steve’s shoulder. Steve froze, and then looked at the kids. They were too entranced in the movie to even notice the other two, so he allowed himself to sit back and get comfortable, careful not to jostle the sleeping person on his shoulder.

Sure, it was a little out of the ordinary to have Eddie Munson dead asleep on his shoulder after nearly breaking his nose, but Steve doesn’t mind, not at all. It felt domestic, his house was too barren and quiet without anyone around. It made him feel uneasy, it made him feel alone. Maybe that's partially why he has the kids at his house all the time. His parents are never around to fill the empty void. Even when they’re present, it's only physically, not emotionally. Never emotionally.

So he fell asleep with Eddie’s head resting on his shoulder, and a soft smile on his face from the domesticity of it all.

[witchering10123]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hakoda & Sokka (Avatar), Mentioned Bato/Hakoda (Avatar) Characters: Hakoda (Avatar), Sokka (Avatar) Additional Tags: Dehydration, Fainting, Collapsing due to Dehydration, hydrate or diedrate folks, it's good advice to live by, Protective Hakoda (Avatar), Good Parent Hakoda (Avatar), Hakoda needs to start learning to take care of himself (Avatar), Hurt Sokka (Avatar), Hurt Hakoda (Avatar), totally not written from experience, hehe, take care of yourselves !!!, Whumptober 2023, Day Eleven: Fainting (Whumptober 2023) Series: Part 11 of a witchering's whumptober 2023 Summary:

“Did… did you get any water?” Sokka chews on his lip, his concern honing in on Hakoda. Hakoda hesitates. He didn’t, but… he doesn’t want to worry Sokka. Not after everything else his stupidity has put his son through. He smiles. “I had some before you woke up. Don’t worry about me,” he adds.

-----

Hakoda, in protecting Sokka, might have to concede that he's gone a little overboard.

Day Eleven: Fainting - can be read as a standalone

[fanfictasia]

Whumptober Day 11

Self-Done First-Aid

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Card of Hearts

Ahsoka makes a beeline to Anakin’s side the moment she hears he’s awake again. He looks exhausted, but he’s alive, and she doesn’t think there’s ever been a moment she was more terrified than when Sidious was electrocuting Anakin. She’s still hardly sure how her master did manage to kill the Sith, but – this is Anakin.

“Master,” she breaths, dropping onto the side of his bed and wrapping her arms tightly around him. He pulls her close, chin pressing against the area between her montrals. She’s getting a little big for him to hold her like that, not that it matters right now.

“Are you alright, Snips?” Anakin asks.

“You’re the one who’s been in a medbay for days!”

“I know you were injured in the fight,” Anakin points out.

“Nothing significant,” Ahsoka assures, burrowing into his side. She’d been able to take care of the first aid herself, “Can we go home now?” It’s all she wants to do. The fight is finally over – is still doesn’t feel real – and there’s a lot left to do for the galaxy, but at least they no longer need to fear being torn apart.

“Yes,” he agrees, “We can. Padme will be waiting. And Obi-Wan is coming.”

“He is?” Ahsoka asks, perking up. “You two talked?”

Anakin nods. “We did. He will stay.”

It’s going to be strange, having him back. “Even though we’re Sith? That’s going to be… I’m glad, but –”

“I know,” Anakin agrees, “We still have much to discuss with him.” He looks happier, she can tell, happier than she’s seen him in a long time.

“It worked,” Ahsoka says, almost dreamily, “I can’t believe it.”

“Yes,” he agrees, but there’s a slight edge there. He sounds more… not unhappy, but she doesn’t know how happy he is either. He cares for Sidious, Ahsoka knows, even if he also hates him, so she knows it might be… hard.

She doesn’t know what she could say to him though, so for now, she’s just content to stay in his arms.

[jasmines-library]

WHUMPTOBER 2023 MASTERLIST

Hello to wherever you are! Welcome to the complete masterlist for whumptober 2023! Here you can find all of my fics for this years event. My prompts for this year came as a mixture of my own and from the official @whumptober prompts, as well as the @ailesswhumptober list. I’ve tried to match the numbers up as close as possible but have had to do a little jumbling to get all of my favourites in. As always each fic has its own warnings so please be mindful to check those beforehand for anything sensitive. Happy whumping!

⛤ MAIN MASTERLIST ⛤

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

🪦 DAY ONE: Just One Big Headache.

Prompt - “how many fingers am I holding up” Fandom - Supernatural (Winchesters x reader, platonic)

🌡️ DAY TWO: Spellbound Sickness

Prompt - thermometer. Fandom - Supernatural (closest to dean x reader)

🔗 DAY THREE: Up and Down

Prompt - solitary confinement/“make it stop”. Fandom - Supernatural

🩸DAY FOUR: Tried and True

Prompt - Hiding an Injury. Fandom - Batfam

🪨 DAY FIVE: No Escape

Prompt - pinned down Fandom - The Lost Boys

👀 DAY SIX: I’ll Make This Up To You

Prompt - made to watch Fandom - Batfam

☠️ DAY SEVEN: Poisoned Heart

Prompt - poison Fandom - The Hobbit/Lotr

⚡️DAY EIGHT: Let it linger

Prompt - dissociation/shock Fandom - Supernatural

🛠️ DAY NINE: Just Forget about it.

Prompt - conditioning Fandom - Marvel

💔 DAY TEN: Hold me Tight

Prompt - “you said you’d never leave” Fandom - The Last of Us

⛓️ DAY ELEVEN: Blood Bag

Prompt - captivity/“no one will find you” Fandom - Supernatural

🔪 DAY TWELVE: Catch me if I fall

Prompt - self harm Fandom - Batfam

💉 DAY THIRTEEN: Safehouse

Prompt - infection/septic Fandom - supernatural

💦 DAY FOURTEEN: Spinning out

Prompt - water inhalation/drowning Fandom - Top Gun

📞 DAY FIFTEEN: The ‘Do Not Call’ List

Prompt - Barely conscious Fandom - Batfam

🔬 DAY SIXTEEN: 14 Years

Prompt - experimentation Fandom - Marvel

❄️ DAY SEVENTEEN: Baby, It’s cold outside

Prompt - hypothermia Fandom - The Witcher

🗡️ DAY EIGHTEEN: The Basement

Prompt - tortured for information. Fandom - Supernatural

💊 DAY NINETEEN: Needle and Thread

Prompt - no anesthesia Fandom - Batfam

🔫 DAY TWENTY: Lost and Found

Prompt - “you will regret touching them”. Fandom- Batfam

💀 DAY TWENTY-ONE: hidden on the inside

Prompt - Near death experience Fandom- supernatural

🚘 DAY TWENTY-TWO: Oh, Baby.

Prompt- vehicular accident Fandom - Supernatural

🧸 DAY TWENTY-THREE: Sweet Creature

Prompt - nightmares Fandom - Supernatural

🔎 DAY TWENTY-FOUR: Sounds of Someday

Prompt - “I thought they were with you?” Fandom- Supernatural

🔐 DAY TWENTY-FIVE: People are Strange

Prompt - failed escape/hunted down Fandom- The Lost Boys

📉 DAY TWENTY-SIX: tired eyes

Prompt - working to exhaustion Fandom- Batfam

⚡️DAY TWENTY-SEVEN: Lazarus Rising

Prompt - scars Fandom- Batfam

💔 DAY TWENTY-EIGHT: Unbroken Valour

Prompt - Sacrifice. Fandom- Batfam

⏳ DAY TWENTY-NINE: Devil in Disguise

Prompt- oxygen deprivation Fandom- Supernatural

🩻 DAY THIRTY: Black Smoke Rising

Prompt - possession. Fandom - Supernatural

🎱 DAY THIRTY-ONE: Ask Again Later

Prompt- forced to chose. Fandom- Batfam

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

[ohtobeleah]

Dark Red // Jake Seresin

Summary: Jake Seresin is usually pretty cool, carm and cock sure of himself. But when his wife has an accident? He hits the deck pretty hard.

Warnings: Character death. Mentions of car accidents. Fainting. Jake Seresin x F!reader.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author Note: Day Eleven of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: ‘Fainting.’ Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

It was enough to shake you that was for sure. The sheer force of the car behind you that had run right up the back of you and sent your bonnet into the back of the car in front of you, practically sandwiching you in, was enough to rattle you. 

It was enough to have the airbag deploying in your face, breaking your nose that would surely leave two very black and swollen eyes from the sinus pressure. It was enough to shatter the glass of your front and back windscreens like they were paper thin. The forces had crumbled the aluminum of your 1999 Ford Festiva with ease. Like a paper bag being trot on. The same car Jake was adamant that you finally upgrade from. The same care that you were so attached to. 

Guess there wouldn’t be any love lost when Jake found out that your beloved Festiva was totally gone. She was to put it simply—unsalvageable. But at least you were able to walk away relatively unscathed. 

“Would you like us to give your emergency contact a call?” Jake Seresin had been your best friend for just over ten years. The two of you had only just recently gotten married after dating for eight of those. There had never really been any real rush to put pen to paper and make all the legal arrangements and challenges. You were pretty content in the role you played in Jake's life. But when his career started to see him in more life threatening situations, he started to wonder what exactly he’d be leaving you behind with. It made sense on paper to get married and it made even more sense to share the Seresin name with the six month old fetus kicking it in utero. Little Baby Seresin. 

“My husband’s at work—“ You sighed to the woman checking on your little boy's heart, strong and stable. No signs of distress from his end which was the best possible outcome. “You can probably just clean me up and send me on my way.” 

“Hmm—“ Although there were no obvious signs, Linda Masters thought it would be in your best interests to stay overnight for observations. She was waiting to hear back from your OB. “I’d rather keep you in overnight, just to make sure baby doesn’t decide to change his mind.” 

“Okay, but when you get someone to call, just make sure you let him know that we’re fine.” You were really insistent on that, you knew how Jake could get when it came to you. For someone who was usually so cool, calm and cock sure of himself, he could get a little flustered to say the very least whenever something involved you. “He doesn’t need to leave work, but he can definitely swing by with an overnight bag afterwards.” 

“Oh boy.” You knew that voice from a mile away. “Seresins ganna go into cardiac arrest when he finds out that little miss is sitting in my Emergency Room.” Doctor Benjamin Ocka or more affectionately known by the Daggers as, Doc Ock, cooed as he came up to your bedside. “I was called for a consult?” He addressed the technician who was just packing away her ultrasound machine. 

“Y/n Seresin, six months pregnant, sustained a broken nose and possibly sinus damage from her airbag. There doesn’t seem to be any other major injuries, just a couple of bumps and bruises.” 

Ben chuckled as he assessed your nose, ears, eyes and mouth. Your bloodied nose was huge, swollen as swollen could be. He knew immediately that you were gonna be on bed rest for a few days. Especially when it came to the part in the healing process where your sinuses would swell so much that you wouldn’t be able to see. 

“I’ll call Hangman shall I?” He sighed as he placed his little light into the top pocket of his doctor’s jacket and sat beside you. “Bubs okay?” 

“Perfectly fine, we’re staying for a sleepover just to be sure.” 

“I’m probably gonna need to readjust your nose.” He frowned softly as he kept assessing your face. “Little bit of surgery but we can discuss that once the swelling goes away—if you can breathe and can deal with a crooked nose for a small period of time I might like to hold off on non essential plastic surgery till after Baby Seresins here.” 

Ben was Payback's husband. He was as charming and as a part of your little group as any of the spouses and all Roosters girlfriends were. He cared about the people who took care of his husband in the sky and made sure he got to come home every night. 

“Sounds good, but yes—please, call Jake and let him know we’re fine.” You pleaded. “Lead with they're totally fine, if anything this is just a courtesy call from your wife to say that it’s take out for dinner.” 

“He’s gonna flip out Y/n.” That was your moment of defeat. You sighed into the pillow of your emergency room bed and let your head lull to the side as you placed two very protective hands across your belly. 

“I know.” You grumbled. “I know he is and he’s gonna be so happy about that damn Festiva too.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***

Jake only wore a Garmin watch when he was on the ground because it was connected to his phone. He only wore a Garmin watch so that if someone called him during the day, all he had to do was look at his wrist and decide if the call was worth taking on the clock. 

Jake only wore a Garmin watch for moments like these, where he sat in the middle of a debriefing on this afternoon's drills and saw Payback's husband's affectionate caller ID, ‘Benny Boy’ flash up on the screen. 

“I gotta go.” Jake knew deep down Ben wouldn’t call like this if it wasn’t an emergency. “I’ll be right back.” Jake stood so fast that the feet of his chair made a high pitched squeak against the smooth concrete floor. All eyes were on him, colleagues and instructors alike as he rushed out of the hangar and fished his phone, which had been on silent, out of his pocket. 

His heart nearly stopped inside his chest when his body and mind immediately knew what to ask as his thumb swiped over the screen of his phone before he held it up to his ear. Shaking, Jake knew that it had to be about you—why else would Ben be calling in the middle of the day when they were both on shift? 

“What happened? Is she okay?” It took all the breath out of Jake's lungs when he spoke. He never wanted to get this call. If anyone ever asked him about his biggest fear in life, he wouldn’t say dying in a dog fight or crashing into the pacific. No. He’d say losing the love of his life. “Ben?”

“Hey man.” Ben tried to be as calm as he could be because really, you were fine. There was no cause for concern, just a broken nose. “Y/n had an accident, not her fault, distracted driver situation.” Jake felt like his entire world was crumbling around him as he took panic filled strides towards the locker room. “She’s fine, her nose is busted pretty good but other than that her and the baby are—“ There's a very loud, very audible thud on the other end of the line as Ben checks your lab reports at the nurses station. “Hello?” He questioned with concern laced in his tone. “Hangman? You there?” Ben knows he’s not. “Fuck—“ 

Meanwhile, on the floor of the locker room, laid Jake Seresin. Completely out cold and unresponsive as his teammates sat in their debriefing wondering what the hell had gotten into the newlywed man they all loved to hate and hated to love. 

Jake had smacked his head on the corner of the long metal seat that ran down the middle of the locker hall. He was face down, bleeding pretty bad and had his cheek squished so hard into the grate on the floor it was gonna leave a mark when he peeled himself up. Like those parks you get when you have a killer nap. 

The crimson red that pooled on the tiles was thick and spread thin into the grooves of the tiles. It crept its way across the locker room floor like vines. Jake was under, but even in his unconscious state you were the only thing on his mind. You smile, your infectious laugh, the way you looked carrying his son, so swollen and perfect. His wife. The love of his life. 

“Can someone go get Seresin?” Mav sighed as he held the bridge of his nose behind the podium. “Rooster, go drag him back here before I send him up there blind.” Everyone knew it was an empty threat, but regardless, Bradley stood to his feet with an exaggerated sigh and headed down the hall in the direction of where he thought his wingman had gone. 

Bradley wasn’t expecting to walk into the locker room and see what he saw. He was just trying to make sure Jake didn’t get torn to shreds for ditching during the debriefing. But to his shock horror—as he rounded the corner into the locker room, his heart jumped out of his chest at the sight of his wingman lying face down on the grime covered tiles. There was probably dirt caked into the grouting from when his dad roamed these halls. 

“Holy crap—“ It was the first thing out of Bradleys mouth as he made his way over in a hurry. “Hangman?” The way Bradley said his wingman’s callsign was laced in pure panic. “Jake man, you okay?” Rooster shook Jake's shoulder gently at first—but when the six foot something blonde didn’t stir, he shook him a little harder. “Hangman! Wake up man, c’mon open your eyes.” 

“Mmhph—“ It wasn’t a word, but a sound, and Bradley was happy with that as he rolled Jake over onto his side to start with. 

“Jake you’re bleeding.” It was everywhere. Bradley looked around frantically to try and find what may have been the cause of such a head wound. But when his eyes locked onto the corner of the cold, old metal bench—he knew immediately. “Don’t move alright.” 

“Y/n—“ Jake grumbled as he tried to sit up. “My wife.” It was pure need and adrenaline that coursed through Jake Seresins veins the second he’d come to. “I need to get to Y/n—“ 

“Woah, take it easy Hangman.” Bradley tried to steady Jake as he tried to stand. “You hit your head pretty hard on the bench, we should probably get you to medical?” 

“Hospital—“ Was all Jake groaned as he stood, Rooster watched in horror as the blood gushed from Jake’s gash. It looked deep and angry, like he’d been cut almost through his skull. “I need to get to the hospital.” Bradley can’t keep up to save his soul. “Y/n—“ As Jake stands to his very unsteady feet, he mumbled your name over and over as his fingertips reach up to touch the crimson red dripping down his face. “Oh fuck my head.” 

“I’ll take you to the hospital if you can remember what happened?” It’s the only way Rooster can think of putting two and two together. Why did Jake need to get to the hospital to see you? And why was he passed out of the floor of the locker room? “Jake? Why’s Y/n at the hospital?” It’s a question laced in as much concern as it is dread. You’re not due yet, what if something happened to the baby and that’s what caused Jake to break? “Is she alright? Is baby Seresin alright?” 

The silence that lingered as Jake stumbled his way over towards the door had Rooster's heart caught up in his throat. He knew how much Jake loved you and his unborn child. He knew that the man with the bloodied forehead and the sure fire concussion would move mountains and part seas just to kiss a paper cut on your fingertip. So when Jake stopped in his tracks, swayed side to side as if he was going down again, Bradley knew something had happened that completely rocked Jake Seresins world. 

“They were in an accident—“ 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

It was the way Jake came racing into the emergency room that worried you the most. He slammed right in for the doorframe like he either didn’t see it or like he’d been running a million miles and hour to get to you. 

You hadn’t yet been moved from the emergency short stay area into one of the wards, which you were thankful for the second Ben spotted Jake stumbling towards you with a head laceration. 

“Oh my god, what the hell happened?” You asked Rooster as he rushed in after Jake. He knew he was about to cop an earful. “Bradshaw, why is my husband bleeding?” You barely got to ask before Jake was at your side. 

“He fainted when he got the call you were in hospital.” Rooster explained softly as he pulled up a chair for Jake to sit beside you in . “Here you, sit down man before the room starts spinning.” Bradley ushered Jake to sit as he reached out for your hands. “You and bubs alright? What happened?” 

“We’re fine.” You tried to explain. “Nose is pretty sore but we’re fine.” 

“Baby I swear I can’t ever lose you.” Jake began as he sat as close to your bedside as he could. It was the sweetest thing, although you suspected it was all coming from the concussion you knew your husband definitely had. “You or bubs.” Jake placed a gentle hand across your stomach. “My heart nearly burst out of my chest when I got the call.” 

“I should probably take a look at that—“ Ben interrupted as he sent you a shy, all knowing smile. “Hit the hard deck, did you Seresin?” Ben chuckled to himself as he gave Jake's head the once over. “I specifically remember telling you that your wife was fine.” 

“‘M’panicked, can’t lose her boss.” Jake replied softly as his eyes never left you, it pained him to see you like this. Bloodied and bruised, but alive. “I think I hit my head though.” 

“He smacked it pretty hard on the corner of the metal bench in the locker room.” Bradkey added as Ben started to clean out the head wound at your bedside, he knew there was no point asking Jake to move when the answer was going to be a hard no. 

“I’ll order a tetanus shot because that thing is grotesque and get some antibiotics sorted.” Ben stated as he worked, Jake however—he never took his eyes off you. 

“Did you really pass out when you were told I was in an accident?” 

“Can’t lose you.” Was all your husband mumbled against your hand as he kissed your palm. “Can’t lose you, won’t lose you or baby Seresin.” 

“We aren’t going anywhere, love.” You sweetly replied as you reached out to caress Jake's chin. “I promise.” 

“My head really hurts.” He whispers softly as you chuckled to yourself. “Gotta work on my landing huh?” 

“Yeah bubba.” You sighed. “I need you around for the long hall.” As you gently stroked your husband’s chin you saw his eyes begin to roll as he swayed to the left. Jake's entire body stiffened as he lost all sense of direction, his surroundings were gone in the blink of an eye as he began to seize uncontrollably. 

“Woah! Hey! HEY I NEED SOME HELP OVER HERE!” Ben shouted as you watched on in helpless horror as he went with Jake to the ground. Placing him in the recovery position. “LETS GET HIM BACK PEOPLE!” 

“Rooster, what's happening?” You sobbed behind your hands as tears poured down your face. “Jake?” It was the last thing you remembered before everything went cold and dark. The last thing you remembered seeing when you woke not a few moments later, was your husband and father of your child—hemorrhaging before you. 

All because he bumped his head. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 3: “Make it stop” (solitary confinement)

Was busy all morning but here it is! Wild having a pretty awful time of it, and fun with magic songs and instruments.

No specific warnings, apart from its whumptober, so expect pain.

Read on ao3

————————————————————

“WILD!”

Time’s eyes snapped open at the shout, and he bolted upright from where he’d been sleeping.

He looked immediately over at where Twilight’s cry had come from, and saw him shouting in Wild’s face, shaking him none too gently. Time quickly got to his feet and dragged him back, giving the young man in front of him a disbelieving look.

“Rancher, what on earth are you doing?” he demanded, and Twilight looked at him, eyes frantic.

“He’s still out Time, he’s not— I fell asleep last night at some point, I don’t know when, but I woke up a bit ago and he’s still in it,” Twilight said, looking on the verge of panic, “I tried waking him up more gently but he’s not even twitching, something’s wrong with him!”

Time looked immediately at Wild, and felt a deep concern rise in his chest.

Wild had fallen into one of his memories last evening, right as they’d been preparing to make camp for the night anyway. Nobody had been too worried, since they were now quite used to the champion regaining memories at odd moments, and they’d set up camp and eaten dinner without much fuss.

They’d all grown a little more concerned when it had been over an hour and Wild still hadn’t awoken, but even Twilight had figured it must have just been a longer memory to regain. They’d all gone to bed, apart from Twilight who insisted on waiting up, and Time had fully expected to wake up in the morning and see Wild making breakfast as usual.

He should have known better.

Nothing was ever that simple for them.

Time let go of Twilight, and looked again at Wild, studying the champion in concern. Wild still had the exact same blank expression and faded look in his eyes from the night before, his position only changed slightly from Twilight’s attempts at waking him.

It had been more than eleven hours since he’d fallen into the memory.

The others had been woken up by Twilight’s shouts, and it didn’t take long for them all to cluster around Wild, eyes widening as one by one they realized he still wasn’t responding to anything.

They began attempting everything they could think of to rouse him, shouting his name, dousing him, lightly tickling the back of his neck. Hyrule even pulled out a strong-smelling plant of some kind he had in his bag, but Wild didn’t move for any of it, still staring, still blank.

“Let me try something,” Legend said finally, after countless unsuccessful attempts, and took out a pale ocarina.

He had an unreadable look on his eye as he began to play a soft tune, the notes somehow both sad and heartwarming. The others all listened in silence, and as the last note faded, they all looked intently at Wild, hope bright on their faces.

The champion still hadn’t moved.

“...That should have worked,” Legend said in a quiet voice, and Sky patted him on the back, telling him it was a good try.

The others began to talk about what to do next, but Time ignored them, studying Wild in silence. Something about Legend’s attempt was stirring an idea in his head, an inkling that deep down he knew what was wrong with the champion, but he wasn’t sure yet.

He watched Wild for a long time while the others talked, noting the deep breaths he took, and pale film over his eyes. His appearance hadn’t changed a bit the entire time, but Time continued to study him, a hand on his chin.

And suddenly he knew what was wrong.

“Rancher, you said he normally experiences the whole memory, then comes back?” Time said, and the others paused in their discussion, looking at him.

“That’s what he says happens,” Twilight said, still looking incredibly worried. “He watches it happen, doesn’t quite experience it exactly in... himself, though, if that makes any sense. And once it’s over, he wakes up.”

Time nodded, then turned from Wild, looking over the rest of the worried group.

“I believe he’s repeating the memory,” he said plainly.

They all looked at him in confusion at the statement, not even Twilight catching on. “What do you mean repeating it?” Hyrule asked hesitantly, and Time looked back at Wild.

“Every four minutes and thirty-two seconds, on the dot, his eyes shift to the left,” Time said. “And one minute and nine seconds after that, he takes in a noticeably deeper breath. I’ve been watching him, it’s the exact same increment of time, every time. I believe he’s trapped in a loop. Continually repeating the memory he’s recovered.”

The words felt sour on his tongue as he spoke them, masks and moons stirring in his memory as he explained.

What a terrible fate.

“But how did that happen?” Twilight asked in dismay, pulling him out of his darkening thoughts. He placed a careful hand on Wild’s head and looked into his eyes. “That’s never happened before, how could—”

“Wait, remember that weird guy we saw in that last town we were at?” Wind suddenly piped up.

Everyone stared at him.

“Oh... I guess that was just me and Wild,” the sailor said a little awkwardly. “Well he was real kooky, had these big robes on and looked all insulted when we tried to walk by his stall without stopping. He tried to get us to buy stuff and was being really rude and up in our faces, and Wild finally told him off and showed him his weapons and stuff so he knew he meant it. But he was still acting strange when we left, waving his arms and all weirdly smug, even though we didn’t buy anything.”

“You didn’t think to mention this before now?” Twilight asked with an edge to his voice, and Wind raised his hands defensively.

“We meet all sorts of weirdos, I didn’t think anything was wrong at the time!”

Twilight opened his mouth to say more, but Time put his hand on his arm, stopping him. It wasn’t the time to argue about it.

“Well that explains the who, but not the how,” Warriors said thoughtfully as he looked at Wild again.

“It’s got to be a delayed curse of some kind,” Legend muttered, tapping his chin. “He cast it when Wild was in front of him, and it only began affecting him when the memory hit for some reason.”

“But how do we get him out?” Sky asked in dismay, and Time pulled out his ocarina, quieting the group.

“I believe I can retrieve him. I’ve had experiences a little like this.”

“But how?” Hyrule asked, and Time smiled grimly, the purplish-blue of his ocarina shining bright in the morning sunshine.

“I believe I’ll need our sailor’s help for that.”

After explaining himself and going through a short lesson and period of preparation after (Twilight pacing with agitation the entire time), Wind and Time sat down in front of Wild, each with their respective instruments. The other Links hovered nearby, Twilight especially looking concerned, and Time held back a sigh as he watched him continue to pace.

Wild had been out for close to fourteen hours now.

“Are you sure I can’t help?” Twilight asked for the third time in a row, and Time shook his head.

“I’m sorry Rancher, but no. You’re inexperienced in magic like this, and we don’t want to cause Wild any harm.” Seeing Twilight’s frustrated look, Time caught his eye, and gave his arm a bracing squeeze. “We’ll get him out, Twilight. But he’ll need someone out here when he wakes up, and better you then anyone.”

Twilight closed his eyes, struggle clear on his face. But he nodded, and drew back after a moment.

“Be careful.”

“We will.”

Time looked over at Wind, fidgeting with the Wind Waker. “Are you ready, Sailor?”

“Yep! But I still think I could do it by myself,” Wind said as he stretched his arms above his head, and Time smiled a little grimly.

“I’m certain you could. But we don’t know the strength of the curse, and the Wind Waker may need a boost. Hopefully the ocarina will be enough.” Time sighed, watching as Twilight sat next to Wild, still completely unresponsive. “And we don’t know what state Wild is in at the moment, no less what it’ll be like in his memory. Better you have backup in case something happens.”

Wind suddenly looked much more nervous then before, but he nodded determinedly.

Then Time raised his ocarina to his lips, pausing a moment as he took a deep breath, and Wind raised his baton in preparation.

Time began playing the Command Melody that Wind had told him about once before, and had taught him now, the sailor conducting him as he went. A breeze brushed his cheek as he blew, the wind increasing as he played through the song, and Wind’s eyes squeezed shut in concentration, his tongue slightly sticking out.

Time focused on the heavy magic that they were weaving with the music, directing it towards Wild. It seemed to flow reasonably well, but as the song swelled, Time found himself suddenly wondering what they would do if this didn’t work.

It will work. It has to.

A faint chorus seemed to join them, weaving seamlessly in with both the wind and the playing from his ocarina. The last note faded from his lips, and the chorus stilled, the world seeming to hold its breath.

And then Time’s vision suddenly tunneled, his senses going dark.

(...)

A scream woke him.

Time’s eye snapped open into an expanse of shimmering grass, wide and endless. The familiarly of the location made his heart beat unpleasantly, but at another glance, it was clear it wasn’t the same as what he was remembering. There was a faint mist blowing through the field, tinged blue and gently swirling, but the only noise was that of the grass swaying, no other sounds or screams that he could make out.

He doubted he had imagined the cry, though.

A rustle caught his attention and he turned to see Wind sitting up next to him, looking around at the fog with an expression of wonder. He didn’t appear nearly as uneasy as Time felt, and ran a hand through the grass, blinking at the unusual noise it made.

“Is this Wild’s... head?” he asked as he got to his feet, and Time hummed, doing the same.

“In some respect, yes, I believe so.”

“It isn’t usually like this when I use the command melody,” Wind said after a minute, face curious. “...though I’ve never tried it on anyone asleep. It’s a lot calmer than I thought it would be too. I guess I sort of assumed...”

A distant sob was carried to them by the wind, and Wind went silent, both of them exchanging looks before quickly heading in the direction it came from.

A few trees were faintly visible through the fog, but Time barely noticed them, intent on listening for any more noises to follow. The grass rustled slightly as they walked, the sound unnatural and strange, and the blades were almost silky-feeling when Time touched them.

They’d been going for an indeterminable amount of time when Wind suddenly tugged his arm and motioned for him to stop, ears pricked. Time froze, and strained his ears, heart jumping when he heard a familiar voice.

“Let me out, let me out let me out please Hylia, make it stop—”

The last word choked off into a sob, and Wind bolted, Time quickly wading after him. He soon caught up to the sailor, and they made their way through the long grass and fog, following the distant cries.

They finally reached an area where the mist thinned, blue swirling silently away, and Wind gasped as they both saw a figure collapsed in the grass.

Wild was curled into a ball, his hands clutching at his scalp so hard there was blood in his nails. His face was pressed to his knees, hair falling over his eyes, and Time quickly went to his side and crouched next to him.

“Champion,” Time said urgently, but Wild didn’t reply, mumbling rapidly under his breath.

Time and Wind exchanged looks, and Time extended a hand, touching Wild’s shoulder as gently as possible.

Wild gasped and opened his eyes, looking around with a terrified expression. His eyes flickered like he was looking at something only he could see, and his breath hitched as he stared right through Wind and Time, no recognition on his tearstained face.

“Wild?” Wind asked in a small voice, and Wild’s head jerked, his breath coming in thin gasps as he looked around.

The same faint scream Time had heard earlier echoed through the air, and Wild’s breath caught on a sob, the Champion pressing his head back against his knees.

“Please, please, not again, don’t show me again!” he gasped, voice hitching.

“Link,” Time said forcefully, and squeezed his shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it’s not real. We’re here to get you out.”

Wild’s next breath cut off into a wail, and he slammed his hands over his ears, so tightly Time was afraid he would hurt himself. Time reached forward to put his hand back on his arm, but Wild fell abruptly limp, whimpering as he took a deeper breath.

He opened his eyes again, bloodshot and haunted, but filled now with gut-wrenching acceptance.

“Again,” he whispered, and his breath shuddered on a sob.

It must have restarted, Time thought with an ache in his chest, and Wind moved forward, gently taking Wild’s hand.

“Champion? It’s us, remember?” Wind asked in a surprisingly steady voice, looking down at him. Wild stilled a little, but he continued to look around, ears flicking in all directions, tears still leaking from his eyes. “Link?”

Wild flinched at the name, but it seemed to help, his eyes focusing a bit more, and not darting around as much. Wind repeated his name in that same gentle voice, and Wild’s eyes slowly trailed up and focused on Wind. A sudden clarity shone in the blues as he stared at him for several long moments, and he leaned forward, eyes wide.

“Sailor?” Wild breathed eventually, and Time nodded, giving him an encouraging look. “Old— old man?”

“That’s right. We’re here to get you out,” he said with no small relief, and Wind helped Wild slowly sit up. He pulled him into a side hug, and the shivers wracking through Wild eased a bit, the champion looking relieved at the touch.

“Do you know what happened?” Time continued, carefully studying his face.

Wild swallowed.

“Something went wrong,” he stammered, looking more shaken than Time had ever seen him. He stared to the left for several moments before continuing, letting out a violent shudder. “With the— the memory. Don’t know what, the first time was just a normal one, but it— it changed. And now it keeps r-repeating and it won’t stop, no matter what I do I can’t make it stop—”

His head suddenly snapped to the side, and he choked on a breath, appearing to force himself to look back at Time and Wind.

“...How many times has it been?” Time asked quietly as he rubbed Wild’s shoulder. Please goddesses, let it not be as many as I suspect.

“Don’t know,” Wild croaked, haunted look in his eyes somehow brightened by the fog. “I lost track close to a hundred.”

Time felt the blood drain from his face as Wind gasped, and the voice suddenly screamed again.

Wild violently flinched at the sound, his trembling begun again, and Wind moved so he was more hugging the champion. The sailor’s face was pale, and Time kept his hand on Wild’s shoulder, steadying the teenager in front of him when another shudder ran up his spine.

More than a hundred times...

“Can you make it stop?” Wild whispered, looking off at something Time couldn’t see again. Wind nodded rapidly, and Time took both of Wild’s shoulders in his hands and gave them a bracing squeeze.

“We can. Just hold tight. We’re going to pull you out with us when we break the connection,” he reassured, and Wild looked utterly relieved, even with tears still trickling down his cheeks.

Wild clung tightly to him as Time began to help him up, shaking like a leaf. Time rubbed his shoulder again, concern laying heavy in his chest, and Wind gave him an uncertain look. The sailor was doubtless thinking along the same lines as he was.

They didn’t know what Wild was seeing, but it was obviously affecting him deeply, and he’d already been forced to go through it so many times, and for so long...

Wild was strong, Time knew. Stronger then he gave himself credit for. But everyone had their limits.

Had Wild already been pushed past his?

“Let’s get out of here,” Time said as Wild flinched again, and Wind nodded, looking around at the field again.

“I’ve never done this before,” the sailor admitted with a worried look between Time and Wild, “breaking the song’s magic like this. I don’t know if... What if we can’t..?”

“Then we will come back and try again,” Time said confidently, and put an arm around Wild’s shoulder to more solidly hold him up. “As many times as it takes. Now let’s get out of here.”

He wrapped Wild in his arms, the teenager still violently shaking, and Wind put his arms around Wild’s back as well. Time closed his eye, and focused on the magic allowing him and Wind to be here, and began tugging it away, neatly snipping them from Wild’s mind.

But he made sure to bring Wild too, tearing at the sticky threads of curse he could feel surrounding him, not letting them pull him back into his mind, trapping him there forever like they wanted. It was hard magic, gumming up the works and spreading its grimy reach into every corner it could get to. But Time still fought against it, cutting it apart, ripping it away where it clung.

He’d had plenty of practice with magic that refused to let go. This was no different.

He could feel Wind tugging as hard as he could, and Wild weakly pulling as well, and as all three of them went after the last thread, the magic suddenly snapped, throwing Time back into his own body with a horrible lurch.

It took him a long moment to readjust, settling back into his own mind rather disorienting. But he managed to open his eye after a moment, and saw Legend looking at him in concern. His hand was on his arm, stopping him from falling over, and Time gave him a small smile as he regained the rest of his senses.

Then immediately looked over at Wild.

The champion hadn’t moved.

Time’s heart fell as Warriors helped Wind sit up, the sailor shaking his head and looking dizzy. Wind looked over at him, then turned towards Wild, and a quiet oh escaped his lips, face falling.

Twilight was still seated next to Wild, the hopeful look on his face soured as Time and Wind looked between each other. Time met his eyes, and the rancher swallowed, looking away from Wild and down at his hands.

Wild breathed in sharply.

Twilight’s head snapped up, and they all watched with bated breath as Wild seemed to freeze, even more still than before. Time carefully moved over to him, and he and Twilight watched in silence, waiting for movement... a sign...

“Come on Champion, come back to us...” Time murmured.

Wild didn’t move.

And then his eyes snapped open, and he collapsed forward onto Twilight’s waiting arms with a gasp, Twilight letting out a tense laugh of relief as he caught him.

“It worked!” Wind cheered, and the others let out varying sounds of joy and relief, clapping Time and Wind on the back, trying to see how Wild was doing. Time smiled and endured the happy clamor, but his smile stiffened as he looked at Wild.

He was buried in Twilight’s hold, still faintly trembling, and Time could see him getting more and more tense as the noise around him increased. Someone nudged him on the arm, and he stiffened so abruptly Twilight jumped a little.

“Give him space,” Time said quietly, catching the others’ attention with his tone of voice. “He’s been through a lot, and will need rest. I think perhaps, he could also use some breakfast... could you all help with that?”

The heroes exchanged looks, but they took the hint and nodded, and everyone except for Wind went off in the direction of the cooking pot. They cast glances back at where Wild still lay, but didn’t comment further. Wind joined Time and Twilight’s sides, and he looked down at Wild with a hesitant expression.

“Is he okay?” he asked softly.

A noise came from Twilight’s arms, and they all looked at Wild, still trembling, and curled in Twilight’s hold with a surprising amount of vulnerability. Wild breathed out slowly, and despite how he was still clutching at Twilight’s wolf pelt with hands that shook more than ever, he raised his head, and met Time’s eye.

The gratitude and relief in his gaze was nearly overwhelming, and Time leaned down to take his hand in his, Wild clutching at it like a lifeline.

“Wild?” Twilight asked carefully, and Wild flicked an ear in recognition that he’d heard. “How are you doing cub?”

Wild closed his eyes again, and didn’t immediately reply.

Then a noise between a laugh and a sob escaped his lips, his shaking increasing again as tears started to fall down his cheeks. Time drew the arm Wild was still clasping closer to him, holding it to his chest, and Wild let out another laughing sob.

Wind squashed himself between Time and Twilight as well, and all three of them held Wild as he cried with relief, overwhelmed at finally being freed from his own mind.

“You’re okay,” Twilight whispered, running a hand through Wild’s hair. “You’re out, Link. You’re safe.”

“And we’re gonna make sure it never happens again,” Wind said fiercely, a thread of guilt in his voice as Wild shuddered. “Never again.”

Time didn’t say anything, but Wild gripped at his hand again, and he squeezed it silently in return.

Never again.

[disillusioneddanny]

Whumptober Day 3. "Make it Stop"

Damian let out a huff, he couldn’t believe he was having to do this. But his brother had told him that he was worried about Timothy and that meant that Damian would have to do something about it. Who cares if the entire relationship between his two brothers was strange and made Damian’s head ache something fierce any time he did the mental gymnastics required to think about how this had even happened?

Danyal Al Ghul had been the heir to the Demon’s Head and Damian’s older brother. The man was seven years Damian’s elder and had been everything that Damian had failed to be as an heir. Until his older brother had disappeared off of the face of the planet. Danyal at ten years old had been shoved into the Lazarus Pits by a traitor of Ra’s and his body had never been found. Only for Tim to find him seven years later on his quest to bring Father back from the timestream.

The main issue, though, had been that neither knew of the other’s relation to Damian and had much to Damian’s horror and disgust, fallen in love.

There had been quite a story revolving around Danyal and Timothy and their whirlwind romance to bring their father back to the present time. It also did not help that Danyal had disappeared before ever learning that Bruce Wayne was his biological father, he had never gotten the chance to beat Mother in a fight to get that information.

Damian was still unaware of how Danyal learned about Damian and Bruce. Still, Danyal had made it rather clear when Timothy had brought him back that he was far from interested in being a part of the Wayne family. He had assured Damian that they would always be brothers and had even made a point of getting to know Damian just as he did with Bruce but it was still a strange relationship altogether. It likely had something to do with the fact that he and Timothy had fallen in love with one another. It made Damian’s feelings towards Timothy even more complicated than they had already been. On one hand, he found himself resenting the older boy for stealing yet another person away from Damian, yet on the other hand, he was thankful for Timothy bringing Danyal to him in the first place. Damian had only been three when Danyal had disappeared but he still had strong memories of Danyal and the love that he had provided Damian when no one else in their lives did.

“What are you doing here, Demon Brat?” Timothy muttered, bringing Damian back to the present, back to his current task.

Danyal had asked Damian to check on Timothy for him. He was apparently trapped in another meeting in the Infinite Realms and had been unable to get a hold of Timothy in the last two days. Damian had suspected that his older brother was overreacting but now, looking down at Tim’s disgusting room, Damian supposed that Danyal had reason to worry.

“Danyal,” Damian said simply as he looked over the room once again. Timothy’s vigilante suit lay in a heap on the ground in one corner. Damian counted out fifteen different cups and coffee mugs scattered throughout the bedroom. The room itself smelled stale and slightly of body odor. It was pathetic.

“Well you can tell Danny that I’m fine,” Tim muttered, burying his face in his pillows once more.

Damian clicked his tongue and shook his head. “I cannot do that. Danyal has given me a task,” he said with a sigh.

A soft sob slipped out of Tim’s mouth and Damian found himself almost pitying the seventeen-year-old. He tilted his head to the side, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with you?”

Tim let out a curse and rolled onto his back, rubbing the palms of his hands into his eyes roughly. “Nothing, Damian. Nothing that you would understand,” he said with a sigh.

“I’m eleven now, I’ll have you know that I understand a lot,” Damian said in a haughty tone before sitting on the corner of the bed. His relationship with Tim the last year was an odd one, that was one way for him to put it, at least. At the beginning, he had hated Tim and thought of him as an interloper, someone who did not deserve to be a part of Damian’s family. And then not only did Tim bring back Bruce, but he also brought back Danyal and Damian had found that he owed Tim quite a bit. Which made him uncomfortable as well considering he did not like being in the debt of others. Pair that with the fact that Tim had nearly died by Damian’s hands multiple times and Damian did not know how to feel about his older brother. Tim had always been polite, had always kept Damian at an arm's length even when Danyal was over. He always viewed Damian as someone who had to stay on guard around.

And at first, Damian was fine with that. Really he relished in the fact that he made Tim so wary of him. But that started to change when Damian came over to see Danyal more, and started to learn more about Tim during those visits and it had Damian wanting more, in a strange way he didn’t understand. He started to see Tim like his brother, like a friend. Yet he could never get close enough to act on those feelings and it was his own fault that he could not do so. He hated himself for it, hated Tim for it.

Tim let out a huff and Damian took in his brother’s features. The bright red nose, the red-rimmed eyes.

“Have you been crying? Are you injured?” Damian asked, now doing a cursory once-over.

His brother let out a dark chuckle and shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “It’s been, ah, how does Danny put it? A bad brain week?” He suggested and Damian furrowed his brow.

“What do you mean?”

Tim sucked in a breath before running a hand through his greasy black locks. “You know what depression is, yeah? B has gone over mental health issues with you?”

Damian nodded once, still watching his brother with worried eyes. “Yes, it’s a mental health disorder characterized by persistently depressed mood or loss of interest in activities, causing significant impairment in daily life. It affects how you feel, think, and behave and can lead to a variety of emotional and physical problems. You may have trouble doing normal day-to-day activities, and sometimes you may feel as if life isn't worth living,” Damian recited dutifully and winced as the snort that came from the older man.

“What’d you do, memorize the definition from the Mayo Clinic?” He asked sardonically. Damian flushed slightly.

“Maybe,” he muttered.

Tim just chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I struggle with depression,” he admitted, staring at the wall ahead of him, eyes unseeing. “I’ve dealt with it since I was a kid since those days I was stalking Batman and Robin on the rooftops. But in the last few years, it’s gotten worse. To the point where now I wonder what I’m even still doing here. Ya know?” He said softly.

“Still doing here as in your apartment? Because I must say, the manor is much better than this place,” Damian said, crinkling his nose. Tim made a noise in the back of his throat and Damian realized that Tim was crying.

“No. I just want to make it stop,” he breathed out, his voice hitching slightly as he did. “I thought, I thought things were better now. Now that Bruce was back Danny and I have a wonderful relationship and things were going well with everyone, I thought things would be different. But it’s not, it’s not different and I still want to die.”

That had Damian pausing. “As in you no longer see life as worth living?” he asked, hoping that he was wrong.

Instead, another sob slipped out of Tim’s mouth and he nodded his head once. “Yeah,” he whispered quietly. “And fuck, you’re just a kid, you don’t need to hear about this.”

Damian reached over and clasped a hand on Tim’s shoulder. He stared up at his brother with a determined gleam in his eyes. “Your life is worth living, Tim. I don’t- I’m not good at words. But you are a good person, and you bring joy to a lot of people’s lives. Mine included,” he said softly. “But the way you make others feel does not matter. What matters is that you are worth it, your life is worth it and you have a bright future ahead of you.”

Tim sniffed. “That’s not it,” he whispered, shrugging from Damian’s grip on his shoulder. “If I died, it wouldn’t change anyone’s lives, everyone would move on and be fine.”

“That’s a lie,” Damian said roughly. “Danyal’s life wouldn’t be the same. I do not know everything yet as he hasn’t been comfortable sharing all of it with me. But I know that you are the only thing that brought him back to humanity. My life would not be the same. This last year of getting to come over and spend time with you and Danyal has been some of the best days of my life. I have gotten to reconnect with my Danyal and I have also gotten to know my big brother better,” he said, looking up at Tim. “And I am not talking about Danyal, our relationship is not there yet, I don’t think. But you are my big brother and I would miss you. I would miss coming over for movie nights and for the times we team up and roast Danyal together. I would miss the nights on patrol with you where you actually trust me and let me work with you.”

A sob escaped from Tim again and Damian found himself with an armful of his brother. He said nothing else as he hugged the man tight, clutching him to his chest. He would have to work harder to make sure that Tim knew he was appreciated, that he was a part of this family whether he liked it or not.

....

“We’re not watching Mission Impossible!” Tim exclaimed, falling onto the couch dramatically as he smashed himself between Damian and Danyal. “I can’t watch another spy movie or else I will actually start losing brain cells.”

“I thought that watching all of the spy movies of this dimension was important to my education,” Danyal said innocently, wrapping his arm around Tim’s shoulders.

“I should have never suggested that you and Damian bond that way,” he said with a huff before he tilted his head up to give Danyal a soft kiss, eliciting a noise of disgust from Damian who simply threw the popcorn at the two.

“Do you know how weird it is for me to think about my two brothers dating one another?” He asked, looking between the two, nothing but amusement sparkled in his eyes.

Danyal craned his head around Tim to give the younger boy a devious smile. “Do you really think that’s the weirdest part of your life? Not you know, growing up in an assassin cult, not being a vigilante, or oh! Not the fact that you’ve had multiple clones try to kill you? The weird thing is to have two brothers, who are not related to each other in any way, date?”

“Yes,” Damian said with a sniff.

“What about the fact that your brother is a ghost?” Tim asked.

“Or that your dad was thrown in the timestream?” Danny suggested.

“Or that you’ve nearly committed fratricide multiple times?” Tim pointed out causing Damian to glower.

“What about the fact that your best friend is an alien?” Danny asked.

“Better yet, what about the fact that your dad is fucking an alien?” Tim said and both Al Ghul’s looked at him in shock and horror. “What?” He asked innocently, looking between the two brothers in confusion. “You’re telling me that you guys didn’t know that Bruce is sleeping with Clark?”

“He can’t do that,” Damian whined, burying his face in his hands as he fell to his side on the couch.

“Why not?” Danyal asked, looking confused.

“Because I have a crush on Jon!” Damian cried out.

Tim and Danny looked at one another for a moment before bursting out into laughter.

“Ancients Tim, this family is fucked up,” Danny laughed, holding his sides as he did.

Tim just smiled and shook his head. “Yeah, but it’s mine,” he said softly

[aziraphales-library]

hi, love y’all’s blog and all your hard work so dearly. i think I’ve read every crowley whump fic you’ve shared here, i love that trope but its much harder to find personally. im wondering if you have any more crowley whump oneshots, thank you so much

Hello! I'm glad you've been enjoying our #crowley whump tag! There are hundreds on the ao3 tag, too! Here are some more to add to our collection. Mind the tags and warnings, folks!...

Hot Pursuit by Anonymous (M)

While on a walk in the South Downs, Crowley is attacked by Hellhounds. Will Aziraphale be able to save him?

help me in my weakness. i'm falling out of grace by Bentley26 (T)

Prompt fill for Febuwhump Day 2: solitary confinement The War in Heaven was over. Lucifer and his rebellious angels had lost. Raphael was gathered up with the rest and thrown into a dark, featureless cell. He simply had to wait until they came back for him; then he could explain everything. They would come back for him... right? (Takes place right after the War, but before Crowley's actual Fall.)

Supplemental Summoning by ImagineThat0327 (T)

Somebody summons Crowley, believing him to be the demon that burned down the abbey belonging to the Order of Chattering Nuns eleven years ago. Crowley tries to make his case that he is, in fact, not the same demon as before, (damn you, Hastur!) but his summoner is having none of it. They are determined to make Crowley suffer a death just as dreadful as the ones the nuns suffered so long ago. Can Aziraphale come save Crowley in time? Or will Crowley burn, just like the abbey did so long ago? Whumptober prompt #9: Mistaken Identity

A Flat Circle by cassieoh_draws, EdosianOrchids901 (M)

Hell is full of rumors about demons vanishing and coming back haunted by whatever happened to them. Crowley isn’t convinced, but his opinion quickly changes when he’s summoned for the first time. Will Aziraphale rescue him?

You’re My Saving Grace by Bazzpop (T)

Pain seared through Crowley’s shoulder, pulsing sickeningly in time with the frantic beat of his unnecessary heart. That damn cowardly squire hadn’t even asked him for a proper duel, just snuck up behind him while he was making camp and lobbed a great bloody sword at his head. For Christ’s sake, he wasn’t even in any type of armor and didn’t have a sword on him, how was that supposed to be fair? — Crowley gets attacked with a blessed weapon, Aziraphale hears news of this and rushes to his aid.

may love thrive in hiding by Melime (M)

Only a few years after being given the Holy Water by Aziraphale, Crowley is faced with a threat he hadn't expected. He's summoned by a human wishing to gain eternal life, and that man won't take no for an answer. Meanwhile, Aziraphale overhears a conversation at an occult bookshop that makes him worry for Crowley. By the time Aziraphale finds him, Crowley is severely injured and may beyond hope for healing, but his love won't allow Aziraphale to stop trying. Can Aziraphale find a way to save him, or is he too late?

- Mod D

[crazylittlejester]

Whumptober 2024

Basically making a public checklist of sorts. This is definitely unnecessary but I think it might help me stay focused…? and it’ll also allow you guys to literally stalk my ass and see how much of this I’ve actually gotten done almdkdkkdl but mainly this is for me so I can keep track of stuff and I’ll remember to do it since it’s public. Anyways I’m down to answer questions about these if anyone has any

——————————————

Day One (LU): [Race Against The Clock (+ panic attack)] COMPLETE ��

Day Two (LU): [Trust Issues] STARTED

Day Three (LU): [Set Up For Failure] COMPLETE ✅

Day Four (LU): [Hallucinations] COMPLETE ✅

Day Five (LU): [Sunburn] STARTED

Day Six (LU): [Not Realizing They’re Injured] STARTED

Day Seven (FMA): [Only For Emergencies (+ “It’s us or them”)]

Day Eight (FMA): [Sleep Deprivation (+ “Leave the lights on”)]

Day Nine (LU): [Obsession (+ broken window + bruises)] STARTED

Day Ten (LU): [Blow To The Head (+ slurred words)] COMPLETE ✅

Day Eleven (FMA): [Seeing Double]

Day Twelve (BG3): [Starvation]

Day Thirteen (LU): [ALT PROMPT: Body Swap] STARTED

Day Fourteen (FMA): [Left For Dead]

Day Fifteen (LU): [Childhood Trauma]

Day Sixteen (LU): [Wound Cleaning] COMPLETE ✅

Day Seventeen (LU): [Nowhere Else To Go (+ “We had a good run”)] COMPLETE ✅

Day Eighteen (BG3): [Revenge] STARTED

Day Nineteen (LU): [ALT PROMPT: Time Loop] STARTED

Day Twenty (LU): [Emotional Angst (+ giving permission to die)] COMPLETED ✅

Day Twenty One (LU): [Body Horror] COMPLETED ✅

Day Twenty Two (LU): [Bleeding Through Bandages]

Day Twenty Three (LU/HW): [Forced Choice] COMPLETE ✅

Day Twenty Four (LU): [ALT PROMPT: Friendly Fire] STARTED

Day Twenty Five (FMA): [Surgery (+ being monitored)]

Day Twenty Six (LU): [Nightmares (+ parting words + regret)]

Day Twenty Seven (BG3): [Voiceless (+ “I have no mouth and I must scream”)]

Day Twenty Eight (LU): [Denial] STARTED

Day Twenty Nine (LU): [Fatigue (+ burnout)] COMPLETE ✅

Day Thirty: [Recovery]

Day Thirty One: [Asking For Help]

BONUS (FMA): [Race Against The Clock (+ search party)]

[vechter]

helloooo! do you have any fics where dick gets hurt and bruce goes kinda- yk (like when KGBeast shot dick)

thanks if you reply! have a nice day :D

these will probably be more focused on bruce being protective! (even if it is annoyingly so) and less of bruce going apeshit, but for those i would recommend checking out whumptober fics (i'm afraid i don't have recs for those):

the business of the very few by dustorange this one isn't really bruce going and enacting justice/revenge/etc but more of him being insanely overprotective. amazing voices for both dick and bruce. grippingly authentic, very sharp writing and super witty.

over and under by emavee furiously protective bruce wayne with a superman cameo! set in dick's robin era. no violence but bruce's despair at the possibility of losing dick is so poignantly written. and the palpable relief. looooove.

the trolley problem by daringyounggrayson self explanatory title! set in dick's robin era. a lovely little one shot. tbh, all of the author's one-shots are great! lots of comfort, a healthy amount of banter and that instinctive faith dick and bruce have in each other. all of them are so soothing to read.

In Which Dick Grayson's Life is Made Miserable by An Evil Author by husborth series of one-shots. loooove this. canon bruce would probably not be able to articulate his devotion to dick in this manner but his intensity, his determination, the sheer depth of his understanding of dick- all of them very present, all of them insanely delightful to read. also, the way it's written, god, absolutely fantastic.

The Jingle Jangle Morning by audreycritter eleven year old dick grayson is so deeply precious to me. lots of bruce being absolutely insane about his kid. this one's got it all- separation anxiety, speeding, mcdonald's and sooo much love/comfort. i re-read this one every few weeks.

Trade Your Heroes for Ghosts by CaramelMachete this one's probably right up your alley, anon. missing scene after dick gets shot. bruce's pov. the man is soooo unwell. i love it.

the problem with finding fics to recommend is i get distracted and end up reading them instead sigh

[sarahsmi13s]

The Family I Chose

whumptober day 7: disowned by family

pairing: natasha 'phoenix' trace x bestie!reader

characters: natasha trace, fem!reader, oliver trace, the dagger squad, nat's family (tess, elijah, mason, and brody)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, teen pregnancy, mentions of abortion, abusive parents, disowned by family, standing up to family, crying, please let me know what i'm missing

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

also also, i do want to apologize for getting this up late got distracted while writing it so i finished it later than i had hoped

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary: the quote "blood is thicker than water" is often misused. the full quote is "the blood of the convenent is thicker than the water of the womb". meaning, the connections you choose to make are stronger than the ones you're forced to have

Natasha held her cheek, tears in her eyes as she looked at her mother.

“How could you?!” Tessa, Natasha’s mother, screamed in her face, holding the positive pregnancy test up. “You slut, can’t keep your legs closed around that boyfriend of yours. And look where that got you, pregnant at seventeen. I can’t believe you could be so reckless!”

The plastic stick was shoved into Nat’s chest. “Mason brought that to me after Brody found it, at least one of my daughters has the decency to be honest with me!”

Natasha looked from the test to her mom. “I-I swear I was going to tell you, but-” 

“‘But’ what, Natasha Jordan?” Elijah, her father, asked, stepping in. His arms were crossed over his chest as he glared at his eldest child. “I don’t think that you were gonna tell us, because if you were then you wouldn’t have left your test in the trash!” He yanked the test out of her hand and broke it before throwing at her feet.

“I didn’t know how to tell you! I was scared, I didn’t know how you were gonna react! And clearly I was right to worry. Because parents are supposed-”

Smack

Natasha held her cheek again, wide-eyed at her parents who stood there with their faces contorted in anger and embarrassment almost. But love? Compassion? Sympathy? None of that was present.

“Terminate it or pack your shit and leave,” Elijah said coldly, face unchanging. 

Natasha felt sick to her stomach at her father’s heartless words. The ultimatum proving her fears right.

Despite the things she wanted to scream and shout at them, she just nodded curtly and left. Not even bothering to get in her car as she left to go to her best friend’s house.

“Tasha? Hey, Nat are you okay?”

Phoenix blinked and shook herself out of her thoughts before smiling at you. 

You were the best friend she ran to that day eleven years ago. The best friend that caught her when she launched herself at you as she sobbed, words fumbling out of her mouth as she tried to recount the horrible things that her parents had said to her. The best friend that helped her pack up her bedroom, leaving it looking like Natasha never lived there and considering you found a box of every photo of Natasha that no longer hung on the walls in the basement – you had made the right choice, even taking the box with you when you left.

You were the best friend that helped her through the pregnancy, considering Jasper left the moment he learned Nat was pregnant. The best friend that threw her a baby shower and helped her stay on track with school as she got into those final months. The best friend that held her hand in the delivery room when she gave birth to little baby Oliver. The best friend that held her when she learned that Oliver was deaf and would never hear her voice. 

You were her rock then, and you were her rock now.

“I’m just nervous…” Nat admitted, playing with her hands as she looked up and over at the group of pilots playing with her son. “It’s been eleven years since they abandoned me… gave me a horrible ultimatum. Now they want to come here and be grandparents? I don’t trust it.”

You nodded, “And you have every right to be hesitant. They were supposed to be your parents and they turned their back on you. You have every right to set whatever boundaries you want. If they don’t like it, they can fuck off and go back to North Carolina with their shitty attitudes.”

She smiled at you, “Thank you Y/N, for everything. I don’t think I could have done all of this without you.” You hugged her tightly. “I’m always gonna be here for you, and that little rascal over there. You and Ollie deserve the fuckin’ world.”

Nat sniffled and pulled back to wipe her eyes, “Thank you.” “Of course Tash.” 

You both smiled at each other before a nerf arrow flew between you two. You look over to see Oliver on Fanboy’s shoulders with his new nerf bow and arrow that Bob had got him.

“Someone wanted his mama!” Mickey put Oliver down and sat next to you on the beach chair.

Nat smiled at her son, “Did you say thank you to Uncle Bob?” Oliver nodded, sending her a capped tooth grin, “Yes, I’m like Hawkeye now!”

You smiled and tickled Oliver’s sides to get his attention, “Hey Ollie, why don’t we get you a target and Uncle Jake can train you to hit the bullseye.” He nodded and turned to Nat, signing ‘please’ over and over, making her laugh. “Okay baby, we’ll get you a target.”

You smiled at them and Oliver ran over to Jake, letting the pilot pick him up.

Hearing footsteps approach, you turned your head, and your smile dropped immediately.

“Nat,” you said, the seriousness in your tone catching her attention. “What is it?” You nodded in the direction, “Your parents are here…”

She tensed but nodded and stood up.

“Do you want Ollie?” Jake asked. But Nat shook her head, “I want to talk to them first, alone.”

That word ‘alone’ was directed more at you and you nodded but gave her hand a gentle squeeze to let her know you were there if she needed you. She gave you a smile and squeezed your hand back before going to her parents and younger siblings.

“Natasha,” Tessa greeted curtly, clearly trying to peek around her at Oliver. “Mom, Dad,” Nat said, crossing her arms as she looked at them both.

“I’m gonna be honest, I’m surprised you agreed to meet with us,” Elijah said, looking from Nat to the group behind her, playing with Oliver. She shrugged, “It’s been eleven years, I’m willing to give you a chance.”

Mason stepped out from behind Tessa and Elijah, “Hi, Nat…” Nat smiled gently at her sister, “Hi Mason.” “I’ve missed you.” “I’ve missed you too.”

“So, when do we get to meet our grandson?” Tess asked impatiently. Nat rose an eyebrow, “Your grandson? You think you just get to call him that? After what you did?”

“Look, Natty,” Elijah tried but Nat held up a hand. “No, you don’t get to call me that. Before I ever let you anywhere near him, I’m laying down ground rules.”

Both of her parents groaned, “Really? You think you can lay down ‘rules’ for us to see our grandson?” She nodded, arms still crossed, “Yes, I do, because he is my son.” “Fine.” 

Nat’s temper was rising but she wasn’t going to freak out, because she knew that would get her nowhere. And even though Ollie couldn’t hear her, he could see her and it could scare him, and the last thing she wanted to do.

“First, you will never be alone with him.” Tessa looked offended, her hand over her heart as she gasped, “Do you not trust us?” Phoenix arched her brow again, “Honestly? No I don’t. But that’s not it. My son is deaf, none of you know sign language and I doubt you would learn.”

“Deaf? Did you not get him cochlear implants?” Elijah asked, almost disgusted. 

“No, because he is perfect the way he is. And don’t act like that after what you said.” 

Nat was already at the end of her rope, it had barely been five minutes. She doesn’t know why she thought it was a good idea. Maybe she wanted to fix that scared teenager, the one that sat in the bathroom with her best friend speechless as she stared at the two lines.

“That was eleven years ago Natasha,” Tessa sighed, acting like they hadn’t pulled the rug from under her when she needed them most. 

“He told me that if I wanted to stay at home, I had to get an abortion. And now you both want to come here and act like you give a shit?! Seriously?!”

Nat tongued her lip and shook her head. “This was a mistake…” 

“Daddy?” 

Nat’s head whipped up to see her brother holding a two year old girl.

“Yeah, princess?” 

Nat saw red.

Her brother, her nineteen year old brother, had a two year old daughter? And their parents let him stay? 

What the actual fuck?

“Oh, so Brody could have a kid in high school, but I was told to either terminate my son or get kicked out? That’s fucking rich. Tessa, Elijah, go fuck yourselves.”

Both gawked, “Excuse us?”

“You fucking heard me.”

“Look, if Brody had just left Lainey it would have ruined our reputation. Just like you being pregnant.”

Natasha laughed, “Right, right, because it’s all about the reputation or the company. Fuck you and fuck your reputation.” 

Elijah stepped forward, “But you’ve helped our reputation, have you not? With you joining the Navy and then graduating Top Gun. Being the best of the best?”

She shook her head, “I did this for me, my son, and my best friend. This reputation I’ve built is mine and mine alone. The people who disowned me aren’t allowed to enjoy my accomplishments.”

“We didn’t disown you.”

“Really? Because when Y/N and I went to pack up my stuff, Y/N found my photos in a damn box. Then out in public you ignored me. You didn’t come to my graduation after I worked my ass off! I still work my ass off!” 

She turned and looked at the squad, you and Oliver. 

“You aren’t my family.” 

Natasha pointed at the group with tears in her eyes, “They… They are my family. The family that I chose… The family that chose me.” 

She let the tears fall, “They actually love me and they love my son. They learned sign language when they didn’t have to because they love my son that much. They have supported me, sure things were bumpy in the beginning, but we came out stronger on the other side. Because we care about each other. You two care about nothing other than yourselves and I will be damned if I put my son through that.”

Tessa and Elijah were speechless, and behind them Brody and Mason had smiles on their faces – proud of Natasha for doing what they were too scared to do.

“Take your entitled asses back to North Carolina and never contact me again.”

All her parents could do was gawk and make unintelligible noises, but they didn’t move to leave.

Then you approached and they were huffing and leaving, “C’mon Brody, Mason, we’re leaving.”

Nat held her composure until her parents were gone and she just ran into the Hard Deck. 

“Tasha! Nat!” You called after her. But it was no use, she was inside the building. You sighed and hung your head, she needed time.

After talking with Mason and Brody for a few minutes, you walked down to the group.

“Hey, I need Ollie,” you said to Bradley as you got closer. He nodded and got Javy to get his attention.

When you saw him looking at you, you spoke and signed, “Mama needs you bubba.” He nodded and ran over and grabbed your hand. You smiled and led him to the Hard Deck. 

“Hey Penny, where-” “My office.” 

“Thank you.” 

You and Oliver went to Penny’s office and opened it to find Nat sobbing on the floor. 

Oliver immediately got in her lap and hugged her. Nat wrapped her arms around him, hugging him close as she cried.

You get on your knees beside her, rest back on your heels as you rub her leg. She looked up at you and you smiled softly at her. You reached up and wiped her tears gently.

“I think she’s healed now…” Nat croaked out, scratching Oliver’s head. “That scared, hurt teenager… she’s got some of her dignity back. Finally let it out…”

You smiled and kept her cheek in your palm, “I’m so proud of you, Tasha.” 

More tears filled Nat’s eyes and she started crying again as she nuzzled your hand, “Thank you, Y/N… for everything. I couldn’t have asked for a better best friend.” You nodded, smiling at her still, “Neither could I.”

taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @mayhemmanaged @kmc1989 @lovinglyeternal @horseshoegirl @cassiemitchell @fanboyswhore9 @nightowlalltheway @86laura11 @els-marvelvsp @valmare @startrekfangirl2233

hi, if you're seeing this and are currently not on the taglist and would like to be please fill out the taglist form -> whumptober taglist

i can not stress this enough, but whumptober can have some very serious and heavy topics and i want to make sure i am doing my part as an author to prepare my readers for what they are about to experience and that includes not only warnings above but my taglists as well

so if you want to be added check out the masterlist and read that carefully and fill out the form -> whumptober 2023

[wickedcriminal]

Whumptober Day 30: Borrowed clothing

Exactly 100 words.

Ed's old clothes just aren't fitting like they're supposed to.

The black apparel is getting too tight. Ed was a very small boy, once upon a time, and Al finds with growing distress that Ed's fifteen was barely bigger than Al's eleven, leading to him outgrowing the clothes much faster than he'd like.

The replacements he made are too new. Al had taken comfort in the oil stains and the permanent scent of steel and ozone. The right jacket sleeve is nearly threadbare with how often it was once caught between metal plates.

At least he still has the coat.

[chiefdirector]

“911, WHAT’S YOUR EMERGENCY?” | Evan Buckley | 9-1-1 | Whumptober 2022

Day Eleven: self-done first aid

Every first responder had gone through first aid training. They were the ones who knew how to deal with almost every emergency that they could be presented with in their lifetimes. From hurricanes to terror attacks. First responders are the ones trusted with saving lives.

First aid was about following the basics until the doctors and nurses could take over. The ones trained to fix the human body, not to maintain it. First aid was there to make you survive short term; it wasn’t there to keep you going forever.

But the most essential thing about first aid, is that it never turns out right when it’s done on yourself. Shortcuts and liabilities are taken. Survival rate goes down. Bleed outs happen more often. Steps are forgotten.

Looking in the medicine cabinet mirror, (Y/N) hissed as she swiped the alcohol wipe across the split in her lip. She would need stitches; not many, two maybe three. But she needed them.

“That looks like it hurts.”

Turning round, she saw Buck leaning in the doorway, his expression unreadable. She tuned her back to him once more, continuing to wipe away the blood and disinfect her face.

“Here, let me.” He moved to place his hand on her shoulder. Once (Y/N) stopped moving, he took the rubbing alcohol and cotton pads from her and finished cleaning the blood away. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

(Y/N) cast her eyes away from his deep gaze. Buck already knew what had happened. She got cocky on the job and paid the price. “There’s nothing to say.”

Placing the cotton down, he reached for the suture kit. “There’s everything to say. Tilt your head up slightly.”

The first pierce of the needle was the worst. The others then seemed to blur into each other. (Y/N) was glad that she couldn’t move her lip whilst he was so close. It gave her reason not to talk.

Soon enough, the needle clattered down into the sink basin. (Y/N) turned towards the mirror once more, looking down at the stitches. They were neater than what she could’ve done, probably wouldn’t even leave a scar.

“Thank you.” She whispered, meeting his gaze once more in the mirror.

“You’re welcome.”

She wanted to speak more but the words were caught in her throat. She had the words but didn’t know how to say them.

“I know.” He sighed and turned to leave the bathroom. “I love you too.”

Masterlist | Whumptober 2022 Masterlist | Buy me a coffee?

[miitgaanar]

@soartfullydone asked:

No. 21: “See the chains around my feet.”

Vows | Restraints | “Don't move.” - Lemuel/Bastion

So. Uh. This was a whumptober prompt. But every month is whumptober if you really want it to be.

Anyway. I've dedicated the last eleven years of my life to trying to figure out how Lemuel Adelier ticks. I hate to admit that Bastion's been woefully neglected on my end. My studies did not include this bird man.

This was also my attempt to practice writing a fic that is decidedly not 4,000 words. I need to get better at writing shorter pieces, damnit.

I'm sorry to anyone who decides to read this. lmao

***

"Don't move."

Bastion Winalils lifted his hands in the air as if in surrender, though his shoulders remained rounded and a heavy, bored sigh escaped him.  He could feel the tip of a blade digging into his back, the steel cold and sharp.  It would be simple enough to offset out of harm's way, to vanish from his assailant's view within the span of a breath—only to then reappear behind him and rip the air from his lungs.

But that would be too simple, and this particular assailant too fun to poke and prod like a rabid beast.

"Is that any way to greet a friendly face, Captain Adelier?" Bastion intoned, daring a glance over his shoulder.  Adelier's face was stone, his eyes hard and his mouth a firm, thin line.  A roguish grin lit up the Black Tongue's pale visage.  "And here I thought we had developed a rather cordial working relationship."

"I didn't call on you, Ilgan Yag," Adelier spat, as if the word were poison upon his tongue.  Oh, if only.  "You'd best have good reason for defiling the Temple grounds with your stench."

"Does Ssael not open his doors to everyone?" Bastion needled further.  He was rewarded with the tip of the sword pressing harder into his back.  His grin only widened.

"Not everyone," Adelier ground out.

"A pity.  A convert might very well have been lost this day."

"Enough.  Do not toy with me.  I'm in no mood."

That much was clear.  Though Bastion couldn't say he'd ever caught the Soud in a particularly receptive mood. 

"Fine, then," Bastion said, lowering his arms to play at adjusting the hem of his gloves.  A show of nonchalance, though his lips remained upturned in thinly veiled amusement.  "Perhaps you can help me."

"I'd rather help a sow find her bliss," Adelier said flatly.

"Come now," Bastion said, turning on his heel to face the Soud.  The blade remained level with his chest, those piss colored eyes boring into him with a fearsome ire, but he was otherwise unmolested.  "I'm just following a bit of gossip.  I simply wished to confirm it at the source."

Adelier's brow rose a fraction, inquisitive.  Bastion had to smother the smirk that begged to take shape.

"What sort of gossip?"

"The most interesting kind," Bastion continued.  "There's been talk of a caster amongst your lot.  Talented, it seems.  Can cast with nary a word spoken."

Adelier flinched, his blade faltering slightly.  A surge of satisfaction flooded Bastion's veins, and that smirk appeared unbidden.

"Tacit casters are incredibly rare," he explained, the words laced with a not so subtle taunt.  "Not to mention innate tacits.  So of course I had to follow the trail and see for myself.  Color me surprised when the source turned out to be the Lion's very own Delight."  The moniker came out with more bite than he had intended, but the scars at his back itched, and only now did some relief for that old wound appear to be at hand.

Adelier's face seemed to blanch, though it was difficult to tell in the dim light of a looming dusk.  "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, the words gruff and forced.

"Your niece has been very busy, it seems," Bastion continued undaunted, his gaze flickering down to examine his nails.  "Though I suppose she'd be your daughter now, yes?  Congratulations on the nuptials, by the way.  I would have sent a fruit basket had I been informed."

In a flash, Bastion found himself with that same blade pressed to his throat, the steel bitingly cold against his warm flesh as Adelier closed the short distance between them.  Adelier was fairly agile for a man of his build.  He had begun to harden himself in the few years since that dark, snowy night, the almost lithe form he had once sported now showing more bulk.

He should only know that his brutish ways would not save him—or her—should Bastion will it.

"I swear to God," Adelier rumbled, his breath fogging the air between them.  "If you so much as come within ten yards of her, of any of them, I will flay you alive and leave you for your hallowed crows."

They stood almost nose to nose, close enough that Bastion could see the ragged edges of the ugly scar carved into the Soud's face.  It twisted with the scowl that pulled at his countenance, turning his handsome features into something unsightly.  That same petty satisfaction thrummed hotly beneath his flesh.

Bastion allowed himself a soft chuckle, the minute movement causing the sharpened edge of the sword to dig into the skin of his throat.  A bead of blood welled under the blade, slowly trailing down the Black Tongue's neck and pooling within the hollow of his clavicle.  Fury danced in Adelier's eyes, his piercing gaze seeming to pulse a fiery gold.

But before he could make good on his threat, or at the very least slit Bastion's throat from ear to ear, Bastion held his hands up once more as if in surrender—though his smirk did not once falter.

"Promises, promises, darling," he said, his tone light and taunting, and grabbed for the hilt of the sword.  His free hand reached for that ever immovable silver torc at his neck and murmured something near inaudible, though loud enough for the khert to heed his call.

Adelier dropped the blade as if burned, the hilt glowing a bright orange and sizzling softly against the frost dusted ground—but before he could fully draw that second dreadful sword, Bastion had already vanished from view, his laughter echoing endlessly into the khert itself.

[ohtobeleah]

Thank You to @ailesswhumptober for providing us with this amazing prompt list for Whumptober this year.

-> Rules & Information below ⬇️

Strictly 18+ There will be heavy themes associated with this whumptober. Please remember to curate your own experience by following the trigger warnings associated and allocated to all blurbs.

The author will not be posting or accepting requests for any other ongoing project during the month of September so that all spare time can be allocated in preparation for whumptober.

All work associated with Whumptober contains mature themes that may be triggering to some.

Masterlist will be updated accordingly as blurbs / One-shots are written and edited.

To be tagged in any work associated with Whumptober please ask in the comments below, only on the Masterlist. Requests on daily postings will not be looked at.

All associated media related for Whumptober will be tagged with #AIlessWhumptober2023

Day One: [Poison Ivy] // Robert Floyd:

-> Bobs got the hots for the admirals assistant. Bad. So bad it makes him feral. But what happens when he gets the dosage wrong and messes the whole thing up.

Day Two: [Dream A Little, Dream Of Me] // Bradley Bradshaw:

-> How are you supposed to sleep when all you see when you close your eyes is your dead and soaking wet husband?

Day Three: [Sixth Sense] // Mickey Garcia:

-> A freak accident occurs at the Hard Deck and Fanboy is faced with the challenge of being left to care for you, his not so official girlfriend.

Day Four: [My Brothers Keeper] // Jake Seresin:

-> Five seconds faster and Jake Seresin wouldn’t be standing in his bedroom telling the love of his life the biggest lie he’d ever told.

Day Five: [Odds Are?] Robert Floyd:

-> A quiet night at the Hard Deck doesn’t stay that way when two men hold you at gunpoint for the combination to the safe.

Day Six: [Mind Over Matter] // Bradley Bradshaw

-> Your mind is not your own when you’re exposed to a kind of ‘Sex Pollen’ your date spiked your drink with. But the worst part of it all is that Rooster takes advantage of your willingness to give your body to him.

Day Seven: [Gift Of The Gab] // Bradley Bradshaw

-> Throat Cancer. It’s never the way Rooster thought he’d go out. But when he does—he gets to give Jake a piece of his mind.

Day Eight: [Panic Room] // Jake Seresin

-> Between his ex, bird strikes and suicidal mission parameters it’s hard to keep a lid on things. So when you help Jake through a panic attack in the locker room, you become his lifelong lifeline.

Day Nine: [Battle Scars] // Bob Floyd

-> Robert Floyd doesn’t take his shirt off at the beach. But when the shirt stays on during sex? You start to wonder what he’s hiding.

Day Ten: [The Eternal Mark] // Jake Seresin

-> When at the Abbott Ranch for thanksgiving, the sound and sight of a cattle prod has you feeling like you’d been thrown back in time into the arms of the man who swore blind he was going to kill you.

Day Eleven: [Dark Red] // Jake Seresin

-> Jake Seresin is usually pretty cool, carm and cock sure of himself. But when his wife has an accident? He hits the deck pretty hard.

Day twelve: [Self-Flagellation] // Tom Kazanksy

-> After the death of Goose Bradshaw rocks the TopGun class. Iceman struggles with the ideology that his death could have been prevented if he wasn’t sure sure of himself.

Day Thirteen: [Damn You Seresin] // Jake Seresin

-> After a near fatal car accident sends Jake into a coma, you come to terms with the fact that saying goodbye was always going to be tough. No matter the situation.

Day Fourteen: [Bleed For This] // Bradley Bradshaw

-> It’s not Maverick that goes down in Snowy Mountains, but you. And someone doesn’t make it back.

Day Fifteen: [One Hit Wonder] // Bob Floyd

-> Robert Floyd was a pacifist, he didn’t enjoy confrontation or anything that resembled an argument. He preferred to use logical responses and persuasive reasoning to identify situations that might not work well in his favour otherwise.

Day Sixteen: [Trade Places] // Jake Seresin

-> It was supposed to be Hangman. And if you could go back in time? You’d let it be him. Without a shadow of a doubt.

Day Seventeen: [My Future & Past Javy Machado

-> You left Javy at the altar three years ago. In that time he put him back together again and moved on. But what happens when you show up in North Island looking to apologise for your actions.

Day Eighteen: [Lessons in Love & War] Bradley Bradshaw

-> On one of your first shifts back at work after the events of ToE. Odette is plagued with an illness that sends her to the emergency room with a very panicked Bradley Bradshaw.

Day Nineteen: [Never Good Enough] Mickey Garcia

-> People always leave Fanboy. He goes through pilots like chump change. Is it him? Is he the problem? What happens when one of the many times you’ve tried to console your husband when his demons become to brutal?

Day Twenty: [The Secrets We Keep] // Jake Seresin

-> A Father, Son & The Holy Shit Blurb. You and Jake argue over the practicality of your entanglement. Suddenly you feel like you have nowhere to run, or hide.

Day Twenty One: [Goodbye, Goodbye] // Jake Seresin

-> Jake & Amilia have been trying for a year, when they do fall pregnant it leads to a much bigger discovery and an even bigger heart heartbreak.

Day Twenty Two: [Before You & After You] Mickey Garcia:

-> Fanboys got a crush on the knew Hard Deck Barkeep. But when he’s still getting over the traumatic loss of his wife, crushes and new beginnings aren’t always so ease. (A Jekyll & Hyde backstory)

Day Twenty Three: [Sun & Moon] // Jake Seresin & Bradley Bradshaw:

-> Jakes got a secret he’s keeping close to his chest almost as close as he’s keeping you. Bradley comes face to face with a demand he can’t comprehend, but he doesn’t have a choice.

Day Twenty Four: Flight Deck Prologue

-> In an attempt to prevent Bob from running for the hills believing you’re a murderer. You sit him down to discuss your past.

~ Complete ~