#no.15

[jasmines-library]

The ‘Do Not Call’ List.

WHUMPTOBER DAY 15. Prompt: barley conscious.

Fandom: DC/batfam

Summary: After finally escaping your life one night without saying goodbye to your family, you find yourself in jeopardy, which leads to a well anticipated call.

Warnings: Blood, stab wound, near death.

Word count: 2.1k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

You were bleeding. Heavily.

The weapon was still lodged within your chest. 6 inches deep it sat, dislodging your ribs which you were sure were shattered, and tickling away at your lung. You hadn’t seen it coming, hidden behind the back of the man you had been tracking. It was too late by the time you had realised he had it; he got you good before sprinting away.

You had tried to get out of this life, leaving those you loved behind. You couldn’t deal with constantly living a lie. So you left. Packed your bags one night, upped and left. They had tried relentlessly to get ahold of you; Missed calls, unanswered texts and even trying to track you on the street cameras, but you knew how to cover your tracks. Being trained as a vigilante does that to a person. You changed your hair and your name, changed your clothes and your hobbies until even you began to not recognise yourself. It hurt to heave your family that way, but you thought it was the only solution. You had seen the texts flooding in. At first, they were concerned, then they turned to anger and morphed into pain and fear once again.

As you staggered backwards, gripping onto your chest, you knew that you shouldn’t have followed him. You knew that you shouldn’t have, that you should have just turned and ran the other way like any normal person should have, but you couldn’t. You missed them. You missed Tim’s meek smile and Damian’s sarcastic remarks, Jason’s wit and Dick’s comfort. You missed collapsing in the study after a long patrol to curl up and watch a movie. Doing this would have brought you one painstaking step closer to them again. So, it was one more criminal.

The blood pooled around you as you cried out, sinking to the floor; a dark river of scarlet oozing from between your fingers. Coughing harshly you tried to apply as much pressure to the wound as your weakening body would let you. The fit only jostled the wound more, eliciting a cry of pain which caused you to fist your shirt.

That was when you suddenly remembered the phone in your jean pocket. You knew that you should call for help, but when you agonisingly slipped it out of your pocket, the number your bloodstained fingers dialled wasn’t the typical number someone would call if they had a fatal stab wound.

~

Tim froze when he saw the name flash on the screen; a name that he knew at one glance. Your name. He hadn’t stopped searching for you since you left them high and dry, albeit there was no sign of you. You had vanished without a trace. His late nights turned even later as he scoured the internet and hacked into the cameras trying desperately to catch a glimpse of your face. He was often accompanied by Jason, who spent his time calling your number or leaving you strands of unopened texts. He hadn’t taken it so well. His nights were full of relentless torment in the form of unsaid thoughts of you. So, when he strolled in groggily to take his usual seat beside his brother but saw your name on the screen, his glass shattered on the floor.

“Is this real?” He asked, ignoring the glass and crossing the room in two strides to reach the computer. Some part of him believed that this was some sick joke, but then the ringing stopped. And started up again moments later.

“Answer it.” Jason told him, fumbling with the hem of his shirt.

When Tim pressed the answer button, they were hit with the sound of ragged breathing.

“Y/N?” He furrowed his brow, unable to hide the worry laid thick in his voice. A million thoughts raced through your mind at once.

There was silence on the other end of the line, before your voice pierced through the emptiness. “Jason?”

“Y/N? Where are you? What’s going on?”

“I…”

You were cut off by a coughing fit which caused blood to spill from the corner of your mouth. Both of the boy’s eyes widened at your wine of pain.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“What?” Jason was frantic now, moving around the cave to gather his weapons. “What’s going on?”

Your breath shook as you struggled against the pain. “I didn’t see it in time…”

“See what?”

“I’m sorry I left.” You dismissed his question to continue your ramble. You had to get the words out. You had to tell them. “I had to get out…I had to-”

Tim repeated his brother’s question, but once again it didn’t register in your mind.

“I didn’t want to leave. But it was the only way and I miss you. I miss you all and I need you to know that I love you all so, so much-”

“Y/N!” Jason cut off your rambling and you went quiet on the other end of the line. “What didn’t you see?”

“The knife.”

Jason’s blood ran cold. Suddenly your state made sense. The ragged breathing and the cries of discomfort. “Tim. get a tracking signal.”

“On it.” His fingers were already trailing the keys, working away to find your location.”

“Where are you?” Jason was tugging on his mask.

There was no reply. Just pained wheezing. Then the line went dead.

~

During your time as a vigilante, you had often thought long and hard about how you would die. And you supposed this wasn’t far from it. You had always imagined you would go down in a fight. Shot down in action while saving the city, or whilst sacrificing yourself to save one of the boys. In a way, this wasn’t too dissimilar. You did go down trying for the greater good. Trying. But you hadn’t imagined that you would be alone. You supposed it was better for everyone this way. The one thing you definitely hadn’t accounted for was the cold. It dug down deep into your bones, stabbing away like a thousand tiny needles. It made an odd contrast to the burning of your chest. Though slowly, you started to feel nothing at all as you began to drift into a numb haze.

Gazing up at the sky, spots danced between your vision, blending in with the stars that twinkled above you. Smiling, you watched them dance around until one feeling began to blend into the other, until there was no feeling left but the darkness of the sky above you.

At first, you didn’t realise that there was a face besides you, until you were brought back to reality by the stabbing pain radiating through your gut. You screamed, writhing as the knife was eased from your chest. For some reason, he wasn’t wearing his mask, but from the way that his hair was jostled, you could tell that it had not long been torn from his face. You could see the outline of his face in the light.

“Jay.” You whispered.

You could see his lips moving, but you couldn’t understand what he was saying. He looked panicked, speaking to someone that you weren’t able to see. You squirmed, trying to see who was near you, only to be held down by Jason.

Pressure to the gaping wound made you cry out. Then Jason’s lips were moving faster, and everything seemed to hit you all at once. Jason was calling your name, tapping your face gently. You could hear the murmur of Tim who talked to himself as he worked.

Your head rolled on a loose neck as Jason tilted it towards him.

“Stay with me, y/n. Please.”

Everything hurt, and your mind throbbed with your fast heart rate. It was hard to focus on anything with your doubling vision making everything swim around you.

You whined as you were shifted on to your side so that the younger of the two could begin to secure the bandages around you. You tried to focus on Jay, who had rested your head in his lap and was combing your hair through his hands, but you couldn’t. It was just too hard.

Your body began to slow down. Your eyes dropped and head lolled in his lap.

“No. No no no.” Jason was pinching you now trying to get a reaction from you, but your eyes only fluttered as you struggled to keep a grip on consciousness. “You have to stay awake.” He pleaded.

“Hurts…” you forced out, face contorting in pain as Tim continued to work and apply pressure to the laceration.

“We know. We know we’re sorry.”

“I’m nearly done. You’re doing so well.”

It felt like you were trapped in a never ending, agony filled cycle by the time that Tim finally finished bandaging you up and rolled you back into your side.

By this point, your eyes were spotting and your mind was swimming. You couldn’t even comprehend the pain. Your eyes fluttered, barely open a crack as you felt your mind wander, soon the faces around you blurred into the rest of the world and for one moment it was just you, consumed by the pain. And it wasn’t long after that until there was nothing. Just darkness.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 14 ⛤ DAY 16 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

[insertsomthinawesome]

WHUMPTOBER 2022 - DAY 15 - Breathing Through the Pain

Finally Drew the red dead outfit for this SDLFIHGLIHFGD The question of “What are you wearing?!” will have to wait until he’s doing better :’D

-NO ROMANCE INCLUDED-

[lost-shoe]

Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier

Whumptober 2022

No. 15: EMOTIONAL DAMAGE

[aceofwhump]

Day 15: "I'm fine."

Captain America: Civil War | Dark Angel 2x11 | Loki 2x01 | Grimm 2x02 | Station 19 6x18 | Smallville 1x01 | Prodigal Son 1x01 | Hawaii Five-0 10x21 | The Mentalist 3x10 | Supergirl 2x02 | Supernatural 10x09 | Once Upon a Time 5x22 | 9-1-1 6x18

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

[celtic-crossbow]

Whumptober 2023

No. 15 “I’m fine.” | No. 17 “Leave me alone.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (platonic, pre-relationship)

Setting: Post Prison/Pre Alexandria

Warnings: Animal bite, Injury, Illness, TWD Violence

“Thanks,” you muttered while wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You extended the bottle out to Glenn but he shook his head. 

“Try to get Daryl to drink when he gets back.” You cast him a curious look but he only smiled and shuffled forward to catch up with Maggie. 

The sun was beating down violently on your little group, no reprieve from the clutches of its heat. Just like yesterday. Just like the day before. The bushes rustled to your left, but you were too weary to be afraid. You simply rolled your head toward the sound and watched Daryl emerge from the foliage. You gave him a quick once over as he fell in stride beside you but saw no injuries and also no kill to call dinner. 

“You okay?” You offered the water bottle, but he pushed it back to you. 

“M’fine.”

“I haven’t seen you take a single sip in two days, Daryl.” You were trying to scold but your voice only sounded dry and tired. 

“You need it. Lil Asskicker needs it.” Right on cue, the baby on Carl’s back began to fuss. You glanced behind you where Sasha and Michonne were bringing up the rear. The group of walkers were still a ways back but if you stopped, it wouldn’t take them long to catch up. 

Your attention was brought back to Daryl when he stumbled, hissing through his teeth before getting his balance. You said nothing but watched him carefully. He was slightly favoring his right leg. While you could see no blood, you did notice that the red rag that usually hung from his back pocket was wrapped around his shin, just above his boot. 

“Daryl.” You called to him carefully when he looked up from his feet and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. He grunted in reply, and his gaze dropped again. “Are you hurt?” He grunted again. “That’s not an answer.”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it.” The archer looked over at you, one eye closed and the other squinted. “Ain’t a big deal.” 

Before you could press him on it, Rick called out for everyone to stop at a bridge. It was time to handle the walkers. 

It didn’t take long. Not a single person was injured and you were back on the road. Daryl was in front of you now, and you were watching him like a hawk. Other than a slight limp, he seemed okay. No better or worse than anyone else right now. 

The group had stopped to rest once the scorching sun had lowered, and Daryl had disappeared to hunt. With a nod to Carol, you ducked away past the bushes to join him. You weren’t great at tracking but he hadn’t been gone long and you had learned a thing or two from him. 

It didn’t take you long to spot him. There was a small cabin that looked like it had been abandoned since before the dead rose. Daryl was standing next to a tree close to the structure, leaning his shoulder against it. You smiled, and quickened your pace until you noticed his crossbow was on the ground at his feet. His right boot wasn’t touching the ground, and he was bent at the waist with his eyes screwed shut and teeth clenched. 

“Daryl?” You called out but he didn’t respond. He was sweating and pale, and as you neared, the smell of sick lingered in the air. “Hey, are you okay?” You placed your hand on his bicep once you were close enough. The archer reacted violently, catching your wrist and slamming your back against the tree with his hunting knife at your throat. Had he really not heard you approaching? His breaths came hard and fast. Those pretty blue eyes of his were filled with pain and anger. “It’s me, Daryl.” 

You watched recognition set in, and he released you with a huff. “The hell ya followin’ me fer?” You let your gaze follow him as he replaced his knife and reached for the crossbow. On the ground, near the weapon, was a puddle of vomit. Your eyes narrowed. 

“Daryl, what’s wrong with you?” You pushed away from the tree and jogged to cut him off. “Really.”

“Leave me ‘lone!” He made to go around you, but you moved to stay in his path. 

“You sick?” He tried the other way with the same results. “Hurt?” He growled deep in his throat, closing his eyes in what appeared to be restraint. You weren’t sure that was really the case. 

“Jus’ lay off, would ya?” He snapped harshly. You reeled, face contorting in anger, but just as you opened your mouth, Daryl’s eyes widened. He listed to the side, crashing hard onto his left knee and began to retch violently. With nothing in his stomach, he only managed to bring up a small amount of bile throughout the ordeal. 

“Daryl!” You grabbed hold of his shoulders just in time to stop him from keeling over into the mess. Falling back onto your ass, you managed to pull the man up against your stomach. He was panting with his eyes screwed shut. “Daryl, what’s going on? The truth.”

It took a moment but the archer finally managed to open one eye and seemed to study you before you felt him simply deflate in your hold. “Snake bit.” You quickly glanced at that old rag around his lower leg. 

“You moron, that’s serious! You could die!” Your hand connected roughly with the front of his shoulder but then held him fast where he was when he tried to struggle away. 

“Ain’t gon’ die. S’jus’ a copperhead.” He tried to sit up again and this time you let him. He nodded gratefully once he was shoulder to shoulder with you. “Got bit ‘fore, when I’s ‘bout 10. It won’ kill me but it’ll suck fer a day or two.”

You stared at him, not sure what you were feeling. You were angry that he had hidden this from the group, from you. You were worried that he was or would become dehydrated or the wound would be infected, both were very likely and equally as dangerous. You were sad that he would rather suffer alone than worry anyone even when he was in such a state. 

“Quit starin’ at me like tha’. Told ya, I’ll be fine.”

You nodded, looking down at your boots. You had to think of something. Daryl simply couldn’t keep going like this, disappearing ‘in search of water and food’ when he really just needed a break. You glanced at him again, leaning back on his hands with his head tilted toward the sky. His expression was riddled with pain, even though he was trying not to show it. You knew better. 

Over his shoulder, you saw the little cabin. It wasn’t the ideal solution but maybe one you could make work. “You cleared that yet?”

Daryl followed your gaze and shook his head. “Nah. Didn’ have a chance ‘fore my stomach crawled outta my throat.”

“Wait here.” 

“The hell ya doin’, Y/N?”

You pulled your knife from the sheath on your thigh and marched toward the structure. “Solving a couple of problems.”

The cabin had been blessedly void of walkers. It was small but large enough to shelter your family from the sun for at least a day or two. It was easy enough to talk Rick into stopping the fruitless march toward nothing. At least the group could stay put while you took care of Daryl, under the guise of being out for the night to hunt. 

He had been surprisingly pliant when you dragged him away. Finding a spot to camp for the night was simple. Far enough away for members not to venture in search of you, yet close enough to run for help if things got worse. You had taken all of the water that could be spared, leaving enough for the proper care of Judith and Carl. You hated leaving so little for the adults, but Daryl would surely die without it, closer than anyone to dehydration with the excess sweating and vomiting. 

You sat next to his outstretched leg, carefully pouring the smallest amount of water over the two punctures he had finally let you take a look at. Just to the right of his shin, the wound was swollen and angry, more in thanks to the venom than to infection. If you could manage to keep it clean, you could probably avoid that. 

You taped a square of gauze over the bite, thankful that you had at least that in your own bag. Keeping it covered was best for the time being. It could get air when the venom wasn’t doing a number on the archer. 

You worried about tissue damage, but that was a bridge you’d have to cross when you came to it. For now, keeping him alive was the most important thing. 

“Drink.” You titled the canteen against his lips, holding fast to his chin with the other hand when he tried to turn away. 

“The kid—”

“Has enough. I promise. I wouldn’t have taken it if it meant she or Carl had to do without.” He seemed to accept that, parting his lips for the smallest of swallows. You wished you had more and didn’t have to be so greedy with each offering. He had taken the ibuprofen you had managed to nab out of Michonne’s bag. That should provide a bit of relief from the pain while aiding in the reduction of the inflammation. It wasn’t much but it would have to do. 

“You should get some rest.” You placed your back against the tree, shoulder to shoulder with him. He didn’t look very comfortable but it wasn’t unlike Daryl to sleep sitting up. Sometimes, you think he preferred it. Regardless, he was sick and in pain, so you tried to make him as comfortable as possible. “Why don’t you lay on my lap?”

Daryl opened one eye and rolled his head toward you, blinking away the sweat that burned and obstructed his vision. You thought he might argue or turn you down flat, but he instead shifted with a groan and pillowed his head on your thighs. A true testament to how horrible he was feeling. 

“Better?” You questioned quietly, running your fingers through his damp hair. He hummed, his eyes once again closed. You could see the way they pinched at the outer corners and wished you could do something more for the pain. He’d been bitten while trying to find food and water for your group; trying to take care of everyone else. Always putting himself last. 

There was a content sigh that brought you from your thoughts. You hadn’t realized that you had begun to scratch and knead his scalp, but the way he seemed to melt against you ensured that you continued. His shallow breaths evened out and deepened after a few more moments, an indicator that he was finally giving his body the rest it so desperately needed. 

He would be okay. You knew that now. But if you could offer him some comfort and peace for just one night, you’d massage his scalp until your fingers bled. Daryl, rough around the edges and tough as nails, would bend over backwards to ensure the safety of each one of you. Anyone in the group would do the same for him if he’d allow it. But he didn’t. He chose to suffer in silence until you stumbled across him and forced his hand. 

But he’d allowed you into his space and trusted you enough to fall into a deep, healing sleep while you watched over him. He would be safe and cared for, and you’d make sure he knew that he could depend on this— on you — and drop his walls. He could let you in and be vulnerable. 

You’d be damned if you’d take that for granted. 

[whumpypepsigal]

Whumptober 2023 | No. 15

Makeshift Bandages

One Piece (2023) s01e06: “This is an old seaman's trick. The fish skin helps staunch the wounds and heals the flesh a lot faster.”

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

[mystery-star]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 15 | "I'm fine"

Master and Commander - The Far Side of the World (2003)

[losthavenmine]

Whumptober 2023 Day 15 || Suppressed Suffering

Cinderella Man (2005)

[gierosajie-art]

Whumptober 2023 Prompt List | No. 15: “I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself.” | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

It's suffocating to say the least. But her duty, Liyue, and every Adepti by her side, it all comes first. She couldn't let it overtake her.

It's all nothing but misery. Nothing but slaughter. Nothing, nothing, n o t h i n g-

People look up to her. Even as the fraying threads wrap around her heart, her soul, her very existence, all she could do is push on.

Prayers drift at the back of her mind, alight in hopes and dreams. It's beautiful-

Fragile.

Even with hands that have razed the battlefield, stained with such sins would hold that light ever so gently. She wants to see that kind of light, to bask in it one day.

Yingda knows it's a faraway dream, and the looming darkness consuming her might even keep that possibility away from her grasp. The despair wells in her, making her feel like drowning.

Still, they're all surrounded every day with the misery and pain they willingly, dutifully carry in this neverending dance. The least she could do is to make it feel like everything will be alright. It isn't. We are destined for tragedy...aren't we?

(Please...I don't want you to see your sister like this...)

[whumpetywhump]

Whumptober Day 15 - Makeshift Bandages

Love For Ten: Generation Of Youth - Ep. 12

Queen For Seven Days - Ep. 7

The Moon (2023)

Vanguard (2020)

Voice 110: Emergency Control Room 2 - Ep.9

[whumpsday]

K&J: Kane's Whumptober Bites #15

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, captivity

@whumptober Day 15: Makeshift Bandages

(day 14 will be posted at a later time this month bc i'm stuck on it)

-

When Kane first arrived in his cell, he had more than he could ever appreciate. The hunters had taken everything from his pockets– a wise move, given the amount of damage he could have caused a human if he threw a key with all his might at the right angle– but he still had so much.

He’d had a long-sleeved, button-down shirt. He’d had long pants. He’d had a proper men’s jacket. He’d had socks. A plethora of cloth he could have used for any number of purposes.

Now, he had almost nothing, just a single pair of bloodstained shorts. So when the hunters left things behind, he made sure to make use of it.

Broken and bleeding, Kane dragged himself over to the trash they’d left in the cell. They’d take most of it out within the next few days, he was sure. As much as he wanted to collapse and let sleep nurse his pain for a short while, he had to get anything useful out of there while he could.

There, exactly what he’d been hoping for: paper. Some flier of sorts. Kane carefully tore it into shreds, placing it over the worst of his external injuries. It wasn’t often he could care for himself more than ripping out anything harmful the hunters had left in him. A rare treat.

With a placement over a nasty gash on his forehead, Kane sighed, laying himself down on the floor. That would at least stop the blood from getting into his eyes. Content with his small bit of self-comfort, he drifted off to sleep next to the rest of the litter.

[whumpshots]

Whumptober #15

Trope of the day: “I’m fine.”

_

“I’m fine,” whumpee mutters to themself as they wash their face with cold water. They know they aren't, but maybe if they repeat it often enough, they are able to convince themself. Whumpee's hands shake, when they pick up the towel to dry their face.

“I’m fine,” they repeat after caretaker asks them for the third time if everything is alright. The other won't stop with their questions, whumpee knowing fully well that they can't keep up the image much longer, the mask already crumbling.

“I’m fine,” whumpee grunts as they get up from the floor after their knees went weak and sent them straight to the ground. Their hands are shaky, skin cold and sweaty. But they are just exhausted, just tired, nothing more.

When whumpee finally arrives home, they collapse onto the couch, pain and dizziness too much to bear. They curl into a ball and close their eyes. They are not fine. But they try to be.

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Partial Explanations

whumptober 2023 day 15- I'm fine fandom-dp x dc TW- none summary- Jason finds out he's still got a foot in the land of the dead.

ao3 whumptobe2023 masterlist part 3 of DLM

Jason was working on preparing some hot chocolate while the kid, Danny, sat at his table nibbling on a cookie. As much as Jason wanted to get straight to who had hurt the kid and where they were, so he could dismember them, he knew the kid needed some time to trust him.

“Where you from, Danny?” Jason asked with his back still turned to the kid.

“The Midwest.”

“And what brings you to Gotham?”

“Men in Black ripoffs.”

Jason paused his stirring of the hot chocolate. “What?”

“Never mind.”

“Kid, I’m sorry, but you clearly need help.”

“I’m fine.” 

Jason turned and gave him his best expression of disbelief. “You’re clearly not.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it so it doesn’t matter.” The kid said scowling. “I should probably get going anyway. Thanks for the cookies.” The kid started to get up and Jason quickly shut off the stove but didn’t move forward.

“Wait a moment, kid. I won’t ask questions, but please stay. It would be rude to have me make hot chocolate and then not drink any.”

Danny paused, his expression uncertain. 

“And I’ve got more cookies.”

“They are good cookies.” the kid grumbled, but he sat down so Jason counted it as a win.

He served the hot chocolate and they both enjoyed the drink and some cookies in pleasant silence before Danny started fidgeting again.

“Look, thank you. You’ve been very nice, but I really don’t want to lead them to you.”

“I can handle myself.”

Danny raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I really can. I grew up in Gotham, I’d be dead if I didn't know how to defend myself.” he smirked.

Danny snorted, but then his expression sombered. “You may normally be able to protect yourself, but they have weapons specifically made for us and they’ll be able to sense you.”

“Who are you talking about, kid?”

“The GIW. They’re a government branch made to hunt ghosts down.”

“Ghosts aren’t real.” Jason said, but the dread he’d been feeling earlier that evening was starting to resurface, and the Pit was swirling even though Jason didn’t feel any anger.

Danny rolled his eyes. But when Jason didn’t say anything else he said, “You don’t have to pretend. I’m like you.”

“Kid, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The Pit was roiling and Jason’s heart was beating fast, but still no surge of anger.

Danny furrowed his brows. “You really don’t know…” he said quietly. 

Jason just stared at him. Something was happening, and Jason wasn’t sure if he liked it. The Pit was active, but there was no anger. There was dread, but also a sense of calm. He felt like something was pulling him toward Danny, like there was a connection there.

Then Danny sighed and looked at him tiredly. “Alright, what I’m about to say may sound strange, but I need you to hear me out. Okay?”

Jason nodded.

“I’m guessing that you died, but then came back somehow.” Jason froze, but Danny continued. “The same thing happened to me.”

[zrllosyn-art]

I had, Kikoru brain rot. SO have her and also no. 15

(does it make any sense? no. but also. big sister kikoru 🥺)

[omgiamwish]

Whumptober 2023 Day 15 - Makeshift Bandages

[bumblingdragon]

Whumptober 2023 - day 15 - makeshift bandages

(i love 'character tears up own shirt to try and patch a wound' personally)