#prompt: EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS

[savebatsfromscratch]

Day 5 - I’m Sorry, I Can’t Really Focus Right Now?!?!

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42168798

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Summary: Hiccup has fallen into the ocean, his boat is wrecked by fear. (And the current lol.)

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Note: Idk. Hiccup in the ocean what will he do. I haven’t read these books in a while, not sure if you could tell lol.   The italics is either dragonese or Hiccup thinking, depending on where it is.

Cws and Tws: Almost drowning, numbness, getting knocked out, previous injury, bleeding

Words: 686 (oh wow that is pathetically short, sorry small fandom you deserve more than this)

Prompt: EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS | Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia

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Chapter text (under the cut):

Hiccup flailed in the water, gulping for any flash of air as the stormy waves of the open ocean crashed over him. The vampire spydragon bite on his arm made it near impossible to swim, but at least to was numb, because the pain of an open wound in the salty waters of the ocean wasn’t exactly something that Hiccup wanted. 

Even so, the water was cold, and the splintered pieces of his boat kept smacking into him with each change in the current. And as both things shocked any small bit of breath out of him (in a rather irregular schedule), Hiccup already had a few too many problems to deal with.

”You have to get up!” a crackly yet high pitched voice squeaked above him. It was the Wodensfang, and based on his frantic sounding wingbeats, he was struggling in the wind and rain just as much as Hiccup was in the water. 

“Thanks,” Hiccup choked, spitting out water as a momentary lack of waves filled his little area, “I hadn’t quite realized that yet.”

The Wodensfang continued to speak, but Hiccup was plunged under the waves before he could hear the conclusion of the little dragon’s words. He squeezed his eyes shut, so he couldn’t quite see what was happening under there, but he could’ve sworn he felt the obvious roughness of a dragon slide by his leg… 

He was back into the air as four tiny paws gripped onto his shoulder, dragging him up with all of their might as the Wodensfang flapped his wings like a hurricane. Hiccup opened his mouth to thank him, but another cold wave of seawater smacked into him before he could form the words, filling his mouth with salt and splinters from his shattered boat.

“You mustn't do that!” The Wodensfang chidded, breaths heavy and wings slowing as he let go of Hiccup’s shoulders, “You have to get to Tomorrow!”

The thought of the island made Hiccup so worried that he almost didn’t notice the odd numbness in the side of his body that wasn’t numb from the Vampire Spydragon bite. “But I haven’t-” he started, pausing to choke on seawater for a moment, “-haven’t got any of the things!” 

The Wodensfang scoffed, flying a bit closer to him as he spoke, “That’s never stopped you before.”

“I HAD all the things before!” Hiccup yelled back, his arms slowing even as he dipped further before the water. (He was just so cold.)

The Wodensfang spun in a little circle, clearly trying to think, “But you’re the future king of-” he dodged a falling piece of the mast, “-the Wilderwest! You’ll figure something out.”

Hiccup was really feeling the effects of the cold now, and when he looked down at the water, he was horrified to find a red stain filling it. When had he started bleeding…? “Wodensfang!” He said, speaking in Norse out of desperation for a second, “My boat crashed in the middle of the ocean!” He paused less for effect and more to spit out water, “I CAN’T get the things from the bottom of the ocean, let alone in a short enough time!” 

The Wodensfang paused, and Hiccup tried to feel for whatever part of him was bleeding. But it was either numbed from the cold of the water (which was taking away much of his mobility), shock (which he had forgotten could do such a thing until that very moment), the Vampire Spydragon bite, or some unholy combination of the two.

‘Oh Thor,’ he thought as another wave crashed over him, ‘I need to get out of the water…’

The moment he resurfaced the Wodensfang was talking again, but before the water could finish spilling out of his ears (and therefore before he could hear what he was saying), he felt something hit the back of his head. It was like the pain happened in slow motion, first an unexpected shock of splitting pain, followed quickly by an overwhelming sense of dizziness as his arms gave out on him, and then…

Nothing.

And the pain of the world drifted away from him.

End of Chapter notes: Yay. :) I finally wrote for this fandom again.

[whumpberry-cookie]

Every Whumpee's needs

Whumptober - Day 5

~~~~~~~~~~Prompts~~~~~~~~~~~

(Content warnings: hyperthermia, running out of air, drowning, blood loss, self-sacrifice, slavery, unjustiful punishment)

||Blood loss||

Whumpee wants to help starving friend/lover Vampire. The Vampire can't stop drinking. Old good trope.

Hero is in the middle of the battle. Determined, mad, not even feeling pain. Only when Teammates take Whumpee by force to safety it turns out Whumpee is badly injuired and lost critical amount of blood.

||Running out of air||

Whumpee runs away from Whumper and without thinking, jumps into the water. But he doesn't know for how long can he hold his breath, his heart is pounding from stress and exertion. What if Whumper is standing right up there, watching if the surface will even slightly frown?

||Hyperthermia||

Robot Whumpee helps Hero Team get into highly secured building by hacking the systems. But the tech is highly advanced and hacking it is taking way more energy than Leader was expecting. Whumpee overheats and breaks. The defense system turns back on just before the mission is complete.

Whumpee used to live in an environment with low temperatures. Then kidnapped, sold on slave market and transported far away. Forced to work in full sun, not used to dry air or such high temperatures or lack of water, loses strenght quickly. Whumpee's superordinate considers it laziness and doesn't hold back from punishing him.

Whumper forces Whumpee to wear extremely warm clothes. Gloves, sweaters, wool socks. Even inside. Even in bed. The only time Whumpee can take those off is for the hot shower.

______________________

My whumptober masterpost ->

Next ->

[whumpworld]

Every Whumpee’s Needs

I got super into this one for some reason, and it’s actually inspired a new series. Just what I need, another WIP to make a bunch of picrews for and then put off writing. Anyway, this is a long one, sorry! 

Prompt: No. 5 Every Whumpee’s Needs [Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia]

CW: Hyperthermia (overheating/heat stroke), dehydration, restraints, mention of bugs (my legs and bacl itches everytime I read the part this reffers to, so I figured I’d mention it as cw), newly captured whumpee.

The sun beat down like the hooves of the rider’s horse in the sand, heavy and quiet, each footfall causing a miniature landslide of crystalline grains that sounded like sugar through a sieve as they crested the top of a dune. Behind the trail of hoof prints were two wobbling, weaving lines—less clean, cutting steps through the sand and more marks of unsteady and defeated feet slipping on it—as though a dead animal was being dragged along. But Whumpee was only half dead, and being half dragged. Despite their best efforts to keep up with Whumper’s pace, they were only able to trip and stumble behind.

“Stop…”

They had long given up trying to minimize the contact of the soles of their feet and the burning hot sand, once light, hopping steps now lumbering and leaden as they shifted their focus to staying upright. Their feet were already blistered, there was nothing they could do about that, but they could at least maybe prevent their entire frontside from blaining if they could keep from falling forward and giving in to the exhaustion. 

Whumpee remembered something they had been told long ago about how feet control the body's temperature—if the feet are cold, so is the body, same if they’re hot. And damn, was Whumpee feeling that now. What they would give to dunk their feet in a pail of cool water. What they would give to drink a pail of cool water. Their mouth would have watered at the thought if it hadn’t completely absorbed all the fluid available already.

“M-mister, stop…”

The skin of their legs was numb from the whipping sand in the wind, and they were almost glad for it, because they didn’t want to think about the sand fleas nipping and burrowing in their bare feet and calves. But the numbness couldn’t override the constant, full body burn that encompassed them. Their dark skin had quickly turned a darker, irritated red that was only getting worse, already starting to peel and flake away so fresh skin could burn all over again. 

It was maddening, the constant itching and smoldering of their flesh, nothing but the thin undergarments Whumper hadn’t made them strip from to, thankfully, cover the most sensitive areas of themselves. But the entire rest of their body was going to develop painfully sore blisters within the next few days if this kept up. Even their eyelids, which hung low to keep as much of the sun out as possible, were burned, and it hurt to simply blink against the breeze.

Their arms ached from being held aloft in front of them, Whumpee trying desperately to keep them from dropping, to keep as much slack in the line as possible to avoid the constant tugging on their wrists. Whumper had used a long, spare lead line to wrap their hands, inside of their wrists pressed together, the rope tight and cutting into their joints, bruising where it wasn’t already bleeding and staining the rope. And still, their shaking muscles gave out every so often, arms drooping and legs lagging as the horse was spurred onward, until the rope tied at the horn of the saddle pulled tight and Whumpee was jerked forward and nearly brought to their knees.

“Ngh…I—can’t keep…I need…”

Whumpee was completely drained, of will, energy, and strength, but the only thing on their mind was water. They could keep going if they were just allowed a mouthful, a sip, even, just enough to unstick their tongue from the bottom of their mouth and clear the sand from their throat. Something to quench the awful pangs of heat cramps in their legs and stomach, that had them wincing and scrabbling to continue forward.

At some point, they had started a game in their mind, one their mother taught them when they were little to help get work done when they felt they couldn’t go on. Find something to focus on, and count the steps that bring you closer to it. Their fixation was the liter sized canteen strapped to the outside of the saddle bag. 

Whumpee could practically hear the water inside swishing with each sway of the horse’s flank. It was half full, and Whumper must have more, but this was the one the man was slowly nursing, reaching back once in a while to blindly unstrap it, uncap it, and take a swig. They hadn’t realized they had become completely focused on it until they noticed they were counting the steps they had left to grab it off the saddle. 10, 9, 8, 7… . Each time they stumbled, fell behind, or the horse sped up, they reset the count, started again. 8, 7, 6, 5—-—-13, 12, 11… .

As Whumper lifted the canteen to his mouth this time, Whumpee’s eyes followed it, squinting up into the sun, nearly losing their footing as they watched rivlets of water spill down the man’s chin and soak into the wrap he pulled back over his face when finished, seething at the utter waste.

It couldn't have been more than 12 hours since they were taken late last night, and the sun was just past overhead now. If Whumper planned on letting them rest any time soon, he didn't show it. The last thing Whumpee wanted was to beg Whumper for anything, but they needed water, and they needed it soon. Their hair, which had been soaked with sweat shortly into the journey, even though it began at night, was starting to dry, and it let them know they were near heat stroke. Their body was no longer sweating, entirely devoid of fluid. 

By the time the sun dropped another peg in the sky, their vision began blurring significantly. Their skin broiled under the sky, their legs and arms shook violently and locked up in episodes that lasted longer and longer each time, until they eventually crashed downward to their knees. The horse continued, unbothered or unaware of the person it tortured in its path forward, and their arms were jerked above them, dragging them a short distance on their knees while they struggled to get their feet under them, before they collapsed onto their front. They couldn’t find the strength to rise. Groaning as they were pulled through the sand, they turned their head up to avoid swallowing a mouthful. 

They didn’t want to beg for water. This man had come into their town, their home, threatened their family. Strung them up like an animal, like cargo, to be brought to some destination unknown to Whumpee. Whumper had beaten them, tied them up and stripped them, as their family watched on in horror, for noncompliance already; they didn't want to know what he’d do when they begged. Or, maybe that was what the man wanted. But so far, each of their complaints went unanswered. 

Still, what terrified them more than this mysterious and cruel man was the unforgiving desert, the unrelenting sun. They were so overheated and dehydrated that they felt like their body had been overcooked, and the sand was now grating the tissue from their bones as they were dragged along, like a tender meat for stew. If they didn’t drink soon, didn't cool down, cover their skin, the desert would swallow them whole.

 “P-please….”

They could hardly recognize their own voice, as brittle and cracked as it was. They tried again, louder, when Whumper still didn’t acknowledge them. “Please, s-stop.”

They wrapped their blistering hands around the rope, pulled as hard as they could to try and get themselves up, or to get the attention of the man. They managed to pull their elbows under them and press up to their feet, despite the stiffness of their muscles, and so they gripped the lead line and jerked it as hard as they could. “Stop! I…I’ll die like this!” 

Their tugging barely budged the saddle, but the horse, having gotten used to pulling their dead weight, jumped at the movement, sending waves of sand down the dune, and Whumpee’s ground shifted out from under them, dropping them back to the searing earth. 

They groaned, struggled again to stand as they were dragged onward by their wrists. Blood trailed down their forearms from the saturated rope, until a gust of wind whisked sand over them, the grains coating the exposed wounds and offering a sort of makeshift clotting agent. Hissing, Whumpee forced themselves to stand again. If they could just find enough strength to lunge forward, grab the canteen…. But if they spooked the horse they might be kicked, and if not by the horse then by Whumper, and they didn’t think they could survive a blow to the ribs from either.

“Please, I won’t be able to work if…if you let me be l-like this. I need—need water. Please.” They weakly pulled the line. “Please.”

For the first time since Whumper had mounted hours ago, he turned to look back at Whumpee. The beige scarf wrapping his head and neck was left open just a slit so he could see, and the shadows cast by the overhead sun made it look as though there was nothing but a void beneath the fabric, no glint of eyes, no facial expression to be read. But the man must have been assessing Whumpee’s state, must have decided that what they were saying was true: they really couldn’t do this for much longer. Whumper at last pulled at the reins, and the horse snorted, seemingly also content for a break. Whumpee crumpled as soon as they stopped, falling to their hands and knees with a relieved gasp.

Whumper swung a leg over the horse and smoothly dismounted, looping the reins around the horn just above the knotted lead line, and busied himself moving around the horse to dig through the side pack. A tough leather pail was produced and Whumpee almost whined at the sound of water being poured into it. They looked up, eyes tired and hopeful, but Whumper only walked back to the front of the horse to hold out the water. 

Whumpee felt stupid for not realizing until now that the horse hadn’t been let to drink yet either. They waited patiently as the horse drank, then as it ate a few blocks of something the man pulled from his pocket. When Whumper was satisfied with the horse’s replenishment, he finally walked over to Whumpee. His breathable but tough boots left pleasing tread marks in the sand, and Whumpee found themselves wanting to reach out to wipe them away. They wanted to grab hold of the expensive fabric of his pants, roll the intricately woven threads between their fingers, just to feel anything other than burning on their skin. 

“You won’t be for working, kid.” Whumper’s voice was smooth, light; Whumpee could practically hear the moisture coating the man’s tongue in the smoothness of his voice. 

“W-what?” Whumpee had forgotten what they’d said earlier. They weren't sure why they were taken, Whumper had never provided that information, but they could only assume it was to be put to work. They had really only said it to make the man stop. But if they weren't taken for work…no, Whumpee couldn’t worry about that now. 

“Well, I-I’ll be no use in any…way…like t-this,” they offered, almost sheepishly. Their head was throbbing too hard to truly care about how pathetic they may sound. 

Whumper hummed in agreement. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. You won’t be of use dead, and you’ll be so much less appealing with third degree sunburn.” He reached out a worn, hide-gloved hand, which Whumpee dazedly moved away from before their hair was brushed from their forehead. The shadow under Whumper’s scarf lightened in his proximity, revealing brown, piercing eyes boring into Whumpee’s strained ones. 

“Y-yes…,” Whumpee mumbled, before adding as a confused and horrified afterthought, “...a-appealing….”

Whumper narrowed his eyes further before pulling what Whumpee thought had been a saddle blanket off the back of the horse, now realizing it was a thin cloak with a large hood and long sleeves. It was cypress green, probably covered in itchy horse hair, but, oh, the sweet refuge it would offer from the sun. Whumper held it out tauntingly, just out of reach.

“Please,” Whumpee whispered, curling their fingers in their lap, resisting the urge to snatch the cloak from him.

“You’ve learned your lesson, then?” It was a question, one Whumpee didn’t know if they were supposed to answer, didn’t even really know what it was referring to, but they looked down and nodded their head quickly in reply. 

The cape was dropped to the sand, and Whumpee scrambled to scoop it up and dress themselves, only to realize they couldn’t actually wear it, couldn’t get their arms in the sleeves since they were tied together, and so they draped it over their shoulders and pulled the hood down low over their face. The fabric was warm, wooly, and irritating on the sunburn, but they sighed as they felt the sun break contact with their skin. When they looked back up, Whumper was turning to tuck the leather pail back into the saddle bag. 

No, wait. They needed water. Without thinking Whumpee launched themselves forward, cloak slipping off their shoulders, and grabbed hold of Whumper’s pant leg.

“No! No, no, water—I-I need water, too! You have to—omph!” They cut themselves off as Whumper’s boot slammed into their shoulder. Their grip broke from the man’s pants as they were shoved back, only for the boot to be slammed down on the lead line, jerking their arms forward and down so they were prostrated before Whumper. 

“I don’t ‘have to’ do anything,” Whumper growled, and his voice sounded so much less smooth now, as he ground his boot into the rope just a few inches from Whumpee’s hands. Whumpee wondered if he was imagining their fingers beneath the sole, and they sobbed, the urge to cry bubbling up into their chest despite not a single tear swelling in their eyes. It was an odd sensation, to cry tearlessly. 

Whumpee kept their face down, shivering even as the sun beat back down on them, and didn’t move, waiting for Whumper to remount and begin the journey again, dragging a lifeless Whumpee in tow, leaving the cloak to blow away and become buried in the dunes. They flinched at the sound of metal clinking, squeezing their eyes closed, before a hand in their hair yanked their head up, boot keeping their hands pressed to the ground.

“Don’t you dare spill a drop,” commanded Whumper, and Whumpee cracked their eyes when warm metal pressed to their peeling, parted lips. They were drinking eagerly before they realized what was happening, Whumper down on one knee, tipping the canteen up into their mouth. It was the best water they’d ever tasted, even heated and stale, and it was gone too soon, Whumper pulling it away after only a few gulps, Whumpee whining and trying to grab it back, forgetting their hands were being held down. 

As they gasped in air, mouth finally full of moisture, they almost pleaded for more, even considered tackling the man for it, but they took a steadying breath, gritted their teeth, and murmured a bedgrudging, “Thank y-you.” 

The rider only hummed lowly in response, sounding satisfied. He gripped their arm and pulled them to their feet as he stood, before reaching down to pick up the cloak, sighing heavily when as soon as his hand left Whumpee’s arm they wobbled and almost fell back down. Whumper draped the cloak over their shoulders, yanked the hood down, and threw them up onto the front of the horse like a sack of vegetables.

They almost slipped off, but then Whumper was mounting right behind them, arms on either side of them, wrapping the excess lead line to tie their hands around their abdomen, so they couldn’t reach out or try to take the reins. The sigh they let out was bodily, legs so glad to not be holding their own weight.

“Thank you,” they breathed, this time genuine and relieved, slumping back against the man. They couldn't care that he was their captor, they were exhausted. He huffed, the sound almost a laugh, clicked his tongue, and the horse began walking again.

“You won’t be thanking me once we arrive.” One of Whumper’s hands gripped Whumpee’s waist tight. “I’d bet my horse you’ll wish I let you die by this sun, kid.” 

[she-who-the-river-could-not-hold]

01. Internal Instinct

part of Broken Wings, a Whumptober-inspired Six of Crows Prompt Collection

prompt: EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS | blood loss | running out of air | hyperthermia | ship: Helnik | rating: M | wc: ~1.9k | tags: canonverse, injury, near-death experience, self-loathing, brief reference to potential sexual assault, character study, Matthias POV

Summary: Matthias knows that he’s supposed to be glad to see this witch dying. It’s his calling: to rid the world of their evil. But maybe there’s something wrong with him. Or maybe when she saved his life she changed something in him, because he can’t bring himself to watch her die in his arms. He has to do something.

or: a whumpier take on what transpired on the way to the whaler’s hut

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There should be a wolf's howl of pride in his chest; there should be thunderous applause from Djel himself.

He had a near-dead witch in his very hands.

Matthias could end her life right here, right now. He could snap her neck and feel her life transpose into his hands as he took it. Or he could simply let her freeze out, let the blood run out of body until it stained the snow below her body. The opportunities were both endless and simple. Presented to him on a platter. There would be no need to struggle to detain her back for a trial. It was practically a gift to him after all of the struggles that had been following him lately.  

But something gnawed at his gut and held him back.

Why couldn’t he do it?

He hated that it wouldn’t take long for him to root out the reasoning. It shouldn’t matter at all––but it did.

The witch had saved his life.

She’d known who he was and saved him all the same.

[READ THE REST ON AO3]

[littlebunnyman]

Sweet thing

When you don't pay your debts, your debtors find other ways to get their money back as Peter Nureyev finds out.

Read on Ao3

Day 5, fic 5! Todays prompts are: Every whumpee’s needs | Blood loss | Running out of air | Hyperthermia

Subscribe to my series on Ao3 to follow me on my Whumptober journey.  

[alasse-earfalas]

day 5 | fluff-whump-tober

The hot springs on Death Mountain were magical. 

Wild ducked his head under the water a few times, seeing how long he could hold his breath before he ran out of air. The regenerative properties of these springs were amazing: even if he’d lost most of his blood during a fight, the hot springs would restore it. 

The heat made his head fuzzy, but he didn’t mind. Whatever damage was done would be healed by these waters anyway. He leaned his head back against a rock and dozed. 

…

“Hi there.” 

Wild opened his eyes to see Sky standing in front of him, the dim light of pre-dawn illuminating his back. “Sky?” he said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “It’s not even sunrise, what are you doing up so early?” 

“I am a morning person.” 

Wild frowned. “Um, since when? You’re always the last one to—” He stopped, his nostrils flaring at the scent of burning flesh. 

He pulled himself out of the hot spring, then remembered where he was and splashed back into it. “Sky, get in here,” he beckoned. “It’s not safe out there.” 

Sky stepped into the hot spring. But the smell of cauterized flesh didn’t leave the air. Wild tried to find the source, frantically turning around until—

He heard a familiar chime. Except it wasn’t a chime. It was more like a scream. 

“I am a morning person.” Sky’s voice quivered as he brought the blueish blade to Wild’s throat. Only now could Wild see the strange black pigment that wound through Sky’s veins, a darkness that looked far too much like malice. He realized with a start that the burning flesh was Sky’s hand, where the sacred blade was burning it in warning. 

“I… am…” He was fighting it. Sky was fighting for control. 

Something crazy popped into Wild’s mind, but he had no other options. He batted the Master Sword away and tackled Sky into the water, holding him there, praying the healing properties of the spring would be enough to counteract Sky losing air. Sky fought and struggled, but eventually passed out. 

Now for phase two. 

Using the Master Sword—the only blade readily available—and wincing as it burned his own palms, Wild opened one of the main blood vessels on Sky’s neck. He lifted Sky up to bleed outside the healing water, worried that the black in his blood might taint it, removing its healing properties. He kept the rest of Sky’s body squarely in the hot spring, praying this would work. It was a hair-brained idea and he realized with horror that he could have just killed his brother of the sacred blade. 

The black began to rapidly fade from Sky’s veins, but so did the red. Every so often the magic would chime, signaling that the spring was still healing him, still keeping him alive. Wild had to reopen the gushing wound several times to keep the blood flowing, to purge whatever darkness had infected him. 

A hoarse voice. “Wild?” 

“Sh,” Wild replied, watching the last of the blackness on its way out of Sky’s body. “It’s almost out. Just a little longer.” 

Sky hummed in acknowledgement. Wild was grateful for the reassurance that he was still alive. 

At last every trace of black was gone. Sky’s blood was back to its normal, untainted color. Wild stopped reopening the wound and let the hot spring work its magic. 

“Thank you,” said Sky. After a moment he reached up and wiped sweat from his forehead. “It’s really hot up here.” 

“It’s safe in the hot spring,” said Wild. “Warm, but safe. What happened, anyway?” 

“Don’t know.” Sky looked at his hand, flexed his fingers. “We’ll have to figure that out when we get back.” 

Wild nodded. “Yeah. We definitely will.” 

@flufftober prompt: “Oh no, you’re a Morning Person!”

@whumptober prompt: Every Whumpee’s Needs | Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42067278/chapters/105892323

[scorchedhearth]

Day. 5 EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS

Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia

english is a stupid language i read hypothermia, not hyper, so we’ll all pretend freezing is what was intended by this prompt. have some early days john :>

“Katma, I am sending this message out with what little energy remains in my ring,” John speaks slowly, cold lips cracking on every word. “I don’t know where I am, only that I do not have much longer to live if you do not help. This planet I’m on is below the temperatures I can survive in, so I need you to come to me, and fast. My ring’s charge is almost up and I am pretty sure I will freeze to death once it gives up.” He pauses, blinks the ice that’s formed over his eyelashes and quietly adds, “know that I love you, pretty lady.” He hopes she finds his call for help soon, because he wasn’t kidding, he doesn’t think he has much time left.

John looks around him, the unknown planet he just woke up on, the barren rocks he is sitting on, the harsh wind sweeping the landscape and the sunless sky above him. His last memories are of him trying to stop a fight in a nearby galaxy, then a blackout followed waking up here, with less than 3% left to his charge. It’s enough to fly off this planet, he knows now, but not enough to get him to earth, or a planet he can survive on. Between freezing to death and choking in space’s great void, he still prefers this option.

It’s not a comfortable one though, nor a sustainable one. He lowered the protective shield the ring conjures around him to the bare minimum, just enough to breathe, in a desperate attempt to let his charge hold longer. Cold has been slowly slipping into his bones, a dry, sharp cold that sinks into his flesh and sips any warmth he feels.

“Ring, internal body temperature?” He asks, shivers running through his limbs, hard enough to make his teeth click.

‘Internal body temperature of 34,5 degrees.’ it answers him smoothly, and John frowns. That has to be dangerously low, right? He rolls unto his feet with great labors and stumbles toward a higher block of rocks, falls behind them and sighs as the harsh, freezing winds stop hitting his face, his body. He watches the cloud of condensation that rises in front of his face, sudden anxiety seizing him.

He does not want to die here, he has so many things to do still. He has projects with his practice he wants to work on, to build and see for himself, and friends to see, colleagues and fellow heroes to meet and talk with, and there are kids in his neighborhood he’s helping with for a school project. His mom wants to see him next Sunday and he said he’d come, he even planned the flowers he wants to bring her. And there’s Katma, too, Katma who he still has so much to tell. Karma, with her determined eyes and gentle hands, Katma who smiles so beautifully.

John wants to cry, he wants to yell, he wants to do something, anything, to get off this damn planet and back to the people he loves. He hates how helpless he feels. All he can do is try to not clench his jaw, to not make the shivers worse and wrap his arms around his chest, rubbing the palm of his hands over his ribs in a vain attempt to warm himself. He closes his eyes, just for a moment, just to take a breath in.

When he opens them again, his hands are stuck to his uniform, sweat frozen against the green and black. He cries out and jerks back, tugging them with as much strength as he can muster. When he manages to peel them off, he finds his fingers freezing, so much so that they went blue, all the blood pushed out and replaced by sharp, painful cold. He doesn’t feel his lips anymore, nor his feet.

“No!” He cries out, or tries to, because his throat is dry and cold too and it’s hard to talk. He doesn’t feel himself shivering anymore, despite watching as his hands and arms shake right in front of his eyes.

“R-ring-” he stutters slowly, “ch-charge?”

‘Ring charge at 1%’ That- that’s not good. Not good at all. There’s something else he wants to asks, needs to, but he can’t remember what it is. Everything feels sluggish, his thoughts slow and hard to pull on, like thick clay slipping through his fingers. ‘Internal body temperature of 31 degrees.’

That’s bad too, pretty bad. His body shakes again, and he winces at a sharp sting over his face. He raises a shaky, uncoordinated hand to his cheek, and frowns when he pulls back wet fingers.

When he turns his head to look at his other hand, it feels like no time and an eternity went by. He finds it gloveless, just like his entire arm. He’s no longer in his costume, but instead in the short-sleeved shirt he wore before he went off Earth. It’s not so bad, he thinks, because he’s warm, pretty warm even, and the winds against his feverish limbs and face feel good.

He’s closing his eyes again, too tired to keep looking at the boring and grey stones all around him, when his ring lights up, and there’s a voice speaking to him but he can’t catch the words. Only that the voice is smooth, and calming, and that it’s saying ‘hold on’, and ‘coming’ before it cuts off. He thinks it’s important, it has to be, but he can’t figure out why, nor can he fight against his body, how heavy it feels, how tired he is.

His head falls on the rocks behind him as the voice fades out.

[yourlunarspice]

Lunar's Whumptober of Suffering (2022) Masterlist

The following masterlist contains every fic from Whumptober (October 1-31). Fics will be color-coded based on rating. All the prompts have been fulfilled, but the individual prompts in bold are the official titles

1. An Honest Mistake | Mature, 710 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Tamaki Amajiki, Eijiro Kirishima, Fat Gum

"Yeah, our Suneater's got some serious talent. His mental game needs work, but he's as strong as a Pro! Right?"

Tamaki wanted to curl in on himself as the crowd around them erupted. The sound alone was enough to make him want to hide in his cape.

He almost did, then he heard Fat Gum's shout.

"He's got a gun! Down!"

Prompts:

A Little Out Of The Ordinary

Adverse Effects

Unconventional Restraints

"This wasn't supposed to happen"

2. Nowhere To Run | Teen & Up, 691 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Izuku Midorya, All Might, All For One mentioned

Toshinori gasped for breath as his legs struggled to keep up their frantic pace. He coughed wetly, blood spraying across the dirty brick walls surrounding him.

He had no idea how long he'd been running, but he knew that he couldn't keep it up for much longer.

Prompts:

Nowhere To Run

Cornered

Caged

Confrontation

3. In The Spotlight | General, 462 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Neito Monoma, Setsuna Tokage

Neito pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he walked towards the prop house. "Ah, it's so good to be back," he said grandly. "There's no place like home!"

The scene shifted in an instant, thanks to multiple Quirks working in tandem. Neito found himself walking into a somewhat sparse house. He quickly spied Tokage working in the kitchen and walked towards her. "Katniss, my love!"

Prompts:

Hair's Breadth From Death

Gun to Temple

"Say goodbye"

Impaled

4. Lilac Insomniac | Mature, 2,336 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Hitoshi Shinsou, Eijiro Kirishima, Shouta Aizawa, Eri

It took him a second to remember what had happened, but when he did, he cringed.

He'd been climbing up the scarf without a mat underneath him. He'd lost his grip and...

As if on cue, Hitoshi felt dampness making his hair sticky. He reached up a hand, startled when it came back bloody.

That wasn't supposed to happen.

Prompts:

Dead On Your Feet

Hidden Injury

Waking Up Disoriented

Can't Pass Out

5. A Heated Situation And A Frosty Reception | Teen & Up, 1,110 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Eijiro Kirishima, Shouta Aizawa, Katsuki Bakugou, Neito Monoma, Background & Camero Characters

According to Mr. Aizawa's debrief, there had been thirty-three cases of heat exhaustion (four of which were severe), twelve students with other injuries, and two students missing in action.

Eijiro didn't need to hear one of the names. He'd been texting Bakugou for the last hour.

But hearing his name made Eijiro grit his teeth.

This was just like the summer camp.

Eijiro couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

Prompts:

Every Whumpee's Needs

Blood Loss Touch-Starved

Running Out of Air Sensory Overload

Hyperthermia (excessively hot, not cold)

6. The Other Side Of The Hall | Mature, 1,164 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 4 of Denki needs therapy Part 1 of Kacchan needs therapy Main Character(s): Katsuki Bakugou, Denki Kaminari, Mr. Compress

Dammit, how the fuck did I get kidnapped, again?!

Katsuki wasn't sure where he was or how long he'd been here, but he was certain of one thing: Kaminari was here with him.

Prompts:

Proof Of Life

Ransom Video

"I've got a pulse"

Screams from Across the Hall

7. Shaky Business | Mature, 1,256 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Aizawa Shouta, Hizashi Yamada, Original Male Character

As the ground approached the ornate door at the end of the hallway, one of the guards sped up slightly so that he could hold the door open for Shouta.

He nodded a 'thanks' before entering Adachi's office.

The man was seated in his chair behind a polished wooden desk. He looked up and caught Shouta off guard with a bright smile. "Ah! You must be Shirakumo, right?"

Adachi extended a hand, which Shouta hesitantly gripped and shook. "That's right, sir. Oboro Shirakumo."

Prompts:

The Way You Shake And Shiver

Shaking Hands

Seizures

Silent Panic Attack

8. I don't need help (but I'll take it anyway) | Teen & Up, 1,409 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Neito Monoma, Itsuka Kendo

During lunch, Neito approached Yaoyorozu's table and began waxing poetic about how his class was better than theirs.

It was true, of course, but he liked to rub it in from time to time. Just to put them in their places.

Yaoyorozu twitched slightly as Neito patted the top of her head condescendingly. He grabbed onto her Quirk, still smiling.

Prompts:

Everything Hurts And I'm Dying

Stomach Pain

Head Trauma

Back from the Dead

9. The 'Eligible' Bachelor | General, 528 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Mina Ashido, Shoto Todoroki

Mina looked back over the expanse of other students laid out on futons in the middle of the common room.

When she'd suggested a sleepover party a few weeks ago, this was not what she had in mind.

Prompts:

The Very Noisy Night

Sleeping in Shifts

Tossing and Turning

Caught in a Storm

10. Her Favorite Time Of Day | Mature, 1,749 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Himiko Toga, Tomura Shigaraki, Ambiguous Character

Himiko giggled as she skipped down the hall toward the special room. She heard Tomura's annoyed sigh from behind her, but she didn't care.

It was her favorite time of day!

Prompts:

Poor Unfortunate Souls

Taser

Whipping

Waterboarding

11. A Spark Of Hope | Mature, 1,347 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Kyoka Jiro, Denki Kaminari, Original Male Character A sequel to Toxic Love

The first thing that Kyoka noticed when she woke up was that her head was killing her.

She groaned and attepted to bring a hand to her head to assess the damage, but her limbs wouldn't respond correctly.

Prying her eyes open, she was met with absolute darkness.

Prompts:

"911, What's Your Emergency?"

Sloppy Bandages

Self-Done First Aid

Makeshift Splint

12. "It's all my fault" | Mature, 2,138 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Denki Kaminari, Eijiro Kirishima, Ochako Uraraka, Toru Hagakure, Hanta Sero, Mina Ashido, Shouta Aizawa, Power Loader

Without warning, Sero marched up to Denki and punched him in the jaw.

The rest of their friends exploded, some attempting to restrain Sero, and others helping Denki to his feet.

Denki could only gape at his friend. "What the hell, man? What was that for?"

"This entire fuck-up of a midnight hangout was your idea, Kaminari! Now, we're stuck in here while the villains are outside, just waiting for us to come out so they can ambush us again. We're fucked!" He glared at Denki as he shrugged Uraraka's and Hagakure's hands off him. "'What could go wrong?' you asked after suggesting this whole damned trip."

Denki swallowed the lump in his throat.

"We should have never listened to you." Sero spat.

Prompts:

What Could Go Wrong?

"Mayday, mayday, mayday!"

Cave In

Rusty Nail Ambushed

13. Breaking The Unbreakable | Mature, 1,736 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Eijiro Kirishima, Daruma Ujiko, Shouta Aizawa, Nomu, Tomura Shigaraki

Eijiro groaned as he drifted into consciousness, the room bright around him.

Had he forgotten to turn the lights off before going to sleep again?

He tried to rock into a sitting position but found that he couldn't move his body. "The hell...?" he slurred, sleep making his tongue feel fuzzy.

Or, maybe that wasn't because of sleep.

Maybe it was because of the IV.

Prompts:

Can't Make An Omelette Without Breaking A Few Legs

Fracture

Dislocation

"Are you here to break me out?"

14. Desperate Times And Desperate Measures | Mature, 717 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Tamaki Amajiki, Mirio Togata, Eri

"AH!"

A sudden pain deep in his chest brought him back to consciousness.

"Mirio...?" he gasped.

Something was wrong.

Tamaki wasn't sure how he knew... but he just did.

Prompts:

Die A Hero Or Live Long Enough To Become A Villain

Desperate Measures

Failed Escape

"I'll be right behind you"

15. This Is Why | Mature, 1,504 words, 7/7 Chapters Main Character(s): Shoto Todoroki

I don't normally journal my thoughts, but Hanta thought it might help me. I hope it does.

Today, my father tried to contact me again.

I mention him continuing to train me once, and now he won't let it go.

I've started having the nightmares again. The ones where he's burning me alive and I can't do a damn thing about it.

I haven't told anyone about it, but I think some people have an idea what I haven't been sleeping well. Midoriya said I looked even more tired than Shinsou.

Prompts:

Emotional Damage

Lies

New Scars

Breathing Through the Pain

16. Inevitable Tragedy | Mature, 2,042 words, 3/3 Chapters Main Character(s): Hitoshi Shinsou, Shouta Aizawa, Original Male Character

The lights of the city looked so small from Hitoshi's vantage point.

He threw the end of his scarf out, mirroring Aizawa's, and both leapt through the air again.

He was grateful that the underground hero had taken him on as an intern, but anxiety bubbled throughout his body, keeping him on edge.

It was his first time chasing villains with his mentor.

Prompts:

No Way Out

Mind Control

Paralytic Drugs

"No one's coming"

17. A Selfless Idiot | Mature, 2,265 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Shouta Aizawa, All Might, Katsuki Bakugou, Izuku Midoriya

Katsuki heard Deku's footsteps behind him, which made him grit his teeth. He knew he had to tolerate him, but it still felt like they were back in elementary school and he was chasing after him, no matter how many times Katsuki pushed him away.

The footsteps grew closer, and Katsuki balled his hand into a fist to keep from lashing out.

As much as he hated it, they had to at least work beside each other - because there was no way he was going to work with shitty Deku - which meant no attacking him.

To his great disappointment.

There was a heavy blow to the back of his head, and the world went dark before Katuski had the chance to feel the asphalt against his face.

Prompts:

Hanging By A Threat

Breaking Point

Stress Positions

Reluctant Caretaker

18. An IcyHot Date | General, 1,300 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Kyoka Jiro, Shoto Todoroki

Kyoka pulled on her usual leather jacket and considered her reflection critically.

She wasn't particularly nervous, but she wasn't really excited either.

Maybe she should go without the jacket?

She could hear Mina's voice in her head, saying, "Jiro, that jacket completely clashes with that outfit! Don't you dare wear that on a date, especially with Todoroki!"

Prompts:

Let's Break The Ice

"Just get it over with"

Treading Water

"Take my coat"

19. Side Effects | Teen & Up, 1,798 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 1 of Anger Management Main Character(s): Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, Shoto Todoroki

He didn't even want to go to the dumbass therapist, but that was mandatory too, so he sucked it up.

It was all fucking bullshit that he wished he could be done with.

All because he had one little eruption that ended with a student or two (or four) in the infirmary.

And a collapsed wall.

And a fire.

Fucking fuck.

Prompts:

Enough Is Enough

Knees Buckling

Repeatedly Passing Out

Head Lolling

20. Imprisoned By Déjà Vu | Mature, 2,094 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 5 of Denki needs therapy Part 2 of Kacchan needs therapy Main Character(s): Katsuki Bakugou, Shouta Aizawa, Class 1-A, Original Male Character

In his head, Katsuki knew that he should be yelling at them, stomping up to his room, and avoiding everyone.

But his mind was numb.

His body wouldn't cooperate.

More tears trickled down his cheeks, but he didn't even have the strength to sniffle.

He could only stare at his classmates surrounding him.

Prompts:

It's Been A Long Day

Going into Shock

Fetal Position

Prisoner Trade Made to Watch

21. Don't Worry | Mature, 2,579 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 1 of Broken Candycane Main Character(s): Shoto Todoroki, Endeavor, Touya Todoroki, Hanta Sero

Endeavor had been in one of his moods for a while now. It had been so long that his siblings had gotten hurt as well.

Then again, that was par for the course with Endeavor.

It wasn't their fault that Endeavor had a rotten day at work, or that one of his sidekicks irritated him, or any of the seemingly trivial things that angered their father.

But they all knew that Endeavor didn't see it like that.

Prompts:

Famous Last Words

Coughing Up Blood

"You're safe now"

"Take me instead"

22. A New Dollhouse | Explicit, 1,652 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 2 of Broken Candycane Main Character(s): Shoto Todoroki, Hanta Sero, Other Characters Mentioned

It was strange, even after a year, this environment was still so much better than with Endeavor.

He had been so lucky that Hanta was there for him.

That Hanta was still here for him.

Hanta had saved him from Endeavor.

And he was still working hard to save Shoto from the people who were bad for him.

Prompts:

Pick Your Poison

Toxic

Withdrawal

Allergic Reaction Whimpering

23. Curse Of Obedience | Explicit, 2,445 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Neito Monoma, Hitoshi Shinsou, Katsuki Bakugou

Before he knew it, soft footsteps behind him revealed that he wasn't alone. "What is this about?" Shinsou asked hesitantly.

He had a guarded look on his face and he was tense. Neito offered him an easy-going smile. "How'd you like to humiliate Bakugou?"

Shinsou raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

Prompts:

At The End Of Their Rope

Forced to Kneel

Tied to a Table

"Hold them down"

24. Dreams vs. Nightmares | Mature, 846 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Hanta Sero

"Hey!" he shouted as he stepped out of the sunlight. "Hands where I can see 'em!"

He could hear something dripping deeper in the alley, but the visor on his helmet was tinted, making it seem almost pitch-black.

Cautiously removing the helmet, Hanta inched forward until he saw what had happened.

He froze.

Prompts:

Fight, Flight, Or Freeze

Blood-Covered Hands

"I don't want to do this anymore"

Catatonic

25. Silence | Mature, 1,648 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Hizashi Yamada, Tomura Shigaraki, Dabi, Himiko Toga

Adrenaline roared through his veins, temporarily easing his massive headache. Hizashi felt around his mouth, hoping his gut instinct wasn't true.

Unfortunately, it was.

A rough, metal muzzle was fitted snugly over the lower half of his face.

Prompts:

Silence Is Golden

Lost Voice

Duct Tape

"You better start talking"

26. A Final Goodbye | Teen & Up, 410 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Eijiro Kirishima, Mina Ashido, Hanta Sero, Denki Kaminari, Kyoka Jiro A sequel to "Who died and left you in charge?"

The world was a blur to Eijiro.

Nothing made sense anymore.

He blinked and found himself surrounded by all of his friends.

Well... almost all of his friends.

Prompts:

No One Left Behind

Separated

Rope Burns

"Why did you save me?"

27. Raising The Voltage | Teen & Up, 541 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Denki Kaminari A sequel to "Do you need a break?"

There were some days when Denki really hated his life.

He didn't normally feel dread from the moment he woke up in the morning, but today was different.

Mr. Aizawa had mentioned how beneficial everyone's raining had been at the summer camp last year - before it had turned into a poisonous, blue inferno - and wanted to raise the bar even higher.

And apparently, UA had access to every string anyone could possibly pull, because Denki was staring at the largest battery he'd ever seen.

Seriously, the thing was almost as tall as he was.

Prompts:

Pushed To The Limit

Muffled Screams

Stumbling

Magical (read:Quirk) Exhaustion

28. Under Pressure | Teen & Up, 1,115 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, Background & Cameo Characters

Katsuki wasn't thinking clearly.

His entire body tingled with adrenaline. His blood was pumping through his veins.

"DAMMIT!" Katsuki screamed as he punched the closest thing to him: the nearby wall.

He felt something crunch! deep inside his hand, but ignored it.

He needed to find Kirishima.

Prompts:

It's Just The Tip Of The Iceberg

Anger Borne of Worry

Punching the Wall

Headache

29. A Better Hero (Hopefully) | General, 543 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Hitoshi Shinsou, Shouta Aizawa

What doesn't kill me makes me a better hero.

What doesn't kill me makes me a better hero.

What doesn't kill me makes me a better hero, Hitoshi repeated the mantra to himself.

It had been a rough couple of days.

Prompts:

What Doesn't Kill Me...

Sleep Deprivation

Defiance Carried to Safety

"Better me than you"

30. The Many Deaths Of Neito Monoma | Teen & Up, 982 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Neito Monoma, Kai Chisaki

Neito didn't think his life would end up like this.

It had just been a normal day. A normal day full of taunting Class A at school.

It wasn't supposed to go this way.

Prompts:

Note To Self: Don't Get Kidnapped

Manhandled

Hair-Grabbing

"Please don't touch me"

31. A Hard Pill To Swallow | General, 762 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 2 of Anger Management Main Character(s): Katsuki Bakugou, Chiyo Shuuzenji, Shoto Todoroki

His groan returned as he blearily opened his eyes and saw the kissing witch next to him.

Oh yeah, that's right, because fucking IcyHot brought him to the infirmary.

His middle finger lifted instinctively as he turned away from the centuries-old woman.

And came face-to-face with fucking Half-'n'-Half.

Prompts:

A Light At The End Of The Tunnel

Comfort

Bedside Vigil

"You can rest now" Emergency Blanket

[robinrites]

Day Five: Best-Worst Bad Guy

Happy Whumptober Day 5!

Prompts: Every Whumpee's Needs, Blood Loss, Running out of Air, Hyperthermia

TW: Suffocation, gunshot wound, heat stroke, hallucinations, water deprivation.

Villain knew it was only a matter of time before this happened. They held their right hand against their left shoulder as they darted down the hallway, occasionally stealing glances at their pursuers. They pulled their hand away for a moment, only to see it was covered in their blood. 

“Fuck.” They whispered before pressing their hand back over where they had been shot.  

“You can run but you can’t hide Villain,” Supervillain called as she followed them down the hallway. 

Villain ducked into one of the empty labs along the hallway and hid out of sight as best as they could. They held their breath as they heard Supervillain’s heels click on the floor, then paused at the door to the room they were currently hiding in. Seconds passed, Villain held in their breath, afraid even the tiniest noise would alert their pursuer of their location. As Supervillain’s heels clicked away, Villain let out a sigh of relief. They went to inhale, but suddenly found all the air had been sucked from their lungs. As they gasped for air, they couldn’t help but want to cry. 

“Tt, foolish Villain.” Supervillain’s shoes clacked as she came back towards where Villain was hiding. “Have you forgotten what I’m capable of?” Even if Villain wanted to respond, they weren’t sure they had the air to do so. “Show yourself if you want to breathe again.” Villain felt their face turn blue, their lungs burned for air. Somehow they stumbled back out into the hallway, and the air rushed back to their lungs. Villain took gasping, shuddering breaths as they tried to regulate their breathing again. 

“Fuck you.” They panted, mentally promising themselves they would flip Supervillain off once they could focus on anything but being suffocated. 

Supervillain squatted down to where Villain was kneeling and tilted their chin upward, “To think I took you under my wing.” Supervillain spat in their face, then sneered, “I think it’s high time you relearned some manners.” 

Two guards, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, each grab one of Villain’s arms, quickly dragging them away from Supervillain. Villain wants to fight so desperately, but one look in Supervillain’s eyes reminds them of what will happen if they try to escape again. If only suffocation got easier each time it happened. 

Villain feels a pinprick in their neck as Supervillain begins to walk away. The guards are smart like that. Without the threat of suffocation, what else would keep them in line? They numbly register being dragged down several flights of stairs. Villain knows this will hurt later, they’ll probably be bruised from it, but what else can they do? Their limbs feel heavy, almost as if they were lined with lead. The lights get dimmer and dimmer as they descend levels until finally they have reached sub-basement 3. 

Villain barely registers being tossed in a cell, or the fact that they are now chained to the wall with barely any wiggle room. They want to call after the guards, maybe bribe them, but their mouth refuses to open. Words die in their throat before they can hit their lips. 

When they wake up the next morning, the first thing they notice is the intense heat. All the moisture is gone from Villain’s mouth, and there isn’t a single drop of water in sight. Villain goes to rub their eyes, which are itching from how dry they are, only to be reminded that they are chained to a wall. They let their head roll backwards for a second, hoping it’ll help them collect their thoughts. It doesn’t. 

“Hello?” They call, as loud as they can. “Hey I think you guys left the heater on!” Villain tugs experimentally against their chains to no avail. “What’s a person gotta do to get some water around here?” They try to joke, but the lack of moisture makes Villain cough over the sound of any response. “Hello?” They drop their head, sweat rolling down their forehead in droves. “Fuck! Okay I’ve learned my lesson, I’ll be a good little villain now just please! Can I at least get some water?” 

They are about to give up on yelling, when they hear the sound of a lock turning in the door. A guard storms in, face red with rage, and he’s carrying what looks like a water bowl for a dog. He sets it in front of them, then crosses his arms. 

“Will this get ya to shut up?” 

“Yes! Oh gods yes please thank you!” They wait expectantly for the guard to uncuff them so they can drink, but he doesn’t make any moves to do so. “Can I be uncuffed so I can drink please?” 

“Ha!” The guard rolls his eyes, then kicks the bowl a little closer with his foot, spilling precious water. “Boss lady said she wants you trained, so we’re startin’ with the basics. Eatin’ from a bowl.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“I could jus’ take the water away if that’ll make you happy.” 

“No!” Villain shouts, “I’m sorry, please don’t.” They awkwardly bend forward until their head is inches from the bowl of water, wincing at the strain this position puts on their arms. They take a sip of the water and almost spit it out when they realize it’s warm. They force themself to swallow, then steal a glance up at the guard. 

“Somethin’ wrong?” 

“The water it’s-” 

“Warm? I’m aware.” He laughs cruelly, “We’re sweatin’ the goody-two-shoes out of ya. Now drink up before I take it away.” 

Villain bites back a cry before returning to the warm water. They drink the whole bowl, feeling slightly less parched than before, but still craving crisp cool water. The man picks up the bowl, then glares at Villain one more time. 

“Aren’t ya forgetting something?” 

“Thank you for the water.” They drop their head, both as a sign of respect and a sign of exhaustion. Satisfied, the man exits the cell, quickly locking it behind him. 

Villain wants to bang their head against the wall behind them. They want to cry so badly. Their throat begins to choke up from holding in the tears, but they know crying would waste precious water. Eventually, the urge to cry disappears, replaced by a new feeling: fear. They aren’t sure how long they’ve been sitting in the cell, possibly a couple hours. 

All they are sure about is how hot it is. Villain’s heart feels like it’s been moving a thousand miles per hour, and they feel absolutely drenched in sweat. Villain pities whoever will walk into the room next, even though they are numb to the stench of their sweat, they are positive this room reeks. Villain spots a figure in the room, when did the door open? 

A warm glow surrounds the other person in the room. Villain can’t help but smile as they take in the glittering nest of curls resting atop this new person’s head, as if it was a halo. They watch this woman step closer to them, then they feel her hand cup their cheek. So faint it’s almost as if she wasn’t really there. She laughs, was it something I said? Villain doesn’t remember saying anything, but why would this person laugh if nothing was said? 

“Help me.” Villain manages to sputter out, but the person just smiles, then turns to go. Villain tugs as hard as they can on their bindings. “Wait! Please don’t leave me! I’ll be good-er bad! I’ll be the best-worst bad villain there ever was….” Villain shakes their head, “I’m getting all mixed up now aren’t I?” The woman grabs the door handle and pulls it open, then walks into a white light. What happened to the corridor outside? The guard? 

The sound of the door creaking open snaps them back into reality. Was it really all fake? A caped figure sneaks into the cell, quickly scanning it for any threats or weaknesses before focusing on Villain. They move the hood so it no longer obscures their face, only to reveal the woman from Villain’s hallucination. 

“Villain?!”

[tarlos-spain]

Whumptober Day 8

Prompt: No. 8 EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS

Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia

Fandom: 9-1-1 Lone Star

Pairing: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand

Title: Trapped in the amber of the moment

Chapter 4

A coughing fit woke TK up, he took a moment before opening his eyes, his chest hurt because of the coughing and he felt his whole body exhausted and without any desire to leave the dream world.

He noticed that he had an oxygen cannula on his face that was no doubt helping him breathe and a via put in his arm that hurt when he tried to move it.

"TK?" It was his father's voice. "TK, son can you hear me?" he didn't sound scared to death as if he had spent several days in a coma on the verge of death, like the last time after the ice accident. "TK, the doctors have told me to talk to you as soon as I notice you are waking up so you can concentrate on my voice."

"Dad..."

"That's it. Can you open your eyes for me?"

"It hurts... my leg."

"I know. But I need you to open your eyes and look at me."

It was complicated to do, painful and exhausting. He needed to take his time, but in the end he managed to do it. The light in the room dazzled him and he closed his eyes again protesting. But a moment later he tried again, opened his eyes and looked around.

Owen was there, sitting next to the bed and he didn't need to ask how long he had been in the hospital, his father hadn't been home for a couple of days, he had deep circles under his eyes and seemed about to fall asleep as soon as he knew his son was out of danger. Was he out of danger?

Then he realized Carlos wasn't there. He knew he had a head injury, he was sure he had a concussion, maybe something worse. But he couldn't imagine what could be so bad as to keep him away from him. There couldn't be anything that bad, could there? Why then wasn't he there with him?

"Hmmm dad." TK muttered looking around in case his boyfriend was in the bathroom or hiding in the closet...being stuck in the closet was better than the idea that something horrible had happened to Carlos. "Carlos, where is Carlos, something bad happened to him right?

"TK, you're awake, that's the most important thing now."

Again he tried to move, Carlos had to be somewhere, but as he did so and tried to move a single inch of his body, his leg protested, although it was perfectly tucked in and locked, but it still hurt terribly, plus there was the pain in his chest from breathing and his abdomen, although he didn't even know why.

Plus he felt weak, wanting to go back to sleep, being unconscious seemed better than what he was feeling right now.

"TK, sh. rest now, you need it." Owen told him.

"No, dad... Carlos... was, with me... he wasn't feeling well... He's bad... hurt right? I know he's not well."

Moving a little more, he felt nauseous. Owen put his hand on his shoulder.

Keep Reading in AO3

@lire-casander @morganaspendragonss @chaotictarlos @noxsoulmate @rangergurlgleek1211

[secret-bug-pain-blog]

A quick overview of our Whumptober project, because it'll probably be best to keep that somewhere. We'll reblog with updates, maybe.

OVERALL COUNT: 7/93 prompts filled

No. 1 A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY (1/3)

Adverse Effects

Partially written, sketched. One-shot, more to the "comfort" side of hurt/comfort than anything.

Unconventional Restraints

Complete - read on AO3 at We Just Need To Talk.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen”

Partially written - events somewhat shaky, currently being worked with in order to make it Make Sense.

No. 2 NOWHERE TO RUN (1/3)

Cornered

Not written, but idea is done.

Caged

Complete - read on AO3 at Misstep.

Confrontation

No idea what this is going to be. Not started.

No. 3 A HAIR’S BREADTH FROM DEATH (0/3)

Gun to Temple

We don't know what to do with this one. Current ideas are Shadowrun AU, substituting weapon, and crossover. Still no idea who it would apply to. Not started.

“Say goodbye.”

Have floated a few ideas, but generally, not started.

Impaled

We know exactly what we'll be doing with this, but it's still not started.

No. 4 DEAD ON YOUR FEET (0/3)

Hidden Injury

Some ideas floated. Some writing done. We have very specific imagery, but not much in the way of plot. Like, three lines written.

Waking Up Disoriented

Two ideas, one partially written, one not. Partially written leans into full-on NSFWhump, unwritten would share a universe with Impaled. Leaning towards swapping to unwritten as partially written is in the universe of a longer-form fic we still intend to finish and publish and would work better presented after that one's publishing.

Can’t Pass Out

Vibes only on this one. We know what we want to do, it's just we haven't worked out how to do it. Not started.

No. 5 EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS (0/3)

Blood Loss

We know vaguely what we want to do with this, but not... accurately what we want to do with this.

Running Out of Air

Character roulette! We know what, but not who, which means this is not started.

Hyperthermia

We have technically written this one out, but it sucked ass, so if we release it it'll probably be in some kind of snips work with a whole bunch of other unfinished scenes for random works. New version is partially written.

No. 6 PROOF OF LIFE (0/3)

Ransom Video

Idea written down, full plot yet to be outlined. We have the bare bones of a plot, but it's still not started. Depending on how writing goes, may end up multi-chapter.

“I’ve got a pulse”

Outlined, and we know what we're doing with it, but the writing part hasn't happened yet. Will eventually be a three-parter, with one chapter for "I've got a pulse", one chapter for Back from the Dead, and one chapter for Separated. May be separated into different works for the sake of easier reading in the series, but would have to work at making fics easier to read standalone, as this one is more setup and likely would need work to make it... not setup. Funky posting schedule to make it slightly more like "DLC" for the rest of the series, maybe?

Screams from Across the Hall

Yeah, we have no clue what we're gonna do with this. Not started.

No. 7 THE WAY YOU SHAKE AND SHIVER (0/3)

Shaking Hands

We just don't know! We've gotta decide on a character first, and that'll be a big 'ol pain in the ass. Not started.

Seizures

For perspective on exactly how not started this is, literally the only notes we have regarding this prompt anywhere are "Zasp?" in our Scrivner synopsis section. Not started.

Silent Panic Attack

Another character roulette! We don't know who this would apply to, which also means we don't have the plot. Not started.

No. 8 EVERYTHING HURTS AND I’M DYING (0/3)

Stomach Pain

We have a plot, and we've written a few lines for it. Links up with Headache.

Head Trauma

Not too sure who this'll apply to. Not too sure what the plot'll be. Not started.

Back from the Dead

Part 2/3 of the three-parter with "I've got a pulse" and Separated. This is going to be a genuine pain in the ass to write, simply because the formatting required is easier to do with a physical piece of paper than a computer. Not started, but outlined.

No. 9 THE VERY NOISY NIGHT (0/3)

Sleeping in Shifts

We know what we want to write, we just haven't written it. Not started.

Tossing and Turning

Another character roulette! We'll have an idea of what we want once we've picked who we want, but for now it's just not started.

Caught in a Storm

Partially written, fully outlined, but one of the ones that... mutated. This will be five chapters once it's done, but we won't post it until Imbalance is done because we refuse to have more than one multi-chapter WIP posted at any given time.

No. 10 POOR UNFORTUNATE SOULS (0/3)

Taser

We know what we're doing here, but we haven't written it. Not started.

Whipping

Fully outlined, partially written, we need to define an end point here because we doubt we'll be able to bring it to a natural-feeling end otherwise.

Waterboarding

Partially done, really needs some extra smoothing-over so it flows properly. Two illustrations sketched for this.

No. 11 “911, WHAT’S YOUR EMERGENCY?” (0/3)

Sloppy Bandages

Partially written, most of the way there - we're actually fairly proud of our writing here so far! One-shot, left open enough to accommodate a sequel. Hurt, no comfort.

Self-Done First Aid

We know the concept, we just haven't really... done much with it yet? We've written one snip for this, but it doesn't hit the sort of resigned, bitter notes we want it to hit, so we're probably gonna rewrite it later. Looking to be a fairly short one-shot.

Makeshift Splint

Character roulette, again! We don't know who would fit here, we don't know what situation would work, it's not started.

No. 12 WHAT COULD GO WRONG? (0/3)

“Mayday, mayday!”

No clue on this one, either. Not started.

Cave In

Partially written, and looking to be fairly long by the time it's done. Stealth crossover, potential second part later in order to address consequences.

Rusty Nail

We have, like, three ideas for this, and they all boil down to "can we reformat this a bit?" followed by painful transformation.

No. 13 CAN’T MAKE AN OMELETTE WITHOUT BREAKING A FEW LEGS (1/3)

Fracture

Our notes on this are "Vi legfucker fic" and we feel no need to clarify that beyond that. Not started.

Dislocation

We have no clue who we're applying this to or what the plot would be. Not started.

“Are you here to break me out?”

Done! It'll probably be the first you see of False Convict Kina, since we doubt we'll post her actual fic before this one-shot.

No. 14 DIE A HERO OR LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO BECOME A VILLAIN (0/3)

Desperate Measures

Character roulette again! Not started but we have, like, half a dozen different possibilities based on who we pick out.

Failed Escape

Partially written, but very rough! We need to neaten up and clarify the entire latter half of it.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

Yeah, we have no idea, again. Not started.

No. 15 EMOTIONAL DAMAGE (0/3)

Lies

Again, character roulette. Once we figure out who it's about, the rest will come fairly easily, but as is... Not started.

New Scars

Our draft document for this is currently 6,296 words long. It is not done. We have recently had to discard a massive chunk of scene from this. We hope this is a clear enough sign for what the hell and fuck is going down there.

Breathing through the Pain

We've got an idea of plot, but we won't know what we're doing with that plot until we pick out a character. Not started.

No. 16 NO WAY OUT (1/3)

Mind Control

We know the plot, we know who this is about, we just haven't started working on it. Not started.

Paralytic Drugs

Complete - read on AO3 at Time Out.

“No one’s coming.”

We have the plot, but it's not started.

No. 17 HANGING BY A THREAT (0/3)

Breaking Point

Yet another character roulette! Who we pick will determine the plot, so like many others, this is not started.

Stress Positions

We know the plot in vagueries, we just haven't outlined or written this yet. Not started.

Reluctant Caretaker

Oh, we know exactly what we're doing here, and we're looking forward to it so much. Not started, but we're excited to finalize the details and start work!

No. 18 LET’S BREAK THE ICE (1/3)

“Just get it over with.”

This has been finished! Hasn't been posted yet, as we don't have an illustration. We'll put the AO3 link here once we Do post it.

Treading Water

Vague plot, but nothing concrete. Everything in this day'll be Selkie Stuff. Not started.

“Take my Coat”

Y'know how everything in this day is Selkie Stuff? Our potential character list for this is a lot shorter, but it's still on character roulette, and once we clear that up we can start working on plot.

No. 19 ENOUGH IS ENOUGH (0/3)

Knees Buckling

Character roulette, again! Not started.

Repeatedly Passing Out

We have a few interesting ideas for this one, but it's still character roulette and very not-final. Not started.

Head Lolling

More or less, same situation as everything else in Day 19. We'll have something more solid once we've picked a who.

No. 20 IT’S BEEN A LONG DAY (0/3)

Going into Shock

You're probably tired of hearing this by now, but hey! Here we go again! Once we decide who this'll feature, it'll be a lot easier to write. Not started.

Fetal Position

We have some vague ideas for this, but nothing concrete. Not started.

Prisoner Trade

Oh boy, do we have a plot for this! Not started, and we need to solidify details, but it'll be So fun to play with.

No. 21 FAMOUS LAST WORDS (0/3)

Coughing up Blood

Partially written, but what we have so far is a bit rough, so we might rework it a bit. We know the plot, so...

“You’re safe now.”

Partially written, again! The concept we're using's a bit old, here, but we're still working with it.

“Take me instead.”

Partially written, but this is one of the ones that... mutated. We're not sure how many chapters this'll end up being, but it's looking like 3-4 minimum? Again, likely to be delayed on posting because we don't want multiple multi-chapter fics up and running at the same time.

No. 22 PICK YOUR POISON (0/3)

Toxic

We know vaguely what we're doing, plot's still a bit up in the air. Not started.

Withdrawal

We know exactly what we're doing here, but again, details are still up in the air. Not started.

Allergic Reaction

We have a concept, but literally everything else is Not Solid. Not started.

No. 23 AT THE END OF THEIR ROPE (0/3)

Forced to Kneel

We actually have two ideas for this, one with some dialogue written out, one not started, both in the same universe.

Tied to a Table

We have vague ideas for this, but nothing concrete. Not started.

“Hold them down.”

This one is partially written, and just needs some gaps filled and the rough edges smoothed out.

No. 24 FIGHT, FLIGHT OR FREEZE (0/3)

Blood Covered Hands

Once we decide who this is about, we'll sure be capable of figuring out a plot, probably. Not started.

Catatonic

We have. No clue. Our only thing that might fit is part of a longerform fic. Not started.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

The only one from this day where we have even a vague idea of what we're doing! Not started, also character roulette.

No. 25 SILENCE IS GOLDEN (0/3)

Lost Voice

We know exactly what we're doing and who we're doing it to! Would be great if we had a plot with that. Not started.

Duct Tape

Veeeery loose interpretation, but we know vaguely what we're doing. Sadly, another victim of character roulette. Not started.

“You better start talking.”

We have a very, very loose idea of what's going on here. Not started.

No. 26 NO ONE LEFT BEHIND (0/3)

Separated

Final part of the trilogy with "I've got a pulse" and Back from the Dead! Just thinking of the CSS we'll need to use to make this godsforsaken fic work on AO3 gives us hives. Not started.

Rope Burns

Partially done, we're mostly shoving stuff around in the outline to make a coherent fic outline atm.

“Why did you save me?”

Also partially written, this time with two whole partially written alternate takes on the same thing! Trying to make this flow properly has been killing us.

No. 27 PUSHED TO THE LIMIT (0/3)

Muffled Screams

We don't know what we're doing or who we're doing it to. Not started.

Stumbling

Exact same problem. Not started.

Magical Exhaustion

Despite having a potential character pool of, like, three people for this, we still have no idea what we're doing here, and it's still not started.

No. 28 IT’S JUST THE TIP OF THE ICEBERG (1/3)

Anger Born of Worry

Complete - read on AO3 at Matters Of Will And Testament.

Punching the Wall

We regret to inform you we have no clue what the hell we're gonna do here. Not started.

Headache

Partially written, kinda sorta prequel that links up to Stomach Pain.

No. 29 WHAT DOESN’T KILL ME… (1/3)

Sleep Deprivation

Finished! Also finished a sequel/addition. Both pending art before posting.

Defiance

So... this is the one that made us start saying things "mutated". This is 5,069 words long, and recently had to discard a nearly 3k word long scene. It looks like it'll be closer to 25k words when it's finished. This will take forever and we think it may need to be split into chapters just for the sake of AO3's character limit.

“Better me than you.”

We have a vague idea. Not a whole lot more. Not started.

No. 30 NOTE TO SELF: DON’T GET KIDNAPPED (0/3)

Manhandled

We kinda know what we're doing here, but it's a bit up in the air. Not started.

Hair Grabbing

We know exactly what we're writing here, we just haven't written any of it yet. Not started.

“Please don’t touch me.”

Two ideas, neither of them actually with anything done for them yet. Not started.

No. 31 A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL (0/3)

Comfort

We know what we're doing for this exactly! Sequel to "Just get it over with" with the comfort part of that. Not started.

Bedside Vigil

A few vague ideas here, none of them really concrete. We're working on it. Not started.

“You can rest now.”

We know what we're doing for this, again, just haven't written it. Not started.

[starliight-whump]

EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS

James and Harrison - part 6

Whumptober entry: 2

Prompt: No. 5 Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia

Direct follow up to last part, NO WAY OUT.

Previous

CW: paralytic drug, reference to torture, aftermath of torture, non con undressing, nudity (non sexual), non con bathing, creepy whumper, pushed under water, unable to breathe 

~

After what seemed like forever, Harrison finally seemed satisfied and put the knife down, and by this point James was pretty out of it from the pain. He blearily stared up at Harrison, which was all he could do with the paralytic drug still in his system

"Well, that was fun," Harrison commented, and to James' surprise he was scooped up in his arms, which hurt and a quiet whine left his lips. James' head lolled backwards as Harrison carried him out of the room, since he was unable to hold it up. It would have been frustrating if his mind wasn't too foggy from the pain to really care.

To James' surprise, he realized Harrison had brought him to the bathroom about the time he was lowered down on the floor, with his back leaning against the bathtub. James couldn't see what Harrison was doing from the angle he was sitting, but he could hear the tap turn on and water splash against the tub. That sent a spike of adrenaline through him as fresh fear bubbled up in his chest. While a bath was probably needed at this point, James was sure it wouldn't be that simple; Harrison surely wasn't just doing this to be nice. When did he ever? Especially now when he couldn't fight back it would be all too easy for Harrison to push him down under the water…

All James could do was wait, with fear and dread clawing at his chest. While the tub filled with water, Harrison turned his attention back to James. To his dismay, he began removing what little clothes James had left; his pants and underwear. Although not the worst thing Harrison had done to him, but still mortifying; especially because there was nothing he could do to stop it. That was without a doubt what had been the worst today, the complete helplessness.

Once done, Harrison put the clothes away and turned off the tap. "Now then," he looked at James again. "Let's get you cleaned up. Can't have you looking like this when I bring my guests over."

Guests? The thought wafted through James' tired mind, followed by a flash of fear. Harrison having guests over was never a good thing.

Harrison picked James up again and set him down in the bathtub. The fresh and half healed cuts stung as the warm water got into contact with them and James gasped. That hurt… And it only got worse as Harrison began soaping him up, he wasn't particularly violent but he wasn't gentle either; his hands wandered over bruised skin and cuts that burned upon contact with the soap. A pained whine left his lips, accompanied with a few tears rolling down his face.

"Aw, don't be like that, Jamie, we had fun today, didn't we?" His thumb dug into a bruise as he smiled. Pain flared up and James gasped again. Would the torment of today never end? "I'm even giving you a bath and cleaning you up. If anything, you should be grateful,"

It didn't feel like much to be grateful for. Sure, it would be nice to be clean but it would hardly last that long. And as far as things to be grateful for, there were more significant things that Harrison could do if he really wanted to be kind to him. But that didn't seem to be in his nature. This seemed more like a chance for Harrison to hurt him more under the guise of showing some kindness. Although, he wouldn't have dared to say that even if he'd been able to speak now.

Eventually, Harrison moved on to cleaning James' hair. That wasn't as bad, aside from untangling the knots that had formed it didn't really didn't hurt that much, not by comparison at least. To his surprise, James found himself relaxing a bit. The warmth of the water soothed his sore skin and aching muscles, which felt nice as long as he just ignored the pain from the cuts… Maybe he'd been wrong for once, maybe Harrison was satisfied with the pain he'd already caused. Maybe this was as bad as it would get… 

James flinched slightly as Harrison tugged at a knot in his hair, and he barely registered that until Harrison spoke.

"Seems like the movement is starting to come back, huh?" He mused.

James frowned slightly and moved his left arm experimentally, even shifted his head into a more comfortable position and could look at his hand moving in the water. Relief flooded through him. His body still felt heavy, but this was an improvement. Even if there wasn't much he could do to fight back, it was still better to be able to do something.

"That seems good enough," Harrison said, and before James could fully react, he was pushed under. Panic surged through him and he accidentally inhaled some water, making his chest burn. Instinctively, James struggled as much as he could against Harrison's grip in some desperate attempt to break free, so he could breathe. It achieved nothing though, his body still didn't quite obey him and Harrison was much stronger; all he could do was flail around and splash some water while the burning in his lungs grew. They ached, as if the lack of air was going to cause them to burst. Dizziness was setting in, mixing with the panic. He was going to drown, James was sure this was it…

Just as he felt on the verge of passing out, Harrison's hands moved from his shoulders; fingers curled into his hair and pulled James' head up from the water. Immediately, James sat up and coughed, spluttering as he hacked up some water. Soapy water burned in his eyes and mixed with the tears that ran down his cheeks.

As he coughed, Harrison patted his back, as if to help him get the water out. As if he cared… "See? All good,"

It was not all good. James could hear the smile in his voice, but he was too busy coughing his lungs up to reply. Raising a hand, James wiped away some water from his eyes to wipe away some of the soapy water. It didn't do much to ease the burning. He let out an exhausted sigh, that was interrupted by a cough and closed his eyes as he leant back against the tub; chest heaving with raspy, labored breaths. Tears slowly escaped his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He was so tired, and in pain. Would this day never end?

[elentary]

Holy stroke - Nyariewen - Good Omens (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Summary:

Crowley is imprisoned in a holy crypt under a church and he suffer from the exposure of the holy power.

Whumptober 2022: No. 5 EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS - Hyperthermia

Notes:

Whumptober 2022: No. 5 EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS

Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia

It's hot: hyperthermia

I am late with this prompt but yesterday I didn't like what I wrote. Today is better, in my opinion

[whump-or-whatever]

Whumptober Day 5

Prompts: Every whumpee’s needs - blood loss | running out of air | hyperthermia

Tw: self-harm (explicit)

Fandom: Bones

Summary: Hodgins takes too long to figure out an important part of a case and another victim is taken by a serial killer. He blames himself, and resorts to bad coping mechanisms. Sweets finds him.

• • •

A serial killer.

Of course it was a serial killer.

That was why they had such issues finding motive.

The remains they had found were the victim of a serial killer and because he hadn’t been fast enough identifying where the victim was before they died, the serial killer had enough time to capture another person.

Hodgins sat in the corner of his office, his shoulder blades pressed into the walls, head in his hands. His chest aflutter with palpitations, tears streamed down his face, and his breaths came in sharp gasps.

Because he was not good enough, another person was in danger. A serial killer was out on the streets putting everyone at risk. All he could think was that it could have been Angela or Michael. He was responsible for allowing a serial killer to run free in D.C., and any harm that came to people as a result of that was on him.

Hodgins pounded his fists against his forehead, trying to make the thoughts stop. He couldn’t bare to face the rest of the team knowing that it was his fault, knowing that they all knew it was his fault.

When they had found out, all eyes had turned towards him. An objective observer would have seen a group of friends worried that he would blame himself. Hodgins, however, saw in their eyes only pity for someone so pathetic as him. Disappointment in how useless he had been, how he had failed to save this victim.

He choked back a sob, trying to remain silent so that nobody would find him. Not like this. Not in the depths of his own self-pity.

He had no right to be upset about this. The victim and their loved ones, and anyone else the serial killer harmed, those were the only people who had a right to be upset. He didn’t deserve to be sad, to worry about himself. All he deserved was to feel their pain.

Hodgins scoffed at that, tears still streaking his face. Pain… that was easily enough done. Forcing himself up onto shaking legs, using the walls for support, Hodgins went in search of an implement. Yanking open a drawer with a loud clatter, he grabbed out a sterile scalpel. He thought it somewhat ironic that, of all the times he had used a scalpel like this one on one creature or another, this time he would be the least regretful. This time, he was absolutely certain that the creature deserved it.

Hodgins sat down in an office chair and laid his arm on the stainless steel table in front of him. Rolling up his sleeve carefully, he couldn’t help but think that the clinical setting was well suited to this balancing of the cosmic scales.

His sleeve out of the way, Hodgins placed the cold steel scalpel against the clear soft skin of his forearm. He paused there for only a moment, admiring the glinting of light off the blade. Then, in one slow and steady movement, he dragged the blade across his arm. The result was almost instantaneous, as blood began welling up in beads, forming into larger droplets before breaking into rivulets which traced down his arm. The pain stung, but only as much as a paper cut or a scratch. He deserved more.

Hodgins brought the scalpel down again, a few millimetres away from the previous cut. He continued this process a total of 15 times before he stopped to observe the blood pooling on the table beneath his arm. He shook his head to clear it, but was struck by a violent head rush. Black static tinged the edges of his vision as he waited for the woozy feeling to pass.

Feeling marginally better after a few moments, Hodgins stood up gingerly, leaning heavily on the lab table. His vision tilted slightly as he felt blood smearing beneath his fingers. Gaze locked on a clean towel sitting on a shelf a few paces away, he pushed himself away from the table, putting all of his weight on his feeble legs. He took a few wobbly steps before stumbling into the shelves to find support, letting out a small moan at the throbbing in his head.

“Dr. Hodgins?” a soft voice gasped from the doorway.

His head snapped up as he thrust his arm behind his back, turning to face the door. He fought the instinct to cringe as the cuts on his arm pulled painfully.

Sweets stood in the doorway, frozen in spot, his jaw hanging slightly agape.

“Hey, Sweets…” Hodgins said awkwardly, trying to look casual by leaning his elbow on the shelf.

Sweets’ eyes scanned Hodgins’ fidgety form, the way his eyes flirted around, looking at everything and nothing at all. After taking this in, the psychologists’ eyes flicked to the stainless steel table, and the alarming amount of blood there, with rough handprints smeared through it, before settling back on Jack.

“Dr. Hodgins, are you injured?” he asked in a levelled tone, betraying none of the panic he felt. Sweets had come looking for Hodgins, knowing full well that the scientist would blame himself for not finding the serial killer before another victim was taken. On any normal day, if Jack had injured himself at work the entire lab team would know about it within minutes. The secrecy of the older man immediately set off alarm bells in the psychologist’s mind.

Though Hodgins was not looking directly at Sweets, he could sense the change in demeanour from the younger man upon noticing the blood. He struggled to find a reasonable excuse. Grabbing the towel off the shelf, he explained, “nah, I’m fine, I was just doing an experiment to determine any chemicals which might have been introduced to our victim’s blood at time of death and I spilled some, so…” he trailed off as he gestured towards the table with the towel.

Unfortunately, with his injured arm still hidden behind his back and the shelf no longer there to support him, the scientist’s legs have out and he crumpled to the ground. He let out a cry of pain as he instinctively shot his bloodied arm out to stop his fall. Sweets moved quickly into action, coming to kneel beside the older man. “Dr. Hodgins- Jack, you have to let me help you,” Sweets begged, looking at the other man with pleading eyes.

Jack bit his lip and shook his head weakly, whimpering as tears began slipping past his eyes once again. He held his arm close to his chest, covering it with his uninjured one protectively. He was so weak. He didn’t deserve help, he deserved pain and nothing more.

“Jack!” Sweets barked, pulling him from his spiralling thoughts with a gentle hand on his knee. Hodgins finally met Lance’s eyes, and what Lance saw there nearly broke his heart. Pure, undiluted pain and desperation. The scientist quickly averted his eyes again, but nodded his concession. Tentatively, he peeled his arm away from his chest and stretched it out to allow Sweets to examine it.

The younger man had to use all his professional training to keep his face level as he regarded the damage done to Hodgins’ arm. Many long cuts stretched horizontally across his forearm, some deeper than others. None were deep enough to require stitches, but some were still slowly oozing blood.

“Dr. Hodgins, these wounds need to be cleaned and dressed. Do you think you can stand?” Sweets asked, trying to maintain a professional and calm demeanour.

Jack merely nodded as he clambered to his feet with Lance’s support. The two of them moved across the room together, and Sweets helped Hodgins into a different chair, facing away from the table covered in his blood.

“Stay here,” Sweets commanded sternly before jogging off to gather some medical supplies. Hodgins just nodded weakly.

By the time the younger man returned, Jack’s chin was rested on his chest and his eyes were closed. From the rise and fall of his chest, Lance could tell the scientists was merely resting. Once he had everything laid out, Lance shook Hodgins’ arm lightly, rousing him.

“I am going to use this antiseptic to clean the blood away and sterilize the wounds, after which I will cover the cuts with bandages and wrap them in gauze to secure them in place.” Sweets explained. Hodgins hummed his agreement and Sweets set about his work. Other than the occasional wince as his cuts were prodded, the wounded man stayed deathly silent until his arm was clean and fully dressed in crisp white bandages.

When all was done, both men sat in silence for a while, Jack staring at his hands and Lance trying to decide how best to proceed.

Eventually, Sweets began, “Jack…”

Hodgins raised a hand to stop him. “I guess it’s too much to ask that we just pretend this never happened?” he asked with an awkward chuckle. Sweets’ dark expression confirmed that was the case. Jack sighed and pulled his sleeve down over his arm.

“Can you tell me why you did this?” Sweets asked.

The scientist was silent for so long that Sweets began to wonder whether he had heard him at all. Just as he opened his mouth to repeat the question, Hodgins spoke at a near whisper. “It’s my fault.”

Sweets’ expression softened in understanding. “You think that you are responsible for what happened to the victims.”

“Of course I do,” Jack snapped bitterly. “You all do too, and don’t try to tell me otherwise, I can see it in your eyes.”

“Perhaps you are just seeing what you expect to,” Sweets suggested.

“What?” Hodgins asked, clearly annoyed now.

“Well, you clearly blame yourself, so it is possible that you are projecting that perspective onto others and perceiving blame from them when they don’t feel that way at all.”

“Okay, all that psychobabble stuff, it’s really not helping right now.”

Sweets sighed. “What I’m saying is that nobody blames you for the actions of this serial killer. Everyone here knows how hard you worked to catch this guy, and there is no world in which you could be held responsible for the actions of this criminal. Everyone here cares very deeply for you, Dr, Hodgins. If you saw anything in their eyes, it was worry. For you.”

Hodgins merely stared guiltily at his hands, fingers toying with with the cuff of his sleeve. He understood what Sweets was saying logically. Emotionally, however, he was wrecked. He almost wished that the others did blame him so that the guilt he felt would be validated.

“I just-” his voice cracked, “I should have been able to save them.” He shoved his head into his hands as he broke into sobs once again. Sweets pulled the older man into an embrace, resting his chin on the top of Jack’s head.

The scientist’s entire body shook like a leaf. Sweets shushed him softly, whispering comforting words of “it’s all right” and “it’s not your fault, nobody blames you.”

After a time, Hodgins stilled, his breathing evening out and his tears drying. The two men pulled apart.

“Thank you,” Jack muttered, giving Sweets a sad smile.

Sweets nodded, returning the smile. “Any time.”

• • •

Fin

[0nelittlebirdtoldme]

Harkula Whumptober Day 5 🐺🦴

Bloodied Body With Red Eyes

EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia | + Day 14 Prompt: Failed Escape

Content: M, Injury, Violence, Animal Attack, Blood, Broken Bones

Exerpt below the cut

The wolf jumps and, with one hand, Jonathan just manages to scramble for a larger stone he had just found blindly in the snow. He aims for the beast’s snout, for its nose, but it just snaps again down at him, and he screams as the teeth clamp down on his forearm, meeting bone this time.

[handstitchedanarchist]

Whumptober 2022 Master List: 

I’m planning on completing all the prompts, but it will definitely take longer than a month! I’ll be happy if I get these all done by the end of December! 

Future fics concepts are definitely subject to change

Ideas/prompts welcome! (but no guarantees that’s where the inspiration will take me, lol)

Link to the Series on AO3 

Prompts:

No. 1 A Little Out of the Ordinary: Adverse Effects, Unconventional Restraints, This wasn’t supposed to happen

Anakin doesn’t turn AU - Part 1

Title: The More Things Change…

No. 2 Nowhere to Run: Cornered, Caged, Confrontation

The Coruscant Guard in the days leading up to Order 66

Title: Impending

No. 3 Hair’s Breadth from Death: Gun to Temple, “Say Goodbye,” Impaled

Jesse and Fives die on Umbara. Kix is losing it.

Title: Fuel, Meet Fire

No. 4 Dead on your Feet: Hidden Injury, Waking up Disoriented, Can’t Pass Out

Cody took one too many stims and now he can’t go under

Title: The Smiling Death

No. 5 Every Whumpee’s Needs: Blood loss, Running out of air, hyperthermia (fever)

Kix accidentally removes the general's slave chip in surgery. Rex grapples with what that means for them.

Title: Send the Whole Damned Thing Down the Drain 

No. 6 Proof of Life: Ransom Video, “I’ve got a pulse,” Screams from Across the Hall

Darth Sidious takes on more than one apprentice. Years later, Fox makes a maybe-friend.

Title: Proof of Life 

No. 7 The way you shake and shiver: Shaking hands, Seizures, Silent panic attack

Kix kind of loses his mind after Umbara. He’s sent to the Coruscant Guard.

Title: 404: Sanity Not Found 

No. 8 Everything hurts and I’m dying: Stomach pain, Head trauma, back from the dead

Fox dies like he lived. He’s not as dead as he hoped. Post O66

No. 9 The very noisy night: Sleeping in shifts, Tossing and turning, Caught in a storm

No. 10 Poor unfortunate souls: Taser, Whipping, Waterboarding

No. 11 “911, what’s your emergency?”: Sloppy bandages, Self-done first aid, Makeshift splint

No. 12 What could go wrong? “Mayday, mayday,” cave in, rusty nail

No. 13 Can’t make an omelet without breaking a few legs: Fracture, Dislocation, “Are you here to break me out?”

No. 14 Die a hero or live long enough to become a villain: Desperate measures, failed escape, “I’ll be right behind you”

No. 15 Emotional Damage: Lies, New scars, Breathing through the pain

No. 16 No Way Out: Mind control, Paralytic drugs, “No one’s coming”

No. 17 Hanging by a threat: Breaking point, Stress positions, Reluctant caretaker

No. 18 Let’s break the ice: “Just get it over with,” treading water, “take my coat”  

No. 19 Enough is enough: Knees buckling, repeatedly passing out, head lolling

No. 20 It’s been a long day: Going into shock, fetal position, prisoner trade

No. 21 Famous last words: Coughing up blood, “you’re safe now,” “take me instead”

No. 22 Pick your poison: Toxic, withdrawal, allergic reaction

No. 23 At the end of their rope: Forced to kneel, Tied to a table, “Hold them down”

No. 24 Fight, Flight, or Freeze: Blood covered hands, “I don’t want to do this anymore,” Catatonic

No. 25 Silence is golden: Lost voice, duct tape, “You better start talking”

No. 26 No one left behind: Separated, Rope burns, “Why did you save me?”

No. 27 Pushed to the limit: Muffled screams, Stumbling, Magical Exhaustion

No. 28 It’s just the tip of the iceberg: Anger born of worry, Punching the Wall, Headache

No. 29 What doesn’t kill me…: Sleep deprivation, Defiance, “Better me than you”

No. 30 Note to self: Don’t get kidnapped: Manhandled, Hair grabbing, “Please don’t touch me”

No. 31 A light at the end of the tunnel: Comfort, Bedside vigil, “You can rest now”