#whumptober 2

[kikker-oma]

*dialogue was edited to hopefully fix my lack of cpr knowledge and not make Wind do chest compressions when Time still has a heartbeat hehe*

[ceruleanmindpalace]

Inktober No.2 - Delirium

If this looks vaguely familiar, it's because I did this motive before, in 2019. I was not happy with it, so when the prompt came up again this year, I decided to give it a new try, this time digitally. I am much happier with this version.

From @whumptober 's promptlist for Inktober 2023

I am flattered if you reblog, but do NOT post my art on other sites/social media or use in any other way without my written permission.

[whumpetywhump]

Whumptober Day 23 (Alt) - Drugged

Big Mouth - Ep. 8

Black Knight - Ep. 6

Taxi Driver 2 - Ep. 13

The Childe (2023)

The Silence Of The Monster - Ep. 34

[limeskye]

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober- Day 21 (Exsanguination)

Arthur Morgan x Reader Drabble

As you lay on the floor, blood seeping through your clothes, you couldn't help but think about how this all went to shit.

The job was supposed to go smoothly, but here you were, wounded and dying. O'Driscolls had caught you both by surprise when you entered the seemingly empty house. There was a scuffle as you and Arthur took them out; however, one of them managed to get in a shot before Arthur could blow their brains out.

You had taken a bullet straight to the lung; it was fatal. The pain was excruciating, and you could feel yourself slipping away slowly.

Arthur sat next to you, pressing his hands against the bullet hole in your chest, trying to stop the bleeding. His face was contorted to a mix of rage and agony as he begged, "Oh god, please don't die."

You struggled to speak through the pain, managing only a weak whisper, "Ar...th..."

Looking at you helplessly, Arthur cried out, "No! Don't say anything, dammit!" He grabbed your hand tightly, squeezing it hard enough to hurt even through the numbness.

As Arthur attempted to drag you to his horse, he realized the futility of the situation. With every movement, you let out a cry of pain and spat out blood. It dawned on him that he was causing more harm than good by attempting to move you like this. In despair, he released his grip and crouched back down beside you. He cradles your body in his arms as he looks defeated.

As you started to cough out blood once again, you whispered faintly, "I never expected to die in a home... or comfortably...".

"You won't die," Arthur growled through gritted teeth, his voice laced with desperation. "Just hang on...for me".

Whether you heard him or chose to ignore him, he'll never know. All he knew is that you seemed to not be in any pain at that point.

"But dying like this... isn't so bad." You finished hoarsely, leaning your head against his shoulder for comfort.

"Don't talk like that," Arthur pleaded, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face. He pulled you closer, holding you with trembling hands. "Please, just stay alive."

You reached up to touch his face, smearing blood across his skin. He holds your hand to his face as he presses against it and closes his eyes.

After a while of silence, Arthur opens his eyes to find you with a expression of serenity.

As you gaze up at the sky, taking in each breath as if it might be your last, Arthur breaks down completely. He holds you closer, and you can feel his heart pounding wildly against yours. The warmth of his body provides some small comfort amidst the cold that settling into yours.

"I love you. Never doubt that, yeah?" Arthur said through heavy sobs, holding you close.

"love you....too," you managed to choke out, feeling your breath growing shallower by the minute.

Arthur leaned down and kissed your forehead tenderly, tears rolling off his nose onto your skin.

"Promise me something," he whispered. "If there's a heaven, wait for me there, alright? I'll find ya somehow."

With great effort, you nodded, closing your eyes as you began to feel sleepy. You closed your eyes for the last time, letting the darkness claim you.

The last thing you hear is wails of agony as Arthur clings to your cold body.

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist

[linkhappyface]

ehheheh sky.

he was suppose to be calling out for zelda in the snow and mistaking wars for zelda but i got LAZY

[tsubaki94]

2 Overworked/ Insomnia/ Exhausted

Ai-less Whumptober23

[jasmines-library]

Spellbound Sickness

WHUMPTOBER 2023: Day two, prompt ‘thermometer’ Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: A long and cumbersome witch hunt turns much worse when you begin to develop a high fever; a side effect of the curse she managed to spit out at you. Will the Winchesters find the cure in time?

Warnings: sickness, fever, cursing, pills, ice baths.

Word count: 1.7k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

You had never been more glad to see a shitty motel sign in your life. The hunt had been long and restless and your body was begging for a hot shower and a bed to collapse into. The witch you were hunting had been smart. She had used a set of illusions to keep you and the Winchesters at bay whilst she made her get away, although that didn’t stop the three of you from taking her down, but it took far too much effort for your liking. She had also managed to get the jump on you, blasting you with a puff of purple smoke before you managed to shut her down. There was a knot in your stomach at first, but after the drive home, it had settled once you realised that seemingly the spell hadn’t worked, you felt fine, besides the hint of a cold lingering in the back of your throat, though you suspected that was from spending the night in the rain. You did make a mental note to check for extra limbs as soon as you were out of the watchful eyes of the Winchesters, just in case.

The hard rock came to a stop as Dean pulled the Impala into park. You gathered up your few belongings and slipped out of the car, dashing towards the motel door to call first dibs on the shower before the two boys used up all of the hot water. After patting yourself dry and ensuring you had no unwanted appendages, you returned back into the main room of the motel, sighing contently as you sunk into the covers of the nearest bed.

Sam, who was sipping a beer on the motel table chuckled, a grin spread across his face. “You ok there, Y/N?”

You grinned up at him and nodded, glad to see him relaxed after being so tense for so long. “Man, I am so ready to get more than three hours of sleep.”

Dean raised his bottle in agreement and took a swig offering it to you, raising his brow when you declined, coughing into your elbow.

“You sure you’re okay there Y/N?” Sam queried, leaving forwards in his chair. “You are looking a little pale. Do you think it was the witch?”

Once your coughing subsided, you gave him a thumbs up and shook your head. “Yeah, I’m all good, ‘tis just a cold, that’s all. It’s probably from being out all night. I’m sure it’ll pass by the morning.”

Dean nodded. “You’re probably right. Why don’t you get some rest?”

~

“Y/N?”

…

“Y/N?”

A hand was resting flush against your forehead. You had begun tossing and turning in your sleep, sweat beading down your forehead. Your body was warm to the touch. The cold had gotten worse. His voice sounded distant, far away. You couldn’t make out who it was; their tone was familiar but no matter how hard you wracked your brain, you couldn’t figure out who it was.

When you didn’t respond to his calls, Dean shook your shoulders firmly. You peeled your eyes open groggily, and they settled on the tall man before you. Blinking slowly, you realised that it was the eldest Winchester who stood over you.

“Hmm?” You sounded, confused as to why he looked so concerned. That was when another round of coughs racked your body and you sat up abruptly. Dean’s hands rubbed circles on your back until the fit stopped.

Your nose was all stuffy and your head throbbed. You shivered beneath the covers, your whole body aching as you moved. Perhaps this was more than just a simple cold.

“Sweetheart?” Dean asked, tilting his head toward you.

“I don’t feel good .” You grumbled, burying yourself impossibly further into the covers and sniffling.

“I know baby, ” Dead coaxed, trying to get you to turn back towards him. “But we gotta check your temperature.”

He pressed his hand against your forehead again and turned to his brother, frowning. Sam disappeared from the dingy motel room for a brief moment, before returning with the small first aid kit they kept in the car.

“Open.”

Dean slipped the thermometer beneath your tongue and waited. It was cool and smooth on your skin, which felt nice, but you struggled to keep your eyes open against the fatigue which began to take over again. When he took it out and read the number on the dial, he furrowed his brows.

“101.” He stated.

You had rolled back over to face the wall, cocooning yourself within the blanket. Dean placed his hands on your shoulders and rolled you back over. You groaned impatiently and glared at him through half open eyes. He held out a glass of water and a round pill which Sam had handed to him.

“Sweetheart, you gotta take this. Your temperature is too high.”

Sitting up slowly, you popped the pill into your mouth and took a sip from the glass. The cold water worked wonders on your sore throat and chapped lips. Dean began to remove the cover from you, you whined at the loss of heat.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He replaced the blanket with a thinner sheet he found stored under the head. “You try to get some more rest, it’ll be easier to break the fever if you’re sleeping.”

You didn’t really register what he said, but your eyes were already slipping closed anyway. When Dean turned away, your arm reached out and caught his sleeve.

“Stay with me?” You asked.

Dean cast a look at Sam who gave an encouraging look. “Of course sweetheart.”

He slid onto the bed behind you, wrapping you up in his arms, waiting for your breaths to dip into a steady rhythm.

Swiping the hair from his eyes, Sam watched the two of you tenderly, Dean pulled you closer to his chest as though you were going to vanish any second. His heart broke at the disheveledness of your appearance; dark and tired eyes, cracked lips. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“This is definitely more than just a cold.”

~

Your breaths came in short, shallow wheezes as your body wracked itself with shivers. Sweat rolled down your face, collecting on the thin sheet you were trying to pull impossibly closer to your body. You were hot, but you were also freezing at the same time. Awake, but unseeing though sticky, heavy eyes you shook, jolted by a dry, chesty cough.

Both Winchesters would have agreed that you were too pale and that your skin was too hot to the touch. You could practically see the way it radiated from your body, but despite that you were still a writhing mess in Dean’s arms; tossing and turning to try and find some sanctuary in this mess. Your hair was dishevelled from the rustling of your head against the pillow. He could sense you were awake, he knew all too well the way that your breathing pattern changed once you woke up, from spending many restless nights together. It was usually followed by a greeting or some sort or snarky remark about the way that Dean was lying, but you had yet to make a single noise besides the chattering of your teeth. He ran his fingers through your hair, his stomach twisting when it brushed against your forehead which was probably hot enough to boil a kettle. Slamming his hands down on the desk, Sam huffed out an agitated sigh, the dragged his hands down his face.

“Nothing?” Dean already knew the answer. It was pointless asking it. The witch was already dead, shot straight in the heart with a well placed bullet, leaving the Winchesters high and dry in trying to find a curse.

“Nothing.”

The room returned to a pregnant silence for a while. Sam’s slender fingers tapping against the keypad was the only thing you could hear. That was until you bolted upright and doubled over into the worst coughing fit you had seen. Gasping desperately for air, you tried to greedily suck it into your lungs. Sam was up in an instant, pushing the chair away and sending it squealing across the wooden floor. When it finally stopped and you let out a weak whimper, it was Sam’s turn to pale at the flecks of blood that had splattered on your hand.

Hugging you closer, Dean took a hold of the thermometer that had been discarded on the nightstand next to the bed. He slipped it under your tongue and watched in horror as the numbers skyrocketed. You didn’t resist the gesture, which was yet another indicator that something was wrong, you just started vacantly through heavy eyes, dazed and pained. When Dean pulled the stick back out, his eyes widened at the three digit number.

“104.”

“Shit.” Sam cursed.

“Alright Sammy. You find that cure and you find it fast. Okay?”

Sam nodded at his brother, forgiving the harshness that slipped out in his worry.

“Y/N? Sweetheart?”

There was no response.

“Y/N/N?”

Again, you were silent. Too silent. The shuffling had stopped.

Rolling over so he could face you, Dean scanned your face. Your eyes had finally drooped shut and your body had gone slack, plastering against the bed.

~

You sat up with a gasp, sloshing the water out of the tub and clinking the ice against the porcelain. You scrambled to get away from the cold, to find some release from the cold which dug into your skin, but your fingers slid against the white tile and a pair of hands plunged you back into the icy water.

“Easy. Easy.”

You whined, pulling your knees to your chest and trying to cling to shreds of warmth.

“Cold…” you chattered.

“I know. I'm sorry.” he cooed “But we gotta get your temperature down.”

Hazily you scanned the room, peering through the open door and into the dingy room. The lights were on, though there was no sign of the other Winchester.

“Sammy?” You asked meekly.

“Sam’ll be back any minute now, I promise. He’s found the cure.”

As if he had been summoned by the mention of his name, the door slammed open, rattling on its hinges and bouncing loudly off of the wall behind it. Sam stumbled in, out of breath and with a bag clutched tightly in his grasp.

“You’re gonna be just peachy Y/N. I promise.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY ONE ⛤ DAY THREE ->

🏷️ taglist

[ysljoon]

Whumptober Day 2-Konig

✲Prompt: "They don't care about you."

✲Yandere!Konig AU

✲Warnings: angst, toxic behavior, manipulation, yelling, self-deprecating thoughts

✲MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)

Your heart was beating against your chest so hard you thought it was rattling your ribs. Konig had you cornered in your own room and the crazed look in his eyes had you petrified. This was not the man you fell in love with. The Konig you started to date was your protector and treated you with the utmost gentleness. Right now whoever this was in front of you was not someone you held any love for. 

This whole predicament had started when you had told Konig that you felt it was best if the both of you broke up. As the months went on in the relationship he started to be as loving with you and it started to turn into controlling and obsessive behaviors. It started with him asking you to share your location with him on the phone. You thought his intentions were pure since he said he just wanted to make sure he was able to know where you were if something were to happen to you. Then it evolved into him interrogating you whenever you were going out with friends as to who was going to be there and what you were going to do while you were out. If it was somebody that he wasn’t the biggest fan of then forget about those plans. It got even worse when he would want to do routine checks on your phone to make sure you weren’t doing anything to betray his trust. Meanwhile, he didn’t see that he was losing your trust in him and you were slowly trying to pull yourself away from him.

“You think any other man could treat you better than how I care for you schatzi? I do all of these things because I care about you!” His voice was reverberating off the walls in your room and it made you cower deeper into the corner you were forced into to try and pull yourself as far away as possible from Konig’s mountainous body. “I need you to know that all of those dirty men out there on the streets do not have your best interest at heart. They don’t care about you!” 

His words stung and polluted your mind. Were you truly so hard to take care of and love? You slid down and slumped against the wall contemplating all the negative thoughts that started to cloud over you. Your frame was trembling as choked sobs pushed their way through your throat. You buried your head into your hands trying to muffle the sound of your cries and hoping to even stifle whatever you’re feeling right now. It would be better to be numb right now. Konig stooped down and wrapped his thick, muscular arms around your quivering body and pressed your head into his chest. 

“I hope you get rid of that silly idea that we should break up from your head, meine Schatz. I love you and I don’t want you to forget it.” 

[whumpsday]

K&J: Kane's Whumptober Bites #2

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, angst, captivity

@whumptober Day 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.” / “They don't care about you.”

-

“Mother…” Kane whispered, like a prayer. It wasn’t like she could hear him anyway, so it didn’t matter if he screamed it at the top of his lungs or remained quiet as a mouse. “Please save me.”

Realistically, Father would be calling his underlings to rescue him. It was a scenario he’d played through his head many times. Vampires would burst in, unlocking his cell door with a key they’d swiped from a safely hypnotized hunter, and take him home. Home, where he would finally be safe.

Sometimes, though, he got less realistic. Mother and Father would come break him out themselves, hugging him and telling him how much they’d missed him, how worried they’d been. It was easier to imagine with Mother. Father had always been distant, even before his flaw became apparent. But Mother… he and Mother used to be close, when he was a little boy. A century ago.

They don’t care about you.

He knew it in his heart to be true. They hadn’t missed him before his capture, and Kane knew they certainly wouldn’t miss him now, no matter how much he wanted to believe otherwise. Still, it was nice to dream.

The telltale footsteps of hunters echoed from down the hall, the delicious, terrifying scent of human drawing nearer and nearer. Another reminder that he was completely, utterly alone.

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 2: Thermometer, Delirium (“I’ll call out your name but you won’t call back”)

This one has similar vibes to day 1, but it was originally for a different later-on day so that’s why (if you know the prompts, you can probably guess which!). Also there’s no actual thermometers here, but I definitely used the prompt as inspiration lol. Sorry Sky.

Warnings for: being out in the heat too long, an implied head injury, and a character thinks briefly about how it wouldn’t be so bad to die.

Read it on ao3

————————————————————

Sky couldn’t remember why he was here.

Blinding sun shone in his eyes, even when he shaded his face with his hands, that made the pounding in his skull twice as worse. The glare made it impossible to see across the desert he was walking through, and his eyes hurt from squinting. Sand blew past his face, tripped his steps, and the heat rose off of it in waves, making it hard to focus on why...

...why what, exactly?

Sky shook his head, unable to remember, and kept walking. There wasn’t anything else to do, after all.

He’d been walking for ages, and the temperature had risen sharply as he’d gone, making sweat pour down his face and drip down his back. His sailcloth had long been put away in his pouch, and as tempted as he was to remove more layers, he didn’t want to be vulnerable to attack, or exposed to the blinding sun any more than necessary.

Not that it mattered much. There was no shelter anywhere.

Only sand. Endless sand.

Sky squeezed his eyes shut a moment, the uncomfortable sting from their dryness worth the temporary respite from the sun. He only had a few sips of water left, and as much as he wanted to gulp them down, he needed to conserve them so he could make it back to... to somewhere.

...to someone?

Sky swallowed, the motion barely relieving the dryness of his throat.

He was alone, but it hadn’t always been like that, had it? He did faintly recall being in a desert like this before, but... but maybe he’d always been wandering out here by himself.

Alone in the desert, with no water and a headache that only got worse.

He kept walking.

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky above him, no respite from the sun that beat down on his head. A scorching wind sometimes brushed past his bangs, kicking up the sand, but bringing no relief whatsoever.

Sky’s legs dragged more and more the longer he walked, his clothes soaked in sweat. He gulped down the last few drops of water he had, but it didn’t do a thing to quench his thirst. His head pounded, his headache worsened from the bright sun and pulsing behind his eyes, but Sky couldn’t even close them. Whenever he did, he always tripped soon after, and pulling himself back up got harder each time it happened.

A sound suddenly caught his attention, one that wasn’t just harsh wind or shifting sands. Sky dazedly looked up (when had he lowered his head?), and his eyes widened at the sight.

There were trees a short distance away, trees and tents set up around a large rock that reached up towards the sky. They all provided a glorious amount of shade from the sun, and in the middle of it all was a large pool of water.

Sky stared, then felt his aching face stretch in a smile.

Shelter. Shade.

Water.

He let out a raspy laugh, and began to run towards it, stumbling in the sand as he went. Finally, civilization, and a respite from the awful heat. Somewhere to rest, to figure out why he was wandering through the desert, why he felt like he shouldn’t be alone.

Sky was so fueled by the sight of something other then sand that in his excitement, he suddenly tripped on the large dune he’d been running down. His legs were too exhausted to recover, and he fell forward, arms pinwheeling.

Sky’s yelp was quickly cut off as his face hit the sand, and he tumbled down the rest of the way, limbs flying and sand getting on every bit of him that didn’t already have it.

He finally rolled to a stop with a groan, his exhausted body even more tired from the fall. He felt bruised and dizzy, and the same spot in the back of his head that kept pounding was blazing with pain now, but the reminder of water got him to fight through it, and Sky took in a steadying breath. Once his head finally stopped spinning, he carefully raised it, trying to focus on the oasis again and reorient himself.

Nothing but empty sand met him.

Sky stared, eyes widening as he lurched to his feet and looked around with increasing desperation. He could no longer hear the splashing of the water, see the leaves of tall palms rustling with a cooling breeze, just... sand.

Nothing but sand.

There had never been any oasis. It was just his mind, desperate for something to cool itself off with, tricking him.

Sky closed his eyes, a wave of despair crashing over him. It was so intense he nearly fell over, and he felt a frustrated cry build in his throat. He’d been so close, to shelter, to water, to people... but no, there’d been nothing to be close to at all. Just his dehydrated mind playing tricks.

He shook his head, and swallowed back the sting in his eyes as he reopened them. A dull feeling settled over him as he stared at the empty sands, and he sighed, the sound raspy and weak.

Nothing to do but keep going.

He began to walk again, and he couldn’t bring himself to scan the horizon for help any more. Maybe there just wasn’t any shelter anywhere.

Maybe the desert had no end.

Waves of heat rose off the sand, making the horizon impossible to make out no matter how much Sky squinted at it. The sun was right around its peak, scorching its rays onto his head, and Sky took his sailcloth back out with shaking hands and rested it over his head to protect his face. It barely helped, and he knew his skin was already peeling from burns, but he kept it there anyway. The faint sweet smell coming off of it was comforting at least.

He wondered why it smelled so nice. He couldn’t remember.

The sun seemed to stall above his head, getting no lower. Sky’s stomach began to roll unpleasantly, his dry throat crying out for water. He wasn’t sure why he kept walking honestly, when it would have been so much easier to just stop, but something kept his feet moving, even despite the pounding in his head.

A laugh floated by on the wind, and Sky blinked, a flash of pale hair in the corner of his eyes. He thought he saw a man approach him, covered in armor, but when he looked again he was gone.

The light grew more orange, his shadow squirming like snakes over the dunes. Harsh wind stung at his face like bitter words, and a wolf laughed at him when he stumbled, barks ringing in his ears. Something with fiery hair challenged him to a fight, but when Sky drew his sword to face it, there was nothing but a distant laugh in his ears.

He kept his sword out after that, using it as more of a walking stick than anything. Apologies spilled from his lips, for scuffing her steel and getting sand stuck in her hilt, but he didn’t know why. She was just a sword, wasn’t it?

Something circled lazily above his head, and Sky squinted at it, pausing as he tried to figure out why the shape seemed so familiar. Something outstretched to either side, a tail in the back...

Red flashed in his vision, and an intense hope caught in his chest as a memory surfaced.

“Crimson?” Sky breathed, watching the bird swoop around, wings stretched towards him as if it was coming in for an embrace.

Then it abruptly changed course and began to fly away.

“No— nnno no Crimson no, come back—!”

Sky bolted after his loftwing, but barely took a step before tripping in the sand, sending him sprawling. He desperately looked up, but his bird was long gone, lost in the blue sky.

It had left him. Everyone had left him. The scarf, the leaves, the golden hair, even his sword— Sky sobbed and tried to get up, but he’d finally reached his limit, the loss of his bird one loss too many.

He collapsed, muscles worn, heart aching, and his vision went dark.

(...)

A faint whisper tickled his ears.

Sky breathed out a soft moan, too hazy to try and listen. It was a gentle voice, one that made his chest hurt for some reason, but everything was disjointed, dark color smearing around the inside of his eyelids.

The voice repeated itself, but he couldn’t focus through the darkened void, too weak, too faint. But the voice continued, kept trying, and eventually Sky could hear it enough to just barely make out what it was saying.

“...Link...”

It was if his name was spoken through a heavy fog.

Sky still didn’t move, feeling utterly drained. It was like a weight had been dropped on top of him. Even when he thought he heard something move nearby, he remained still, listening silently as it approached. The sounds were strangely distant, but he listened to them anyway, unable to do much else.

The footsteps stopped, and Sky could feel that he wasn’t alone.

Maybe it’s a monster finally come to finish me off, he thought distantly. The idea was almost a welcome one, and he exhaled, sure that he’d feel a blade cutting into his heart any moment now. Then maybe he could truly rest, and join everyone who had left him.

“Sleepyhead, it’s time to get up.”

The familiar nickname abruptly cleared some of the fog that had descended in Sky’s head, and he forced his eyes open through the grit encrusting them.

Warm yellow met him, not like the painful glare of the desert sun, but a kinder, cheerful shade. Like gentle spring sunshine, with a silver glint from the moonlight. Sky blinked, and felt a huge surge of emotion as he looked up into crystal-clear eyes, their middle a blue even brighter than the sky.

“...Zelda?” he croaked, and she nodded from where she stood next to him.

“Sleepyhead, you need to get up,” she said in a teasing voice, and Link closed his eyes again, already exhausted from opening them the first time.

“...I can’t... Zelda, I...” he whispered, and he felt a light touch on his cheek, fingers gently caressing him.

“Open your eyes, Link.”

He obeyed, and Zelda smiled at him again, her form strangely hazy in his vision.

“You’re close to help, Link. It’s not much further, you can make it. I know you can.”

“I can’t,” he repeated in a whisper, wishing he could do as she said, but unable to gather the strength.

The sun had wrung out any energy he had, sapped by sweat and heat and the endless pound in his head. Sky belatedly realized it was much colder now, but the temperature switch was of no relief to his worn and wearied body. The air was now freezing instead of burning, and he barely had the energy to shiver, the cold leeching any remaining strength he had.

He was deathly thirsty, his stomach still hurt, and he still couldn’t remember why he was in the desert in the first place, or what he’d been doing beforehand.

Link closed his eyes again, a sudden wave of despair crashing over him through the confusion and haze.

“I can’t,” Link trembled out again, and tears would have sprung to his eyes if he’d had any water left in his body. “Z-Zel, I can’t.”

“You can,” Zelda replied in a voice equally firm and soft. Link couldn’t stand to look at her.

He kept his eyes closed, and then something moved at his side where his pouch was. He stayed still as it moved, then felt something soft fall over his shoulders, a familiar perfume drifting into his nose.

“You can, Link,” Zelda repeated, her voice encouraging. “I’ll be with you for every step. Don’t fall here. It’s time to get up.”

Link exhaled, and looked into Zelda’s eyes, watching the way the moonlight made them shine.

“Is that a command from my goddess?” he whispered in a barely-there voice.

“No. It’s a request from your friend,” Zelda said as she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his hair. “Now come on, Link. It’s time to keep going.”

Something alit inside Link’s chest at her words, something weak, and faint. But it was warm, and Link clung to it like a drowning man, curling around and snatching at it, and suddenly felt as if he had some of his strength back. Not a lot, barely any, and he doubted he could even raise his sword... but he could move.

He wasn’t going to die alone in the desert. He wouldn’t fall here.

He would keep going.

Link clutched at his sailcloth with trembling fingers, and turned himself off his side and onto his hands. Then he moved to his knees, and ever so slowly, body shaking with the effort, got to his feet.

He stood for a moment, trembling in the moonlight, afraid to move for fear that he’d fall over. But Zelda’s words rang in his head, and he breathed in, tightening his grip on the sailcloth. Then he took a single swaying step, and then another, and another, legs trembling like those of a newborn loftwing. Walking through the sand seemed more impossible than earlier, and once he began shivering, it was even worse.

But every time he faltered, every time he nearly collapsed, wanted desperately to stop and just rest... he saw a shine of yellow hair ahead of him, a glint of blue eyes... and he kept going.

All through the night he plodded along, boots slipping in the sand, clutching Zelda’s words to him as tightly as he clutched the sailcloth.

Something at his back gave out an occasional weak pulse, and Link matched his steps to the faint rhythm. The horizon began to lighten, orange streaks shooting through the sky, and somewhere in that time, Link stopped shivering, the temperature rising again as he trekked endlessly across the sands.

Step, after step, after step.

He kept walking.

The sun broke over the horizon, making his eyes sting from its brightness. His footsteps weaved uncertainly as it cast orangey rays across the sands, voices warbling to him on the wind, cheering him, jeering at him, words both indecipherable and clear as ice.

A red haired man yelled at him after spending all day with Zelda, and a tall woman fiercely berated him, making his ears sting. The armor looked at his sword with dislike and anger while a bunny twitched his whiskers, the very grass and trees laughed, dusk fell and cried out as he struggled against the darkness, his parents looked at him with pride and grief and Mia wove around his legs as she begged to be picked up—

Link belatedly realized he’d fallen to the ground, still-cool sand pressing against his cheek.

Zelda’s voice had gone quiet, no more yellow hair to follow, no voice urging him up. Link breathed out, his strength gone. The faint flicker he’d regained was utterly spent. His body had been pushed to its limit, and he’d gone as far as he could. He’d given it his all.

He couldn’t keep going.

The darkness started to creep up on him again, but it felt colder this time, deep, reaching out to drag him down with its claws. Link shivered and wanted to brush it off, but he couldn’t even raise his arm.

I’m sorry Zel.

The claws hooked into him, began to cover his vision, sending darkness over his sight, but as they did, Link thought he saw a flicker of color out in the sand.

A yell rang faintly in his ears as he closed his eyes, footsteps pounding the sand. More yells joined the first as Link relaxed, and the sand brushed his other cheek, though it felt remarkably smooth and gentle as darkness swept over him like a wave.

For some reason, he felt perfectly safe.

[aceofwhump]

Day 2: Thermometer

M*A*S*H 2x11 | Emergency! 2x04 | Fantastic Four | Parks and Recreation 3x02 | Maurice (1987) | General Hospital April 15-22, 2021 | McLeod's Daughter's 3x21 | NCIS 2x23 | Roswell New Mexico 2x10

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

[firstdegreefangirl]

It's All About You, Jamie

He shouldn’t have looked.

Jamie knew he shouldn’t have looked.

Whatever papers spilled out of the folder when he accidentally kicked it off of Roy’s coffee table, he shouldn’t have looked at them. They’re Roy’s not his; he was just trying to use his toes to scratch his itchy calf.

But he did look.

And looking got him to here: sitting on the living room carpet, staring at Roy's contract renewal for AFC Richmond.

Roy’s contract renewal, promising him a bonus worth close to a third of Jamie’s annual salary, if they make it back to the FA Cup finals. Double that, if they win.

Of course.

It makes sense that Roy would make extra money if he coaches a winning team. And it makes sense that Roy would want them to win, so he can make the extra money.

Which means that he needs Jamie in top shape.

Jamie stares at the paper in his hand, and the last few months sharpen into perfect clarity.

I could train you. But only if you fucking mean it.

You’re not on fucking holiday from training.

Whistle.

Not the week for your Mister Fucking Humble, great teammate bullshit.

Wanna grab a beer later?

All the progress they’d made – the progress Jamie thought they’d made, anyway – was this why? Did Roy just take an investment in him as … an investment?

It makes sense.

Roy started training him so he’d be a better player. So they’ll win.

Roy tracked him down in Manchester so he’d be at his mental best. So they’ll win.

Roy invited him for a beer so he’d only have one. So they’ll win.

Roy let Jamie move into his house so he could keep an eye on his schedule. So they’ll win.

Roy cooks his meals so he’ll stay on his meal plan. So they’’ll win.

Roy kisses him and … it’s so Jamie won’t go out and find someone else. So they’ll win.

All of it, every single thing that’s happened between him and Roy, Roy’s done it so they’ll win.

And Jamie?

Jamie fell in love.

Read the rest on ao3 here!

[whumpetywhump]

Whumptober Day 12 (Alt) - Broken

Adamas - Ep. 14

Bulgasal: Immortal Souls - Ep. 6

Pipeline (2021)

Stranger 2 - Ep. 11

White Christmas - Ep. 7

[turdofanerd]

Whumptober Day 2-

"They don't care about you"

You aren't even one of us... You were never Hylia's Chosen to begin with... too young... not worthy to bear the title of hero

Ahhhhhhh that was hard, I couldn't figure out what to do for the background

Thank you so much to everyone who helped me figure it out! I was struggling lol

@sparkledragon04 @strawberrylabs @whumper-at-heart (ya'll don't have to acknowledge this I just wanted to say thx :D)

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober- Day 7 (Agony)

Gabriel Reyes x reader

Gabriel groaned, lying still on the bed while sweat trickled down his forehead. Each breath seemed labored as if they were being drawn through a straw. Intense pain radiated throughout his body; he tried to keep it contained within but couldn't suppress its seeping outwards entirely. A black mist was pooling on his body as it drafted onto the floor. His body was rejecting being alive, it was naturally gravitating towards its state of death. Yet the many experiments refused to let it happen. You don't think it's ever been this bad before.

Without uttering a single word, You reached out tentatively towards Gabe and placed your palm gently against his clammy skin—a silent comfort.

Gabriel snapped his head sharply towards you suddenly, causing you to flinch your hand away from him. Surprise etched across his features before morphing into irritation. The veins standing out on his neck pulsed rapidly as if he were about to explode. However, despite his initial reaction, there wasn't much left in him to muster up any real anger or annoyance. All he wanted was solitude and peace.

In response to his movement away from you, Gabriel found himself drifting further into the bed, disappearing beneath the sheets. It took several deep breaths before he managed to compose himself enough to speak. "Leave..." His voice was barely above a whisper. "Just leave me alone."

Despite his protests, you slipped under the sheets beside him. Your need to comfort him in his pain far outweighed your need to obey him.

Cautiously reaching out, you touched his arm lightly, your skin cool against his feverish flesh. For a moment, neither of you moved, both lost in thoughts that seemed to lurk in shadows cast by the dim light filtering through the blinds.

"Fine," his voice cracked, barely audible even to himself. "Stay," he muttered, closing his eyes tightly against the stabbing pain behind them. He turned his head away, feigning indifference as best he could manage amidst the pain.

Despite his efforts at maintaining his wall, however small the crack might seem, Gabriel found himself giving in more than he intended. Slowly but surely, his guard began slipping as exhaustion took hold. His muscles ached from the fight within him, and even though it felt like everything was falling apart piece by piece, somehow, having someone near made it bearable.

After a few minutes, he begins to shift to face you. Gabe grits his teeth at the pain moving causes him as he lets out a few groans. He slowly wraps his arms around you and pulls you in closer. Your body was flush against his as he buried his face into your neck. You hear as he lets out a soft whimper.

His body was burning hot in some places and deathly cold in others.

Despite the intensity of his physical agony, Gabriel found himself unwilling or unable to resist the comfort you provided. As he held onto you tighter, his grip loosened momentarily only to tighten again as another wave of pain coursed through him. It was a cycle that seemed endless, like living his own death over and over.

Breathing heavily, his torso rising and falling unevenly as he struggled to catch his breath, Gabriel finally managed to choke out some words. "It hurts," he murmured hoarsely against your skin.

"I know.....I know," You mutter back as tears slide down your cheeks.

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist