#whumptober 2023

[ky-landfill]

No safety net.

[breezy-cheezy]

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Storm | Buried Alive

This part really struck me, and I wanted to draw it! Luffy is just trying to protect his little family, and while the Lapins nearly got them killed, he still helps pull one out of the snow....because he recognizes they're trying to protect their family too. And I love that ;v;

BASICALLY A PANEL REDRAW here's the panel

[kikker-oma]

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

normal people when it’s October

whump community when it’s October

meme by @bebx (x)

[sprout-fics]

Whumptober Day One: "How many fingers am I holding up?"

(Simon 'Ghost' Riley x OFC 'Fix')

(Whumptober Masterlist TBA)

Rating: Gen Wordcount: 1.6k Tags: Blood/Injury, Whump, Head Injuries, Fainting, Worried Simon, Banter Warnings: Vomit mention

Asshole got the drop on you. 

You were checking your corners this time, talking calmly into your radio as you slowly swept the perimeter of the warehouse you and Ghost had been sent to investigate. There had been fair resistance, one that had been thinned by your sniper fire as Ghost moved interior. It had only been once he’d sounded the all clear that you clambered down from your perch on the hill and had moved to rendezvous with your LT. 

A noise catches your attention, a rolling bottle that clattered against the concrete. You pivot sharply, weapon raised and moving silently towards the source of the sound. Too late do you realize it’s a distraction, and before you can spin on your heel to face the presence that makes the hairs on your neck rise, the world cracks with color and you’re sent spinning to the ground. 

It takes a moment for you to orient yourself, and the first thing you recognize is the splitting pain just above your right ear, so fierce it nearly blinds you. Yet the enemy behind you doesn’t seem to care, towering over you and reaching for your form with darkly clad hands. Body operating on pure instinct, you reach for the knife on your vest, slash across his calf so he stumbles. It doesn’t take much after that, as you swiftly stand and fire once from your side arm, the man slumping to the ground limply. 

“Fix, how copy?” Ghost suddenly barks into your radio, having heard the commotion, and the noise screeches in your ears. Too loud, too loud. It hurts, the place where the AQ agent hit you with the butt of his rifle, likely out of ammo. The pain unfurls across your skull, has you scrunching your eyes shut with a groan of blooming pain that feels bitter on your tongue. 

“Fix.” Ghost tries again, and you shudder an exhale as you try to breathe through the pain, eyes closed as you blindly fumble for your radio. 

“Copy. I’m injured. Moving to your position.”

There’s a pause, and you try vainly to right yourself, checking your gear and toeing the edge of the body at your feet so you can navigate around it with your eyes closed as much as possible. 

“Negative. Stay where you are. I’m coming to you.”

You wince at that, not out of pain, but at the griping irritation in Ghost’s voice at your injury. You’ll probably hear about it later, but for now you focus on trying to find somewhere to sit down so Ghost can find you. The world wobbles dangerously around you, and the first turn of your head summons a low, stifled groan at the pulsing gunshot of pain that flares behind your eyelids. 

“All stations- I’ve got one wounded. Standby.”

Way to advertise, Ghost. You think with a little frown, glad that now every operator on this mission knows you have a fucking headache. You press a hand to the center of the pain and instantly draw the touch away with a hiss, feeling the skin react to your fingers. They feel wet. It’s agonizing, the pain, it feels like someone has decided to try and fracture you open to look inside, forgetting how to close you back up. It feels like the only thing you can think of, your world consumed by a tilting dizziness and growing nausea that sits heavy and sour in your stomach.

It doesn’t take long for Ghost to find you, and when he does there’s little fanfare as he immediately moves to assess you. 

“Eyes up.” He demands, and despite the curtness it’s a touch gentle, encouraging as a gloved hand tilts your chin up and then to the side so he can examine the growing welt on the side of your skull. 

“How’s your head?” He asks blandly, trying to part the hair from your temple to see the injury.

“No complaints yet, LT. At least not from you.” You try, voice wobbling a little but trying to see if you can get a reaction from him.

Ghost takes a moment to catch what you’ve said, pauses, sighs. You snicker.

He elects to ignore you, which is a little disappointing, and admittedly a little worrying too. If he’s not up for jokes, whatever injury he’s looking at must be serious. You wonder if it’s worse than you think it is, which is to say it might be pretty fucking bad.

Headache, light sensitivity, nausea, bleeding…You grimace, years of medic training efficiently narrowing down the probable causes to a short and frankly worrying list of possible causes. The thought is short circuited to nothing as Ghost turns you slightly, making the world shift violently under you and something terrible roll in your stomach at the horrific wash of pain it summons. 

“Fix. Look at me.” Ghost tells you, and you force your eyes open to see the black void of his war paint mere inches from your own. He blinks underneath his mask at whatever he finds in your eyes scrunched with pain, brow scrunching in sudden concentration.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Ghost asks you abruptly, and despite the steadiness of his voice his hand is gripping your shoulder with a sudden severity that does little to anchor you from the spinning room.

You try to focus on his skeletal fingers with little success.

“...Two? Three?” You cut yourself off with a groan, pressing a hand to your head to try and dull the pain. It’s no use. It blooms blindingly behind your eyelids, carving deep into your skull with unrelenting mercy. You feel wetness trickle over the heel of your palm, warm and red.

“Ghost…” You try, unsure of what you're pleading for. Mercy? Help? A bullet between the eyes to make it stop?

"Fix." Ghost tries again, and his shadow falls over you, dwarfing you with his size. His voice has taken on an urgent growl that misfires in the back of your thoughts because it sounds like fear. 

"How many fingers?"

You try to focus on them, the digits wavering in front of your face. You squint your eyes, but it summons a sudden, violent wave of nausea that turns your stomach upwards.

"I-I think I'm going to be sick." You manage, and double over to the side, just in time for the bile in your stomach to avoid hitting Ghost's boots.

You hear him curse, bark over the comms for med-evac, and when you try to straighten you overcorrect, fall straight off the crate and into his arms.

"Fix!"

“S-shit. Sorry.” You fumble, but do nothing to try and raise yourself up, too consumed by the red pulsing pain behind your eyelids. “Fuck. Fuck it hurts.”

You don’t like to complain. As the medic your whining only serves as a poor example. Now, however, you grant yourself the reprieve of your quickly slurring words trailing into a broken string of curses you use to distract yourself. 

“Hush.” Ghost tells you, and there’s a flash of recognition as you try and place the waver in his voice. Anger? Fear? You can’t tell. His arm cradles you against his chest, a knee braced at your back to keep you sitting upright. “Breathe through it, stay with me.”

Stay with you? You think dumbly. You’re right here, you can’t move. Where the hell are you supposed to go?

“Simon-” You try, confused, spinning, a hand grasping at the strap of his vest. It takes effort to raise your hand, and you realize with a flash of alarm that your body isn’t nearly as responsive as you think it is. “W-wait, Simon. It’s-”

You can’t find the words, but Ghost seems to understand, because he suddenly goes rigid and begins yelling into his radio with a sudden volume that makes you whimper. Whatever you try to say next is swallowed by his arms suddenly closing around you, lifting you up as the world moves around you. 

“Fix. Pet, I need you to stay awake for me.” He tells you, voice taking on a new tenderness that betrays his sincere worry. You try and nod, but even that feels like too much, so you try and stay still, try to breathe like he’s told you, even when bile boils in your stomach at the dizzying turn of the earth under you both. 

“S-sick-” You try, trying to smack at his vest to warn him, but Ghost doesn’t stop moving. You end up trying to twist away with little success, a little dribble of sickness trickling down the front of your vest. 

“You’re alrigh’.” He tells you through gritted teeth, and somehow you don’t believe him. “Stay awake, Fix. Just a little longer.”

How much longer? You think desperately, stomach rolling with the pain splitting your skull. The movement doesn’t help, merely exacerbates your violent agony that forces you into limp stillness to just try and breathe through it. 

“Si-imon…” You whimper again in a bid for mercy. 

When Simon responds with your name, you know it’s bad. 

He shakes you a little as you go pliant in his arms, growling a reminder to stay awake that you can’t seem to heed. You try to apologize, but the words feel useless on your tongue. Darkness beckons with a sweet promise of painless unconsciousness you desperately want to cave to. 

“Don’t you fucking sleep on me.” Simon growls at you, suddenly desperate, and you try to lift a hand to his face, to reassure him it’s only a little nap. All you succeed in is loosening your grip from his vest. Your hand falls limply against you. 

“Don’t hate me for this, Si.” You think weakly as your head falls forward into your chest, and you succumb to nothingness.

[thatswhyilovetheghost]

Easy, girl.

Whumptober Day 1 : 'Swooning'. (No, I'm not posting day 1 on the 13th)

Captain John Price x f!Medic Reader

Summary: The Captain isn't impressed by his medic's tendency to overwork herself.

A.N. : Only mild whumpage in this one, fainting w/ hurt/comfort <3

The interrogative call of your name nearly makes you jump out of your skin, head crashing into the surface of the desk you were rifling through folders under. You hiss a curse between your teeth.

Turning around, you're met with the displeased face of the Captain of your assigned squad, firm hands resting on his hips as he glares down at you, brows furrowed.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he starts, "but didn't your shift end about four hours ago now?"

Eyes widening, you raise your wrist to check the time, only to be met with a glaring 01:00.

"I- sorry, Captain, I was just sorting out some paperwork which-"

"Which can be done tomorrow," he interrupts, sending you a reproachful look that raises your hackles.

"It's fine," you snap, rising to your feet, arms now full of folders. "I've got it all under control, Captain."

The rapid movement makes your head swim. You stumble slightly and blink away the blur.

"Mm, looks like it," he snarks, concern underlying his tone.

His sarcasm only serves to make you prickle further. You huff, steadying yourself on your feet before making your way to a filing cabinet.

Or, attempting to at least. The increased motion sends your vision to a white flash that quickly fades to black nothingness. The last thing you feel before you pass out is a set of strong hands grasping at you, pulling you close.

When you wake it's with a gasp, as though you'd been drowning but pulled to safety. There's someone holding you, tight and close. You squirm at the restriction.

"Shh, easy - easy, girl. I've got you. You're alright."

The voice that hushes you is deep and rich, a slight familiar gruffness to it. Forcing your eyes open you find yourself looking straight into the piercing blues of Captain Price.

Captain Price, your Captain, whose lap you're currently settled on.

Price, who is sitting on the floor, legs crossed and back flat to the wall, must have scooped you up before you hit the ground and curled you into him while you were out.

Fuck, how long had he been holding you like this?

He lifts one hand from stabilising you at your hips to your jaw. Holding your chin up to get a good look, Price scans your face, scrutinising every blink and wince you make.

"Sir-" you rasp drily, feeling your face warm both in embarassment at fainting in front of your superior and at the situation it had left you in.

"There she is," he cooes, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on your skin. "You feel alright?"

You nod, hyperaware of his proximity.

"Y-yes sir, thank you," you manage.

"Good girl," he nearly sighs in return, eyes flicking over your face once more as though for his own reassurance. "Think you're ready to listen to me about gettin' some sleep now?"

Price chuckles under his breath as you turn away in embarassment, rubbing a broad palm up and down your thigh in teasing comfort.

Without another word, Price lifts you up like you weigh no more than a feather and shifts you into a bridal position in his arms as he rises to his feet.

You squeak lightly in surprise, and if Price notices you hiding your face in his tac-vest he doesn't mention it.

Slowly so as not to make you dizzy, your Captain carries you over to an empty cubicle in the medbay.

"Shh, there we are," he soothes, bending at the waist to lower you into the bed. There's a comfortable silence as Price pulls the blanket over your form, ensuring all of your limbs are tucked into its warmth. "How's our lovely medic s'posed to take care of us if there's no one looking after her, eh?"

You feel your heart pounding at your ribs at his words, wide eyes looking up at your Captain.

"Thank you, sir," you speak softly, suddenly finding yourself imagining what his lips might feel like against yours.

"Always, love," he whispers, dropping to press a kiss to your cheek before walking away. Price pulls the curtains to your bay closed, turning to take one last look at you before retreating to his own quarters.

When you wake up that next morning you aren't sure if you dreamed the softness from your Captain, but the look he gives you later when he comes in to check on you reassures your mind.

Your Captain had his eyes on you now, and the man was not known for giving up. If he had to take you to bed himself every night from then on, then so be it. He was sure you'd let him tire you out.

[jasmines-library]

Lost and found.

WHUMPTOBER DAY 20. Prompt: “You will regret touching them.” Fandom: Batfam

Summary: After falling into a trap, you are captured by Scarecrow and exposed to his fear toxin. When your older brothers arrive to help you, your fear gets the better of you.

Warnings: Fear, disappointment, beating, hurt.

Word count: 2K

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

You hadn’t been living with Bruce that long. A few years. If that. You were the baby of the family, younger than Damian and in some ways you supposed he resented you for it; always narrowing his eyes at you when passing him the hallway. You often felt estranged from the rest of the boys, never fully understanding their inside jokes or nightly routines. You never felt as though you belonged despite the fact that the older boys had tried to make you feel welcome. 

The one person you had managed to connect with was Alfred. When your time wasn’t occupied by training or patrol it was often spent curled up in the study with a book and excitedly explaining it to him. Reading was one of your passions; it allowed you to escape the harsh realities of the cruel world and alfred was glad to hear you rant, it often resulted in him mirroring the smile on your face. 

It was a late autumn night when the call came in. You were lounging on the window seat watching the rain batter against the glass. Your brothers were out on patrol and you were the only one left home, so you floated over to the phone, answering it and bringing it to your ear. 

“Hello?”

There was static on the other end of the line, followed by a shuffling. And then came the voice of a child. “Please… please help me.”

You began to pull on your suit, listening closely to the girl speaking over the phone. 

“My friend she-”

“Calm down.” you told her. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”

She rattled off her location through sobs. “Please hurry.”

“It’s gonna be okay.” You reassured her. 

Once you had calmed the girl, you slipped out of the exit of the batcave and began to race through town. It was a quiet night. The rain had pushed many people inside, so the lack of people on the streets really threw you off, but you decided to warn your brothers where you were going, just in case. 

“Nightwing?�� You asked over the comms, hoping that he wasn’t too occupied to answer. 

“Raven?” He wrinkled his nose. “What are you doing out?”

“A call came in. A young girl said her friend was cornered by a group of armed criminals. I’ve got it handled, but I thought I'd give you a heads up.”

“Copy that Raven.” 

The line went silent again as you continued to push your way into the city until you reached the location that the scared girl gave you over the line. Only, there was no one in sight. You called out into the darkness but there was no reply. And then, there was a sharp prick to the side of your neck. 

~

When you awoke, your hands and hands were bound together by old rope that scratched at your skin. The floor was dank and dusty and your mask had been torn from your face. You could feel a small nic along your eyebrow, and your entire body ached. 

Without full use of your hands, you struggled to sit up when you noticed the figure leaning against the wall across the room. Tall and masked with a straw hat, he loomed over you, observing you from afar. You used your legs to inch yourself away from the humanoid figure, but he outpaced you, squatting down in front of you and trailing a gloved hand along your jaw.

“Hiya little birdie.”

“Get off of me.” You spat.

Scarecrow tutted, but removed his hand. “I’m glad to see you. You see, I've been watching you for some time. I’ve seen how miserable  you’ve been. And I've been waiting for a chance to get you alone. I have to say though, it was much easier than I anticipated.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

The villain chided. “Mm, I have something more fun in mind. You see, I've been experimenting with something new. Well, new and improved. You see, my old fear toxin, it was good but you couldn’t really feel. If you know what I mean? So I did some experimenting and I've finally created something I've just been dying to test out. So I figured, why not have some fun while I'm at it?”

“They’re coming for me.” You told him with narrowed eyes. “And you’re gonna be a dead man?”

He tilted his head, resting his hand on the door before he stepped out and shut it completely. “Are they?”

He bolted the door shut, leaving you in the dimly lit room where a thick, green smog began to billow through the vents. You tried to back away from the smoke, but it surrounded you, cascading down all four walls. You took a deep breath, taking in all of the air you could, but it didn’t last long, eventually you couldn’t stand the burning in your lungs and you were forced to inhale the substance, choking as it filled your lungs. 

When the green began to fade away, vanishing into the air, you were left alone in the silence. Though it wasn’t long before the door was broken down by heavy pounding, and the masked face of your brother burst through the door. 

“Y/N”

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Jason. Oh thank god, I thought you weren’t going to come. He told me that you none of you would and I-”

“Shut up.”

You stilled. “What?”

“I said shut up!” He kicked you hard to the ribs eliciting a yelp from you. 

“Jason…?”

“God, are you as stupid as you look? Shut it.” Jason kicked you harder, each one growing in intensity and followed by a snarky remark. You tucked your head to your chest, pressing your hands tightly to your ears until eventually, Jason vanished into a cloud of green and you were plunged back into emptiness. 

“Oh god… Y/N.”

It was Tim’s voice, shaky as he raced towards you. His hands gripped your arms as he forced them away from your ears. You half glanced up at him, doing a double take when you saw the look set upon his face. It was tender, but laced with worry. You wanted to reach out into his arms, but you were hesitant. 

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” He bent down and removed the frayed rope from your wrists, you rubbed them. Tim then swung his arm around your shoulder to help you up, but you only made it a few steps towards the door when he flung you over his shoulder, sending you plummeting to the floor with a sickening crack as your skull collided with the ground. Your head throbbed as blood dripped from the crack that had opened in the back of your head. 

“Silly girl.” Tim laughed. “You really think we care enough to come and help you? After you were foolish enough to fall for his trap? You always mess things up Y/N. You’re a burden. Nothing more. Bruce’ll be glad to finally be rid of you.”

“Tim, Please-"

He reeled his fist back to land the final blow. You scrambled backwards, raising your arm above your face to protect yourself, but no pain came. And Time was gone. 

Fat, hot tears were rolling down your cheeks by the time that Damian entered the room. He narrowed his eyes at you like he normally did. They were so full of hate. You closed your eyes, biting down on your trembling lip and sinking against the wall. 

“Get up.” He demanded, voice thick with venom. 

You squeezed your eyes shut even tighter. 

“Damian… please don’t. I don’t need to hear how-”

“I hate you.”

It was only three words, but they cut right through you like a bullet. 

“I hate you.” He gritted out. “You ruined everything. We were fine without you. We were happy. And then you came along and you- you took all of that away. You’re a disappointment. And I hate you.”

Damian didn’t move to hurt you, but you supposed in some ways that's what hurt the most. Not the pain and the beating, no. That’s not what you were scared of. It was disappointing your family. You grimaced as Damian left, waiting for the cycle to start again.  

~~~ 

Damian didn’t think he had ever ran faster in his life. His boots slapped against the concrete as he raced alongside his older brothers. He had never been more scared than at the lack of your voice over the comms. The four of them had been trying you for hours but had had no such luck. That was until Alfred managed to snag your location on the computer. And so the four of them ran. 

Dick’s heart thundered against his ribs. He feared what Scarecrow had done to you. He had heard the stories; witnessed the horrors. But he couldn’t bear to fathom what your mind would conjure up. You had seen too much. 

When he pushed his way into the warehouse, it was dark. And silent. The four of them kept their eyes peeled for a sign of anything, but there was no sign of you or Scarecrow. That was until Damian spotted the frame of the door poking out from behind a metal cabinet. It took two of them to haul the heavy piece of furniture away. It squealed awfully as it scraped across the floor. When they pushed the door open they had to squint to see you hidden in the corner of the room. Your eyes were wide and you were hyperventilating at the sight of them.

“Y/N?”

“No, no…” You shook your head, trying to back further into the wall when he took a step towards you. 

Jason tried too, but it only worked you up more. 

“Not all of you…please. Please…”

Jason knelt down beside you, reaching to touch you gently, but you flinched away.

“It’s not going to work.” A voice laughed out from the doorway. 

The brother’s whipped round to face the scarecrow. 

“What have you done to her?” Tim spat. 

He chuckled deeply. “She’s been exposed to my new fear toxin. See, I don’t know what she’s  been seeing but whatever it is, you guys are clearly an important part of it.”

Tim gritted his teeth. “You are going to regret touching her.”

They surged forwards, pinning him towards the wall. He fought back, but was no match for the anger-fueled vigilantes. When he slumped to the ground, they were tasked with the even more challenging job of getting you out. But when they moved towards you, tears rolled fatly down your face as you sobbed. 

“Please…” You shook. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t hurt me please.”

Damian froze. “What?  

“You’ve done enough…please.” 

You flinched as the youngest of your brothers laid a hand on your shoulder. 

“Y/N? It’s us. We’re real, I promise.”

You shook your head. “...no”

“We’re not gonna hurt you, kid.”

“You already have…”

Their hearts stopped simultaneously and Dick swallowed thickly. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

Everything went black as his fist collided with your head.

~~~

You sat up abruptly. You were back in the safety of your own room, tucked away in your bed. Although you were more aware of what had happened, you couldn’t shake the fear that rolled over you. But you weren’t alone when you woke up. You were surrounded by a sea of familiar faces.

“Y/N?” Dick asked when he noticed your eyes were open.

“Yeah.” You murmured groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You just shrugged meekly.

“Oh y/n/n we were so worried.” Damian said. His tenderness was foreign. 

“What did you see?” Dick asked hesitantly. 

“All of you. Disappointed in me.”

“Oh kid.” Tim looked at you with sad eyes. “We would never be disappointed in you. We love you so, so much. And we couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“But I fell for his trap. I-”

“Uh Uh. You did what you thought was right. How were you supposed to know?”

Again, you just shrugged. 

“We’re proud of you, little wing. So proud.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 19 ⛤ DAY 21 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

[whump-allthe-way]

“thanks.. dad..” says whumpee, their voice rough and low, as caretaker threads their fingers through their tangled hair

vs

“no please-! dad make it stop! it hurts- please-!” as they thrash and scream, arching away from whumper’s blade as they slice and carve into their skin, caretaker watching in chains

[mystery-star]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 25 | Storm

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

[sarahsmi13s]

Just a Little Guidance

whumptober day 6: forced to hurt someone

pairing: tim bradford x reader (oc last name: blake)

characters: tim bradford, y/n blake, zoe andersen, jackson west, john nolan, lucy chen, thane riggs (oc villain)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, blood, fighting, stabbing, mentions of SA, being held captive, forced to hurt someone, forced to hurt partner, crying, quitting, if i missed anything please please please let me know

word count: ~1.8k

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

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

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

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary:

You stood in front of Captain Andersen’s desk, hands shaking as you listened to her tell you about everything that would need to happen before you could return to duty. 

Tonguing your split lip, you shook your head. Tears gathered in your eyes as you looked at your trembling, still blood stained, hands as your shield and gun rested in them

How could they let you back to work after everything that happened? Tim was still in the hospital, you got to leave after just a few days. But what you saw, what you and Tim experienced over those two weeks… you couldn’t trust yourself.

“I-I’m sorry Captain… but I can’t,” you said softly, your bruised and busted hands curling around the items in your them.

She tilted her head, “I’m not sure I understand.” 

You sat your shield and gun on her desk, “I’m not coming back… I’m sorry… but I quit.”

Zoe nodded, giving you a sympathetic look as you avoided her eyes. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” You shook your head before she was even finished. “No, I’m sorry Captain… but I can’t. I’m quitting, I’ve made up my mind. I’m sorry.”

Without giving her a chance to reply, you turned on your heel and left.

You sat curled up in the hospital chair, just staring at Tim’s unconscious form laying there in the bed.

There were words stuck in your throat. It was like they were coming up sideways, choking you before coming up in broken fragments on your tongue.

What the hell could you say? Tim was laying in a hospital bed because of you. You had put him there. An apology just wouldn’t make that go away. Make what you did go away.

You sat in the uncomfortable chair, picking scabs and prodding at bruises as your mind replayed everything. Never giving you a chance to rest or forget what you did.

“I’m sorry, Tim… I’m so so sorry,” you sobbed, looking down at your blood covered hands. 

“It’s okay, baby,” Tim winced at the way your hands tried to patch him up from the wounds you had put there that day. “You’re doing this to protect yourself and for us to survive. I’m not mad.” 

You shook your head, “I should be stronger than this…” 

“Thane is a fucking psycho, do not put this blame on yourself,” he grunted as he sat up. “Hey, look at me.” You sniffled and looked up, “I’m hurting you, Tim. I shouldn’t hurt you, under any circumstance… even this. I should have let him–”“Don’t say that, don’t you dare say that.” 

“You were ready to take a bullet for me!”

“Because you don’t deserve to die!”“And you do?!”

You panted a little, “I shouldn’t be hurting you… I don’t want to hurt you.” He grabbed your hand, not caring about his own blood slicking up his hand. “I know that, and I can handle it. They’re coming, I know they are. I can hold out until then.” 

“But what if I can’t?”

After that conversation it was eerie silence as you both tried to sleep.

It was hard for you to fall asleep. The copper scent of Tim’s blood on your hands made you sick to your stomach . The substance was sticky and drying to your skin. Thane wasn’t allowing you to wash your hands, letting Tim’s blood dry on your hands in layers.

And when you woke up the next day it was your turn.

You were simply a punching bag. Though Thane would call it a ‘boxing match’. If you won, the next day you wouldn’t have to hurt Tim and you both got a decent meal with fresh water.

But you couldn’t win. 

You had gotten close the first few times. But Thane was an ex-Navy SEAL so he could take you down like it was nothing. And as time went on, you got weak. You didn’t have the energy to put up a decent fight and even give yourself hope. The only reason you still attempted was to keep Tim safe.

That night you sat on the floor with your head down and an arm clutching your side as your ribs ached. 

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. Tim grunted as he turned to look at you, “Why are you sorry?” You sniffled, “I can’t win…” “You’re not supposed to win. He just likes to give you hope…” 

“I can’t keep doing this Timmy… hurting you, I can’t…” 

“If you don’t-”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m not going to kill you… I couldn’t live with myself if I did.” 

You didn’t give him a chance to respond and just got in your bed and tried to sleep.

The next morning, Thane woke you up with gentle caresses on your face.

“Time to wake up,” he said gently, pulling you up and to your feet. “C’mon we have a big day ahead of us.” 

You whimpered as he pulled you over to a table, gun pressed to your lower back. “Pick your first weapon.”

You shake your head, tears spilling over, “No.” 

Thane growled and pulled harshly on your hair, making you look up at him. “You pick or I do, I won’t tell you again.” The gun digs into your back, “And you won’t like what I pick.”

You gritted your teeth as he pulled your hair harder, “I’m done playing your game. Shoot me.”

“Y/N, it’s okay…” Tim said, but his words were breathy. “I-I can take it.” 

“You hear that? He can take it,” Thane smirked before kissing your forehead. “Pick up the knife.”

“I said, no.”

He growled before slamming your face down on the table.

Tim looked away, jaw clenched as you cried out a little. You don’t blame him, you’d look away too. 

This position hadn’t been unfamiliar. 

Often after those boxing matches, Thane would use your weak state to release other frustrations. 

So you just closed your eyes and braced yourself.

“Oh look at you,” he cooed, his hand rubbing your back. “Mmmm you’ve learned. But right now isn’t about us. It’s about you and Tim. So pick up the knife or I will fuck you as you look your boyfriend in the eyes. Pick. It. Up.”

“Pick up the knife, Y/N…”

“Okay! Okay…”

Thane smirked and pulled you back up to stand. “Good girl.”

Your hand shook as you wrapped your fingers around the blade’s handle. The thought of turning and plunging it into your capture’s stomach flashed in your mind but you knew better. You weren’t fast enough and his trigger finger was quick.

Eyes filling with tears, Thane guided you forward.

“Stab him.”

Your eyes widened and you turned your head to face him. “W-what?”

“You heard me, stab him.”

“That wasn’t-”

“Do it or I'll shoot him in the head.”

You closed your eyes, sobbing as your hands shook violently. “It’s okay Y/N. It’s gonna be okay,” Tim reassured, kissing the top of your head.

But you didn’t believe him.

When it was just cuts or burns, it was easier to believe that he would be okay. But you could see that he was weak. He was shaking from blood loss and he could barely keep his eyes open. His voice was tired and breathy so he desperately tried to put authority in it.

But it wasn’t working.

You shook your head, crying openly as you brought up the knife.

He gritted his teeth and braced himself as you found a spot on his torso and pushed the tip of the blade in.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you whispered tearfully, pulling the knife back out. 

You watch horrified as blood leaks out of the new wound and down his side. You had hurt him, again. It made you feel sick.

Suddenly, Thane’s right in your ear, his eyes on the bare half inch of blood on the blade.

“Oh, come on now. Don’t waste my time,” he growled. He wrapped his arms around you and put his hands on top of yours. 

“No, no please,” you begged through your tears, trying to fight him.

But your resistance was used in Thane’s favor as he used your combined force to plunge the knife into Tim’s stomach.

You gasped, feeling the sickening warm feeling of fresh blood coating your hands.

Tim couldn't hold back his shout of agony, gritting his teeth as tears came to his eyes. 

Thane leaned in, laughing in your ear as you sobbed, “Look at that, seems like all you needed was just a little guidance.” 

You covered your mouth, smearing blood on your face as your eyes stayed unmoving from the knife handle. You could have collapsed to the floor in a sobbing heap if Thane hadn’t had arms around you.

“Ooooh not so fast there Y/N. One’s not going to cut it, sweetheart. Take it out and do it again.”

When you hesitated, Thane took your hands and wrapped them around the handle, “Take it-”

“LAPD DROP YOUR WEAPON AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR.”

You sobbed in relief as Thane turned to who you recognized to be John Nolan, Bishop’s rookie.

“Put your weapon down and kick it over to me.” 

Thane followed his instructions, smart enough to know that he was cornered. 

You held Tim’s face, “It’s gonna be okay baby. They’re here, just like you said they would be.”

Tim had been unconscious when you said that, finally succumbing to the pain.

“Officer Blake?”

You jumped at the call of your name, being pulled from your memories as you looked up to see the three rookies. Jackson was the one to address you.

“You don’t have to call me that anymore Officer West…”

He nodded and swallowed, “Right we’re out of uni-”

“No, I quit… I’m not an officer anymore.”

The rookies’ eyes widened and they shared a look when your eyes moved to Tim.

“But you’re great at your-” 

You cut John off, bitterness in your tone, “If I was good at my job he wouldn’t be in this bed…”

You took a breath, finally letting yourself touch him and grabbing Tim’s hand. “I should have been stronger…”

“Thane’s a psychopath, who knows what situation we would be in had you held out longer,” Lucy tried, watching your glass eyes as they looked over Tim. “That doesn’t make you a bad cop…”

“I don’t trust myself… and being a good team requires trust. I can’t go back out onto the street if I do not trust myself, that’s how people get hurt.”

You shook your head, letting it fall between your shoulders. “It took just a little guidance and I plunged a knife into the man I love…”

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

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

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

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

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 4: Shock, “I see the danger, it’s written there in your eyes”

We had to get to the bloody ones eventually—

This was originally going to be standalone, but one thing led to another and I think there’s going to be another part at some point. I couldn’t make it longer and I’m very stuck on the idea hehe

Warnings: blood & injury, specifically a stab wound, and just general battle violence and injuries

Read it on ao3

————————————————————

“Ugh, wizzrobes again?” Legend grumbled as he slid under a bolt of electricity. “We just fought some of these clowns yesterday! Did the Shadow just give up on originality?”

“Less complaining, more fighting!” Warriors shouted at him from nearby, and Legend rolled his eyes.

“Less criticism and more fighting!” Hyrule called back with a mischievous look, and Legend almost laughed, though it turned into a yelp when he dodged another bolt of magic.

Wizzrobes were such a pain.

Especially Wild’s.

Warriors shouted at him again, but this time it was a warning, and Legend deftly jumped away from a blast of ice that would have frozen him solid. He nodded a thanks at the captain, and went back to trying to defeat the wizzrobes, which was nearly impossible with how crazily they moved.

Legend dodged a fireball, and quickly turned and shot a blast of ice at the offending monster. It shrieked, and disappeared into a puff of smoke, and Legend swapped out his ice rod for a fire rod, and did the same to another.

The different rods seemed to work well, and along with the others all fighting together, soon there was only one wizzrobe left. It was in a color Legend hadn’t seen before though, and he looked at it suspiciously.

“Yours come in purple now?” he called behind him towards where he knew Wild was sniping.

“I’ve never seen one like that before!” Wild called back, voice uncertain. “I don’t know what it—”

As he spoke, the wizzrobe grinned, letting out a deranged cackle as it shot a huge burst of magic into the sky. Purple lights flashed, and a glowing ball fell from them, dropping down into the clearing and exploding into blinding light before anyone could do a thing.

Legend yelped and covered his face with his shield, but the magic still knocked him off his feet and onto the ground. It shook into his limbs and up to his face, his vision going white and spotty. It didn’t... hurt, exactly, but something about it felt all mixed up inside of him, jolting through his body and limbs, and he felt rather discombobulated.

“Legend!”

The sensation abruptly faded, and he felt arms tugging at him. Legend gingerly opened his eyes, almost surprised he could see at all, and looked up, meeting Hyrule’s worried gaze. The traveler was looking down at him with wide eyes, and Legend blinked a few times to get the last few spots of white out of his vision.

“Are you okay?” Hyrule asked, looking him over worriedly, “you were closest to that beam, it felt like an explosion went off.”

“Fine, fine,” Legend coughed, then gingerly pulled himself up to a sitting position. “Think it was just... magic. I don’t even think it did anything to me.”

“Nothing?” Hyrule asked suspiciously, and Legend shook his head.

“No. Is everyone else okay? Where’d that wizzrobe go?”

“I haven’t checked yet, but since you’re fine I would guess they’ll be—”

An arrow slammed into the ground right between Legend’s feet.

He jumped, and in one swift movement was on his feet with his shield out, back to back with Hyrule as he looked for the enemy who’d shot. He scanned the field as he looked for where his sword had gone to, then he froze, and stared at who had fired the arrow.

Wild stood across the clearing, his bow drawn with an arrow nocked in Legend’s direction. His brows were lowered as he stared at the veteran, stance unusually firm, and something about the way he held himself just screamed danger.

Legend flicked his eyes around, and felt his breath leave him as he saw Warriors and Sky both staring at him as well, swords drawn and angled towards him in a threatening gesture. Time stood on Legend’s other side, claymore raised as he stared silently at the veteran, and Legend’s heart skipped a beat.

He and Hyrule were surrounded. By their own teammates.

No, Legend realized with a dawning horror, sunlight glinting proudly off Time and Warriors’ armor, no not my teammates.

Knights.

“Captain? What’s going on?” Twilight asked nearby, Wind and Four looking equally confused next to him.

“Traitor to the crown,” Warriors said in a low voice, eyes never blinking.

“You kidnapped the princess,” Wild added in a growl.

“We have our orders,” Sky said in a smooth voice, and raised the Master Sword accusingly. “Dead or alive.”

Legend couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t be crazy!” Wind said in disbelief, looking at Time and Warriors with a shocked expression. “Legend didn’t do anything! What’s wrong with you guys?!”

“The wizzrobe,” Four said with a sharp inhale. “That attack must have done something to make them think he’s the enemy.”

“Time, please, you know Legend, he hasn’t done anything wrong,” Twilight said gently, inching towards him. But Time stopped him with a firm glare, his sword never lowering. The knights all took a step closer to Legend, and he felt Hyrule stiffen at his back.

“Legend, you need to run,” Hyrule whispered. “Now.”

Legend couldn’t move.

Suddenly he was eleven again, staring at a wanted poster with his face on it, wondering why the reward was so high. He was eleven, screamed at by the townsfolk, and surrounded by guards just for trying to walk into the village to buy food on his quest. He was eleven, chased down by brainwashed knights and forced to fight them, some of them people he knew, his uncle’s friends, raise his uncle’s sword against them and hurt them—

“Legend RUN!”

He snapped back into himself just in time to avoid a thrust from Warriors, and Hyrule grabbed his wrist when he merely stared at the weapon that had almost killed him, pulling him away.

“Come back you traitor!” Warriors shouted, and Legend blinked, able only to watch in numb shock as Four and Twilight leapt to defend him, Hyrule still dragging him away.

Sky leapt forward, then cried out as the Master Sword fell from his grip, sparking as she was about to be used against one of her own. Wind took the opportunity to tackle him, and Legend watched blankly as the sailor wrestled Sky’s pouch away from him so he couldn’t grab any more weapons.

“Don’t hurt them!” Wind cried out, still struggling with Sky, “they’re not themselves!”

“Keep them away from Legend!” Twilight shouted as he crossed swords with Warriors, the captain swinging his blade with fierce strokes.

Hyrule nodded, and blocked a slew of arrows from plunging into Legend’s chest, then yanked him behind his back as he avoided a huge swing from Time.

“You’ve betrayed us all!” Time spat, and Hyrule crossed blades with him, nearly driven to his knees by the force of it. “You’re nothing but a false hero, poisoning the land with your lies!”

The words were like a knife, and Legend could only watch in blank shock, stunned as Hyrule struggled against Time, as Twilight and Warriors still fought against each other, Wind nearly getting punched in the face by Sky while Four tried desperately to get close enough to Wild to stop him from sniping them all down—

“Legend! Snap out of it!” Hyrule shouted as he somehow managed not to be lopped in two by another of Time’s swings. “You’re going to get killed, wake up!”

He wasn’t sure if it was the phrase or the desperation in Hyrule’s voice, but Legend finally snapped into action, firmly shaking himself. You can freak out later when half of your team isn’t trying to kill you!

Legend dove for his gilded sword, but hissed at the warning spark he felt as he grabbed it. Sometimes he forgot his blade was another version of the Master Sword, upgraded and changed, but at times like these it was impossible.

I’m not going to hurt them, I’m only defending myself, he begged as it got hotter, still stubbornly holding on even as his hands began to burn. Please, you know I’m not!

The hilt scorched his hands, and Legend was forced to shove it into its sheathe, grabbing in his pouch for a backup sword. Before he could though, something swung towards him, and he only barely got his shield up in time to block it.

The strike threw him to the ground for the second time today, and Legend nearly had the breath knocked out of him. His eyes widened as Wild raised a claymore of some kind to strike him with, and he just barely managed to roll out of the way of another hit.

“Champion I don’t want to have to hurt you,” he gritted out, but Wild didn’t reply.

His face was eerily closed-off as he tried to hit him, strikes almost clinically precise. Legend had to dodge all over the place, and he still got a shallow cut on his arm. Not to mention his hands were smarting from trying to use the gilded sword, and every time a hit rang out against his shield, he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out.

Wild swung again, and Legend gritted his teeth and used his backup sword to shove the champion backwards, then grabbed for his ice rod again. His aching fingers closed around it, but then he felt his entire body freeze in place, yellow shining in his vision.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t defend himself. He couldn’t do anything, and he suddenly realized that Wild must have used the stasis rune on his slate on him.

No, no no no no no—

Before he could panic too much, the magic broke, and Legend stumbled, thrown off-balance. He looked around in surprise, then saw Four standing next to him, having frozen Wild’s feet to the ground with Legend’s own dropped ice rod.

He could only stare at him for a second, and startled as Four yanked him behind his shield, blocking the arrows Wild was shooting at them again.

“Should have gotten his arms too,” he cursed, then turned towards Legend. “Vet, they’re all after you, you need to go find that wizzrobe and beat it. That should break the magic, I think it’s our best bet. We can keep them all busy while you go.”

“But— you’re outnumbered,” Legend said a bit hysterically, his panic over the whole situation starting to come back, “not in numbers but skill, have you ever seen Sky and the captain duel? Not to mention the old man, he could probably take on all of you at once—”

Four put a hand on his arm, and gave him a small smile as he raised his sword.

“I can get us some more help. But you need to go.”

Legend swallowed, but he knew Four was right, and gave him a nod as he grabbed his ice rod and bolted in the direction he’d last seen the wizzrobe.

He suddenly felt like he was eleven again.

He caught sight of Hyrule as he ran, the traveler using his magic to stay away from Time’s deadly swings. He had blood on his leg, but his face was as determined as ever, and he firmly blocked Time from following when the older hero saw Legend running away.

“Coward!” he heard shouted behind him, but Legend kept running despite the sting it left in his chest.

He bolted past Twilight, who had an arrow in his arm and multiple other injuries, but was continuing to fight anyway, blocking Warriors’ strikes with a grieved look, almost like he’d been forced to do this before. Wind was still wrestling with Sky, fists flying as the Skyloftian tried desperately to get his weapons back, but Wind was determined to keep him down.

Every instinct of Legend’s was screaming at him to turn around and fight, help his friends, his brothers, he had so many items that could help them— but he forced himself to continue, ignoring a pained cry when he heard it.

Legend was smart enough to realize the only way they would all get out of this alive would be if he broke the curse. They couldn’t stand against some of the best fighters of their group forever— it was only a matter of time before someone was seriously hurt.

But no matter how many times he told himself that, it still felt like he was abandoning them.

This is the only way to help right now. You’re not leaving them, you’re doing what needs to be done.

If you stayed here, you would only make their job more difficult.

Legend searched desperately through the trees for a flash of purple, hoping desperately the wizzrobe was still in the area.

He had no way of knowing if he was looking in the right spot or not. For all he knew, the wizzrobe was long gone, but he kept looking, even as the clashing of swords still rang in his ears, and a scream that sounded a bit like Four echoed nearby.

Legend bit down on his lip so hard he tasted blood, and ignored the stinging that had started up in his eyes as he searched.

The others were back there somewhere, fighting against their brothers, risking their lives, all for him, to keep him safe, and he’d frozen and barely helped them and now he couldn’t even find the stupid wizzrobe.

“Come on! Come out and fight me!” he screamed, voice breaking a little. “Are you afraid? Because you better be!”

A giggle flitted through the trees, and Legend shot a blast of ice out, the laughter only growing.

Purple weaved through the foliage, and Legend shot another blast out, obviously missing due to the giggle he overheard. He knew his emotions were making him sloppy, and Legend forced himself to steady his hand. He breathed out, lowering his weapon and acting as if he was unaware of where the wizzrobe was.

Come on, take the bait...

A giggle erupted in his face, and Legend thrust out his ice rod, making the wizzrobe scream as it was launched backwards. It fell to the ground, stuck solidly in a chunk of ice, and Legend pulled out his fire rod, prepared to burn it to a crisp.

Then something hit him in the side, and he went flying, crying out as he fell to the grass.

His side ached where he’d been hit, and before he could move, what felt like a foot stepped down on his chest, pressing against his doubtlessly bruised ribs and stopping him from getting up. Legend opened his eyes and saw Warriors staring silently down at him, sword raised to pierce him through.

Somehow he’d gotten past the others.

“Wars— Warriors don’t,” Legend choked out, struggling to catch his breath. “Link, please I’m not your enemy!”

“You’re a traitor,” Warriors said in a cold voice, still not blinking. He had blood running down his face from a cut over his eye, but his face showed no sign of pain. “My orders are clear.”

“Captain wake up!” Legend shouted, terror rising in his throat. “You’re not yourself, you’d never hurt any of us, snap out of it!”

Warriors didn’t react in the slightest, and raised his sword.

Legend felt a burst of panic, and he shot his arm out, feeling desperately for where he’d dropped his fire rod. If he could just kill the wizzrobe, Warriors would wake up, the spell would break—

Warriors’ sword went down as Legend’s fingers closed around his rod, and he shot a desperate plume of flame towards the dazed wizzrobe.

The fire hit it right as Warriors’ sword buried itself in his middle, and Legend’s scream mixed with the wizzrobe’s, hot agony slicing into his chest. The sword was pulled out again only seconds later, but then Warriors stumbled back, the weapon dropping from his hands.

Legend barely noticed, trying not to scream again as the sword fell to the ground beside him, already feeling blood start to dampen his tunic.

Okay, okay okay easy, you’ve been stabbed before, no big deal. Just because Warriors was who did it doesn’t change a thing, put pressure on it, you need to put pressure—

His chest burned and Legend couldn’t hold back a cry, taking thick breaths through his nose.

Goddesses please, not like this, he’ll never forgive himself.

“L-Legend?” Warriors said dizzily, shaking his head as he tried to clear it. He put a hand to his forehead, and blinked several times, wiping blood from his face with a confused look. “Vet, what...”

Then his eyes focused, and he noticed the stab wound in his chest.

“LEGEND!”

Warriors dropped to his knees beside him, and Legend couldn’t help but jerk away from him, nearly shrieking as the captain immediately pressed his hands to his middle, trying to stem the flow.

“Legend don’t move, what happened how did this...”

Warriors trailed off as his gaze landed on his bloodied sword, and every bit of color drained from his face as he recognized it as his own.

“Legend?” he said shakily, and Legend swallowed, unable to stop himself from meeting his eyes.

A sword was abruptly pressed to Warriors’ neck, and Legend watched dizzily as Twilight forced the captain back, the look in his eyes equally furious and horrified. Warriors jerked like he wanted to go back to Legend, but he raised his arms in surrender, and moved back as Hyrule dropped to his side. More of the Links rushed into the clearing around Legend, but Warriors only had eyes for him, confusion and horror shining bright.

Hyrule’s hands pressed against his middle, and Legend sucked in another trembling breath.

“It— it’s gone,” he stuttered, and felt something warm slip past his lips. Oh that’s not good. “Wizzrobe— he’s not— not g-gonna—”

“Don’t talk Legend, you’ll be fine,” Hyrule said firmly, and Legend wasn’t sure if he imagined the tremble in his voice or not. “Just stay awake, okay? I’m gonna fix you up.”

Hyrule moved a careful hand around his chest, feeling at the injury, and Legend tensed, hissing through his teeth. Someone’s hand touched his head, and he flinched, choking as something moved in his middle.

The cold he’d been trying to ignore was growing closer now, nipping at his extremities, trying to suck him down. Legend firmly ignored the feeling, despite how easy it would be to sink into it, and focused on Hyrule’s face, blearily realizing there was blood on his shoulder. He wondered who had done that to him.

The pressure on his chest abruptly increased, and Legend couldn’t muffle his scream, so many sensations hitting him that his brain couldn’t even process it.

Then something began to trickle through his middle, something that warmed the cold that had been falling over him. Warmth blossomed in his chest, different from the hot blood that had been trickling across it, and Legend exhaled, relaxing slightly as Hyrule’s magic wove through him.

Once he could focus enough to realize Hyrule was still healing him, he reached down and grabbed his wrist, giving him a look.

“I’m good, don’t overextend yourself,” he said a little shakily, and he cut Hyrule off when he went to argue. “You already used a lot of magic, I saw you.”

“You lost a lot of blood,” Hyrule retorted.

“Well I’m not the only one who’s going to need healing,” Legend said more quietly, and Hyrule stopped, the glow fading from his hands.

Twilight appeared in his vision then, arrow still jutting from his arm, and he scanned Legend’s bloodstained middle in silence. Then he met Legend’s gaze, looking much older then he normally did.

“You definitely got the wizzrobe?” he asked seriously, and Legend nodded, his eyes suddenly heavy with exhaustion.

“It’s dead. The spell broke the moment I got it,” he said in a quiet voice. “They won’t... they’re safe.”

Oh gods I hope they are.

Twilight exhaled, and nodded, putting a hand on Legend’s arm.

“Okay. Try and get some rest, Veteran. We’ll handle things.”

“Take the literal arrow out of your arm first,” he muttered back, and a faint smile pulled at Twilight’s lips.

“We’re working on fixing everyone up. Rest. We can... we’ll figure all of this out later,” Twilight said quietly, glancing behind him at something. Legend followed his gaze, and saw Warriors sitting on a log, staring silently at the blood on his hands.

The others who’d been affected by the wizzrobe were nearby, and Sky looked like he was trying to talk to the captain, but Legend looked away as Hyrule began to bandage his middle.

Traitor!

Legend closed his eyes, and tried not to listen to any of the voices that still rang around his head, or focus on the horrified look of Warriors’ that was still seared into his mind.

He didn’t want to think about it. Any of it.

[ky-landfill]

[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.

[kikker-oma]

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

🎃⁀➷ 31 days, 31 tropes for Whumptober *ੈ✩‧₊˚🕷️🍂

1. hypothermia

2. bleeding out / exsanguination

3. intubation

4. field amputation

5. strangulation

6. gunshot wounds

7. hallucinations / delirium

8. bruises

9. broken bones

10. induced coma

11. drown / hypoxemia

12. blood seeping through bandages

13. panic attack

14. hidden injuries

15. vomiting

16. hyperventilation

17. severe burns

18. character going into shock

19. heatstroke

20. allergic reactions

21. psychological trauma

22. stab wounds

23. asystole

24. infection / character’s blood or wounds become septic

25. character getting poisoned

26. amnesia

27. force feeding

28. night terror

29. surgery / vivisection / autopsy

30. electrocution / shock therapy

31. character haunted by ghosts of a.) their victims whom they’ve killed, b.) people they failed to save, c.) their loved ones, d.) their enemies — the choice is yours

TAP HERE FOR; 31 DAYS, 31 SPOOKY PROMPTS FOR WHUMPTOBER

[sprout-fics]

Whumptober Day Two: Thermometer, Delirium, "They Don't Care About You."

(Rodolfo Parra x GN! Reader)

(Whumptober Masterlist TBA)

Rating: Gen Wordcount: 1k Tags: Blood/Injury, Whump, Capture & Rescue, Fever dreams, Established Relationship, Los Vaqueros Reader, Infection, Near Death Experiences, Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Vomit mention, Torture/Captivity, Explicit Mention of Injury

You’ve stopped counting the days since you’d been captured.

There’s a darkness unlike little else you’ve experienced here, bracketed in the shade of the jungle. The abandoned, remote village you find yourself in is but a negligible spec on the map, hardly worth mentioning. It’s the perfect to hide you in following your failed self-extraction from your undercover mission into a local cartel. Your cover blown, you had tried to escape, barely managing to activate your emergency distress beacon before you’d earned a bullet to the thigh. Stumbling, the wound had been the only thing keeping you from freedom.

Now, here, trapped in the dusty, windowless cellar of the local cartel, you find yourself unable to keep track of time. The food your captors give you seems to come at irregular intervals, further obscuring any attempt to know just how long you’ve been here.

Why they haven’t killed you is beyond you. By all accounts, you should be dead. You’re a threat being kept alive, with the slim possibility that your fellow Vaqueros will find you. The motives of your captors remain a mystery, and it’s the absence of knowledge that is worse than the wait as to when they’ll drag you from this prison towards your imminent fate.

Here in the grimy, damp darkness, without medical treatment, it had taken little time for your wound to fester. What had been a sharp, piercing pain had spread to a rotting, horrific ache that seizes along your entire leg. It dwells in your tired muscles, weak with the absence of food and water, makes your head pound with viscous infection. 

Fever set in quickly, and whatever strength you had been storing for a possible escape had been quickly sapped by the raging heat in your veins. You had no choice but to lay prone in the darkness, whimpering in pain and trying to stem the fever dreams that spoke of the cellar cracking with light, of a familiar voice wrapping around your senses in comfort. 

You see him in your dreams, your Rudy. Dressed in full tactical gear, backlit by the searing Mexican sun, his shadow falls across your laying form, his hands reaching for your weakened body. Yet every time he nears, the phantom touch of him vanishes before you can speak his name. 

As time passes, you wonder if you’ll ever see him again, or if you’ll close your eyes to the dream of him, never to wake.

“They don’t care about you.” One of your captors sneers down at your glassy eyes when you echo Rudy’s name in your delirium. “If they did, they would have come for you by now.”

You can barely pull yourself to the plate of meager food he’s given you, trying to force down stale beans and rice and finding yourself emptying your stomach instead. The bile burns in the back of your throat, and without water you find yourself too dehydrated to even weep. You almost wish they’d come to kill you rather than let you rot like this, a slow and gruesome end.

There’s commotion at the top of the stairs, and you wait for one of your captors to come down and mock you, to kick your plate of food into the dirt, to provide a bullet to your brains.

Yet what comes instead is a voice shouting in distant Spanish, a frantic call to others nearby, the pop of gunfire in the distance. To your ears it sounds like fireworks, the same as the ones on El Grito de La Independencia you watched with Rudy from the rooftop of the Los Vaqueros barracks. They blossom across your senses like carnations, hammering a horrible thrum with every explosion. Your eyes flutter, trying to blot out the sensation, but your peace is disturbed by the even louder thump of boots as they rapidly descend the stairs. 

“Sergeant Parra!” A voice calls, and you whimper at the thunderous sound against your wrecked, feverish senses. Hands descend to your clammy skin, and you can’t contain a flinch to the firm grasp as they push you onto your back. 

“Corporal.” Someone mutters to you, and when they try to prop you upright you cry out with pain. “Can you hear me?”

You try and nod, but your head lolls instead, limp onto your shoulders. You don’t hear what they say next, and it only dawns on you then that you’re being rescued, perhaps too late. 

A second set of footsteps down the stairs, quick and hard as they race into the cellar. There’s words exchanged in rapid Spanish that you try to follow, before at last a hand tips your chin upwards towards a familiar, brown-eyed gaze.

“Corazón.” He murmurs, eyes soft with worry, a hand cradled against your nape to keep you looking up. “What have they done to you?”

“Rudy?” You try weakly, and you want so desperately for it to be him this time, for this not to be a dream. 

He raises a gloved hand to his teeth to yank it free, raises his bare palm to your forehead. 

“You’re burning up.” He murmurs, and you think his voice trembles as he speaks. “You’re sick.”

“Sir.” The Vaquero on your other side chirps, and he gingerly pulls at the makeshift bandage you used to cover the bullet wound in your thigh. 

“Meirda.” Rudy curses, and there’s fear there, a desperation you can feel in the tremble of his hands before he turns to you again. “Hang on, corporal. We’re going to get you medical attention. Stay with me, sí?”

“S-sí.” You manage despite your lead tongue. You let your cheek lay limp against his shoulder, and drink in the warm, familiar scent of him, eyes shuttering. “Rudy…”

“Tell the colonel we’ve found our missing corporal.” Rudy murmurs to his squad mate, and the soldier chirps an affirmative before he quickly ascends the stairs with a triumphant cry towards his comrades. In his absence, Rudy cradles you to him, arms holding you fast. A kiss bestowed upon your forehead feels as if it eases the fever. 

“You’re safe, mi vida.” He whispers, lifting you into his arms with a little grunt. “You’re going to be okay.”

You sigh against him, going fully limp as he carries you from the darkness and into the sunlight, into safety. A dream, you think. One that came true, here in his embrace.