#whumpuaryno6

[cyberwhumper]

The animal is quite skittish. Despite being alone in the quiet room, able to do whatever it pleases, the creature chooses to spend days pressed up against the corner, terrified of imaginary punishments that don't seem to come. Even as Imran steps into the room to swap old food for a fresh serving, the biopet still doesn't move much from its spot despite being so obviously terrified of him. Every step makes Horus flinch in fear.

He had been so patient with it up to this point, giving the injured creature plenty of space and a consistent environment to help soothe its nerves, yet Imran still couldn't help but feel concern. It hasn't eaten in almost a week, it barely moves from the corner of the room, it whimpers if the man so much as looks it in the eyes. At night it cries itself to sleep, the soft sobbing carried through the house tugging painfully at Imran's heartstrings.

The bruises and cuts which littered its body blossomed into horrifying shades of crimson and purple, areas where he hadn't even noticed the animal was hurt seeming to be bruised as well. In fairness, his eagerness to remove the creature out of that squalid situation likely played a part. He should have inspected Horus better, assessed the damage more calmly, actually planned what to do once he got home. Not that it seemed to mind.

Imran doesn't know whether or not it's even intelligent enough to understand what's happening around it. In the eyes of an animal, the constant change in environments, owners, even down to the rules it's supposed to follow, must be extremely stressful. In a way, he almost hopes Horus doesn't understand, so that it may be spared the burden of knowing the full extent of what it has gone through.

It takes almost another entire week before Imran catches the faintest glimpse of progress, the slightest sliver of hope. The animal, hungry and desperate, had slowly dragged itself to the food bowl. He caught it passed out right on top, so exhausted it didn't seem to have had the energy to drag itself back. Food, he hoped, could be the way to coax the biopet out of its shell. To get confirmation that his strategy was working made Imran elated.

Perhaps one day he could live to see a situation in which Horus would truly be happy and healthy.

Perhaps then, and only then, he could feel like he atoned.

Tag list: @whumpsday // @demondamage // @squidlife-crisis // @whumpedydump // @cyborg0109 // @whumpfish // @astrowhump // @the-scrapegoat // @whatwhumpcomments // @dustbunnywhump // @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question // @dokidokisadness // @moss-tombstone // @lambofmine // @maracujatangerine // @pinkraindropsfell // @writereleaserepeat // @blood-and-regrets // @littlespacecastle // @snakebites-and-ink // @unforgiven235 // @lonesome--hunter // @atomicsandwichprince // @writereleaserepeat // @whatamidoingherehelpme // @skittles-the-whumpee // @the-blind-one-speaks // @i-eat-worlds // @devourerofcheesecake // @theauthorintraining // @otterfrost // @mommymarichatfurever //

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[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 6

6. (Jan 11-12) Exhaustion / Blindfolded / Old Injuries  

cw reluctant whumper, exhaustion, blood loss, vampire whumper, human whumpee, scars, intimate whumper 

Whumpee stood in front of the mirror, head tilted to the side as their fingers traced the bite marks going down their neck. They were in various stages of healing—some had faded to white scars, others were bruised and scabbing, and the most recent one was still an aggravated red. If Whumpee scratched at it, it would start bleeding again easily. 

“You okay?” 

They glanced up quickly. “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

Whumper shrugged, eyes locking with theirs in the mirror. “Perks of being a creature of the night, I suppose. Very sneaky.” 

“Right,” Whumpee said with a chuckle. 

A moment of silence passed, with both of their gazes drifting to Whumpee’s neck. Most of the marks were concentrated there, but others were hidden by Whumpee’s clothes. Their wrists, the inside of their elbow, their thighs. 

“You look tired,” Whumper pointed out. 

“I’m fine.” The constant blood loss left them exhausted and perpetually dizzy, but it really was fine. Whumper worried too much. 

They frowned, closing the distance between them and Whumpee. Whumper kissed their neck gently, lips fitting over one of the older bites. “I wish they didn’t scar so much.” 

“I don’t mind,” Whumpee muttered. “I like the reminders of you. Knowing that I can give you what you need, instead of letting you worry about where your next meal is coming from. Or hurting someone who doesn’t want this.” 

Whumper nodded slightly, eyes meeting theirs in the mirror. “We can’t keep doing this forever, though. Someday I'm gonna take too much, and then I don’t know what I'd do with myself.” 

Whumpee took in their own reflection—the pallid skin, distant eyes and dark circles, thin frame—and wondered if that day was very far in the future.  

[celtic-crossbow]

Whumpuary Day 11-12

Prompt: Exhaustion

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore

“Daryl, we need to stop. Everyone needs a break.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, pulling your jacket tighter to your body. It was cold. Late autumn, early winter. You were searching for a group that had robbed and killed some of the Commonwealth’s best scouts. Ezekiel and Mercer had assigned you and Daryl to head up the mission. Daryl was still on edge about declining Maggie’s request to venture out. It wasn’t really his decision. You played a huge part in his declination. 

“Take a break then. M’goin’ on ahead.” He was standing on a downed tree, looking through Carol’s binoculars. You knew he was yearning for the old crew. They all had their jobs now and you couldn’t tear them away from that. So, Mercer had assigned troopers to assist. Daryl looked down at you, handing you the binoculars so he could jump down. 

“Come on, Daryl. Let’s stop for the evening. I know you haven’t been sleeping. I’m alone when I go to sleep. I’m alone when I wake up.”

His jaw twisted, a sure sign he was gnawing on the inside of his lip. “Maybe I jus’ get ta bed late n’ get up early.”

You put your hands on your hips. “Daryl Dixon, are you seriously trying to lie to me right now?” He gave a quiet nah while watching his boot kick at some loose rocks. “We barely get four or five hours and with all the walking and tracking, we’re exhausted.” You had already taken in his haggard appearance and he knew you had. “And you’re not sleeping at all? It’s not just unhealthy, it’s dangerous.”

Daryl sighed, his thumb tracing over his bottom lip. He looked as if he might concede, but with a glance over your shoulder, he dropped his hand and squared his shoulders. “M’goin’. Catch up.” 

You watched him walk away until he was out of sight. Turning, you saw a trio of troopers watching with smirks and hushed laughter. Had they been amused by you being able to rein in Daryl’s stubbornness? That would explain his hasty departure. 

“You think this is funny?” You snapped, their expressions falling straight. They stood at attention with a series of no ma’am. “Ugh, set up the tents. I’m going after our fearless leader.” You stayed for a moment to make sure they followed orders. You might have placed yourself under your boyfriend’s leadership, but in his absence, they were to heed your command. 

You checked your weapons before heading out alone. Daryl couldn’t have gone far but he tended to have the ability to surprise you. You really needed to talk to him about everything. It was you who begged him to stay when Maggie asked him to go. It was you that told him you’d follow him if he tried to leave without you. You didn’t leave him a choice and maybe that wasn’t fair. You had spent so much time separating from him in fights that could have seen one or both of you dead. Now, with a chance of relative peace and safety, you couldn’t let him just willingly walk away from that. 

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. A few steps further and you could hear the crunch of leaves and snapping twigs. You knew it wasn’t Daryl. The man could move across the forest floor without a sound. When the first growl filtered through the air, you inwardly groaned. Just what you needed. Your handgun was at your hip but you pulled your knife. You were alone and didn’t need to track any unnecessary attention. 

Lowering into a crouch, you tread the way Daryl had shown you, finding the lone walker with ease. Your eyes narrowed. It was moving with purpose, arms reaching as though something was in its sights. And it wasn’t you. 

Then you could hear him. The grunts and strained noises of Daryl engaged in a fight. Shit. You sprang to your feet, stabbing the walker in the eye as you passed. A nearby incline overlooked a small ravine, where Daryl was absolutely outnumbered by the dead. His crossbow had been discarded or dropped while he used his knives to fight off the dozen or so hands reaching for him. 

But he was flagging. 

Goddamnit, Daryl! 

You tore down the hill, kicking the feet out from under the walkers you passed so you could quickly and efficiently dispatch them. When you reached the bottom, everything seemed to go into slow motion. 

The walker had managed to get too close, grabbing Daryl’s arm as he reared back to stab the one in front of him. He used his other hand to take that one down but his arm was inches from the snapping jaws of the other. Just as it’s rotten teeth made contact with his exposed skin, a shot rang out. 

The walker dropped. 

You fired shot after shot until only three remained. Running past the archer, you took down two and turned to find him pulling his knife from the temple of the last one. 

Panting, you dropped your weapons and ran to him. He didn’t fight when you grabbed his arm. “Please please please. Are you bit? Are you hurt?” There was a light red irritation but no broken skin. You thought your legs would give out then and there, the relief surged so strongly. He still said nothing when you pulled him against you, holding him so tightly that it was a wonder he could breathe. “Don’t ever do that again! God, please, don’t!” You cried against his shoulder. His hands were on your back, rubbing gentle circles. 

“M’sorry.” Daryl finally whispered into your hair. You sniffled against him for a moment more, relishing in the feel of his warmth, the rise and fall of his chest. When you pulled back, he wasn’t looking at you. 

“It’s okay. I’m just,” your voice cracked hard enough to force a pause, “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He nodded wordlessly. “Let’s go. The shots will attract others.” You grabbed your weapons and his crossbow, handing it to him. 

The walk back was silent, your hand in his. You couldn’t give up the contact, not while your heart still raced with how close you’d come to losing him or even a part of him. When the camp came into view, you stopped, glad that he also stilled beside you.

“They’re gonna be pissed but we can’t stay here.” You sighed giving his hand a squeeze. He nodded again. When you opened your mouth again, your name was called from somewhere behind you. 

“We heard the shots.” Two troopers, Jones and Pierce, had their weapons out, lowering them as they approached. 

“We’re good.” You answered with a tight smile. “Ran into some walkers. Gonna have to move the camp.” Much to your relief, they simply nodded and moved on, relaying the order. 

“Yer right.” 

You looked away from the tents and back to your archer. His head was down, his shoulders slumped. “What?” When he lifted his head, your expression softened. He looked beat down, resigned. 

“M’exhausted. Was stupid, wha’ I did.” His thumb was drawing nervous circles on the the back of your hand. “‘Bout got me killed.” He dropped his head again, shame eating away at him. You knew that look well. 

“Hey.” You hooked a finger beneath his chin and guided him to look at you again. “I won’t say it’s okay because it isn’t. It was stupid.” The flinch would have been imperceptible to anyone else but you knew Daryl, knew what to look for when he was upset. “But you’re here. You’re safe and whole. That’s what matters.” Another silent nod. “I know there are things we need to talk about and we will. You need to rest first.”

A little of the tension bled from his face. “Okay.”

“Let’s go help gather everything. Get moved and get you to bed.” When you started walking, he fell in step automatically.

“Migh’ need a bedtime story.” He was still looking down but he wore the smallest of smiles. You didn’t let go of his hand when you nudged him in the ribs with your elbow. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make certain you’re tired enough to sleep.”

Taglist:

@thegeorgiahuntsman @livingdeadblondequeen @feral4daryl @deansapplepie @walker-bait-1973 @lazyneonrabbitt @bizquake @littlelovingideas @ririi-3 @ankhmutes @blackvelveteen1339 @sokkasimp101 @lehhos @loganlostitall @callmeyn @she-who-writes-for-multi-fandoms @gutsby @isakyakiisak @in-this-minute @eljaynosine_triphosphate @abbyreedus @wifeof-barnes @bigbaldheadname @bananafire11 @graciepies @georgiadixon @esgoraths @hutchersonsgurl @she-could-never @Kenzimae67 @nessa-mayfield @ilovedilfs4eversthings @KatelynAngel @richardsamboramylove55 @m0ss-g0blin @annhells @abi67sblog @nessieart @imgeorgeclooney @brinteylovesaliens @eduardast4rgirl @ass-butt-themusical @daryldixmedown @willowaftxn83-87 @ashtonbabe @atyourmomshouse01 @dixonzzgirl @unhingedbiatch @bultamer @lumimon47 

[tabbytabbytabby]

A Steddie aesthetic for @whumpuary No.6: Exhaustion / old injuries

[brisingr-sword]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Hunger Games (Movies), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy & Katniss Everdeen & Peeta Mellark, Haymitch Abernathy & Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy & Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark Characters: Haymitch Abernathy, Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen, Effie Trinket (mentioned), Haymitch Abernathy's Geese Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Haymitch Abernathy Needs a Hug, Drunk Haymitch Abernathy, Caring Haymitch Abernathy, Mentor Haymitch Abernathy, Whump, Haymitch Abernathy Whump, Minor Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark, Peeta Mellark Needs a Hug, Katniss Everdeen Needs a Hug, District 12 (Hunger Games), District Twelve Trio as Family, Found Family, Caring Katniss Everdeen, Caring Peeta Mellark, Animals, Animal Death, sorry guys i hurt some of the geese, its for an excuse to hurt haymitch though, Medical Inaccuracies, probably, Chronic Pain, Haymitch Abernathy Has Chronic Pain, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, this is definitely one of my more fluffier ones, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol, Post-Canon, Post-Series, no beta we die like finnick, Happy Ending, Haymitch Abernathy Sleeps With a Knife Series: Part 6 of Whumpuary 2024 Summary:

What it says on the tin. Except we've also got Katniss and Peeta being neighborly, Haymitch being angry and bitchy but also trying not to be for once, and the District Twelve Trio finding some healing in the family they've built.

Whumpuary 2024 Days 11-12 Exhaustion | Blindfolded | Old Injuries

[medusapelagia]

Running From The Daylight - Part 6

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, (coming soon Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15)

Written for @whumpuary

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Prompt: Exhaustion WT: Words: 957

It was supposed to be a holiday. A relaxing holiday! And Eddie can’t believe that their stay at the chalet transformed from almost boring into a fucking survival show!

The tea is already finished and there isn’t a lot of water either: Eddie knows that he will have to go outside to get some snow, but if he gets outside Steve will insist that he has to try to find help and he is not ready to leave him, so he decided to act like a coward. He waits for Steve to falls asleep and then he gets outside with both their thermos, filling them with fresh snow. A tempestuous wind blows so violently that it almost blows Eddie away, but he manages to get some fresh snow. He checks his phone trying to get some signal and notice that the battery is almost dead. Fuck!

He turns to look at the chalet: the left side of the building is covered in snow. They were lucky that the avalanche hit only part of the chalet or they would be buried under feet of snow; the front of Steve’s car is stuck in the snow and there is no way they could use it to escape from that freezing hell, someone has to get to them with a fucking helicopter, there is no other way. The road they used to get to the chalet is no longer there and the snow is too soft for any kind of rescue vehicle.

Something vibrates, startling Eddie who completely forgot about his mobile phone.

Wayne is calling.

“Wayne! Wayne! Do you hear me?! Wayne!” he yells into the phone, trying to understand what his uncle is saying, but he is having trouble hearing him on the phone “Wayne! There was an avalanche! We are stuck and Steve is hurt! Call help! Please! Call help! We are…” but before he manages to tell him the name of the closest village the battery of his phone dies. Eddie throws it against the car, not even flinching when the screen shatters in a glass web.

He leaves it there, a dark stain in the middle of the white snow.

When he finally gets back, Steve looks disappointed.

“What?” Eddie snarls while Steve keeps glaring at him.

“I thought you were going to call for help!”

“No, I went to get some snow to drink or we will die of dehydration, ok?”

“But if you…”

“If I, what, Steve? You can’t fucking move, what am I supposed to do? Leave you here alone with no water and no food and going to take a walk in the blizzard? Your stupid car is stuck in the snow, my phone battery died and I couldn’t get on foot to the village even if I wanted because the road is no longer there, ok? If someone is coming they better come here with a fucking helicopter because we are stuck in the middle of the snow and the safest thing to do is stay here and wait for help. But if you want to suggest again that I go on my own, risking my life and getting lost in the woods I’ll do it, ok? Because I’m fucking exhausted!” He snarls back.

“I’m sorry, I thought…”

“I don’t give a fuck what you thought or not, ok? We are in this together and we are going to leave together, did I make myself clear enough?!” Eddie yells and for once in his life he doesn’t feel bad after. He knows Steve, deeply, and he knows that his stupid boyfriend is always ready to sacrifice himself and he is not going to let him. They will get through, together, like they always did.

Eddie gets closer to the fire, waiting for the snow to melt back into water, cursing against the weather, the snow, the phone, and every single thing, and when he feels a little bit more settled he gets back to Steve, helping him drink some water.

“I spoke to Wayne, don’t know how much he understood because the signal sucks, but I told him that we are stuck.”

“Good. Do you think you could get in the car?”

Eddie sighs “Steve, if you are going to suggest that I take the car I told you…”

“No, I was wondering if my car battery is still working. If it was you could try to charge your phone.”

Oh, that’s not a bad idea at all, only… “My phone broke and it’s somewhere in the snow. Where is yours?”

Steve bumps his head on the floor, cursing when his wound hits the ground “I don’t know Eddie! I have no idea!” he complains tiredly and Eddie curses again, looking around the room and hoping with all his strength that Steve wasn't holding his phone when they were in the kitchen or they will never find it. He looks in Steve’s pocket and swears loudly when he hears one of Steve’s alarms and sees a little light coming from the kitchen area.

“Don’t. It could come down at any moment!” Steve tells him, trying to grab Eddie’s arm, but the metal head is quicker and is already crawling into the kitchen, stretching his arms to get to the phone.

As he suspected the phone battery is dying and, as so as soon as he grabs it, the screen turns black, but Steve’s idea wasn’t bad at all “I’m going in the car to see if I can charge it a bit, ok?” He says, grabbing the car’s key from the backpack.

Steve stares at him, his hands closed in a fist, fighting some demon he will not talk about “Take care.” 

“I always do.” Eddie winks before kissing him “I’ll be back in no time.” He assures him and then he gets back to the bathroom, ready to climb from the window once more.

When he gets outside the snow has finally stopped falling and he feels a little bit more optimistic.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Whumpuary 2024 No. 6

Exhaustion | Blindfolded | Old Injuries

Whumpuary Prompts List

TW: pain, painkiller mention, stitches mention, exhaustion

Whumpee crawled through their bedroom window in the dead of night. The window sash scraped as they pulled it closed, and Whumpee winced, hyperaware of their parents sleeping one thin wall away. They waited, tense, for the sound of movement, footsteps, fearing that tonight would be the night they were caught in the suit. Tonight would be the night their parents found out about their vigilante work.

A dozen reactions played through Whumpee’s mind as they stood, frozen, near the window. But only silence greeted them. Their parents had not been woken up. Exhaling in relief, Whumpee removed their mask and began to pull off the suit. Their muscles, stiff from chasing a trio of bank robbers, stopping a couple muggers, and battling a supervillain, protested as Whumpee bent over. Not to mention the claw marks across Whumpee’s back from the last supervillain they’d fought.

Gritting their teeth against the pain, Whumpee changed into their pajamas as quickly and quietly as possible. It had been a couple of weeks ago, in broad daylight on a Saturday. Whumpee hadn’t intended on vigilante work that day, but some idiot had gotten their DNA spliced with a wolverine, and the results… were incredibly aggressive. 

Whumpee grimaced. After the fight, they were forced to flee the cops and the media to Caretaker’s house to get patched up. Caretaker hadn’t been too pleased with having to stitch up both Whumpee and their suit. But they were the only other person who knew Whumpee’s secret identity, whether or not they liked it.

Folding up the super-suit, Whumpee buried it in their backpack and slowly stretched. The deep scratches twinged, and with annoyance, they realized they were due for more painkillers. Whumpee had been taking over-the-counter medication for the injury for the last two weeks. While it helped a little, it was still difficult to hide the scratches. That, coupled with the bruising from other battles, meant their fashion style had been reduced to long-sleeved shirts and hoodies.

Sighing heavily, Whumpee plopped onto their bed and stared at the floor. They should go take the painkillers before their back started throbbing again. But they were just… so… tired. They didn’t want to sneak around the house right after almost giving themselves a panic attack over waking their parents. Sure, they weren’t in the suit anymore, but this would be the third time their parents thought they were someone breaking in if they were caught.

Once is happenstance. Twice is a coincidence. Three times is a pattern.

It was hard enough lying to their parents when they didn’t suspect anything was amiss. But if Whumpee set them off by sneaking around the house late at night, their parents might start paying more attention. And that would make vigilante work harder than it already was.

Whumpee rubbed their eyes. It was late. They should get to sleep. Lately, they haven’t been getting as much sleep as they should, and the effects were starting to catch up to them. Whumpee slipped under their blankets, but thoughts continued to whirl in their mind. Despite their body’s exhaustion, it took Whumpee a long time to fall asleep.

[suspensefulpen]

Whumpuary Day 6: “This Is Gonna Hurt"

TW: Noncon Drugging, Multiple Whumpers, Labrat Whumpee, Implied Torture

@whumpuary

Sydney and Lee stood back as they watched the sedative kick into their little subject’s system. Taylor felt a wave of calmness blanketing them against their will. They gazed up at the doctors through half lidded eyes, Lee on their left, Sydney on their right. Can this just be over with already…? 

Sydney tapped them and forced them to turn their head. “Taylor, still with us?” When they nodded slowly, Lee grabbed their chin next. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“I feel like I can…” Taylor paused, blinking a couple of times. “Good.” Their voice cracked. 

Lee hummed and let go of them. They smiled. “That’s perfect.” Taylor tried their best to follow Lee’s hand with their eyes to the tray of equipment perched next to them. Even with all the leaning they could possibly do, they couldn’t see what the doctor was grabbing. Lee noticed and furrowed their brows. They turned to give their full attention to Taylor. “Is something wrong?” 

“Your hand…” Taylor still attempted to get a peek at it. 

Lee hummed with a nod, keeping their hand out of their line of vision. “You’ll see in a moment.” They looked over at their partner. “The gag, please.” 

“Of course.” Sydney nodded and grabbed the cloth gag next to them. They smiled at Taylor as they put it over their face. “Brace yourself, alright? Cause this is gonna hurt.”

[mybeautifulbeautifuleternal]

You couldn’t hear the snap of your bones over the sound of your screaming but you definitely could feel it happening. They snapped sharply, the action felt throughout your body, so harsh was the pain and act.

They had started on your right hand when you first came back to consciousness after they took you from John’s house. They had been started with questions that you couldn’t answer, not truly being a part of John’s world, and each time you didn’t get one correct, they were quick to snap another joint. They had gotten impatient quickly though, annoyed with your inability to give them what they wanted, and so they started to torture you straight out, bringing out a tray of knives and being very loud about how they planned to moved on to electrocution after they got tired of stabbing.

During the interrogation, you had lied about anything they wanted to know, trying to buy John enough time to find you and to get to you but your captors were smart. They knew they had a limited amount of time to break you before they had to run. The Boogeyman wasn’t kind nor was he forgiving and they had taken something important from him. You knew that he would find you — you just had to hope it would be in time.

The panicked looks your captors were shooting over their shoulders told you that John was close. Their actions, once so smooth and deadly, were now rushed and sloppy. You could see the earpieces in all of their ears and it didn’t take a genius to know they were getting information from someone outside of the room. It was the first sign you had that John was close.

The gunshots you could now hear were the second sign.

The guys that were leaning over you shot even worse panicked looks over their shoulders but continued to reach for the various knives laying on the same table you were. The resignation in their eyes let you know what they were thinking — Baba Yaga was already here and they didn’t think they’d be able to escape. But they could continue to hurt you. They could kill you.

Based on the way the knives were heading towards your throat and your chest, that was their plan. The precise bullet hole in the center of their heads put a quick stop to that.

You relaxed as much as you could, tied down as tight as you were, but you were dotted with deep and still bleeding wounds, your limbs broken, and now you were being slowly suffocated because the way one of them landed on you meant you weren’t getting enough air.

John’s face above you was the best thing you’d ever seen. He yanked the men off you and was quick in releasing the rough rope that was tying you down. The blood flow back into your limbs hurt beyond normal but you’d take it. Seconds ago, you were looking at death through the silver sheen of a half dozen knives.

Now, you were being cradled gently in John’s arms, listening to him murmur quietly in your ear as he swiftly moved you to his car.

“I need you to stay awake, sweetheart. I know it’s hard but you can’t fall asleep. You can’t leave me,” he continued to talk but the sound was fading. The adrenaline was leaving your system and you felt safe and secure. There was no way you’d be able to stay awake for long — no matter how much John pleaded.

“…sorry. Love you,” your words were slurred and quiet but they sent John’s heart racing as you slowly slipped into unconsciousness in his arms.

@whumpuary

[melanie-ohara]

Alive, Just to Watch the Bruises Heal

Whumpuary, day 11 - prompt: Exhaustion

Commander Shepard suffers the consequences of her resurrection as invisibly as possible

AO3 Here

The new Normandy was disorientating. It used to be fifteen steps to the medbay door, now it was twenty. The table used to seat six, now there were twelve Cerberus personnel sitting and staring as Shepard crossed the floor. She ignored them and focused on putting one foot in front of the other without her limp being obvious, and tapped the 'knock' sensor on the door. 

"It's open," came a familiar voice from inside. Shepard was too tired to place it, but as soon as the door opened her face split into a wide grin.

"Doctor Chakwas!" 

"Hello, Commander," the doctor said. She was far too professional to give Shepard the hug she so sorely needed, but her wry smile was good enough for now. 

"What are you doing here? I never thought you'd work for Cerberus," Shepard asked.

Chakwas' expression turned hard. "I don't work for Cerberus, I work for you. I took a leave of absence from the Alliance to volunteer for Sirta."

Shepard looked at her properly - unlike the other personnel, Chakwas was wearing a red medical jumpsuit emblazoned with the Sirta Foundation icon. She nodded. "That's good. At least someone here isn't on the payroll."

Chakwas activated her omni-tool and started scanning Shepard with a warm orange beam that prickled slightly against her skin. "You don't trust them?" she asked.

"What are you doing?" Shepard asked, instead of answering. 

"I'm scanning your implants for rejection," Chakwas replied, frowning at the readout on her wrist. "And I don't like what I see, Commander."

"I'm fine," Shepard said, standing up straight and clasping her hands behind her back in case any of the crew happened to look through the window. Chakwas noticed, like Shepard knew she would. Put on a face, the world is watching.

"Rejection sensitivity will present as scarring," Chakwas said. "Which will hurt."

Shepard nodded. It already did, but she didn't need to say that out loud for Cerberus' bugs to hear. 

"Other than that, you're the picture of health. You should get some rest though."

Shepard snorted. "Your scans told you I'm sleepy ?" 

Chakwas smiled. "No, your eyes told me that. I imagine Cerberus has had you running around shooting things, against my medical recommendations?"

Shepard shrugged. "It's what they need me for," she said, failing to keep the bitterness out of her voice. 

"No, they need you to lead , Commander," Chakwas insisted, and switched off her omni-tool with a sigh. "Would it help if I ordered you to go to bed?"

Shepard grinned. "You're a civilian doctor now, remember? I can ignore your advice all I like." 

It was a front, and Chakwas knew it. Shepard needed to present a front for all the spyware and prying eyes on the other side of the glass: Commander Shepard, icon of humanity, indomitable, unkillable, steadfast in the face of any obstacle. Nobody could see how much her left leg hurt her, or the shooting pain that came from turning her head to the left, or the thrumming ache that had been pulsing behind her eye since she woke up on Lazarus Station. 

"As a favour, then?" Chakwas offered, and Shepard nodded. She could accept that. 

"If you insist," she said, and tried not to sound too grateful. She was more exhausted than she had ever been in her life. 

"I'll have EDI wake you when we reach Omega," Chakwas said, and Shepard thanked her on her way out. 

There was a camera in the elevator, and it made Shepard wonder if Lawson had bugged her quarters too. Cerberus wasn't big on privacy, so it wouldn't surprise her, but she hoped she'd at least get to sleep alone. There had to be somewhere she could let the mask drop. 

A discreet omni-tool scan as she entered the obnoxiously large living space revealed spy devices embedded in the clock, wardrobe interface, and the water monitor of the ridiculous fish tank. According to the scan, they were only recording sound, but she didn't trust a commercial VI to be accurate with military tech so she kept up her facade all the way to the ensuite bathroom. Thankfully, the scan was silent there. There could be bugs functioning outside of the detection range, but she no longer cared. 

Her limbs had never felt so heavy. She had been unconscious or worse for two years, but it felt more like she'd spent that time on a treadmill with a Widow sniper rifle strapped to her back. Her leg was in agony, but even that was dulled by the base need to collapse and sleep . There was something she had to do first though. Now that she'd allowed herself to feel the pain, limping to the sink was slow, and every step sent a sharp stab that jolted up from her knee to the base of her spine. Shepard let it slow her down for once.

The face that looked back at her in the mirror was her own, but not quite. She'd only seen herself in windows and brushed metal walls, but this confirmed what she already expected. Stitching her body back together had left her scarred, but she could handle that: it  was a small price to pay to cheat death, after all. Her old scars, though, the scars that she bore with a soldier's pride - they were all gone, wiped away by a facial reconstruction that was either based on an out of date image or, worse, corrected flaws. Shepard's fingers played slowly over the unnaturally clean skin where they used to be and felt tears come to her eyes. 

Her leg gave way. It had been threatening to go since Freedom's Progress, and she was relieved it had at least happened in private. Shepard stumbled backwards until her back was against the wall behind her and slid down, stretching her injured leg out in front of her. Her head lolled back into the corner and Commander Shepard cried. Her chest heaved and her breath came in sharp gasps - each one hurt as the implants holding her ribcage together complained. She was a half-broken half-machine with one purpose that she didn't feel like she could fulfill. All she wanted to do was sleep for a hundred hours. According to the clock in the other room, she had three. 

Eventually, the tears dried up. She seriously considered staying where she was and sleeping on the bathroom floor, but for the sake of both the monitoring devices and her aching body she knew she had to get to bed. Getting back to her feet was hard and painful work, but she managed it. Shepard wiped her eyes, forced her back to straighten, and ignored how much walking confidently out of the bathroom hurt. It wasn't far to the bed, and her vision was already narrowing until all she could see was the crisp white covers and an impossibly fluffy pillow. At least comfort was something Cerberus valued more than the Alliance. 

Shepard barely made it. She had to crawl onto the bed rather than walk all the way to the side, but that was natural enough - and crawling didn't hurt her leg nearly as much. As soon as her head met the pillow she felt the tension evaporate from her limbs and she let out a soft mumble as an impossible weight lifted from her shoulders. Now all she had to do was manage three hours without sleep-talking about how much it hurt. 

Shepard's eyes drifted closed.

"Commander Shepard?" the soft, flat voice of the ship's AI said. Shepard opened her eyes again.

"EDI?" she said. 

"We are arriving at Omega."

Shepard's heart sank into the shoes she was still wearing. The clock told her those precious three hours had been and gone, and she felt exactly the same. 

Sitting up took more effort than fighting Saren.

"Thank you, EDI," she said. Her voice sounded clear and relaxed. She took a moment to silent curse the galaxy in general, and then got out of bed.

[sliceroftpeirweirisles]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 6

6. (Jan 11-12) Exhaustion / Blindfolded / Old Injuries

Barry Bluejeans was a strong man. Well, maybe not physically, but mentally he was strong. He could calculate the rate of necrotic damage at any skill level of a warlock. He could measure the precise amount of hair that he could grow on his chin in three days. He knew he was smart and therefore strong. 

On the other hand, emotionally? He wasn’t very strong in that area. 

For a man so strong in logic, he couldn’t understand how emotions continued to break him down. He knew, logically, that the night terrors weren’t real. He knew they just weren’t feasible any longer. There’s no Hunger, no threat to their plane of existence. No grand relics and no war. Nevertheless, he found himself waking up from night terrors long after everything started to settle down. The first two nights were fairly easy to keep under wraps. Barry had suffered from them before, but it had been months since his last one. Lup shook him awake on the third night after she found Barry crying out for her in their bed. 

After that night, he was determined to try and stop the nightmares from happening. Barry turned to his strength - his books - and started studying. He dove into logical explanations and jotted down notes about night terrors. He started coming up with a plan to build another body tank, just in case they needed it. He also read up on potions and home remedies for night terrors. Anything he felt the need to study, he'd drag out the chore into hours of reading and notes.

To further keep from falling asleep, he hung out with the twins and Kravitz who never needed to sleep. Taako and Lup were Twosun elves, which means they did sleep occasionally, they just didn't need it as often as humans. Lup used to be a lich and didn't need sleep, but since she gained her body back Barry found her catching up on that sleep a lot. Mostly with Taako at her side, the other times with himself. Kravitz was, of course, the Grimm Reaper. Not needing sleep is pretty much given to him. So Barry ended up spending nights at a time just chatting with the three of them in their shared living room.

One night of studying night terrors turned to two, turned to three. 

On the fourth night, Lup walks in on Barry barely keeping it together in the lab. 

“Babe, how long has it been since you’ve slept?” Lup asks as she moseys over to her husband at his desk. 

“Mm…” Barry mutters as he stares into a microscope at his latest project. Lup leans over his shoulder and reads some unintelligible scribble on one of the microscope slides. She can’t tell what he’s studying, but he’s definitely staring intently at something. 

“What are you looking at, Bluejeans?” Lup muses as she pokes his cheek.

He rouses and backs up to look at his wife. “M’spit” he mumbles and rubs at his eyes.

“Bear, why the fuck are you studying your spit?” 

“There’s somethin’ in it…” Barry removes his hands to reveal his eyes have deep dark circles under them. 

Lup grimaces slightly at the state of her husband and sighs. “Pack it up there, Bear. Time for bed.” 

“No, I’m studying, I promise I'm fine. I’m just not done yet.” Barry sounds like a small child insisting he can stay up late. Lup reaches out to take Barry’s glasses gently off of his face, earning a protest from the man. She knows he can't do shit without them. “Lup, please. I’m not done.” 

“And I’m not kidding, Barry. You’re exhausted, look at yourself.” 

“Lup, I’m not tired!” Barry shouts, glaring up at the elf. His angry expression falls instantaneously when he sees Lup is taken aback by his outburst. “I-I’m sorry, I just… I…” 

Lup gently folds Barry’s glasses and sets them on the desk. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just hurt my feelings… I need you to be honest with me, babe. When’s the last time you slept?” She crosses her arms and leans against the desk, staring down at Barry.

Likewise, Barry stares up at her, a nervous energy vibrating through him. Should he be honest? Could he even lie about it at this point? Lup looks pretty when she’s mad… 

“Four…” is all Barry can make out before he breaks the eye contact and rubs his face again. 

“Four what? Hours?” 

“Days…” 

There’s an uncomfortable silence in the room as Barry’s hands don’t leave his face. Lup wants to yell. Scream at Barry for doing this to himself. Yeah, they were reapers, but he was still a human in a squishy, human, sleep-deprived body that needed sleep. Lup wants to yell, but instead, she sits for a moment and then lets out the most controlled sigh before standing up straight. 

“C’mon, Bear.” Lup takes his hands and moves them from his face. 

Barry sniffles and obliges, trying his damndest to not look Lup in the eye. He stands when Lup tugs at his arms to pull him up. She doesn’t let go as she leads Barry away from the lab, away from the basement, away from the living room. When they reach the bedroom, Barry starts to weep openly and it breaks Lup’s heart. 

“Talk to me, babe. What’s going on?” Lup pulls Barry into her arms, gentle hands rubbing his back. 

“I can’t do it, Lup… I don’t wanna sleep. It hurts too much.” 

“Hurts?” Lup questions, a hand gently raking through Barry’s thick brown hair. 

“The nightmares… They keep– keep taking you from me.” His side of the hug turns to trembling as he uses all his depleted strength to hug Lup. “I don’t wanna lose you again.” 

Lup holds her husband in her arms as tears prick at the edges of her vision. She knows what she did to him hurt Barry. She knows this is her fault, that he’s going through unimaginable trauma. Lup pulls away from the hug and leads Barry to bed, sitting him down on the edge. She looks him in the eye, a serious look on her face.

“I’m not going anywhere, Barry Bluejeans… I love you, and I’m not leaving you, never again. I swear.”

Barry nods and rubs at the tears across his cheeks. “That’s just it, I-I know you’re not gonna go anywhere. My subconscious is just having… having a hard time catching up.” 

Lup smiles softly and kneels down, taking off Barry’s shoes and socks. “Then we’ll teach it. You love learning, babe. You can learn to tell your brain to shut up. You’re strong like that.” 

Barry sniffles and smiles slightly at that statement. He doesn’t feel like he can be strong like that right now, but Lup’s words are encouraging. 

“Tonight though,” Lup states as she helps Barry into the covers. “Tonight, you are allowed to be weak. I’ll be here to be strong for you.” Lup climbs into bed with Barry and tucks herself beside him. “I’ll be here, Barry… I’m right here.” 

[ikeepwatchinghelicopters]

Well, it is rare for me to write Gaby being the one that is hurt, though it does get kind of fluffy.

Hope you'll enjoy it!

[fanficbutnow]

Summary:

Pearl learns swordfighting.

---

So, catching up in Whumpuary isn’t going as well as I wanted. This was for prompt 6, and I need 9 more fanfictions by the end of the month to complete it. I have started on six of them, and I’m hoping to get another done by today, but it’s still a big ask. Still, I’ll see how I go.

---

Tags, Warnings, and Rating are under the 'Keep Reading'. 

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Steven Universe (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Pearl/Pink Diamond (Steven Universe) Characters: Pearl (Steven Universe), Rose Quartz | Pink Diamond, Pink Diamond (Steven Universe) Additional Tags: Swordfighting, Whump, Pearl doesn't understand humans, Pearl is completely dedicated to Pink Diamond, to her own detriment, Middle Ages, Blindfolded

[exquisiteagony]

whumpuary 6, and it’s blooddrunk again!

[whumpitlikeyoumeanit]

Whumpuary 6

Whumpuary prompts should theoretically make up one cohesive narrative, though I'm not currently putting in the effort to flesh out the story around the prompts just yet. I have good intentions to do so eventually. Masterlist. Oh yeah and they're totally out of order, chronologically.

((content warnings: mention of torture, captivity, despair ))

promptspiration: @whumpuary 6: Exhaustion

Whumpee: Draco Malfoy Whumper: Voldemort Pairing: Harry/Draco whump type: torture fic type: Deathly Hallows "Voldemort learns Draco hooked up with Harry" AU

words: ~300

-------------------

He hadn't realised how much having his mother there, occasionally able to take care of him, had helped. That was stupid, it was obvious, but he just hadn't realised how much good she was doing until he had to see how much worse it was without her. 

He curled up in his corner of the cellar, crying occasionally, sleeping fitfully, staring into the darkness for long stretches of time, not really conscious of the transitions between those states. Always waiting for the next time.

He wasn't around so much, but Bellatrix was always there with her men and eager to fulfil His instructions… Sometimes there were others, sometimes they got bored of the Cruciatus and experimented with other curses or cutting him or hitting him, but it all came out the same. Night after night, for no purpose except to nag Harry Potter with the knowledge that someone was being hurt because of him… and to punish him for the one brief moment he dared defy the Dark Lord's will…

He was so tired. He couldn't summon the will to get up and walk around, so he just lay in a ball and tried to ignore it as his muscles seized up stiff and tight, so he could barely walk when they pulled him out to go face his nightly tortures. He couldn't find a reason to answer Ollivander so they sat in silence for days at a time. Sometimes he ate if he knew there was food but most of the time he forgot or couldn't muster the energy.

He didn't even have the energy to blame Potter anymore. He guessed he understood now what Ollivander meant about it being too much trouble to hate. Hate took energy. Honestly, even fear took more energy than he had. He barely had the strength to wish it would stop. 

It wouldn't stop.

[paperweight-inshadesofgreige]

the scent thick

whumpuary fic 4 :))

prompts: used as bait | stumbling | ‘this is gonna hurt’ (day 5-6) ‘help me’ | lightheaded | kneeling (day 7-8) exhaustion | blindfolded | new injuries (day 11-12)