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one-piece-aus · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 3

Doflamingo x Reader

"Doffy..." you squeaked as the gun pressed at the back of your head.

"How does it feel, Doflamingo, to have the one you love held at gunpoint?" Law smirked, having the blond right where he wanted him.

"Enough games Law!" Doflamingo shouted, he lost all patience and could hardly cool his anger any longer. "This has gone far enough!"

"Far enough? Tell that to Corazon! Clearly killing him wasn't far enough for you!" Law called out and pressed the gun harder against your head. You could feel the kid's hostility breathe on your neck.

"I had to kill! I had no other choice!" Doffy yelled and took a step forward. He would've taken another if Law hadn't clicked off the safety. He growled at the brat, shooting looks that would kill.

"You could've just left us alone. You were always going on about how you'd do anything for your precious brother. How many times did you threaten to kill me if I touched a hair on his head?" Law chuckled to himself at how fucked up things turned out. "But in the end, I was the one who cried when you shot him."

"Is it- is it true, Doffy?" you inquired having never heard this story before. "You had... you had a brother?"

"Yes... I had a brother," Doflamingo confirmed.

You felt chills run down your back. Never once did he tell you he had a brother, you thought he was an only child. You felt realization smack you with a brick: You didn't know a thing about Doffy. Not a thing from his past, not a thing about his family, and certainly not a thing about his relations with people. Do you know him at all?

Chills crawl across your skin the longer you pondered these thoughts of Doffy. You were brought back to the conversation when you felt the gun tap against your skull once more. Law returned to being hostile to Doffy.

"And you have this woman under your strings, another one of your subordinates ready to die for you?"

"Leave her out of this Law, this is between you and me." Doflamingo seemed to have regained his composure, but he still frowned at the boy.

"How long until you shoot her too?" Law asked, looking at the blond dead in the eye. At least he would be if Doflamingo wasn't wearing sunglasses. "Until you kill her like what you did to Corazon?"

"You were- you were going to shoot me?" you choked. Your eyes looked into his, your eyes spoke you felt betrayed.

"I was never going to harm you, [Y/n]. I never will harm you."

You stared at Doffy hard. You wanted to believe him. You so desperately wanted to believe him. You love him. However, doubt whispered into your ears, making you question if anything your lover says was true.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure of that," Law stated and pulled the trigger, cold eyes glaring right at Doffy.

"[Y/N]!" Doflamingo cried and rushed to your side, catching your falling limp body.

"You don't deserve to have love, Doflamingo," Law told him as walked past the scene. "You only end up seeing them betray you and crush 'em dead."

Stuck between his sobbing heart and his rage, Doffy could only witness Law room himself out as he held your husk to his chest. Looking down at your form, Doffy took off his shades so he could properly weep the loss of his love.

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whump-side · 1 year

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Walking on shot legs + blood loss + overall what the hell do these people want from him = not a great time for whumpee

#whump art #it's the dude from whumptober22 day 3 and previous whumptober entries #it's been a while since i last posted hi how you doing happy new year!#whump #bandages #nosebleed

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jamietarttsnorthernattitude · 4 months

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Chapter 2 is live :)

#jamie tartt #roy kent #keeley jones #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ao3 #fic: rage rage against the dying light #whump #still finishing my whumptober entries

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kaijuscientists · 6 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Trigun Stampede (Anime 2023) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Vash the Stampede/Nicholas D. Wolfwood Characters: Vash the Stampede (Trigun), Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Meryl Stryfe Additional Tags: Sickfic, Whump, Whumptober 2023, Fever, Fainting Series: Part 6 of Scar-crossed lovers, Part 9 of Whumptober 2023 Summary:

Wolfwood had told them that he didn't feel good. He said those exact words out loud, and yet here he was, walking for iles in the hot desert listening to the other two idiots arguing. _________

Nicholas D. Wolfwood doens't feel well.

#vashwood #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #my last whumptober entry for the year #ending it on a sickfic :)#i really liked this one a lot #kaiju writes

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talesofedo · 6 months

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Whumptober 2023 Completionist Post

Day 1 - Swooning

Day 2 - They don't care about you

Day 3 - Solitary confinement

Day 4 - Shock

Day 5 - Pinned down

Day 6 - It should have been me

Day 7 - Can you hear me?

Day 8 - Outnumbered

Day 9 - You're a liar

Day 10 - You said you'd never leave

Day 11 - Captivity

Day 12 - Insomnia

Day 13 - Cold compress / I don't feel so good

Day 14 - Just hold on

Day 15 - Makeshift bandages

Day 16 - Would you lie with me and just forget the world

Day 17 - Collar / Don't touch me

Day 18 - Tortured for information

Day 19 - Floral bouquet

Day 20 - Blanket

Day 21 - Restraints

Day 22 - Aftermath of failure (altprompt)

Day 23 - Shadows / Who's there?

Day 24 - Goodbye letter

Day 25 - They're not breathing

Day 26 - You look awful

Day 27 - Scars

Day 28 - Bloody knife

Day 29 - What happened to me?

Day 30 - Bridal carry

Day 31 - Take it easy

#whumptober2023 #whumptober 2023 #completionist #art #whumptober #masterpost #original art #original characters #links to all entries #art challenge

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foxesonstilts · 7 months

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|| IN THE MUDDY WATER WE'RE FALLING || thorsten/sebastian | tatort stuttgart 15 songs, 53min

if you're gonna break my heart // inhaler

say what you're gonna say anyway nothing really means as much as you do i should be on my way but i can't help waitin' for you to come and break my heart and smash it to pieces cause i'm not gonna need it as much as i do right now

hey, that's no way to say goodbye // leonard cohen

walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie

muddy waters // lp

oh, i will ask you for mercy i will come to you blind what you'll see is the worst me not the last of my kind in the muddy water we're falling put your arms around me and pull me out

fool for you // the impressions i don't know why i love you like i do when you're breaking my heart and you know it's true but i'm a fool for you

don't wanna fight // alabama shakes

my life, your life, don't cross them lines what you like, what i like why can't we both be right? attacking, defending until there's nothing left worth winning your pride and my pride, don't waste my time i don't wanna fight no more

never be mine // angel olsen

coming from an endless place heaven hits me when i see your face i go blind, every time [...] you'll never be mine, you'll never be mine but i would watch you, i would watch you turn and walk away i would watch you look right through me right through every word that i say

ain't no cure for love // leonard cohen

it don't matter, how it all went wrong that don't change the way i feel and i can't believe that time is gonna heal this wound that i'm speaking of [...] i've got you like a habit and i'll never get enough there ain't no cure there ain't no cure there ain't no cure for love

rough going (i won't let up) // hamilton leithauser & rostam

you know this ain't the end we would laugh as friends again [...] aross a crowded room, you'll hear me howl i won't let up, i don't let up i'm trying to find you but i don't know how i won't let up, i won't let up we might as well be strangers // keane

i don't know your thoughts these days we're strangers in an empty space i don't understand your heart it's easier to be apart [...] we might as well be strangers for all i know of you now

proof // i am kloot

hey, could you stand another drink? i'm better when i don't think seems to get me through [...] who am i without you?

when the party's over (cover) // james blake

don't you know i'm no good for you? i've learned to lose, you can't afford to tore my shirt to stop you bleedin' but nothing ever stops you leavin' quiet when i'm comin' home and i'm on my own i could lie and say i like it like that

august // flipturn

we don't talk about it we don't have the time we thought love was something we weren't meant to find but now you're a stranger and i'm still July but don't you remember August, honey, you were mine ...well, i've loved you from the start

waiting // alice boman

i want you more than i need you i need you bad are you coming back? are you coming back? i'm waiting i'm waiting

the other side of mt. heart attack // liars

i won't run far i can always be found if you need me i can always be found if you want me to stay i will stay by your side

song for the asking // simon & garfunkel

take it, don't turn away [...] ask me and i will play all the love that i hold inside

#tatort stuttgart #thorsten lannert #sebastian bootz #thorsten x sebastian #sebastian x thorsten #fanmix #i've been sitting on this mix since may whoopsie #could double as a whumptober entry cuz these bitches be SAD #y'kno. it's got that achey angry yearning vibe to go with 15 years of flirting and longing and strife #i cannot express how much i love August for them #waiting and mt. heart attack were the main inspo for my crimezine entry <3

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whump-captain · 2 years

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No. 5 - Every whumpee's needs

Blood loss | Running out of air | Hyperthermia

[Image ID: a digital drawing in greyscale. It shows a man sitting slumped against a wall, looking at his bloodied hand with a defeated expression. A wound on his shoulder soaks his shirt with blood which trickles down his arm into a puddle on the floor. In the top left corner there is a panel showing a close-up of his hand. A speech bubble next to it reads: "This... is probably not good." The drawing is in greyscale apart from the blood, which is bright red. End ID.]

#whumptober2022 #no.5 #blood loss #oc #art #captain's stuff #captain's ocs #ghost ambulance #god whumptober truly is the killer of perfectionism #am i happy with this? no idea i gotta post!#my hand hurts a lil lol #had real trouble coming up with something for today and annoyingly i could have counted my day 1 entry for blood loss too lmao #oh well

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wolfeyedwitch · 2 years

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as a follow up to the bthb …. stitches :))) since they are already talking about the rather questionable medical treatment Bailey received

Pariah Prisoner, Part 5

No. 11 “911, WHAT’S YOUR EMERGENCY?”

Sloppy Bandages | Self-Done First Aid | Makeshift Splint

Sorry for everyone whose ask came before this one. I promise I will answer them all; it just won't necessarily be in any kind of sensical order.

CW for: major character injury, injury reveal, blood, medical treatment, implied past torture, stitches, minor shock/dissociation (Zera is not having a good time). Let me know if I missed any tags, or if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Masterlist

---

Zera honestly couldn’t tell you how the group had made it back to their base. They’d had a head start, given that none of the villains were willing to follow them through their rather extreme means of egress, but still.

Their memories from their landing all the way to the medbay were an adrenaline-soaked mess. Random details stuck out perfectly (Poppet—Bailey?—pulling the knife from their side; the feel of blood soaking through the hasty, sloppy bandages; the ache in their legs from running and the cold prickle of fear along their spine), while anything coherent remained out of their grasp. They only tuned back into their life when Bailey(?) was taken from their arms.

Zera grasped them tighter for a second, unwilling to let anyone hurt their rescuer. They would- would—

“Zera, stand down,” Elijah said gently. “We’re back in Hero HQ. We’re in the medbay. Maeve needs Poppet laying down so she can examine them.”

Zera nodded unsteadily, feeling like a poorly carved wooden doll: all splinters and stiff joints. With Elijah’s help, they got Poppet-Bailey settled on one of the beds.

“Is-” Zera started, looking around. “Are you okay? How’s Luke? Where’s Luke? Did-”

“Breathe,” Elijah said, tone somehow even more gentle. He led them to a chair that they more or less collapsed into. “Luke’s fine, nothing more than scratches that a band-aid can handle. He didn’t want to be here.”

Zera made a face at that.

“I’m fine too,” Elijah continued, a small smile on his face. “Again, just minor things. The only one who got physically hurt was Poppet.”

Zera blinked. Then blinked again. If their brain would start working again, that would be great. “Physically hurt?”

Elijah’s smile turned sad. “I mean you, Zera. You were a million miles away just now; you had me worried.”

Zera looked away from him, over to where Maeve examined Poppet-Bailey with glowing hands and a practiced eye.

The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor snapped Zera’s attention back to Elijah. He’d brought one close enough that he could sit while continuing to talk with them.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “I know you, Zera. You’ve got something running through your head. Is it about Poppet?”

“Bailey,” Zera said.

“What?”

Zera shook their head, trying to kick-start their brain’s higher functions. “They said their name is Bailey,” Zera continued.

“They told you their name?” Elijah asked, sounding as incredulous as Zera felt. In their line of work, names and identities were either well known, like with heroes or villains that didn’t care to keep a secret civilian identity, or a carefully guarded secret. None of Slipknot’s associates fell into the former category— Poppet included.

Zera nodded woodenly. Their tone was thick when they continued. “And it isn’t just that they told me. It’s how they said it. It was like… God, it was like it was a relief to say it out loud.”

Both heroes turned to look at the unconscious villain then.

“I think they were telling the truth,” Zera said. “I don��t know what happened to them, but I don’t think they were there by choice. Not really.”

“Not an informed choice, anyway,” Elijah said thoughtfully.

Zera thought of how Bailey had talked about themself, the loathing in their voice when they called themself Slipknot’s toy.

“They got hurt because of us,” they said, voice low and hoarse. “They were rescuing us. And their own teammates stabbed them for it.”

Warmth spread over their knee. They looked down to see Elijah’s hand covering it.

“We can’t change what’s happened, Zera,” he said. It was a phrase he’d told them on many occasions.

“We can only move forward and learn from it,” Zera said, completing the phrase.

“Over here, you two,” Maeve called tiredly.

Zera and Elijah joined her at Bailey’s bedside.

“I fixed the internal damage,” she said, pointing to a still-open wound in Bailey’s side. “The knife nicked some blood vessels and punctured their lung. I healed the pneumothorax and the internal bleeding, but that’s all I can do for now.” She sounded apologetic, as though it were her fault she was still recovering from using her powers to patch the group up after their last disaster.

“Will they pull through?” Elijah asked.

Maeve nodded. “They should. I’m going to start an IV to help replace the blood they lost, and stitch up the last of that wound. That’s not why I called you over, though.”

She gently rolled Bailey onto their uninjured side, exposing their bare back.

Zera’s breath caught at the sight.

Bailey’s back was a patchwork of cuts and bruises layered over a lattice of scar tissue. If Zera didn’t know better, they’d say it looked like…

“Fuck,” they said quietly. “They said. They said the guests ‘got a little rough’, at Slipknot’s last party.”

It looked like Bailey had been whipped.

“These are at least two days old,” Maeve said. “They had time to scab over, then re-open. They were cleaned and bandaged, but nothing more than that for treatment. Some of these could have used butterfly closures at minimum, and preferably stitches. I would say that Poppet treated these themself.”

Elijah and Zera shared a look, his grim, theirs horrified. If they’d needed more proof that Bailey wasn’t an entirely willing participant in Slipknot’s schemes? Well. Here it was.

“I’m too tired to figure out what you’re not saying at the moment,” Maeve said. “Right now, I need steady hands— and someone who’s not coming off an adrenaline high, don’t even think about it Zera— to help me document all this.”

Elijah sighed and nodded, probably thinking about all the paperwork this was going to cause. “Right. I’ll send Iris.”

“I’m staying,” Zera said.

Both senior heroes stared at them. They did their best not to squirm under the scrutiny.

“I won’t get in the way!” they said, probably losing the battle not to sound defensive. “And I won’t offer to do anything, not that you’d even accept. I just… I wanna make sure they’re okay.”

They sounded more pathetic than they’d really like to admit at that admission. That was probably what made the senior heroes let them stay.

Zera did as promised. They didn’t try to help with the procedures or the documentation. They did go ahead and fetch the materials Maeve would need— saline solution, gauze, bandages, suture kit— but then they were a good little hero and sat down, out of the way.

Iris and Maeve managed to photograph what must have been every cut and bruise on Bailey’s body before Maeve started on the stitches. She took out hemostats and a curved needle, maneuvering them with precision in her gloved hands. Zera couldn’t remember the medical name for the stitch at the moment, but they knew the sewing name for it: whip stitch.

Whip stitch. For some reason, it was almost unbearably funny. Whip stitch, for someone who’d been- been—

And then it wasn’t funny. Not in the slightest. The laughter they’d been holding back transmuted into sobs.

Just what kind of hell had their nemesis been put through?

---

Taglist:

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world @dolls-circus @pickleking8 @ghostfacepepper @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow @multiple-characters1-acct @sunflower1000 @fleur-alise @equestrianwritingsstuff @scp-1296 @livingforthewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly @neuro-whump @newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway @whumpcreations @wicked-whump @heart4brains @myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one @elrysdoesstuff @whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme @towerlesskey @emmanemanemm @pigeonwhumps

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gryphonlover · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023 Day 3

Prompt: journal

Victim: Four

Words: 1346

Notes: Journaling really can help, but talking to people is also very important.

Zelda says that journaling will help me process the stuff that happened after I pulled the Four Sword. I'm not sure that I believe that, but she said I either had to use the journal, or talk things out with someone and I would rather jump in a cucco pen than talk about my feelings at this point.

I had a dream last night. I put the Four Sword back in the pedestal but didn't merge back into one person. It felt so real and then I woke up.

Maybe if I'd never pulled the Four Sword I wouldn't be so broken now. I don't even know who I am anymore.

I hate the way that people look at me now. They hate me because all they can see is the guy who sicced a dragon on the castle. Shadow was the real hero, though. I or we or whatever couldn't manage to fight one stupid flying eyeball so he sacrificed his life. He doesn't deserve this.

Zelda said we could make Shadow a memorial if I want. I need to think about it.

I told her yes. He shouldn't be forgotten. He gave up everything for Hyrule.

Today we went and made him a memorial. I cried. I miss him. I wish we'd been able to see eye-to-eye sooner. Maybe he wouldn't be dead and I wouldn't be alone.

The house is always empty. Dad is never home. It has to be my fault. He worked a lot before, but he always had time for me. Now he just avoids me. I wish I'd never pulled the Four Sword. Maybe then I wouldn't be crazy. I want things to go back to the way they were before.

I don't know if I can do this. I'm on indefinite leave for… something, and it's not like I can take an apprenticeship anywhere. I'm going crazy with nothing to do.

Everything is so stupid. Why can't anyone just treat me like a normal person!? I'm not a bomb, I'm not going to stab people in the back or set Castletown on fire for crying out loud! I just want to be a proper knight again and to have people respect me and shut up about Shadow.

Maybe I really am crazy.

I'm going to dig up the fire rod. They can't stop me.

In my defense, it was only a little fire. I just wanted to blow off some steam and thought that a controlled fire on Mount Crenel would be fine, but no, now I'm in solitary confinement for a whole day with nothing but this stupid journal.

I just want to feel whole again. I thought that maybe I could— look, it was a dumb decision, I know that, they don't need to rub it in my face.

Solitary confinement is overrated. So is probation. I hate life.

New plan: going to that place Blue got frozen.

Yeah, okay that was also a bad idea. Hypothermia is real.

I have been royally banned from travelling to any more "dangerous climates with dangerous weapons." Stupid Zelda and her stupid princess stuff.

I just want to be us again. I hate being this. I hate having so many thoughts and feelings and memories crammed in my head.

I don't care anymore, I need the sword back.

Well as it turns out the sword hates me. Great.

Back in solitary confinement. Two days for "vandalizing public property." If you ask me, the Four Sword's sanctuary shouldn't count as public property. Zelda and I are the only people who go there, and no one maintains it. Besides, the sword itself and it's stupid pedestal are apparently indesctructible because of stupid goddess magic, anyway.

I am at the end of my rope. If I can't split back, then I don't know what else to do. Everyone keeps telling me that "time heals all wounds" and stuff, but if anything it just gets worse with time. They don't get it. I was split into four people and then crammed back into one body and Shadow died.

Day 2 of solitary confinement. I really don't get why they think putting the crazy guy in solitary is going to make him less crazy. This is stupid.

I'm pretty sure crying every day isn't normal, but who even cares anymore.

I can't do this.

Turns out I have no choice. Some guy with the same name as me showed up at the house. He seems nice enough, so I told him I'd go fight evil or whatever with him. At least I can get something useful out of my life before I kick the bucket.

Ran into another person named Link. Nicknames are in order. I need to think about mine.

Having a new name feels good. Link didn't really fit anymore. I was Link before the Four Sword, then… well, now I'm Four. It feels right.

Sky and Hyrule are pretty nice. Hyrule seems a bit jumpy, but he takes good care of his sword, and Sky is basically just a star-crossed lover. I miss the way things were before I put the Four Sword back, but it's nice to have a distraction.

Today Twilight joined the group. He's got some weird tattoos on his face, and a wolf pelt for some reason, but he's also pretty nice. A bit obsessed with goats, though.

Twilight has integrated into the group well. He balances out Hyrule's wandering. I don't know how, but he always knows where everyone is.

Wind is pretty fun, but he reminds me of Red. It… hurts.

Wind is determined to be friends. I do not want to be friends.

I am now friends with Wind and have no idea how.

Time is unsettling, but seems to know what he's doing. He's kind of like how Dad was before the Four Sword.

Time is also a star-crossed lover. Him and Sky will not shut up about their wives.

Wild is very Wild. Twilight has taken to him, and so have Hyrule and Wind. I am preparing myself for pranks.

I want to go home.

Legend is a grump. I'm not sure if I like him or not.

Legend has adopted Hyrule. I am only a little bit jealous.

I'm crying in the woods. Legend is just like Blue. This is stupid and I hate it.

Warriors is kind of like me, except actually good at his job. I wish I'd been able to beat Vaati. Shadow would be alive if I was better at my job.

I want to punch Warriors in his stupid pretty face.

Sparring practice went okay. I haven't sparred properly in a long time, but I think I did good enough. Now I'm sore all over. I would be taking a bath, except SOMEONE is hogging all the water. Ugh.

I am so sick of walking. I wish Miss Fairy could just teleport us around. Man, that was convenient. I wonder where she is now?

I think I'm doing okay at fitting in, but they don't seem to expect much of me. Maybe it's because I'm short?

Finally got to punch Warriors in the face. I'm sitting in jail, but it was so worth it. That felt good.

Legend bailed me out. That was weirdly nice of him.

Wind made me talk about feelings. The audacity.

Okay, so maybe talking it out helped. Maybe Wind was right about communicating with the group better.

We did more talking today, this time it was everyone. It went well. They didn't hate me for anything I told them, and they actually understood how I felt.

I'm going to keep the journal just in case, but I have people I can trust now. It's going to be okay.

#linked universe #legend of zelda #whumptober #whumpber 2023 #lu four #fanfiction #gryphon writes #journal entries #i promise it's a happy ending

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x688plsloveme · 7 months

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Mistaken Identity

Danai gets beat up horribly and wakes up, pain medication still coursing through her body, and mistakes Hancock for her late husband.

Hancock bursts into the clinic, panicking in a way he hasn't felt in years. He's uncaring of the volunteers as he shoves them aside to the head doctor. He doesn't know her name - doesn't care either - all he knows is that she would be the one to do surgery on Danai. On the woman he's given his heart to.

She looks startled when he stops in front of her. He speaks, "Where. Is. She?"

Understanding flashes across her face. "She's down the hall, second door to your left."

He doesn't even say thank you before sprinting to her room. Here, he calms down, knowing that Danai could very well be able to hear everything happening outside her room. He doesn't want to stress her out further.

He opens the door and there she is. All the tension in him washes away immediately when he sees her, healing and breathing and alive. He smiles. He moves to close the short distance between them, but he doesn't get two steps before he hears her.

"Nate?"

His heart sinks into his stomach.

Of course Hancock knows who Nate is, but that doesn't make the reality of her calling out for another man any less painful. He's the one with her now. He's the one who's been with her through most of her journey in this hellscape. He's the one who loves her every day through thick and thin.

"Nate, come here."

His hands get shaky. Her mind doesn't even go to him. He can hear in her voice that she has a lot of Med-X in her body - at least that explains something. It still hurts and he wants to leave, but he's never refused her before. He makes his way over to her and sits down on the bed beside her, avoiding her hand when she reaches out to grab his. His heart squeezes when she makes a small, sad sound because of it, but he loves her too much to shatter her dream.

If Nate is what she needs, Nate is who she's gonna get.

He instead pats her on the head, running his hand over her locks in what he hopes is a soothing gesture.

She hums, content. He continues to do this for a few minutes, thoughts racing around his head as he struggles to not disturb her with him anxiously bouncing his leg.

She quietly asks, "Talk to me Nate. Feels like for'ver since I heard you."

Hancock cringes and stops his movements. He weighs in his head whether he should try to oblige or not - if she would notice how gravely his voice is in her drugged, half-asleep state.

He struggles to keep his voice from shaking and says, "I'm here."

There's a pinch in her brow for a moment before she relaxes again. "Must be sick," she mumbles. She nestles into her pillows some more, looking seconds away from drifting off.

"I love you, Nate," is the last thing she says before falling asleep again.

Hancock stays there for a while, tears welling up in his eyes as he finally grabs her hand. He's gentle - couldn't be anything else with her if he wanted to. Every flaw of his runs through his brain as he tries to figure out why she didn't call out for him once. He sinks to the floor, kneeling and clutching her hand as the tears begin to fall. He needs to do better. Needs to be more for her. Needs to do something. There has to be a reason!

Right?

He looks at her, tears obscuring his vision slightly. She looks so peaceful even with all the bandages and tubes on and in her. She's beautiful. He will figure out how to be better to her. He knows he can't live without her.

He brings her hands to his lips, placing a tender kiss on her knuckles.

"I love you too, Sunshine."

#whumptober2023 #no.9 #mistaken identity #drugged #altprompt #fallout 4 #writing #hostpitals #crying #hancock is a sad boi #my ocs: danai #mayor john hancock #mentions of drugs #drugs #my first entry into this year's whumptober! I'm happy with it :)

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whumptober · 2 years

Note

for the anon wondering if they should do 31 separate fics vs. a multichapter; I write for a small fandom too, though one that is fairly prolific for whumptober. It seems like a 50/50 split in terms of separate fics vs. multichapter. As a reader, I much prefer the separate fics- so much easier to find the story I want to reread (or skip one if the prompt squicks me). No pesky wall of tags, and I can leave kudos for each story!

As a writer, I've done it both ways, because I've been worried about "clogging the tag." I am so much happier with the stories I posted individually for a lot of the same reasons I stated above, plus, you wrote a story every day for a month. If you had just randomly managed to be that productive without an event you wouldn't worry about whether they should be separate fics or not. Wear that proudly! Let it reflect in your story count number!

(if there are any stories that are a continuation/next chapter of a previous day's prompt, those could be part of a multichapter fic. Please do that for ease of reading)

Further Opinions on the "How to post" question :)

#mod pan #asks #whumptober2022 #anonymous #how to post #how to post whumptober entries

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radarsteddybear · 6 months

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A Month at the All-You-Can-Beat Buffet

30,000 words and 62 prompts across 25 short stories for Whumptober 2023.

Day 1 | No. 1: How Many Fingers Am I Holding Up?

Day 6 | No. 18: I See I Don't Have Your Leave Day 7 | No. 4: I Tried Not to Tell

Day 8 | No. 12: But You've Got to Sleep

Day 10 | No. 13: I Thought I Was Just Tired

Day 11 | No. 14: You Scared Me

Day 12 | No. 15: I Thought It Wasn't So Bad

Day 13 | No. 19: But You Could Have Died

Day 14 | No. 20: Where Is She?

Day 15 | No. 22 | No. 10 | No. 25: This Is Such a Bad Idea

Day 18 | No. 26: Burning the Candle at Both Ends Day 19 | No. 31: Bad Day

Day 20 | No. 30: Recuperation

Day 21 | No. 5: Don't You Think You've Had Enough?

Day 22 | No. 27: Who Among Us Doesn't Have a Scar or Two?

Day 23 | No. 9: Unrecognizable

Day 25 | No. 11 | No. 24 | No. 28: All's Well That Ends Well

#original post #whumptober2023 #whumptober #whumptober roundup #entries that are clustered together are multi-part stories

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talesofedo · 1 year

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Whumptober 2022 Completionist Post

Day 1 - Unconventional Restraints

Day 2 - Caged

Day 3 - Impaled

Day 4 - Hidden Injury / Waking up Disoriented

Day 5 - Blood Loss

Day 6 - Ransom Note (Ransom Video)

Day 7 - Silent Panic Attacks

Day 8 - Head Trauma

Day 9 - Caught in a Storm

Day 10 - Whipping

Day 11 - Sloppy Bandages

Day 12 - Carried to Safety (alt)

Day 13 - Fracture

Day 14 - Crutches (alt)

Day 15 - New Scars (and Old Scars)

Day 16 - Protective (alt)

Day 17 - Stress Positions

Day 18 - Take my Coat

Day 19 - Repeatedly Passing Out

Day 20 - Fetal Position

Day 21 - Coughing up Blood

Day 22 - Stabbed (alt)

Day 23 - Hold them Down

Day 24 - Blood Covered Hands

Day 25 - Lost Voice

Day 26 - Why did you save me?

Day 27 - Stumbling

Day 28 - Headache

Day 29 - Defiance

Day 30 - Manhandled / Please don't touch me!

Day 31 - Comfort / You can rest now

#whumptober2022 #whumptober 2022 #completionist #art #whumptober #masterpost #original art #original characters #links to all entries #art challenge

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whumpacabra · 7 months

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Day 9 - Mistaken Identity

Firearm use, drug and alcohol mention, physical violence, minor knife wound, mistaken identity, I am trying to learn how to write action scenes

[Directly follows Clubbing and Drugging]

RJ caught the assailant’s hand before they could bring down the taser over their shoulder. The growl that lept from their throat echoed in the alley.

A man had approached them from the street, and the woman from the bar. The woman that didn’t drug Casey’s drink. RJ should have suspected she wasn’t working alone. They turned on their heel to drive an elbow into the gut of the man flanking them from the shadows.

Casey was out of commission, head lolling listlessly. They needed to be quick about this.

Still holding the woman’s wrist, they used the momentum from their elbow to pull her off balance. RJ was admittedly impressed she realized soon enough to correct her stance - she had ditched the heels, boldly barefoot in the back alley.

They twisted themself into her space, back against her chest as they brought the heel of their boot down on her now firmly planted leg. There was a crunch - nothing drastic, since they didn’t have the space or positioning for a proper kneecapping, but it had the intended effect.

She dropped the taser, a snarl of pain on her too-red lips as she stumbled back from RJ, who was now facing down the man from the street.

And the barrel of his silenced pistol.

They were faster than him, yanking the barrel aside before he could pull the trigger. Two bullets buried themselves in the mortar wall of the adjacent building before RJ successfully wrenched the weapon from his hands.

He was unfortunately quick to react, the slash of a blade across their knuckles sending the weapon clattering to the ground. They weren’t going to give him the chance to hold it again.

Their right hook brutally found its mark, his head snapping with the force as they shifted their footing. They needed to stay between the assailants and Casey, still unconscious on the ground.

Before they could lunge forward for another hit, the click of a gun’s safety made their blood run cold.

Right. The woman.

She had picked up the discarded pistol, the weapon leveled at RJ’s chest from where she knelt on the cobbles. The split second distraction was enough time for the man to produce a second weapon, also silenced.

“Step away from the civi.” American accent. His Spanish wasn’t terrible, but it was clearly foreign on his tongue. They bared their teeth, eyes flicking between the two before daring to glance back to Casey’s vulnerable position. They stretched an arm behind themself, a clear gesture of protection even with the blood dripping from their hand.

If they wanted Casey, the Americans would have to go through them first.

“What do you want with him?” English felt equally awkward in their mouth, but it was far from their least fluent language. They noticed the pair exchange a glance nearly too fast to see.

“We want you to step away from the civilian.” The woman’s voice was cold, steady and curled with an accent they couldn’t quite place. RJ pointedly looked between the two.

“If he was awake to hear you calling him that he’d laugh and have you both bloody before I could stop him.” It was a mostly true statement. “Isn’t that why you drugged him?”

Now it was the Americans turn to let confusion seep into their expressions.

“We didn’t drug him.” There was a bare honesty in the man’s voice - something difficult but not impossible to learn. “You didn’t drug him?”

It was more a statement than question, the trio all relaxing their stances - if only slightly.

“There’s a dealer trading in…experimental product at this club.” The woman slowly rose to her feet, uninjured leg gracefully pulling up her weight on its own. “You sure as hell ain’t a civi - and walking out with a man half comatose wasn’t exactly a green flag.”

RJ was resigned to shrug. She had a fair point for an outside observer.

“Apologies for trying to drag my partner out of what looked to be a bad time waiting to happen.”

“Can we get back on topic, please?” The man pinched the bridge of his nose, weapon still by his side. “If you didn’t drug him, and we didn’t drug him…”

The backdoor of the club opened, bristling with machine gun muzzles.

“Oh for fuck’s sake - ”

[Directly before New Friends]

(Part of my Freelancers: Boy Meets World series)

#whump #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #no. 9 #mistaken identity #oc #whump writing #firearms #knife wound #physical violence #mentioned ->#nonconsensual drugging #alcohol use #freelancers #more shenanigans than whump but what can you do? bad first impressions are essential to life long weird friendships #ik ik I said I wanted to write more swansong era whump but this one just felt Right for some Freelancing shenanigans #tomorrow will also be a Recovery era entry so if ya want more wolf ghost and Harrison whump just wait a few days it’s there

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violettavonviolet · 7 months

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jack Drake & Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, (mostly mentioned) - Relationship Characters: Tim Drake, Tim Drake's Parents, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson Additional Tags: Child Neglect, Child Abuse, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Solitary Confinement, Abandonment, lowkey, Young Tim Drake, Diary/Journal, Whump, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd is Robin, Tim Drake Joins the Batfamily Early, Tim Drake Has a Bad Time, Sickfic, Sick Tim Drake, Hallucinations Series: Part 3 of whumptober 2023 Summary:

Dear Journal,

Mrs Mac isn’t coming. She just sent a reminder that she’s off for the week at her brother’s place in Kentucky. She told me about him, last time she was here. I can’t believe I forgot.

But I guess my parents forgot too, since I’m still locked in my room. I have to start school on Monday! I guess I could always climb down the tree... I don’t have a key, so I can’t unlock it from the outside. Also, I don’t want to wait until Monday, I’m starving in here and I’ve drunk way more water than I usually have.

Also, I think my cold is getting worse- -- Tim started keeping a journal sometime after he turned nine. He kept the journal throughout the most tumultuous year of his live, the year he turned ten.

or: Tim's parents forget him at home. He takes matters into his own hands.

DAY 3: SOLITARY CONFINEMENT// JOURNAL

#whumptober 2023 #no.3 #solitary confinement #journal #fic #dc #child abandonment tw #sickfic #young tim drake #journal entries

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riflewounds · 2 years

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Whumptober, day 26 | No One Left Behind ("Why did you save me?")

He'd been left alone here. No food or water for a second day in a row and the pain gnawing at his legs and twisting his gut only grew with each passing hour. The ground was cold, too, but he was thankful he wasn't forced to keep sitting on that god-awful chair.

He barely slept at night. Shallow and short stays in the warm darkness, only about two hours at a time. He woke up - repeatedly - at boots passing by the door.

Rabid hounds of war, doing what their masters wanted of them, to rip and tear and torture.

Soft thumps down the hall. Muffled screams. Gunshots. Durant perked up, as much as his broken body would allow.

Many boots racing down the hall, hushed words speaking of an intruder, some lanky man with a gun.

Wait, is it--

"Left side, left side," came a muffled yell from the hall.

Durant counted two shots right after. Followed by a nice little burst from the two men close by the door. Three more shots. From further away. At least one hit because there was a piercing scream just outside the door. Followed by more panicked words he couldn't quite make out through the haze of pain.

Another shot, quick retaliation of several three-round bursts, and two more single shots from a different gun.

A rifle clattered to the ground. Faint gurgles just in the hallway.

Deathly silence. No barks of gunfire, just the buzzing in his head and some disgusting sinking feeling.

Could it be his boss? Maybe, but this didn't sound like him Precise, yes, maybe a little too much for the man himself. Did he hire someone? To soften up those contractor fuckers, so he can then sweep in and claim all the glory?

He would've laughed if not for the piercing pain in his ribs. Fuchs had the resources, he had people, it wouldn't be unlike him to hire some extra help for the job.

He could afford the extra bodies.

And he could afford to find a different loyal gun, puppy.

Different gunman to fill his place. Take over his role of the loyal bodyguard willing to sacrifice limb and life.

Even if the guy was a dick.

Durant couldn't hear a single sound aside from his quick ragged breaths. He'd grown a little accustomed to the pain, but his legs felt full of red-hot knives slicing away at his flesh.

He stilled once he heard those footsteps in the hallway. Light, so vastly different from the steel-toed boots that ran through the hall only minutes ago. No, these were loafers, a light blend of leather and vulcanized rubber. Tap, tap, tap, the sound was closing in, until the door handle moved and Durant stilled completely.

Either it's Fuchs, or someone else.

He blinked as the door swung open. Silver glint of a Beretta. Muzzle trained right at him, before it wavered and pointed towards the ground as the man's hands fell.

"Durant?"

He... came back for him...

"H-Hey," he rasped, breaking into a little cough at the sudden motion. Too deep of an exhale. His ribs still ached, stabbing pain clawing at his lung with every cough.

Broken ribs had nothing on two shattered femurs...

Fuchs slipped his gun away for the moment, taking long, hasty strides towards his gunman. "We don't have much time before the rest of those jack-booted fucks come down here."

Durant estimated they had ten minutes at most. Realistically, it's less. A lot less.

More like five minutes.

Fuchs kneeled beside him, took a pair of wire cutters to the zip ties binding the gunman's wrists. "Let's get out of here."

Two snips, and the pressure at his wrist was gone. Durant flexed his hands, splayed his palm, curled his fingers into a tight fist before he loosened them. But just as quickly as the pressure was relieved, Fuchs was already hooking his arm around the gunman, about to lift him up.

"No no no, wait, wa--"

Then the bones in his leg shifted and he screamed loud enough to wake the dead. That piercing, blood-curdling wail--

"Shut up!"

--he screamed until his lungs seized with lack of air.

"For fuck's sake just shut up!"

Followed by desperate lungfuls of that precious, precious air, cut shallow by his broken battered ribs, fingers curling against the floor and nails scratching away at whatever was under his hands.

Please god make it stop, make it stop, make it stop--

"Oh shit--"

Darkness blotted out his sight, drowned out every sound, his body was sagging into that painless warm void, but he was plucked out of those deep dark waters only moments later. Sweaty. Back against the bumpy ground, his entire body ached and throbbed and his guts were twisting into tight knots under the strain.

"Fuchs..."

Moist eyes, dry throat. He could only croak as he twisted on the ground.

His boss fell quiet, just looking at his gunman, unsure what to do next. Barely touching him, just lightly resting two fingers on Durant's shoulder.

"I took a couple guys with me, they're waiting outside." Fuchs spoke, considerably more gentle than only minutes ago, "I need you to stay quiet."

Quiet, huh? Durant wasn't sure it was even possible. "Then gimme drugs. Or knock me out. Please."

Desperate words, quiet urgency. This would go a lot smoother if he wasn't screaming with every little movement. Even now, even when he was lying completely still, Durant was only hairs away from screaming his lungs out. Words didn't come to him as easily as they usually did either, they came mangled and incoherent through the haze of pain. "My legs are fucked. Broken. Fuckers broke my legs."

"Yeah, I figured."

Then he could've-- he could've stopped sooner!

"And since you can't stand up, I'm gonna have to drag you."

Fine, fucking fine, "Just get on with it," Durant grumbled. Impatient, frustrated, anxious. Conflicting feelings mixing into some horrible painful mess. "You gonna give me something, or we goin' raw?"

"Raw."

God-- he swallowed. Every little bit of motion of his legs plunged him into throes of agony so intense he could no longer keep conscious.

Fuchs produced a single tie, he folded it in half twice, and brought it down to the gunman's chin. "Here, bite this."

And he did. Fuchs positioned it between Durant's teeth, and he bit down on it. It'd help, even if just a little.

"Alright."

White and orange hues of pain. It felt as if legs were being torn apart, pulled off his body like he was some insect.

Paralyzed. Eyes blown wide open, he was stiff as a board and his body tried to screech, yet breath halted in his throat, it wouldn't budge, nerves overloaded with this unspeakable agony.

He couldn't take it. Couldn't do it. As if rigor mortis had set in while he was still alive.

Durant could hear a word, quiet and mangled in the haze, a single "Finally" as the gunman slipped under.

#whumptober2022 #no.26 #no one left behind #why did you save me #OC #fic #a bunch of these whumptober entries are out of chronological order #but there is a storyline happening #i should make a masterlist with these in chronological order

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