#whumptober23
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I'll Make This Up To You
WHUMPTOBER DAY SIX: Prompt: made to watch
Summary: after being kidnapped by the joker, Jason is forced to watch you being tortured when you beg to take his place.
Warning: Blood, beating, gore, cursing, punctured lung.
Word count: 1.3k
MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS
🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸
Your entire body throbbed. Your wrists hung limply from rusty chains that dangled from the ceiling. Your bare toes struggled to relieve the burning that spread down your arms and into the sockets of your shoulders, but your bare toes only skimmed the floor, not providing you with a fraction of release. The groan, and clanging of the chains on the other side of the room, alerted you to the other presence in the room. He was still wearing his black suit with the red bat insignia printed across his chest.
“Hood?” You murmured from across the room, trying to grab his attention. The boy groaned, bleary eyed before mumbling your name in response.
“Are you okay?” He asked, testing the strength of his chains albeit to find that he was firmly stuck.
“Yeah” You nodded. “What happened? I don’t remember anything besides-”
A blinding light piercing through the darkness. Shattering glass, a scream. Then nothing.
“The crash.” Jason finished for you.
You were about to speak again; to utter another string of words when you were silenced by a catatonic laughter.
The Joker barged his way through the double doors to the room. They slammed loudly against the wall as pushed up his sleeves. Although Jason was still wearing his mask, you could sense the fear rising in his body.
“Isn’t this nice?” He said, walking around the two of you. “My two favourite birdies all in one place.”
He smiled a toothy grin, his face too close to yours for comfort before whipping back around to Jason and wiggling his fingers. “How’s it hanging Little Robin? Did ya miss me?”
Jason tried to recoil from the man before him, but the chains only allowed him to swing feebly back and forth. This elicited another manic laugh from the Joker.
“Now, I would say that I'm sorry to do this to you again, but that would be a lie, wouldn’t it?”
He ran his finger along Jason’s hooded jawline, before trailing his fingers down to his neck and to the hem of his mask which he tore from his face.
“Hiya, Jaybird.” He said, giving him a wink. Jason stiffened at the nickname. “Oh how I missed this pretty face.”
“Fuck you.” He spat.
The Joker pulled back, placing a hand to his chest in mock hurt and cackling once more. “Your words wound me, Jason. Like father like son I see.”
The sound of an old, metal cart being pushed with a squeaky wheel by one of his goons filled the room. On top of it lay an assortment of weapons and tools, two of which you identified as yours. Another man tugged in an old camera. “I think it’s time that we send the bat a message.” he trailed his fingers along the edge of the tray, before picking up a small knife and twirling it between his digits. “He needs to stop getting on my last nerve and you, my little birdy, need to learn to keep your mouth shut.”
His last sentence was exaggerated with a swing of his arm, which landed a well placed cut to Jason's cheek.
“Hey!” You yelled, squirming against your restraints. “Get the fuck away from him!”
The suit-clad man spun around slowly, tilting his head and the knife towards you.
“Oh? The little bird has something to say. Tell me, Y/N,” He provoked as his goon removed your mask from your face. “What are you gonna do about it? What are you gonna do when I drive your very own knife through your beloved Jaybird’s heart? Hmm?”
“I told you to leave him alone.” You spat back in his face.
The Joker's eyes turned dark as he narrowed them coldly at you. His grin dropped as he turned back around and slashed another line against Jason’s face. He groaned, eyes wide as he began to relive his past time with the man. You felt your heart clench, you couldn’t let him go through that. Not again, you couldn’t watch as he tried to fix himself. You couldn’t watch him suffer again.
“Stop it!” You yelled at him, only for the other man to cover your mouth firmly with his hand. You fought hard, shouting until your voice went hoarse. “Please…hurt me instead.”
The man stopped, a shit eating grin exaggerated across his features. “Smile for the camera.”
~~~
Your head hung limply, chin resting on your chest. Blood trickled down your temple, oozed from your nose and clung to almost every inch of your skin. Inch deep cuts lay littered across your skin, along with a multitude of The sound that left your mouth was barely a scream as he drove the knife into the flesh of your thigh.
Jason had tried to keep from crying out; each yell or vulgar comment leaving you with another scar to add to your collection, or another fingernail ripped out from its bed, but he couldn’t bear to watch you suffer in place of him. It made his stomach twist into knots. He prayed that Tim would be able to hack the livestream that Joker was feeding to the cave and reach you before something fatal happened.
Jason squirmed in the chains. They clanked together loudly. “Leave her alone!”
The man tutted before you, turning away and leaving the knife lodged within the muscle.The vigilante was about to let out a sigh of relief when he watched the Joker's fingers dance over the various bloodied tools and towards the wooden bat.
Before the dark-haired boy could make another sound, the bat was slammed into your ribs. You gasped, eyes flying open as you swung on the chains. You heaved a ragged gasp as he swung hard again, crying out as you felt your ribs shatter. You let out a haggard cough, tasting the copper on your tongue as blood coated your tongue and dribbled from your mouth. The rib had punctured a lung.
The villain's laughter morphed with your and Jason’s shouting. The wooden bat clattered on the floor, but was soon replaced by Jason’s pistol. He cried out loudly. “I hope you’re watching, Batsy.” Joker, picked up the camera, zooming in on your face. “I want you to see the light leave her eyes.”
“I’ll do you one better.” A voice sounded behind him.
Looking over his shoulder, the villain was greeted with the dark cowl of Batman’s suit. The taller man grabbed the villain, swinging him into the wall. The three other boys jumped into action, tackling the goons. Fueled with anger and determination, it didn’t take long before they were releasing you from the shackles that tugged agonisingly on your body.
You landed in a heap on the floor, wheezing loudly as Jason collapsed to his knees beside you, fingers pressing harshly against your thigh. You whimpered.
“I’m sorry. Stay with us, I'm sorry.”
“I’m fine- ” You tried to dismiss Jay’s worry. You didn’t want him to feel any guiltier than you knew he already did. Your head dizzied as you were hoisted into the air by a strong pair of arms.
“I’m sorry.” He repeated it like a mantra. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”
You shook your head. “Jay…this is not your fault.”
“But-”
You cut him off with another ragged cough, spilling more blood from your lips. He forced his legs to move further.
“Not your fault.”
Instead of fighting back, he decided to pull you closer. “I’m gonna get you fixed up Y/N. I promise. I will make this up to you.”
🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸
<- DAY FIVE ⛤ DAY SEVEN ->
🏷️ taglist
@senjoritanana
@deans-spinster-witch
#whumptober#whumptober2023#whumptober23#no.6#made to watch#Batfam#Batfamily#batfam x reader#batfam x sister reader#Jason Todd x reader#red hood x reader#blood#gore#torture#injury#broken ribs#rescue#fanficion#writing#dc x reader#Batfamily x reader#batfam x injured reader#angst#dc
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Whumptober #28
Trope of the day: "You'll have to go through me."
_
Whumpee feels their legs shake as they get up from the ground. Their body is at its limit, but they can't just give up. Not now, not here. With a soft grunt they move to stand in front of caretaker, who is fighting with consciousness.
Blood. There's blood everywhere.
Their own, caretaker's. It's too much.
But they can't just give up. Whumpee faces their attacker and straightens their shoulders. "If you want them, you'll have to go through me," they hiss and try to stand straight, even readying their hands to throw a punch.
Even if they feel like passing out any second, they just want caretaker to be safe. Want them to survive. Whumpee doesn't care if they have to die to achieve this goal.
Caretaker grunts something, but whumpee can't understand them. They just have to keep it up a little longer, not long and help will arrive. At least they hope so.
#whumptober 23#whumptober#whumptober23#trope of the day#“You'll have to go through me”#whump#whump writing#caretaker#whumpee#self sacrifice#kinda#no.28#whumpshots
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Whumptober Day the First
Skipped prompt #1, reposting this because I wasn't satisfied with the last draft.
Prompt #2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”
Thermometer | Delirium | “They don’t care about you.”
Jack has a fever, and everything Michael said to him is coming back.
___
“Jack… Jack.”
Jack looks up, startled. Across the kitchen, Sam’s holding up two packages of deli meat. Various condiments, a bag of bread, and a ball of lettuce are spread out on the counter in front of him.
“Hm?” Jack shifts in his seat at the table. He feels odd, like his skin doesn’t fit over his bones right.
“I asked what you want on your sandwich.”
“Oh–”
“Ham ‘n’ cheese, please,” Dean says, coming through the doorway and plopping down at the table next to Jack.
“You can make your own sandwich, Dean.”
Dean jabs a thumb in Jack’s direction. “So can he.”
Sam sighs and ignores him. “What kind of meat, Jack?”
“Um, turkey?” Jack squints at the options. His vision is weird – he can see fine, but his brain isn’t processing the images.
Sam looks puzzled. “Ham or roast beef is what we’ve got. Dean only bought red meat at the store this time.” He glares at his brother.
“Oh, uh, I guess…” There’s too much going on. He’s trying to follow Sam and Dean’s casual bickering and understand what Sam wants from him at the same time. He remembers his glass of water, and takes a sip. It’s cool against his hot throat.
Sam’s waiting, eyebrows traveling further and further up his forehead.
The water is good. He takes another sip, but chokes this time. The harsh coughs scrape past his throat. Dean thumps him hard on the back.
“I think I’m… I’m not hungry,” he croaks. Dean, hand still resting between Jack’s shoulder blades, makes eye contact with Sam. Dean mouths something. Sam nods his head in Jack’s direction. Jack’s trying to figure out what’s going on when he feels Dean’s palm against his forehead, then the backs of his fingers on his cheek.
“Yep, he’s running a temperature.”
“No, I–” Oh. That would explain why his clothes were scratchy against his skin, and why he’d been feeling strangely chilly all morning. Had he been more lucid, he might have noticed how often he was shedding his sweatshirt only to put it back on minutes later, and how he needed to clear his throat before he spoke.
Sam sighs, setting the deli meat down. “I’ll go find a thermometer. Make your own sandwich, Dean.”
Sam heads off to hunt down a thermometer and some ibuprofen, and Dean gets to work on his sandwich, any concern for Jack obviously not getting in the way of his lunch. Jack watches from the table. At some point, his head sinks down onto folded arms and he lets his burning eyes slip closed.
__
“Jack, hey.” Sam’s hovering close, holding out a thermometer. “You have a fever, so we need to measure it by taking your temperature. Your fever’s why you’re feeling bad right now.”
“I know what a fever is,” Jack grumps.
Sam smiles, embarrassed. “Sorry. Just put this under your tongue for me, okay?” He presses the button and hands it over. Jack takes the offered thermometer and tucks it under his tongue, cringing at the way the slick plastic feels in his overheated mouth. All his nerve endings are buzzing, sensitive and prickly. He shudders and squirms.
“This sucks, I know.” Sam rubs his arm. The soft touch is painful against his aching skin and muscles, and Jack pulls away. Sam looks hurt, but then the thermometer beeps and he takes it back. Dean waits to hear, chewing a huge bite of sandwich. “102.2” Sam announces. “That’s a pretty decent fever.” He frowns down at Jack. “Why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling well?”
Jack shrugs. He honestly doesn’t know. Being human is weird and it’s hard to tell the difference between being tired, hungry, nauseous, or just overwhelmed. Sometimes his skin feels this way, prickly and tight and squirmy, when too much is happening and he needs a break. He takes a deep breath and pulls the collar of his sweatshirt over his mouth to cough. It’s deep and barky, and it hurts.
“That doesn’t sound like it feels very good,” Sam says sympathetically. Jack tries hard not to scowl. Sam is trying to be considerate and gentle, but it’s coming off as patronizing. His indignation fades as Sam puts a cool hand on his cheek. “What hurts?”
Jack clears his throat with a short cough. “My throat, head, and, um, skin?” He looks up, expecting Sam to laugh at him, but he only takes his hand away from his face and nods.
“I bet.”
___
He didn’t want the weird blue liquid cold medicine, and he tried but couldn’t swallow the pills. Dean got frustrated and took his sandwich to the library, but Sam did his best to reason with him.
“It feels weird,” Jack tried to explain. “The cold medicine tastes like a warm gooey popsicle. It’s wrong.” He could see that Sam didn’t get why he couldn’t just hold his nose and take it like a shot, but when Jack choked twice trying to swallow the pills instead, Sam gave up, and suggested they try again later.
__
Jack really wishes he could have managed the medicine. He’s curled up in bed, shivering. His phone tells him it’s 7:06pm. He can faintly hear Sam and Dean clamoring around in the kitchen, arguing about what to order for dinner.
He should have been able to take the medicine they tried to give him. He shudders, and curls into a tighter ball. His weighted blanket doesn’t touch the deep ache in his bones. They tried to help him. They tried very hard. He felt like he was making things unnecessarily complicated. Dean said so, sometimes, when he got frustrated with him.
Sam did his best to understand, but he still looked at it like it was developmental– that Jack was only technically a few years old, so of course the sensory stuff could get overwhelming and he needed to approach problems step-by-step. He threw around phrases like “overstimulation” and “demand avoidance” and did his best to be consistent. Even though it pissed Jack off that Sam treated him like a sensitive little kid, it was better than Dean, who just tried to make him push through it. He didn’t understand at all.
But… Why should he have to put up with it? Michael’s –Dean’s– voice rings in his head.
You’re a new burden that he was handed… a weak fragile thing…
The mattress dips. Jack cracks open his sore eyes to see Michael’s face hovering above him, lit by the hallway light coming through the open door. He tries to scream.
“Hey! Kid, it’s okay.” Dean grabs his arm. Jack whimpers in pain and Dean instantly releases his grip. He places the gentle, unobtrusive backs of his fingers against Jack’s cheek. “Geez, you’re burning up.” Through the dim light, Jack can see that he looks sad. “I know you didn’t do so well with the medicine earlier, but uh, this might help your fever for now.” Dean’s holding a damp washcloth in his hand. He starts to place it on Jack’s forehead, but stops. “I’m uh, going to put it on your forehead. It’s cold and wet – is… is that okay?” He’s awkward about it, and if Jack was feeling better he would have laughed at him.
“It’s okay,” Jack croaks softly. Dean lays the washcloth over his hot forehead and Jack sighs in relief.
“Good, huh?” Dean says, a smile in his voice. “Get some rest, there’s water on your nightstand.” He pats the mattress twice and gets to his feet. “Door open or closed?”
“Cracked, please,” Jack says. Dean leaves a crack large enough for a sliver of light to slip through. Jack listens to his heavy footfalls fade up the hall.
Dean kind of likes burdens, he thinks. It won’t make sense in the morning, when his fever breaks, but for now it’s a comforting thought.
FIN
#whumptober23#no. 2#thermometer#delirium#they don't care about you#supernatural#fic#jack kline#dean winchester#sam winchester#sickfic#jack kline is neurodivergent#dean winchester likes taking care of people#sam staying up late reading mommy blogs about autistic toddlers#jack is not a child#hurt/comfort#spn
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Day 10 Title: You can see your lost without me...
Prompt: stranded (feeling stranded and alone no one to comfort them)
#whumptober23#You can't see your lost without me.#no10#stranded#male whump#whump#turkish series#angst
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soooo I got too busy last year but gonna try to get a jump start this year and actually do whumptober >:) taking requests from the prompt list if anyone's got some
I'll write: star wars, cyberpunk, mortal kombat, red dead redemption, resident evil, call of duty 🫡
IF I know your oc(s) well enough to do so, I'll write them, we can talk about it! if you want me to write my ocs I'm obviously happy to do that too, you can find them in my oc tag
nsfw is fine
*prompts in use: 2, 9, 10, 11, 12
#whumptober23#bookmark#I'll update this with taken prompts if there are any bites#my squick list is very very very short but you can message me if you're worried about it
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“Where you go, I go. Don't go where I can't follow.”
Worried!Jay / Hurt!Hailey
Part 1/2
I started writing this in October and totally forgot about it. Now it's finally ready to post. Two months too late, uhm... enjoy reading 🤍
http://archiveofourown.org/works/52399345
#whumptober2023#whumptober23#no.16#upstead#quotes#hailey upton#jay halstead#worried jay halstead#hurt hailey upton#violence tw#weapons tw#flatline#gurney#fanfic#upstead fanfiction#upstead fic#upstead forever
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Whumptober Day 1 - YGO
"Hey, hey!"
Someone tapped Yugi's cheek, first softly, but then harder.
"Yugi! Oh, please wake up."
"Teá?"
"Oh, that's a relief! I was really worried you weren't going to wake up."
Yugi cracked open his eyes, wincing to bring Teá's face into focus. She was frowning, brown hair falling past her ears as she stared down at him. Behind her the sky was grey, holding back the sunshine as it had for the past few days.
Right. Grey days. He thought that'd drop the number of students eating on the roof and had snuck up quickly, claiming a sheltered corner. Unfortunately, a group of guys the year above believed the corner theirs.
They hadn't even given him a chance to move before throwing the first punch. Yugi was pretty sure that was all it took to knock him out too.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" Teá asked, bringing her hand into his view.
"Two."
"Well, no concussion this time. Can you sit up?"
She offered him a hand and helped Yugi sit up. The roof was empty beside the two of them – he figured the teacher had sent her looking for him. He had to have been out cold for a solid forty minutes then. Did he come to and get another punch?
As Teá steadied him, Yugi looked around. He wasn't far from the corner; the bullies hadn't bothered moving him when he collapsed. His bento box had been stomped on, plastic lid spiderwebbed. At least it was still full.
He tried to reach for it, but Teá pulled him back. "I'll get it. Do you feel dizzy?"
She bent to pick up the box, handing to Yugi. He opened it immediately and went for a carrot stick.
"Oh, Yugi, don't. It's probably dirty."
"I didn't have lunch and I'm starving."
She sighed. "We'll you're late for class already and the teacher knows I'm looking for you. I'll get you something from the vending machines."
"Thanks, Teá."
"We'll slide by the nurse too. You have a stunning bruise starting to form on your temple."
Yugi touched the area and winced. Yeah, he'd have Grandpa do a concussion check later. Just because he didn't feel dizzy or was blurry now didn't mean he wouldn't be in an hour. Grandpa would be so disappointed. Yugi was on track to go a whole week without being picked on.
"Thanks, Teá."
"You already said that."
"I don't mean for the snack. I mean…caring." He was pretty sure she was the only one in the whole school who did.
"Of course," she whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
Yugi blushed and looked at the ground. His stomach rumbled.
"Come on," Teá said, still in that soft voice. "Let's see you tended too."
#whumptober23#no1#how many fingers am i holding up?#yugioh#yugi muto#comfort#school bullies#one punch ko#my fanfiction
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Cobra Kai (TV), Karate Kid (Movies)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Johnny Lawrence, Daniel LaRusso
Additional Tags: Whump, Whumptober 2023, Whumptober, Humor
Series: Part 1 of Whumptober 2023
Summary:
A fill for Whumptober prompt no.1: “How many fingers am I holding up?”
Johnny volunteers to clean the guttering at Daniel's house. It does not end well.
(Yup, I'm doing Whumptober. I currently have 7 completed fics between 1000 and 3000 words long each, and 2 half finished fics! They are mostly stand alone one shots, but three of them are set in the Last Coors Banquet series.)
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Tired Eyes
WHUMPTOBER DAY 26: Prompt: “working to exhaustion”
Fandom: Batfam/DC
Summary: It’s been a long day, and you’re too caught up with work to take care of yourself, so it’s up to your brothers to do it for you.
Warnings: Exhaustion, overworking, none really it’s more fluffy than anything.
Word count: 1.2K
MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS
🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸
You weren’t tired. No. You just needed to rest your eyes a little, that was all.
The screen of the computer had begun to hurt your eyes, making your temples to throb so, with your elbows planted firmly on the table, you began to massage them to ease the pain, but here you found your eyes dropping closed and your head falling towards table. The dim lighting of the cave didn’t help much either.
As soon as your head hit your clammy palm, you jolted awake, sitting up abruptly and straightening your back against the chair, snapping back to the mountain of work that you needed to get done.
Your fingers moved sluggishly against the keyboard as you typed up the reports. It had been a busy week and so you were left with a large pile of unfinished essays to type and not a lot of time to do them. It was late; the rest of the boys had returned to their beds, deciding to write their reports the following day, but you were already behind which meant that despite the ungodly hour you were still plastered to the chair.
Reaching blindly for your coffee with one hand you wrapped your hands around the ceramic and brought it to your lips. The drink was lukewarm and bitter as it ran over your tongue, but you were desperate for the buzz that the caffeine gave you.
You hadn’t realised that the sun had crept up of you until Dick strolled into the room, barefoot and in his pyjamas. He did a double take when he saw you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Y/n?” He asked, frowning at you. At the sound of his voice you glanced over at him briefly, noting his messy hair. He observed the fact that you were still wearing the same clothes as you were when he went to bed last night. “Did you even go to sleep?”
You shook your head, continuing to press your fingers into the little plastic squares not even nothing to look his direction as you continued to work. “Nope.”
He narrowed his eyes. “How long have you been awake?”
“Dunno.” You shrugged. “What time is it?”
“6”
“ ‘Bout…26- 27 hours?”
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y/n. You need sleep.”
“I will. I just need to get this done first. You can get me another coffee though?”
“Y/n-“
“Sorry Dick, can’t hear you over my cleverness.”
He rolled his eyes, but snatched the cup from your hand anyway and went to prepare breakfast.
It seemed like forever before you finally entered the last word on your essay slumped back against the chair. You were feeling exhausted and your body had began to grow stiff from sitting in the same place for so long, so after submitting it you shuffled into the kitchen where your brothers were sat lounging on chairs.
“Woah, Y/n.” Damian said through a mouthful of bacon that he had piled onto his plate “You look like hell.”
“Thanks Dames.” You scoffed. “Just what a woman wants to hear.
“I didn’t mean it like that-“
“She hasn’t slept.” Dick interjected.
Tim narrowed eyes at you over the top of his book. “What? Why?”
“I had too much to do, Jaybird.”
“Well then go to bed now.”
“Can’t.” You grabbed a slice of toast and slid it onto a plate. “Still got too much to do. Besides, I’m not tired.”
“Sure.” He rolled his eyes and went back to his book.
The rest of the day dragged on. You had busied yourself with small tasks that needed to be done during the day and then once all of those were done, you had spent some time in the training room to work on your technique, but your movements were slow and well below par so eventually you gave up, slipped off of the blue mat and dragged yourself towards the showers.
You twisted the dial all the way to the left, waiting for it to settle to an even temperature as you stepped out of your clothes. When you climbed into the shower, the cold water stung your skin as it ran down your back but it kept you wide awake and on your feet so with shaky hands you grabbed the shampoo bottles and began to massage it into your scalp. Although you were in and out quickly, by the time you were done and stepped out of the shower your body was wracked with shivers. Wrapping a thick white towel around you, you dried yourself off before changing into something comfier and creeping back down the stairs now feeling slightly more awake.
You made your way into the library, where shelves filled to the brim with books lined the walls. You ran your fingers against the shelves and noted that when you pulled your hand away you had collecting a thin sheen of dust.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Tim was rounding the corner to return his book that had been absentmindedly flicking through the all day but found that it didn’t give him the thrill he was looking for, so he had wandered back to the library to select another on me when he heard you shuffling around.
“But it needs to be done-“
“Alfred will do it.” Tim told you, placing a large hand on your shoulders and steering you away from the shelves after you had selected a book. A blue hardback covered dainty little flowers embroidered along the spine.
“But he already has so much to do.” You protested.
“It’s his job, y/n/n. And you need to get some sleep.”
You sighed. “I’m not tired, Tim. Seriously lay off it.”
He raised his hands in surrender and wheeled away in a huff. You settled down on the plush sofa, bringing your knees to your chest to read under the gentle light and revel in the silence for just a few moments. Tim settled opposite you, sprawling out across the other couch.
For the next few hours the only sound that filled the room was the gentle flick of turning pages. That was until the other three came bundling in, but you didn’t notice. You had drifted off into a mindless sleep.
You were woken to a a gentle nudge on your shoulder and you sat up abruptly.
“Hmm? What?”
“You fell asleep.” Jason told you.
“No I didn’t…” you mumbled.
Jason pursed his lips. “I think you did.”
You blinked at him.
“Seriously, y/n just go to bed.” Damian told you.
You contemplated for a moment before hauling yourself up onto your feet. You stumbled across the room when a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over you and you were forced to grip onto the counter to keep yourself upright. When you moved to take another step, dragging your feet along the carpet you stumbled again.
“Alright. That’s it.” Dick stood up and moved across the room with one big stride, picking you up effortlessly and throwing you over his shoulder.
“Hey! Put me down.”
Someone snickered behind you.
“No can do little bat. You’re going to bed.”
He hauled you off to your room ignoring your remarks and pointless excuses. When he reached your door, he threw you over his shoulder and onto the bed. You tried to crawl away, but he just grabbed your ankle and pushed you back onto your pillows.
“Sleep.” He told you firmly, using his voice that only came out when he was ordering the rest of you around during a patrol. You pouted, glaring at him through hooded eyes, but he just gave you a little smirk, drew the curtains and moved to the door ignoring your antics.
“Goodnight, y/n. Sleep well.”
🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸
<- DAY 25 ⛤ DAY 27 ->
Taglist:
@deans-spinster-witch
@senjoritanana
@amaryllis23
#whumptober#whumptober2023#whumptober23#no.26#working to exhaustion#tiredness#Batfamily x reader#batfam x reader#batfam x sister reader#Batfamily x sister reader#jason Todd x reader#dick Grayson x reader#Tim drake x reader#Damian Wayne x reader#jason Todd x sister reader#dick Grayson x sister reader#tim drake x sister reader#Damian Wayne x sister reader#exhaustion#tired#self harm#minor self harm#lack of sleep#insomnia#sleep deprived#hard working#dc fanficion
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Sleepy Summons
whumptober23
day 29- scented candle
fandom- dp x dc
TW- none
summary- Danny just wants to go to sleep
ao3
masterlist
Dick was kind of embarrassed. But at least everyone would be embarrassed with him. If they made it out alive.
Look, they had thought it was a simple cult, but apparently there was at least a little magic at play, because they had managed to capture not only Dick, but also Jason, Tim, and Damian.
Batman was supposed to be on his way, but he had been out of town so it might take him a while. Dick just hoped these cultists took their time with the summoning.
The cultists began to gather around the summon circle which had been lined with candles.
Well, it looked like they wouldn't be that lucky today.
The chanting started and the candles glowed brighter as the chal lines glowed green. Then suddenly a figure appeared in the center of the circle.
Dick stared for a second, unsure if he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing.
There was a boy, maybe between Damian and Tim’s age standing in the center of the circle.They had black hair and blue eyes, and were holding a toothbrush and toothpaste.
The boy blinked at the cultists around him and looked over at the tied up bats.
“Ummm….” The boy said.
Some of the cultists shifted and started muttering among themselves.
Then the boy sniffed the air. “Are those pumpkin spice scented candles?”
“They had a sale.” one of the cultists said.
“Shut up, Jerry.” the potential leader said.
“No, no. I like it.” said the boy. “But now I'm hungry for pumpkin pie.”
“Me too.”
“Shut up, Jim. We’re not making conversation with the foul demon.”
“Wos, okay. I didn't think I smelled that bad.”
“Shut up.” snarled the lead cultist.
The boy held his hands up, accidentally squeezing the toothpaste. He stared at his now toothpaste covered hand. “Look what you made me do.”
“It doesn’t matter.” the leader gritted his teeth. “I summoned you–”
“Actually, it wasn’t just you that summoned me.”
Dick could see the leader trembling with suppressed rage.
“As the leader of this group, I command you to obey my orders.”
“But, like, dit you get to be the leader through a cote or did you just appoint yourself.” the boy said, ignoring him.
“He kind of just appointed himself.” said one of the other cultists.
“Dud, that sucks. Are you guys really willing to put up with this?”
“Shut up!” the leader screeched.
“No, he’s right. I want to vote for our leader. What do you guys think?”
Several of the other cultists nodded.
“I vote for you, Freddie. All in favor?”
“Aye.” said everyone but the leader who was spluttering with anger.
“You can’t do that! I’m the leader! I gave you all the leader !”
“But we gathered all the ingredients and drew the circle!”
The boy spoke up again. “What do you guys even get out of this?”
There was silence for a moment.
“You know, I actually don’t really know. What about you Jerry?”
“No. What about you Linda?”
“I just thought we were going to get drunk or something.”
“Demon, I command you to be silent!” the leader said, looking like he’d finally had enough.
The boy glared at him. “First of all, I’m not a demon. Second of all, I don’t feel like being quiet. And third of all, I was finally going to get to sleep on time when you guys summoned me. So, I’m sure you’ll all understand that I'm a bit peeved. And lastly,” the boy stepped out of the summoning circle and the cultists scrambled back. “You were fools for thinking that you could control creatures from the other side of the veil. Most of them would kill you, but since I already showered and don’t feel like washing blood off of myself tonight, I’ll just leave you for the bats.”
The boy's eyes began to glow a bright blue and his hair moved in a nonexistent wind. Frost began to sweep from under his feet toward the cultists. Ice climbed up their legs and crept up until it completely covered them.
Then the boy turned toward them.
Dick swallowed. He hated the occult. He just hoped that whoever this was would leave them alone. He had said he’d leave the cultists for the bats, but still, you could never be certain with the occult. This being was probably not even human.
The boy stepped forward and Dick tensed as he reached out and touched Tim on the shoulder. The ropes holding him fell to the ground, and the boy repeated the process with all of them.
When Dick had removed the tape that covered his mouth he asked, “Who are you?”
“Look,” the boy had rolled his eyes, “I’m tired and I don’t have time to play twenty questions with you right now. If you want, you can just ask your sad trenchcoat man about the Infinite Realms, and also, tell him to stop selling his soul. It causes a lot of paperwork.”
With that, the boy disappeared.
------------------
Damnny groaned as he appeared back in his bathroom. He abandoned his toothbrush and toothpaste and rinsed off his hand, before heading to his room and collapsing on his bed.
He’d deal with all the problems that summoning caused tomorrow. Or next week. As long as Clockwork didn’t say anything, he could take his time.
#whumptober2023#whumptober#no.29#scented candles#Danny fenton#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake#damian wayne#cults#dp x dc#dc x dp#dpxdc fanfic#summoning
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2 Overworked/ Insomnia/ Exhausted
Ai-less Whumptober23
#danny phantom#Jazz fenton#ai less whumptober#ailesswhumptober2023#day 2#overworked#exhausted#insomnia#art#fanart#syblings#Danny fenton#carrying brother#ink#promarkers
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i know (do you know?)
read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/URBNrzG
by cuethechaoss
“I’m on way.”'
“Dick, that’s really not necessary-”
“Can you please try to not make Jason being sick about you?”
There is, in Bruce’s opinion, an unnecessary sharpness to his son’s words. Everything is a fight with Dick these days. Lately, he’s been largely ignoring the jabs, maybe snapping back more often than he’s proud of. Tonight, Bruce just sighs.
Or, Jason is sick and Alfred is out of town. Things are a little rocky, but everyone (mostly Jason) is trying.
Whumptober23 No.2: Thermometer | Delirium | "They don't care about you."
Words: 4211, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 2 of cue the whump '23
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: Gen
Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned) - Character
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Additional Tags: Whumptober 2023, Whumptober, Whump, Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Kid Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Dick Grayson Tries to Be a Good Older Sibling, Jason Todd-centric, Hurt Jason Todd, Jason Todd Whump, honestly it's a lil whumpy for everyone but mainly for Jason, Kid Dick Grayson, briefly, IT'S A FLASHBACK
read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/URBNrzG
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REC: cuethechaoss - despite all of his efforts
URL: https://ift.tt/8Ox9m2V
The first time Damian had endured solitary confinement, he’d been three years old. It was not, unfortunately, the last time his mother and grandfather had deemed that particular hell necessary for Damian to experience.
He prefers to believe that he has mastered the ability to undergo isolation.
That belief is challenged as soon as Grayson orders him to go to his room.
Or, Damian gets sent to his room after obeying a direct order on patrol and it kind of, sort of, maybe triggers some anxiety and insecurities.
Whumptober23 No. 3: "Like crying out in empty rooms, with no one there except the moon." | Solitary Confinement (Words: 2,118)
Part 3 of cue the whump '23
!!!fandom, !!fic, |site:archiveofourown, +fandom:batman.-.all.media.types, ::rating:teen.and.up.audiences, ~author:cuethechaoss, character:damian.wayne, character:dick.grayson, character:alfred.pennyworth.(mentioned).-.character, relationship:dick.grayson.&.damian.wayne, ::category:gen, \no.archive.warnings.apply, ~ao3:damian.wayne.is.robin, ~ao3:dick.grayson.is.batman, ~ao3:damian.wayne.is.not.okay, ~ao3:damian.wayne.needs.a.hug, ~ao3:but.he.doesn't.get.one, ~ao3:dick.grayson.tries.to.be.a.good.older.sibling, ~ao3:implied/referenced.child.abuse, ~ao3:solitary.confinement, ~ao3:does.solitary.confinement.count.as.torture?, ~ao3:damian.wayne.whump, ~ao3:damian.wayne.feels, ~ao3:angst, ~ao3:hurt/comfort, ~ao3:more.hurt.than.comfort.though.tbh
#i eat fic for breakfast#fic recs#via:pinboard#schrödinger's content warnings#queue me up scotty#goddamnit ifttt
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Whumptober #24: One Down, Two To Go
Option: Self-induced Injury to escape.
TW: child abuse
“I cant believe they did this to you.” A says at B’s bedside, gently thumbing over the cast on their arm and eyeing the multitude of bandages.
“It’s sick, that’s what it is. Breaking your arm, slashing your legs-”
“A-” B tries to interrupt, but A is having none of it.
“They took chunks of your flesh! They cut three of your fingers off- how- how are you so nonchalant about this?”
“Well-”
“B, they maimed you and left you for dead at the side of the road... that's just...”
“I did it to myself.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“What?!” A exclaims in horror.
“I either had to do it to myself, and they’d set me free, or I had to watch them do it to a child... I couldn’t... I wouldn't let them do it to her.”
#sorry for the shit prompt#i hate this one#ideas#writing#prompts#maiming#torture#self inflicted wounds#tw: child abuse#whumptober#whumptober2021#whumptober23#self induced injuries to escape
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Whumptober23-Bleeding out: Kiera-Funny
Kiera slammed into the kitchen, startling Laurance who was making pancakes while Anisha sat at a table reading Lord of the Rings. Kiera slammed her hands down on the counter and made a dying noise as Rin came in from his and Kiera’s house, ready for some morning pancakes.
“What’s up, mutt?” Laurance asked, flipping pancakes and ignoring the angry tails flipping behind Kiera.
“I’m bleeding. To death!” Kiera declared, holding up her finger so Laurance could see the blood there. “Your door cut me.”
“Technically, that’s Anisha’s door. She enchanted it. Not my problem,” Laurance said smoothly, serving his wife some pancakes.
Anisha looked up from her book. “Ro0d,” she simply said before she kept reading.
Kiera snarled and punched Laurance in the shoulder. She felt violent that day. Laurance ignored her as Rin put his hands on Kiera’s shoulders and directed her to the table to eat. Kiera was glaring at a plate of pancakes when Laurance came back with a bandaid. He applied with skill, kissed it, and sat by his wife. He brushed back Anisha’s bangs and planted a kiss on her forehead before he started eating.
“Still your fault, death face.”
“What ever, frost butt.”
#whumptober 2019#prompt 23#bleeding out#kiera#werewolf#funny#laurance#semni#rin#anisha#dragoni#pancakes#bandaids#lord of the rings is the best#tbh#ro0d#rude names
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