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comfort-questing · 8 months

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fealty (ch3)

first, second

it was an hour or less before dawn when the apprentice had a chance to see to the guard again, on the other side of the night from when she'd gently but firmly escorted out his visitor into the gathering dark. she'd been busy fetching and carrying and helping clean, the usual activities for when she was sharing nighttime duty with a handful of the other healers, and snatched a brief nap herself in the linen closet with her head on her arm, before waking to a summons. but in the cold gray of dreadfully early morning, iron-dull outside the windows, she huddled herself up at the foot of the guard's bed and held the water basin as one of the healers changed out the blood-clotted bandages wrapping his chest.

at least to her half-practiced glance all was well with him so far, the stitches holding and the skin around the wounds not too deeply reddened. the sound of his breaths was a little easier now, and he had given in to the sleeping draught and to exhaustion both, the skin sallow and papery around his closed eyes in the candlelight.

Valin. a name, a word, an identity. she had always been terrible at remembering names. you heard so many, and used them so seldom.

she stayed by his side afterwards, gathering up the dirty gauze and old bandages, tucking the blankets closer around him in the chill of the dark before dawn. it was only a few moments later that she saw his eyes were open, although no more than a fraction, and watching her as she moved here and there.

"can I... water, please."

he was better at measuring his breath now, because the few words did not set him coughing again; when she returned with the half-full cup of water and a spoon, he had gotten himself sitting up a little further, pale and shaky but with a set face.

"you don't need to try to move. I was going to help you. just tell me if you're going to try to get out of bed or something silly like that, wouldn't you?"

the guard blinked, and then the twist of a smile found the side of his mouth again.

"I won't...try yet, I think."

"you'd better not. you've been hurt badly and if you want to recover and go back to guarding, you'll need to rest and let yourself get better."

you had to take a hard stand with some of these fighting folk, the apprentice knew from experience. she knew it was less convincing coming from her than from the other healers, who had had more practice and typically more age and dignity, but it was worth a try.

"I... suppose so." he drank slowly from the cup she held to his lips, putting one hand up to steady it; he reached first with his right hand but winced and bit back a yelp, and then with his left more successfully. "where's ... Sorindel?"

"your lord? I hope he's asleep, it's quite late in the night. but I told him he could be back tomorrow." she glanced back over her shoulder, past the draft-brushed curtains, trying to gauge what was lamplight and what was the arrival of day outside the windows. "which should be soon, I think."

"good. shouldn't... have been shocked... if he'd stayed." the guard licked an escaped drop of water off his cracked lips, his eyes still sleep-hollowed, and chuckled softly. "he's... that sort."

"the healers wouldn't have let him. they don't like people sitting around getting in their way, not unless someone's dying and needs company."

"and we didn't... come to that, anyway." he coughed a little, but quickly stifled it, hiding the following wince with gritted teeth. "close, but... not quite."

something about the almost conspiratorial feeling of the moment, of the guard's lopsided half-smile next to her, gave the apprentice courage to ask, "was it his fault, what happened?"

the guard took another measured breath, wincing again.

"I... suppose it was. but - that doesn't matter, really. he's... my responsibility. like a cat... or a finicky rosebush... you know." once again the smile, and a shrug of one shoulder. "and... a nice fellow. so we'll forgive him."

the apprentice sat back on the wooden chair, tucking one leg up, chin to knee; her hands and apron were redolent of the strong soap from the basin, and she wrinkled up her nose.

"might as well," she said.

the smile had faded off the guard's face now, dull blue eyes suddenly serious. "if anything... happens, you'll... tell him that, won't you? not about... cats and rosebushes. about... forgiving him."

she reached over, then, and tugged the blanket up over the guard's shoulders, forestalling his clumsy one-handed attempts to manage it. the sheen of sweat on his forehead was visible in the candlelight, shivery strength giving out from his effort of the previous moments.

"of course," she said. "you'll tell him, if you wish; and I'll tell him, if we need to."

she watched his eyes slip shut again, and his labored breathing lengthen out, as beyond the walls the first birds started singing, sure of daylight before its appearance; and then when she was sure he was asleep, and the footsteps of the morning shift of healers approaching in the hallway, she stifled her own yawn and let the curtain fall closed on his rest.

___

#whump #hurt comfort #I think that's the finish of it #i mean unless inspiration strikes during whumptober #crow writes a thing

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 9: Caught in a Storm

Crawl (2019) / Twister (1996)

The Day After Tomorrow (2004) / Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back (1980)

Fargo S1 E6 (2014) / Avatar: The Last Airbender S1 E12 (2005)

Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) / Hidalgo (2004)

#whumptober #whumptober2022 #whumptober 2022 #gifs #gifset #no.9 #caught in a storm #crawl #twister #the day after tomorrow #star wars the empire strikes back #luke skywalker #han solo #fargo #avatar the last airbender #mad max fury road #hidalgo

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 8 months

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Picking Up The Pieces

“Bloody hell, Oggy, let ‘im be!”

Nick has to use all his strength to grab his best friend by the shoulders and pry him off the split-lipped hipster that he’s pinned to the pub’s floor. And it’s only thanks to Cormoran’s state of inebriation and a possible concussion that Nick manages to steer his loudly protesting friend to the exit, past curious and mildly shocked patrons, and then out and into the street.

“Lemme go!” Outside, Cormoran shrugs out of Nick’s grip, swaying. “That fucker deserves another…” He trails off as he swings back to the pub’s entrance.

Nick, relatively sober, steps between him and the door with raised hands.

“That ‘fucker’ is going to get you arrested,” he warns sternly. “And you’ll get court martialed. Dishonorably discharged. Kicked out of SIB. Or at least demoted.”

“I don’t care.” Blood dripping from one thick eyebrow onto his camouflage jacket, Cormoran stares at the door with big, maddened eyes that carry just a hint of sadness.

“Yeah, you do,” Nick contradicts him. “And you’ll regret this deeply if you don’t walk away now.”

For a moment, Cormoran just stands there, half-leaning his large torso against Nick’s impeding palms. Nick can see the cogs turning in his mate’s bull-headed, intoxicated brain. Slowly. Fuelled by rage that seems to have become a terrifying, constant companion of his lately. But Oggy is thinking, and that’s a start.

“Hey, come on, mate.” Nick pats his shoulder. “One stupid army slur is not worth it. The guy had no idea what he was talking about. Spoiled hipster brat.”

Nostrils flaring once more, Cormoran exhales. Then he grunts and shakes his head, like an angry bull who’s decided to let the matador live another day.

“Lucky I din’ kick ‘is teeth all the way to Kabul,” he grumbles. With a huff, he turns away and almost loses his balance doing so.

“Whoa, okay!” Nick rushes to grab Cormoran by the arm and steady him. There’s quite an alarming amount of blood on his face by now, originating from a wound by his hairline. “Let’s take a few steps and go somewhere I can look at you without the police swooping in. Not sure someone didn’t call them.”

He leads a still-reluctant Cormoran down the street and around two corners until he finds a bench under a streetlight and sits his big friend down.

“Lemme see that,” he announces and reaches out to inspect Cormoran’s forehead.

“Oy!” Cormoran swats at him. “What the fuck-”

“You’re bleeding.”

“So what?”

Annoyed, Cormoran wipes at his face, smearing the blood all over his cheek.

“‘S nuthin’,” he states when he looks at his reddened hand.

Nick sighs. Stupid Cornish bravado.

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

“Med school already gettin’ to yer head, is it?” Cormoran raises one condescending eyebrow but Nick isn’t offended. This is the alcohol talking, amplifying their usual brotherly teasing of each other.

“Well, tonight, my medical training may help keep you out of A&E, and I know how much you love going there, so shut the hell up and let me see that stupid head of yours!”

Grudgingly, Cormoran surrenders. He holds still, exuding indignance and beer fumes while Nick tilts his head and looks for the source of the bleeding. He finds a cut that is partially hidden in Cormorans very short but very dense curls and extends almost to his temple. The area around it is swollen and already starting to turn purple.

“You’re gonna look really pretty tomorrow, mate,” Nick says, prodding gently.

“Ow!” Cormoran flinches dramatically.

“Oh, come on…”

“Wha’? That hurts.”

Nicks rolls his eyes. His friend has clearly entered the pouty stage of tonight’s bender, and, from experience, melancholia will follow close behind. Both are better than all that pent-up anger Cormoran has been carrying around lately with no place to go. Nick knows that every person grieves differently, but it’s been more than a year that Leda died, and Cormoran seems to have become stuck in the rage stage. And Charlotte’s latest escapades haven’t helped with that.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

Nick is waving his hand in front of his friend’s face.

Cormoran squints. “Three.”

“Good. Follow my finger with your eyes.”

Nick runs him through the basic concussion protocol, satisfied that Cormoran’s disbalance and slurred speech seem to be a result of too many beers rather than being caused by the head wound. The cut, however, is still bleeding sluggishly.

“I’m sorry, Oggy, but this’ll need stitches.”

It’s Cormoran’s turn to sigh now, deeper and longer than Nick. He looks up at him with doleful eyes.

“Can’t you do it? Stitch me up?”

Frowning, Nick studies his best friend for a moment. Intimidating and utterly terrifying only minutes ago, Cormoran now manages to look small and forlorn, misery rolling off those broad, drooping shoulders like a heavy mist.

“Alright,” Nick finally agrees. He’s not a certified doctor yet, and, technically, he should take Cormoran to an ER. But what harm can a little suturing do? He’s certainly practiced it enough. “We’ll have to make it to my place, though. And I’m not a plastic surgeon. It will leave a scar.”

Cormoran waves a floppy hand.

“Who cares. `S not like there’s anything to ruin.”

There it comes. Melancholia.

“Alright.” Nick fishes a fresh paper tissue from his jacket pocket and pushes it against the wound. This time, Cormoran barely flinches. “Keep pressure on that while we walk.” He hooks one hand under his friend’s armpit and pulls. “Up you go, come on!”

Groaning like Atlas, the world on his shoulders, Cormoran pushes himself up off the bench and, not minding Nick’s supporting arm, they begin their trek to Nick’s apartment.

#whumptober 2023 #no.1 #how many fingers am i holding up?#cormoran strike #bbc strike #fanfic #fanfiction #whump #but it's mild #hurt/comfort #nick herbert #friendship #blood cw #grief cw

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wishbonemotel · 1 year

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Blood of Eurydice

Second short installment in Nadia's Ghost series, Where the Stolen Roses Grow, is up!

Description:

It’s then that it hits them like a brick to the chest— cigarette smoke weaving with cheap cologne, scent stale and bitter in the still night air. Her cigarettes, her cologne.

The hairs on the back of their neck rise with the fog pressing in, swallowing the cemetery from every direction. Even the crickets and creatures of the night have stilled into a suffocating silence. They are being watched but they cannot bring themself to turn around and break the illusion that it’s her eyes following them.

Any sane person would be running.

#i had intended to write this for whumptober but better late than never #original work #creative writing #ghosts #haunting #oc #nadia tag #varmint tag #timeline: stolen roses #not sure when or if this will get another installment. im just writing as the mood strikes #story told in bite size snippets rather than a full cohesive narrative #wishbone stationery

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bearsinpotatosacks · 7 months

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Blood Dripping Down the Alley Walls - Whumptober2023

He was past the point where he was truly aware of his own actions. If he had to put words to it, it was almost like he was watching himself from behind. Or someone from the windows above the dark little alley they were in. Not that they should be. This wasn’t anyone’s business apart from their own.

For a second, he stepped back. The blood dripping off his knuckles smeared across his face as he wiped the sweat off his brow. His breath was burning from exertion. Somewhere in the chaos, his hat sat in a pool of blood, the dark fabric slowly dyed red as it lay discarded on the ground.

The Delancey Brothers find their dad in the Trolley Worker strikes. They're pissed.

For day 28 of @whumptober . Also on AO3. Inspired by this art by @crystallizedtwilight

Words: 687

The man below him was unrecognisable. He bore no resemblance to either of the sons he abandoned. Except, in some ways, they did. He’d been a cold and heartless man, who’d abandoned his sons, who in turn became cold and heartless men.

Weisel had told them that their father would be among the trolley workers, he told them that if they went off course, if they got distracted, just this once, he wouldn’t be counting. They hadn’t shown anything at the time, but when they saw him among the crowds, something within him, something he’d hidden and pushed down, unlocked.

He’d noticed first, then Oscar. After looking at each other, it hadn’t been a question of if, more just a question of how. Morris had pulled his back by his collar, throwing him on the harsh ground and watching him skid backwards until he hit the trash cans at the end.

It was satisfying to see the confusion on his face. The crunch of his ribs against his boots as he’d kicked him, the loss of concentration and the way he disconnected, let his body take over as he stamped on his chest. Secured the knuckle dusters on his hand as he threw his hand down onto his face. Kicking his legs and picking him up just to hit him against the ground. Again. Again. Again. Until a crack rings against the tall buildings of an alleyway.

His hands were glossy with blood. Drips fell off his knuckles as he waited to catch his breath. Oscar kept on going. There was a fire within both of them that had been steadily growing for years and here was the gunpowder. Here was the alcohol to their molotov cocktail, ready to blow in their faces yet they didn’t care if they died. Who was going to miss them? They all died in the end anyway.

There was a pipe glinting near the start of the alleyway. His ankle hurt as he wavered to get it. Their dad wasn’t weak, he’d fought back to the best of his ability until they’d swamped him until the point that he lay back and took the beating.

The rust scratched his hand as he turned it. Turning his head, he saw his dad’s face whiten, in the parts that he could see from the blood dribbling down his face from where they’d cracked his skull. Oscar took his knuckle dusters off him as he lifted it above his head, both hands on the bottom as he harnessed all his strength to rain it down on him.

Something crunched as it hit. His breath was in his ears, blood pumping as his eyes widened and a grin grew on his face. Oscar pushed the brass knuckles onto his hands as he reached back and joined the fight.

He disconnected. His brain shut off, like he wasn’t in control, like he couldn’t remember what he was doing as he was doing it. The only thing he remembered, later on, as they walked away to clean themselves up, was the still body of their father in the alley. His blood pooling into the drain, his likeness to themselves destroyed by the very heirs he’d made.

God, he fucking wished he didn’t get up again. If he died in that alley, stayed there unidentified until some resident kicked up a fuss about a stink, he’d die a happy man. A very, very happy man.

----

I am so intrigued by the Delanceys, something I wouldn't have been brave enough to say when I first got into newsies in 2017 because the fandom, at least on Tumblr, was a bit black and white, the kind that says "if you like a character you condone their actions". I don't, I just like their characters.

Also context and story really change how the audience sees characters. For this I went Peaky Blinders, violence, blood everywhere, revenge. In a Peaky Blinders context, they wouldn't be evil scum, just milder characters who hold some bad opinions but in terms of their actions? Nothing compared to that show.

Anyway, enough analysis. I love how I wrote this, all the blood imagery, it was cathartic to write someone full of rage.

I also saw the UK newsies and that is my favourite version now. The set! The characters! It felt so much more lived in, I also found it funny that the poster made them look like Peaky Blinders.

Thanks for reading!

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swift-creates · 7 months

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category: Gen

fandom: Star Wars

characters and relationships: Zhukova Silvanii and Strike (OC) - interrogator and interrogated respectively (with brief flirtation)

warnings: implied torture, interrogation, references to past battles & death, scars, Strike can't keep her mouth shut some swearing and one-sided flirting

Summary:

@ailesswhumptober Day 9: Scar Reveal / Interrogation / Presumed Dead

Zhukova Silvanii captures one of the emissaries assigned to scope out Zygerria, determined to keep the Galactic Republic away from her planet and her sister.

notes: Zhukova belongs to the lovely @/Modus_0perand1 on AO3!

more things about Strike on AO3

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gordonfreetism · 7 months

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rochi bio kid brainrot hit hard in the rochicord. only left me with one more thing to do....

#whumptober 2023 #rochi #jochi khasar #ryley robinson #bart torgal #but hes only mentioned and also dead. dont get ur hopes up guys #TRANS JOCHI KHASAR SWEEP!!#the rochicord STRIKES AGAIN

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ladyshandioftheendless · 2 years

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Shandi’s Whumptober!

Ooh I feel a Dark KISSteria plot coming on with this prompt! Enjoy!

Note: This prompt deals with some pretty dark themes so please read at your own discretion

~Shandi

Day 23: At The End of Their Rope

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~

StarChild was frustrated. And furious.

As much as it terrified Tomaziel he still approached him slowly. “My Prince..”

“WELL?? Have they surrendered yet?!”

“No..they still refuse..”

“Those stubborn..!! Have you at least discovered who their co conspirators are?!”

“Yes..” Tomaziel clenched his fists as he spoke. “..it’s the Royal Family of Jendell..”

StarChild laughed bitterly. “Why am I not surprised? Have them brought here! Then we will see how much the Council’s resolve holds~”

~*~

Hours later the King and Queen of Jendell were dragged into the dungeon, forced to their knees in front of StarChild. “So..here you are. Did you think your role in this would not be discovered because you are royalty? You underestimate me, as you have countless times in the past.”

“YOU ARE A PSYCHOPATH!!” the Queen screamed with tear filled eyes. “We will never forgive you for what you did to our son!!”

StarChild’s face remained impassive. “Oh? Still alive, is he? It seems I underestimated his will to survive.”

“He has no will, thanks to you!! We have to keep a close watch on him so he does not do anything terrible to himself!! ALL YOUR POISONOUS INFLUENCE!!” The King was glaring daggers at him but he ignored it.

“So you keep him alive against his will? You’re the ones keeping him prisoner now. You would be much better parents if you just put him out of his misery yourselves.”

“Monster!! MONSTER!!” the Queen repeated, her tears falling onto the ground. “Our beautiful son is now a husk because of you!! Having the crown would make the entirety of KISSteria your puppets!! Every one of us will use our power to stop you!!”

“So you admit it. Your word is all I need to charge you all with treason~ I would get comfortable now because none of you are leaving this place alive~ Guards, you know what is to be done with traitors.”

The guards just nodded as StarChild opened the door to leave. “After they have you strung up I’ll be back. I’m afraid your suffering has only just begun~”

~END~

#Whumptober 2022 #Dark KISSteria #the homicidal Star Prince strikes again!

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25centsoda · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 18 L&V

*deposits this and runs away screaming to write more*

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42469539

During the evacuation from the Rebel base on Hoth, Luke tries to make his way to Dagobah. He doesn't make it; an Imperial warship takes out his stolen ship, and brings him on board.

No. 18 LET’S BREAK THE ICE “Just get it over with.” | Treading Water | “Take my Coat”

Excerpt:

It was cold. Luke's memories of learning how to swim were too distant to be useful; his head stayed above water, but only just. Each small wave coursed up over his mouth and nose, making him sputter and try to swim harder to get higher, but his strength failed him again after only a few seconds of relief from the water. There had to be a more efficient way to do it than just paddling his hands desperately up and down, kicking his legs back and forth, but if there was, he didn't know it.

It was so cold.

Time was meaningless; there was only the next wave, the next current pushing his body further and further from where the ship he had been piloting, the Liberty, had gone down, shot by Imperial warships. His clothes—thick jacket, sweater, stiff winter pants—had been heavy with water since he splashed into the Kaminoan ocean, but with each wave his limbs seemed to get heavier and heavier.

For my other whumptober fics, sorry I haven’t been posting them on tumblr every day, see the collection: https://archiveofourown.org/series/3140709

#whumptober 2022 #star wars #luke skywalker #darth vader #fanfic #empire strikes back au but also fantasy and pirates #they're on ships and use magic okay #but on one planet #freezing water #kicked in the kidneys #not too much whump today #no beta we die like stormtroopers #fresh off the press #if this was not 2022 I would've ripped this fic out of my typewriter and thrown it out the window with the ink still wet

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jasmines-library · 7 months

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Tried and True

WHUMPTOBER 2023 DAY FOUR: Prompt - Hiding an injury.

Fandom: Batfam/DC/Young Justice

Summary: During a fight with Bane you get critically injured but leave it hidden from your brothers. When they find out, it's a race against time to get you back to the safety of the manor. Warnings: Bullet wound, blood loss, near death experience, surgery, cursing. Word count: 2.8k Note: I'm super excited about this one. That's all i'm gonna say :)

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Bane fired three shots down the alleyway. They ricocheted off the bricks, clattering to the ground with a metallic ping. Dick Grayson hid crouched behind the lip of a building overlooking the alleyway, his mask pulled tight over his face. He watched with cautious eyes, surveying the villain before him. You were hunched over on the opposite side of the street dual daggers pressed firmly into the palm of your clammy hands. Damian and Jason lingered nearby, Tim opted to survey with his older brother. He had his bo staff hooked under his arm, ready to draw back and swing at any second.

“I know you’re out there little birdies.” Bane sung, drawing out his steps as he paced the length of the alley. “Why don’t you come out for a little chat?”

He fired another round of bullets, this time up into the sky. Your little brother cast a look at you from your left, you held out a warning hand.

“Nightwing?” You asked into the coms quietly, careful not to draw unwanted attention. Even though Bane was outnumbered 5-1, he was still extremely powerful and if he caught one of you off guard, you would be in some deep shit.

“We need to wait until he gets to the end of the alley. There’s a fork. We can flank him from both sides.”

The five of you watched intently as he walked, monotonously slow. When he was a mere few steps away from the end of the alley, Nightwing gave the signal and the five of you sprang into action, disguised and protected by the thick plating of your vigilante suits each specified to fit your needs.

Landing roughly on your feet, you jumped from the building, reading your daggers in front of you. Your brothers formed a circle besides you, trapping bane between the three exits. He grinned manically.

“Finally! I thought I was going to miss out on all the fun.”

He hoisted his gun up onto his shoulder and eyed the five of you up. The look on his face was mad; cynical. His eyes glistened beneath his mask as they settled on Robin. He fired, releasing a fresh wave of bullets, but the youngest was small and quick enough to slip away, behind a crate.

With his back turned, Red Robin took his chance to make a move on Bane. He swung his staff in an arc, swiping at the giant's feet in an attempt to knock him to the ground. He wobbled, but spun around and knocked him out of the way, sending him flying into a nearby pile of junk.

“Red!?” You called out through the coms.

There was static as he shuffled around, coughing slightly as he tried to recover from having the wind knocked out from him. “All good.”

You moved next, Robin at your side. Using the walls, you propelled yourself towards Bane, trying to swing your dagger and lodge it anywhere on his exposed chest, only to have to skid across the floor as he swung his arm out to hit you. Although you weren’t successful, Robin had managed to get in a well placed slice along Bane’s torso. He had been aiming for the thick tubes which pumped him full of venom, but he wasn’t so successful.

The five of you went many rounds with Bane, swinging, slicing and dodging as you tried to get the upper hand on the giant man. Though despite being outnumbered, he had still managed to get his own in on the five vigilanties. Red Hood was suffering a twisted ankle, and Robin had a trickle of blood running down the side of his temple where Bane had managed to strike him.

“Raven!” Nightwing hollered “Flank left.”

You retreated back round the alley with your eldest brother, twisting and navigating in the dinginess to flank him from his other side. When you returned, he had Tim pinned up against a wall, gasping for air and flailing, his feet struggling to scrape against the floor. You picked up your pace, feet slapping against the concrete. You swung, leaping high into the air and bringing your daggers down in a large sweeping motion, it lodged itself in one of Bane’s tubes, staunching the flow of venom pumping into his veins. You rolled across the ground and onto your feet, skidding against the asphalt as you dodged another swing that caught Robin instead. Nightwing was suddenly flanking from Bane’s otherside, cutting off the rest of the venom’s flow. Pulling Robin to his feet, he raised his katana.

With a signal from your brother cracking out over the coms, you gripped your daggers tighter, shifting them into a more comfortable grip in front of you. The humming of Dicks escrima sticks filled the alley. There was a beat, then you all charged, using bane’s weakness to your advantage. He took a large slice across his abdomen and a shock to his body. He roared, releasing a round of bullets into the brick. Dropping like a sack of flour the five of you pressed your body to the ground, trying to dodge the lethal pieces of metal he flung your way. And that was when you felt it, a raw indescribable pain that radiated across your body above your right hip. You stifled a cry, biting your lip beneath the cover of your mask. Your breath shuddered as you rose, trying to ignore the dark red patch that bloomed across the front of your suit. You readied your daggers, trying to conceal the wound with your arm. You were hoping that the cover of the darkness would help disguise it from your brothers.

From his place on the ground, Jason fired at bane, distracting him from Tim, who swung his bo staff again at his feet, this time bringing him to the ground. Stepping forwards,you pressed your dagger to his neck, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to get the message across. He howled and grunted as Nightwing and Red Hood made quick work of securing him with rope they had stored on their suits, then delivering a quick blow to his head to render the giant unconscious.

Nightwing took a step back and sighed, dropping his twin fighting sticks to the ground. “Is everyone ok?”

There was a chortle of agreement between the comms. You sheathed your daggers in the hosters at your hip, groaning as your fingers brushed against the pulsating wound.

“Call B, tell him we have Bane.”

“Copy.” You said, flicking through the channels on the comms to call your father. He answered gruffly, signifying that he would be on his way on his way over as soon as he could. You heard the rumble of the batmobile in the background.

“B’s on his way.” You told your brothers, changing the coms back. “He’ll be here soon.”

You glanced down at your stomach, still oozing blood, crossing his arms in front of you, trying to hide the growing patch and keep some pressure on it. You could feel the warm, stickiness against your skin clinging to the fabric of your suit. You couldn’t feel the exit wound, piercing the back of your flesh. Just the thought of the bullet still lodged inside of you made the pain worsen tenfold. You just had to hope that you would get back to the manor in time to stitch yourself up.

~~~

Left, Right. Left, Right.

You had never been more glad to see the silhouette of the wayne manor, illuminated by the lights from the many windows that had been left on whilst you were out on patrol. You were trudging back slowly with your brothers after finishing up on patrol and ensuring that The Bat had bane secured and was taking him to Arkham. Your steps had grown sluggish, your vision doubled and your breaths uneven as you tried to keep up pace with your brothers, only to end up falling behind anyway. Your whole body ached, but nothing compared to the stabbing pain near your hip. You pulled your hand away from where you had been discreetly keeping pressure on it. Your head spun as you took in the sight of the blood dousing your hands.

Left, Right…

Not much further now. You told yourself as you forced your body to keep pressing forwards. Home was so close but felt so so far away. You made your shaky legs push on, but with your hazy vision you swayed on your feet.

Dick turned around, noticing your absence besides him.

“Raven?” He asked, stopping in his tracks. His panicked tone alerted the rest of the boys.

You were leaning on a nearby fence, trying to regain your composure.

“I- I’m fine. I just need-”

Left…

Your body gave out beneath you as you tried to push yourself away from the wall, you were swallowed by a blinding pain; hot and inflamed as you collapsed in on yourself. Jason, the closest to you, rushed forwards before your body could collide with the hard asphalt. He laid you down tenderly so that your head was lying down on his lap. Dick was by your side patting down your body for the hidden injury, followed quickly by the other two.“Raven?” Damien stared at you with wide eyes.

“Shit.” Dick cursed when his hand skimmed the tear in your suit, pulling it back with his fingers coaxed in your blood.

You cried out in pain, eyes flying wide.

Damien gripped your hand tightly, wincing at your pained expression when Jason hastily tore your mask away. He wiped away the tears which stained your cheeks.

“AH!” Your face twisted when Dick ripped apart the fabric of your suit to get a better look at the wound; circular and ugly, only around the size of a penny, but it was already an angry shade of scarlet and was leaking more blood than you though you had in your body. The fabric which had matted with your blood tugged at your skin. You squeezed Damian’s hand tightly.

“R, what happened?”

“...Shot.” You forced out.

Jason reached around the back of your suit searching for an exit wound then cursing loudly when he failed to find one. “It’s still in there.”

Dick cursed. “Okay. Tim?”

The boy looked up meekly.

“Grab the emergency pack, we’ll need tweezers, bandages. Something for the pain.”

“On it.”

“Damien? Call Alfred, tell him we need help, stat.”

Hesitantly, the Wayne let go of your hands and scrambled to get his phone. Tim was rushing back over with the supplies.

“Y/N? This is going to hurt okay?”

You nodded feebly, head lolling around in Jason’s lap.

“Hood, keep her awake.”

Jason took your head in his hands and angled it up to face him. Your eyes were fluttering closed.

“Hey, look at me, keep ‘em open kid.”

Your eyes opened in fraction as you listened to your older brother's words, though you were in a pained daze, only registering the pain in your side.

They would never forget the inhuman scream that pushed its way past your lips as Dick dig the tweezers into the wound. The pain was indescribable as your fingers clawed against the ground. You writhed in Jason’s hold, squirming away from the onslaught of pain. Dick cringed.

“Tim, keep her still.”

His hands were like cold vices on your arms as he pinned you down, trying to keep you still as his older brother rummaged through your body. Your screams had morphed into horse shouts by the time he finally got the bullet out. But then came the burst of agony as he pushed his hands down as hard as he could on your wound. You whimpered.

“I know. I know Y/N I’m sorry.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you began to lose a grip on consciousness. Black dots danced in your vision.

“Hey. Stay with us!” Tim patted your face. “We need to move fast.

Jason leaned you up against his chest so his brothers could wrap the bandages tightly around your stomach. Damien had returned, informing them that Alfred was on his way. Once the bandages were secured, you were laid back down in Jason's chest, eyes fluttering. Damien returned to holding your hands, rubbing his thumbs back and forth across the flat of your hand.

“Stay awake, Raven. Talk to us.” Tim prompted.

You were silent for a horrifying moment, before muttering out a few words. “...I’m sorry.”

“No. None of that. You’re gonna be fine.”

“I love you all.”

Your breaths were becoming shallower and you struggled to get the air you needed into your lungs. The black spots began to take over your vision.

“We love you too, Y/N. So, so much.”

You hummed contently. Your body had begun to go numb.

A dear ran down Damien’s cheek. You reached up to wipe it away as your older brother had done to you mere minutes ago.

“It’s okay.” You hushed. “It doesn’t hurt bad anymore.”

The two eldest vigilantes swallowed thickly, sharing a wide eyed glance between each other. That was when Alfred turned up, and the next minutes went by in a blur. The boys could do nothing more than watch as they whisked you away into surgery, praying that you would pull through.

~~~

Dick watched as you began to stir. Your face twitched and you shifted uncomfortably. He had his much larger hand wrapped around yours, and had done for a few hours, insisting that he stay with you. You were his baby sister after all. Bruce had tried to send the other to bed, but like Dick, Jason had insisted that he should be allowed to watch over you too. Bruce was about to protest, but he couldn’t dismiss the distraught look plastered on Jason’s face. He had no doubt that the youngest two were lingering around somewhere, minds too full of opposing thoughts to let them succumb to the sleep that their bodies begged them for. Damian had kept trying to sneak in before being dragged away by Bruce.

The room had been silent for a few hours as they watched your chest rise and fall. The surgery had been hard on your body, and for a while no one was sure that you were going to pull through. Albeit there you were lying pale but showing signs of waking up, on your bed.

Alfred and Bruce were frequently in and out of your room where you lay hooked up to all sorts of machines that made Jason cringe. His head was resting on the side of your bed by the hand that Dick wasn’t nursing. His eyes had begun to droop shut as the early hours of the day crept around, when you shifted the let out a pained whimper. When he turned his head, he was greeted by your striking eyes.

He scrambled off of the floor and into the chair that had been pulled up by your bed. “Y/N? Hey.”

“Boys?” You blinked, your head still groggy from the anaesthesia.

The eldest boy gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah kiddo. We’re here.”

Trying to sit up, the tug on your stitches elicited another cry of pain. Instinctively, both boys helped you sit up.

“Take it easy, little bat.” Dick told you as you gingerly pushed back the sheets. Your hip was bound tightly in a white bandage. “He got you good.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jay pressed. “You could have…”

“I-”

You were cut off by the sound of the door shuddering open and a pair of your ‘not so little anymore’ brothers' heads peeking around it. They were hesitant, glancing around the room until you gave them a gentle smile.

“Y/N,” Damian rushed into the room, wrapping you tightly into a hug.

“Hey Dami.” You murmured into his ear.

He was suddenly ripped away from you by a grinning Tim who chided “Hey, be careful with her, you demon spawn. It’s my turn.”

You chuckled as he pulled you desperately into his arms.

“I’m so glad you’re okay Y/N/N. I was so scared.”

You frowned, hoarse voice breaking as you spoke. “I’m sorry-”

“Damian.” A haggard voice sounded from somewhere in the hallway. It was followed by a pair of heavy set shoes. “How many times do I have to tell you to get back in bed-”

Bruce stopped abruptly at the sight of his children crowded before him. His eyes were clad with dark bags and his hair was unkempt on his head.

“Hi Dad.” Your voice was barely a whisper, but he heard it nonetheless. Pushing past his sons, he was at your side in less than a second.

And that was when the reality of the whole situation hit you. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

“Dad. I’m sorry. I- I wasn’t thinking.”

“Shh.” He hushed. “This isn’t your fault. This is no one’s fault but Bane’s.”

“But-”

“Listen to the old man for once little bat. All that matters is that everyone is still together.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY THREE ⛤ DAY FIVE ->

🏷️ Taglist:

@senjoritanana

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iriel3000 · 7 months

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Just to Hear Your Voice

Whumptober Day 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Just to Hear Your Voice

Summary: Early SHIELD, fucked mission after care

“Widow, talk to me.”

“Clint!” She put one hand to her ear, the other over her heart.

“Can you make it to the nest?”

“Can you?”

“I’m two klicks away.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

She met him at the door of the safehouse and he nearly collapsed in her arms. Hawkeye had arrived in Bogota several days before to map out the arms facility and rig traps for their escape.

Only, they never got to break in. The agent that tipped off SHIELD doubled crossed them and walked the team into an ambush.

“Perimeter is secure.” She led him to a chair after noticing him limp.

“Seal it.”

Lowering her head in solace, Natasha took a deep breath and activated the security system.

No one else was coming.

Civilians died, three strike team members died, and for a brief moment when the comms went down, Natasha thought she’d lost Barton too.

“How did I miss it?” Hawkeye ran his hand across his eyes.

“There was nothing to miss. We were betrayed, plain and simple.” Natasha handed him some water and mentally logged his injuries. “How long were you on watch before I arrived?”

“They killed the informant and his family.” He held the water without drinking.

Blank stare, unresponsive to questions, Natasha knew she needed to keep her partner from sinking. She removed his flack jacket and arm guards.

“How did Williams and Grayson…”

“Don’t,” she pulled him up and pushed him towards the small bathroom, “it wasn’t your fault. There’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent it.”

“It was my job to make sure you all got out alive.” He kept his eyes on her while she undressed him and turned on the shower.

“Get in.” She ordered.

There was nothing to say to make either of them feel better. Natasha peeled off her uniform and joined him.

He looked mildly surprised. They’d seen each other naked before, mostly to stitch and patch each other up, but never so close and intimate.

“Natasha…”

She put a finger to his lips.

“I'm going to take care of you and you're going to let me.”

He didn’t argue.

tbc, please click link above

THANK YOU FOR READING, AND YOUR SUPPORT, AND YOUR ENCOURAGEMENT TO WRITE MORE. I APPRECIATE YOU ALL.

#whumptober2023 #lyric #would you lie with me and forget the world #marvel #clintasha #fic #no warnings #hawkeye #clint barton #black widow #natasha romanov #strike team delta #clint x natasha #whumptober 2023

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writeroutoftime · 1 month

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peaky blinders

-tommy shelby-

Where You’re Supposed to Be - Tommy comes home late, yet again, but now you want to know where he was and why he’s in pain

Home - During a late night at work, Tommy finds that he can’t focus, so he heads to the one person he wants to be near

Power Couple - When Michael and Gina try to push everyone out of Shelby Company Limited, you and Tommy remind them who the real power couple of the family business is

Stronger Together - As an honorary member of the Shelby family, you’ve been with Tommy through thick and thin - even the war. Now with the war won, the two of you must battle a strong, internal enemy together

Patience Runs Out - While at a gala, Mosley has the audacity to make vulgar comments about you, but instead of Tommy, it’s you who deals with him

Not Invincible - When Tommy gets arrested, you go to visit your husband, only things don’t turn out the way you expect

Surprise - based on the prompts “I’m not going to like this am I?”/“Probably not."

Shit Day - After a long day at work, Tommy comes home to find you dancing and singing in your kitchen, and you’re all that he needs to feel better

Calm in the Storm - When a storm strikes, you find yourself only wanting Tommy for comfort

-john shelby-

Old Habits - When John comes home from a day of work he finds you and also finds himself reminiscing of your old life

Birthday - It’s your birthday and when the love of your life and your family forget, you aren’t sure how to react

-michael gray-

His Irish Girl - There to support your cousin at her wedding, you catch the eye of a certain Michael Gray and share a wonderful evening

-tommy shelby-

whumptober day 1 - poisoned

-arthur shelby-

He Struggles with His Conscious

-john shelby-

Baby It’s Cold Outside

-tommy shelby-

Late Night/Early Morning Cuddles with Tommy Would Include…

Arthur Teaching Tommy’s S/O to Throw a Punch Would Include…

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #arthur shelby x reader #michael gray x reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 23: Tied to a Table

Smallville S5 E4 (2005) / Blood Drive S1 E6 (2017)

Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (2005) / Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back (1980)

Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)

Captain America: The First Avenger (2011) / Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014)

Black Widow (2021) / Altered Carbon S1 E4 (2018)

Law Abiding Citizen (2009) / Dexter S2 E6 (2007)

The Princess Bride (1987) / The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (2005)

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 2 years

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Whumptober 2022 master post

As usual, I didn’t complete Whumptober (massive kudos to all those who did - how do you do it?!). But I managed to cover 15 prompts, and here they are in chronological order. Whumpee in the brackets.

How Not To Let Your Guard Down (Cormoran Strike)

This Time (Athos)

Failsafe (Cristóbal Rios)

A Slip In The Rain (Robin Ellacott)

Not This Time (Athos, Aramis)

Taken By Storm (Cristóbal Rios)

Worth The Wound (Cormoran Strike)

Long Way Back (Aramis)

Sleepless on La Sirena (Cristóbal Rios)

An Eye For Evidence (Cormoran Strike)

Badge Of Courage (d’Artagnan)

Stargazer SOS (Cristóbal Rios)

Holding On (Cormoran Strike)

Sealing Fate (Porthos)

The Wrong Truth (Cormoran Strike)

Thank you to everyone who’s read and loved, some of you on a daily basis and with lovely comments.🧡 You kept me going until RL’s pounding on my door became too loud to ignore.

And big shoutout to the @whumptober team who came up with all these inspiring prompts and organized the event so flawlessly! 👏

And, because I’m curious: if you’ve read my whumptober ficlets, which one was your favorite? I’d love to know!🤗

#whumptober 2022 #Whumptober 2022 master post #fanfic #the musketeers #bbc musketeers #cormoran strike #bbc strike #star trek picard #cristóbal rios #aramis in space

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celtic-crossbow · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023

No. 2: Thermometer

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader

Setting: Alexandria Era

Warnings: Illness

“Tay wid meh.”

“Stop talkin’.”

You threw him your best pout. Well, the best one you could manage with the stupid thermometer jammed under your tongue. Regardless, he ignored it. You sniffled, grabbed a tissue, and watched Daryl move about the room. When the twice-damned thing finally beeped, the archer somehow appeared right in front of you to snatch it up before you could even lift a hand.

“100.6. Doc says ya gotta be below 100 ‘fore ya can get outta bed.” He reminded you while he walked into the bathroom to put the thing away. “Won’ be gone long. Jus’ checkin’ the snares n’ tryin’ fer somethin’ bigger than a rabbit. Few hours at the most. Carol’ll be over ta check up on ya.”

You sniffled again and blew your nose. “Can’t you just stay here?” Daryl sat on the edge of the bed to tie his boots. Your perfect time to strike. Crawling your aching body toward him, you pressed yourself against his back, arms winding underneath his for your fingers to clasp over his chest. “Please? I’m sick. I need you.”

“Yer gon’ be fine. Go ta ‘sleep n’ I’ll be back when ya wake up.” His hand patted the back of yours and gave it a squeeze. Large fingers pulled your hands apart, chapped lips pressing a kiss to one palm. You let your arms fall but only until he stood. You latched on around his middle and buried your overwarm face into his stomach. “Y/N.”

“I’m vulnerable, Dixon. Weak and frail.” The muscles in his abdomen moved against you when he scoffed. “I can’t defend myself like this.”

“‘ve seen ya put down a dozen walkers with a bum leg n’ broke arm. I don’ reckon a cold is gonna stop ya.” You coughed into his shirt, an act he found both disgusting and endearing. The archer ran a hand over your hair and stepped back but not before grabbing your shoulders so you wouldn’t topple forward. “Dog can stay here.”

You finally slumped, defeated. “I guess.” You knew you were being a child but you felt horrible and being alone was not something you were looking forward to one bit. The pillow seemed so far away but you managed to drag yourself back to it, patting the bed with a weak call for your resident canine. Dog wasted no time making himself at home on Daryl’s pillow.

“Ah, c’mon, Dog.”

“Nope!” You held up a hand without moving your face from its fluffy perch. “If you’re leaving, I get to cuddle the dog in your stead.”

“Fine.” The bowman chuckled, grabbing his vest and pack. “Be back ‘fore ya know it.” He waited but was met with silence. “Y/N?” He took a step toward the bed, listening intently. When a soft snore and incoherent murmur reached his ears, one side of his mouth twitched up. Grabbing the doorknob on his way out, he spared one last look at the lump under the blankets and shook his head fondly. “Silly girl.”

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