#tw: hyperthermia

[whump-mania]

yo i love your whipped whimper caretaking prompts? could you do some more caretaking prompts for other random types of whump? whatever you’re feeling like, but esp wounds or hyper/hypothermia

Assorted Caretaker Lines

For sure! I’ll make some little sections for as many as I can think of:

Wounds

1. “Hold this down. It’ll stop the bleeding…for now.”

2. “Shit, I…I’ve never treated a would like this before, I-I don’t really know what I’m doing…”

3. “It’s infected. Someone get me a bottle of alcohol before this spreads to their immune system.”

4. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna close this thing right back up. You’re gonna be okay.”

5. “What do you mean, it already bled through? …Oh…shit.”

Hypothermia

1. “Jesus—is their skin supposed to feel like ice?”

2. “Whumpee…how long did they leave you outside…?”

3. “I don’t care if you’re cold, Whumpee’s gonna fucking die if they’re not warmed up! Give me your blanket!”

4. “They’re shaking like a leaf…I-I don’t know if they’re gonna be okay.”

5. “I told you not to go out in this weather, Whumpee. Don’t go risking your life for me.”

Hyperthermia

1. “I told you we needed to stop for water! Look at them now!”

2. “Whumper, please, just let them take a break. They’re gonna overheat like this. Let me go out there, I can handle it.”

3. “I know, I know. We’re gonna get you somewhere cool. Just hang in there.”

4. “Absolutely not. Your skin is hot to the touch right now, there’s no way you’re taking that punishment for me.”

5. “There’s no ice left, I’m sorry…it all melted. You’re just gonna have to sweat it out.”

Psychological

1. “Don’t listen to them. None of that was true, they’re just trying to get in your head.”

2. “Hey…Whumpee, you still with me? Hello?”

3. “Look at me. Breathe. You feel my hand? You’re here. You’re with me now, you’re okay.”

4. “They don’t have any physical scars. Whumper’s more inclined to leave…um…mental ones.”

5. “It scares me when you do that. When you…go somewhere else. In your head.”

#whump #whump blog #whump community #whump writing #whump scenario #whump dialogue #dialogue lines #tw hypothermia #tw hyperthermia #environmental whump #tw wounds #tw blood #psychological whump #tw dissociation

[blueberry-gills]

Aw man I love bandwagons/j

#pkmn irl #pokeblr #pokemon irl #pokeblogging #rotomblr #tw hypothermia #tw hyperthermia #< just in case

[3mutantsinatrenchcoat]

It takes a village to raise a family part 4

Part 3 , part 5

Rural au, once again, by the amazing @angelpuns

Tw: this short contains descriptions of late stage hyperthermia and brief hints at death during a talk

My husband has 3 rules during the winter. "Wear warm clothes, don't drink or eat anything cold, and do not walk outside unless you can see light".

Well, one fine winter my husband fell sickly ill, along with my youngest. Not only where they on my mind so where the young turtles, little Leo would wander from the rest, Mikey as excited as ever to be in town, so much so his eyes where a guide that never stayed on path...little Donnie whose own body couldn't stand on its own and little raph as head strong as a bull.

The last thing I remembered before stepping into the snow storm was shoving my feet in my boots, I had no time for socks. Throwing on my coat, I had no time for layers. The slam of the door as the wind argued it's point against me, but I would not listen. I was out of medicine and time.

Then there was cold, and wind, and white everywhere. I couldn't see more than two feet ahead, we didn't have many storms in the winter.

I could barely make out lights of lanterns inside houses, stumbling as my feet sunk into the snow. At some point I remember tripping a lot, feeling like hands were grabbing at my ankles, wrapping around my boots.

I don't remember much, but I do remember hearing shouting not far from me. I remember when the cold started to warm. And then it got hotter...and hotter. My cloak was too warm, I was wearing too much. I would roast in this weather.

I remember just barely pulling off my cloak before it got snatched right back over my head, a gruff and angered voice shouting at me to keep it on. Burning hot hands touching both sides of my face. "let go-!"

I don't even think I could hear my voice clearly, but I heard his just fine. "no! You are coming inside with me!" It was a demand, no room for argument, stomping of feet and creaking of wood I knew to be a porch, a specific porch with specific creaky spots.

I remember how i barely felt being lifted, I could barely feel the shoulder I was on if it wasn't for how warm it was. I barely remember the chatter of the turtle boys.

Then, time went past with every blink.

The bright of fire, the crackling, the burning feeling.

The way the kids looked as I kicked and fought their father over a blanket, shaking and biting. The way metallic tasted on my tongue as I snagged his hand.

I would blink again and I had a cup in one hand, Mikey's in the other, Splinter pulling away snow from my fur with gloves, tossing it into a bucket that Raph watched from behind. "I know it's hot, it's okay, let it burn. I know it's burning let it burn" I could barely feel the tears that froze to my face pulling off my fur.

I would blink again and now Donnie and Leo where at another side, rambling about some book from the market, Splinter's warm hands cupped around my ears. "Pay attention to those words Flint!" A snappy voice laced with anger and fear. A demand, a protest.

And then it was as if time got slower, the boys all curled up asleep and Splinter staring at me, sitting on the floor. "...your eyes. You paying attention?"

"mm.." i barely moved my head and the room was blurring again, tears building up.

"alright...keep...keep talking to me...keep on talking.." he got up and then I felt warm on the side of my face. I couldn't help the noise that came out, or the burning hot tears that flooded out afterwards.

"I know..I know it burns.."

"augh!" It felt like I was boiling from the inside and burning from the outside, the heat from the fire, the boys and Splinter was uncomfortable..even more uncomfortable once I saw my fingers move but I couldn't feel it.

"s-splin-..splin-ta-..I- I can't-" it felt like my throat was tightening, but Splinter sat beside me and pulled me into his side. He didn't say another word, not until my crying had stopped and all I could let out was Shakey breaths.

"...you really are an idiot..." Splinter spoke, not with anger but something I've never heard in his voice before.

"wh...what?" When I turned to look at him, his eyes were lost from reality...really...glossy and sad looking.

"why did you go out...? It's storming and you are little- not only that you-..you nearly froze-"

"...my family is sick..your boys c-could have gotten sick...I-i was out of medicine.." the shame flickered inside my chest, only to be drowned out but a laugh. One of both mockery and disbelief. Eyes wide and filled with shock in this human's eyes.

"Flint, you sound like a buddy of mine..." His voice was filled with anger and mournfulness. "you know, I was a soldier..." He starts, glancing to see if I was paying attention, of course I was. I could listen to him forever.

"...we had a mission, one day. It was snowing that day, we had to rescue our medics.." He went silent, then he shook his head slightly, blinking away at some thoughts that I would never get to hear. "...they got too warm, just like you. We didn't bring back our medics"

"...I don't...i-.." it clicked and the cold that washed over was worse than anything I had felt before. The more I think about it the more I realize I barely know Splinter. He's my neighbor, I help with his kids and he built me a pump for water. We learned to cook for our family, yet we never shared stories...well. I did, Splinter didn't.

There was more to him than I would ever understand, but...for now....

I felt him jump as I put my head against his side, moving my tail to cover his hand, situated in his own lap...now that I saw it, it was soaked, and trembling..or well I was trembling...but it was nothing compared to the slump that Splinter gave. One that meant he understood the gesture.

That no matter what I would always, be here to listen.

#rise au #threewrites #rottmnt rural au #rural au #ruralau #grandpa flint #tw hyperthermia #tw talk of death #it takes a village to raise a family

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

If You Can't Stand the Heat....

Whumptober 2022: 5. Hyperthermia, 31. Comfort

Fandom: Outer Range, Rhett Abbott

Word Count: 1730

TW: Heat Stroke, Unconscious, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Note: Thank you to @mayhem24-7forever for looking this over for me and reassuring me I was on a good path!

Nervously, you glanced out the window for the third time in the last fifteen minutes. Something was wrong, you just knew it. 

Rhett had called you up that morning sounding really frustrated. He had to cancel your trip to the city because his parents were still on their anniversary vacation and Perry never came home last night. So, he was stuck watching Amy all day. And to make matters worse, last night’s storm had knocked down part of a fence that he needed to fix but he didn’t want Amy having to sit out in the hot sun while he worked on it but he also didn’t want her alone in the house for hours either.

While you had been disappointed there was a change of plans, you offered to come watch Amy while he worked. After all, the fence shouldn’t take too long, then the three of you could do something together. You liked Amy and the two of you had formed a special bond in the year and a half you had been dating Rhett. A bond that had only gotten stronger once her mom disappeared. 

So, you came over and started setting out the cards to continue teaching Amy how to play poker as Rhett got ready to go out to the pasture to work. You offered to make him lunch and grab him a water bottle to take with him, but he just kissed the top of your head and said he wouldn’t need it. The job should only take two, maybe three hours tops and then he’d be back.

However, that was five hours ago and you hadn’t seen or heard anything from him. Cell reception wasn’t great out in the west pasture but he should have at least come back to the house and let you know it was taking longer than expected or asked for some help. No, something was definitely wrong. 

You told Amy to go watch some tv and you’d be right back, then you hurried out to your truck. At least he had told you which section of the ranch he would be working in, but the fenceline through the west pasture still didn’t narrow things down any. It stretched for hundreds of acres. Yet, you had to make sure. There was no way you could go back to just sitting in the house playing cards or watching cartoons until you knew Rhett was alright.

After driving about fifteen minutes, you spotted Rhett’s truck in the distance next to the half-repaired fence…. but no Rhett. You pressed your foot down on the gas, eyes scanning the area for any signs of your boyfriend yet there wasn't any. 

As soon as you pulled up next to the front of his truck, you jumped out and ran over to the fence. All of Rhett’s tools and equipment were still there and it looked like he had been in the middle of restringing one of the wires when he disappeared. 

You ran the back of your hand across your forehead, wiping away the sweat that was already forming there, before glancing around once more. Where the hell was he?

Just as you were about to give up, you noticed his baseball cap laying on the ground just beside his back tire. And as you looked closer, you saw something in the shadows under Rhett’s truck. His tailgate was down making it harder to see, but it almost looked like…. a boot.

“Rhett!” Charging over to the side of the truck, you dropped to your knees and peered under it, gasping as you finally saw Rhett. He was laying on his back, his hand on his chest as he panted heavily. His eyes were closed, and his face looked oddly pale after being in the sun all day. You called out to him but he didn’t respond. 

You clambered to your feet and ran to the back of the truck, slamming the tailgate shut. Without it in the way, you could see more of his boots sticking out and you grabbed one in each hand. Bracing yourself, you pulled as hard as you could, but he only moved a few inches so you pulled again. Over and over you did this until his face emerged from under the truck. Letting his feet go, you returned to his side once more. 

Brushing some of the hair off his face, you were terrified at what you felt. After being out here for so long in his jeans, long-sleeved shirt, glove, hat, and boots, you would have expected him to be drenched in sweat, yet he wasn’t. And his skin was scorching to the touch, yet he was shivering slightly. You were in no way an expert when it came to this sort of thing, but if you had to guess, you would say he was suffering from a heat stroke.

“Rhett… hey, come on, baby, please wake up,” you shook his shoulder softly but he made no indication that he felt it. 

He needed to get cooled off as soon as possible. You were still practically sitting beneath his truck, but you knew he still hadn't gotten his air conditioner fixed from when it broke at the start of summer. So, you leaned over and gently kissed his cheek before whispering, “I’ll be right back. Just hang on.”

Getting to your feet, you hurried to your truck and turned on the air conditioner. Then, as carefully as possible, you edged it over until your driver’s side door was practically brushing the side of his truck. You scrambled out the other side and ran back to Rhett. Then you wrapped his arm around your shoulder and, with great difficulty, managed to half-drag, half-carry him to your truck. The most difficult part was lifting him up into it, but somehow you found a way to do so. 

You climbed in after him and shut the door. Knowing he needed to cool off as quickly as possible, you yanked off his gloves and then wrestled his shirt over his head. You considered trying to take his jeans off too, but there was just not enough room in the cab to manage that and you were physically exhausted at that point. So, you settled into your seat and laid Rhett’s head down in your lap, and rested your hand over his pounding heart as you waited to see if he would wake up. 

It was probably a smarter idea to drive him straight back to the house, but you knew you were too exhausted to carry him inside yourself and you also didn’t want Amy to see her uncle like that. After losing her mom, you didn’t want to traumatize her any more than she already had been. 

After about five minutes, Rhett’s heartbeat had slowed significantly. It was still faster than usual, but it was no longer at a pace that worried you. And as you shifted in your seat, he stirred slightly. Running your fingers lightly against his cheek, you asked, “Rhett? Baby, can you hear me?”

Ever so slowly, his eyes flickered open, causing you to sigh in relief. He glanced around, trying to get his bearings, but then he looked up and his eyes met yours. He licked his lips, and in a low rumble, muttered, “Sweetheart, wha-what happened? Whe-where are we?”

You smiled down at him. “We’re in my truck. You didn’t come back and I got worried so I came to check on you. Good thing I did because I found you laying under your truck.”

Rhett squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to remember. “I just got dizzy all of a sudden and fell over. I was so hot and I couldn’t get back up. The only shade around was under the truck so I drugged myself under it. That’s the last thing I remember.”

“I think you just overdid it in the sun with all those layers on. I told you to bring some water.” You playfully slapped his arm and he ducked his head slightly.

“That’s what I get for not listening to you, I guess. Thank you for checking on me.” He placed his hand over yours where it still rested on his bare chest and he gave it a small squeeze.

You leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “Always, baby.” The two of you sat in silence for a moment before you said, “If you think you can sit up, I’ll drive you back to the house and get you some water and you can take a cold shower. Then when you feel up to it, I’ll drive you back out here and you can get your truck.”

He nodded, and you helped ease him up into a sitting position. Then you climbed behind the wheel and started heading to the house. You glanced over to see Rhett leaning his head against the window with his eyes closed. Reaching for his hand, you squeezed it and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just a little dizzy and tired, but I’ll be okay.” He opened his eyes and looked at you. “I’m just glad Dad or Perry weren’t here. I would have never heard the end of this.”

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly as you snapped, “No, if they were here, this wouldn’t have happened because you wouldn’t have had to do all of that by yourself. They both just expect you to do everything and then never give you the slightest bit of credit or recognize what an amazing, generous person you are. And do you ever complain? No.” You continued muttering under your breath. “Makes you cancel your plans to fix their shit and watch their daughter. Then they can’t even be bothered to come to your last rodeo event.”

Rhett squeezed your thigh lovingly. “I know, but they’re family. But I do appreciate how much you do for them as well. You didn’t have to come today.”

“I did that for you, not them,” you scoffed. But then, in a softer tone, said, “Besides, I’m still hoping you’ll make me part of their family someday too.”

As you pulled up in front of the house and put the truck in park, Rhett drew your face towards his as he whispered, “Just say the word, sweetheart, and all of this is yours.”

Taglist: @loverhymeswith, @babblydrabbly, @mayhem24-7forever, @hederasgarden, @wildbornsiren, @merlehs, @sunshineflowerchild789, @11thstreetvigilante, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

#whumptober #whumptober2022 #whumptober 2022 #fic #no.5 #no.31 #hyperthermia #comfort #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #outer range #lewis pullman #angst #hurt/comfort #hurt & comfort #heat stroke tw

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

If You Can't Stand the Heat....

Whumptober 2022: 5. Hyperthermia, 31. Comfort

Fandom: Outer Range, Rhett Abbott

Word Count: 1730

TW: Heat Stroke, Unconscious, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Note: Thank you to @mayhem24-7forever for looking this over for me and reassuring me I was on a good path!

Nervously, you glanced out the window for the third time in the last fifteen minutes. Something was wrong, you just knew it. 

Rhett had called you up that morning sounding really frustrated. He had to cancel your trip to the city because his parents were still on their anniversary vacation and Perry never came home last night. So, he was stuck watching Amy all day. And to make matters worse, last night’s storm had knocked down part of a fence that he needed to fix but he didn’t want Amy having to sit out in the hot sun while he worked on it but he also didn’t want her alone in the house for hours either.

While you had been disappointed there was a change of plans, you offered to come watch Amy while he worked. After all, the fence shouldn’t take too long, then the three of you could do something together. You liked Amy and the two of you had formed a special bond in the year and a half you had been dating Rhett. A bond that had only gotten stronger once her mom disappeared. 

So, you came over and started setting out the cards to continue teaching Amy how to play poker as Rhett got ready to go out to the pasture to work. You offered to make him lunch and grab him a water bottle to take with him, but he just kissed the top of your head and said he wouldn’t need it. The job should only take two, maybe three hours tops and then he’d be back.

However, that was five hours ago and you hadn’t seen or heard anything from him. Cell reception wasn’t great out in the west pasture but he should have at least come back to the house and let you know it was taking longer than expected or asked for some help. No, something was definitely wrong. 

You told Amy to go watch some tv and you’d be right back, then you hurried out to your truck. At least he had told you which section of the ranch he would be working in, but the fenceline through the west pasture still didn’t narrow things down any. It stretched for hundreds of acres. Yet, you had to make sure. There was no way you could go back to just sitting in the house playing cards or watching cartoons until you knew Rhett was alright.

After driving about fifteen minutes, you spotted Rhett’s truck in the distance next to the half-repaired fence…. but no Rhett. You pressed your foot down on the gas, eyes scanning the area for any signs of your boyfriend yet there wasn't any. 

As soon as you pulled up next to the front of his truck, you jumped out and ran over to the fence. All of Rhett’s tools and equipment were still there and it looked like he had been in the middle of restringing one of the wires when he disappeared. 

You ran the back of your hand across your forehead, wiping away the sweat that was already forming there, before glancing around once more. Where the hell was he?

Just as you were about to give up, you noticed his baseball cap laying on the ground just beside his back tire. And as you looked closer, you saw something in the shadows under Rhett’s truck. His tailgate was down making it harder to see, but it almost looked like…. a boot.

“Rhett!” Charging over to the side of the truck, you dropped to your knees and peered under it, gasping as you finally saw Rhett. He was laying on his back, his hand on his chest as he panted heavily. His eyes were closed, and his face looked oddly pale after being in the sun all day. You called out to him but he didn’t respond. 

You clambered to your feet and ran to the back of the truck, slamming the tailgate shut. Without it in the way, you could see more of his boots sticking out and you grabbed one in each hand. Bracing yourself, you pulled as hard as you could, but he only moved a few inches so you pulled again. Over and over you did this until his face emerged from under the truck. Letting his feet go, you returned to his side once more. 

Brushing some of the hair off his face, you were terrified at what you felt. After being out here for so long in his jeans, long-sleeved shirt, glove, hat, and boots, you would have expected him to be drenched in sweat, yet he wasn’t. And his skin was scorching to the touch, yet he was shivering slightly. You were in no way an expert when it came to this sort of thing, but if you had to guess, you would say he was suffering from a heat stroke.

“Rhett… hey, come on, baby, please wake up,” you shook his shoulder softly but he made no indication that he felt it. 

He needed to get cooled off as soon as possible. You were still practically sitting beneath his truck, but you knew he still hadn't gotten his air conditioner fixed from when it broke at the start of summer. So, you leaned over and gently kissed his cheek before whispering, “I’ll be right back. Just hang on.”

Getting to your feet, you hurried to your truck and turned on the air conditioner. Then, as carefully as possible, you edged it over until your driver’s side door was practically brushing the side of his truck. You scrambled out the other side and ran back to Rhett. Then you wrapped his arm around your shoulder and, with great difficulty, managed to half-drag, half-carry him to your truck. The most difficult part was lifting him up into it, but somehow you found a way to do so. 

You climbed in after him and shut the door. Knowing he needed to cool off as quickly as possible, you yanked off his gloves and then wrestled his shirt over his head. You considered trying to take his jeans off too, but there was just not enough room in the cab to manage that and you were physically exhausted at that point. So, you settled into your seat and laid Rhett’s head down in your lap, and rested your hand over his pounding heart as you waited to see if he would wake up. 

It was probably a smarter idea to drive him straight back to the house, but you knew you were too exhausted to carry him inside yourself and you also didn’t want Amy to see her uncle like that. After losing her mom, you didn’t want to traumatize her any more than she already had been. 

After about five minutes, Rhett’s heartbeat had slowed significantly. It was still faster than usual, but it was no longer at a pace that worried you. And as you shifted in your seat, he stirred slightly. Running your fingers lightly against his cheek, you asked, “Rhett? Baby, can you hear me?”

Ever so slowly, his eyes flickered open, causing you to sigh in relief. He glanced around, trying to get his bearings, but then he looked up and his eyes met yours. He licked his lips, and in a low rumble, muttered, “Sweetheart, wha-what happened? Whe-where are we?”

You smiled down at him. “We’re in my truck. You didn’t come back and I got worried so I came to check on you. Good thing I did because I found you laying under your truck.”

Rhett squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to remember. “I just got dizzy all of a sudden and fell over. I was so hot and I couldn’t get back up. The only shade around was under the truck so I drugged myself under it. That’s the last thing I remember.”

“I think you just overdid it in the sun with all those layers on. I told you to bring some water.” You playfully slapped his arm and he ducked his head slightly.

“That’s what I get for not listening to you, I guess. Thank you for checking on me.” He placed his hand over yours where it still rested on his bare chest and he gave it a small squeeze.

You leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “Always, baby.” The two of you sat in silence for a moment before you said, “If you think you can sit up, I’ll drive you back to the house and get you some water and you can take a cold shower. Then when you feel up to it, I’ll drive you back out here and you can get your truck.”

He nodded, and you helped ease him up into a sitting position. Then you climbed behind the wheel and started heading to the house. You glanced over to see Rhett leaning his head against the window with his eyes closed. Reaching for his hand, you squeezed it and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just a little dizzy and tired, but I’ll be okay.” He opened his eyes and looked at you. “I’m just glad Dad or Perry weren’t here. I would have never heard the end of this.”

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly as you snapped, “No, if they were here, this wouldn’t have happened because you wouldn’t have had to do all of that by yourself. They both just expect you to do everything and then never give you the slightest bit of credit or recognize what an amazing, generous person you are. And do you ever complain? No.” You continued muttering under your breath. “Makes you cancel your plans to fix their shit and watch their daughter. Then they can’t even be bothered to come to your last rodeo event.”

Rhett squeezed your thigh lovingly. “I know, but they’re family. But I do appreciate how much you do for them as well. You didn’t have to come today.”

“I did that for you, not them,” you scoffed. But then, in a softer tone, said, “Besides, I’m still hoping you’ll make me part of their family someday too.”

As you pulled up in front of the house and put the truck in park, Rhett drew your face towards his as he whispered, “Just say the word, sweetheart, and all of this is yours.”

Taglist: @luckyladycreator2, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @shirley2996

#whumptober #whumptober2022 #whumptober 2022 #fic #no.5 #no.31 #hyperthermia #comfort #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #outer range #lewis pullman #angst #hurt/comfort #hurt & comfort #heat stroke tw

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Pets Pt. 21: Every Whumpee’s Needs

TWs in the tags

Previous

Masterlist

Next

Blood loss | Running out of air | Hyperthermia

It’s been too long since Jane last hurt you. Something’s coming. You wish you were brave enough to run again, but you can’t even think about it without thinking of overwhelming pain.

Your wounds are finally healed. You can finally move without restriction or pain. Everyone’s relatively okay. Kit is mostly healed. It’s absolutely terrifying.

Your nightmares are getting worse. You are constantly full of dread and fear.

You keep practicing holding your breath. You alternate between freezing cold and boiling hot showers. You sit in uncomfortable positions for hours, trying to learn to handle stress positions. You eat less, hoping to get used to hunger.

You wake up crying often and beg Kit and Dollie to not let her hurt you, to protect you, please please please.

You know it’s not fair. You can’t protect them, to expect them to protect you is unfair. Still, you want so badly to feel safe.

It’s almost a relief when Jane calls you down to the basement. Almost.

You’ve been doing this thing lately, where you compare the fear of living here to your old greatest fears. Would you rather spend an hour in the basement or a day in an airplane? Get beaten with a crowbar or bitten by spiders?

Over and over, you come to the same answer. You would rather be anywhere than here. You’d be less afraid if you were walking down a staircase to be executed.

“Hi, Bunny. Give me your collar.”

You slowly undo your collar and hand it to Jane. It’s a lot easier to breathe without it, but you know that won’t last long.

“That’s a good Bunny. What’s your name?”

“Bunny, Master.”

Jane laughs. “No, not yet. But we’ll fix that, won’t we?”

“Master, please.” There’s nothing else to say.

Jane just smiles. “Kneel.”

You kneel.

Jane produces duct tape and tapes your mouth shut. And then she plugs your nose.

Your lungs start burning almost immediately. You didn’t get a chance to take a breath.

“Liam.” Jane’s voice drips with an emotion you don’t recognize. “Liam.”

If you could breathe, you would laugh. It’s so stupid. Just saying your name over and over again while she tortures you. And even more stupid is that it will work, because it worked on Dollie and Kit and they’re stronger than you. You’re going to be too scared to even think of your name because of something so stupid.

Tears leak from your eyes and your vision blacks out. You think, for a moment, that she’s going to let you pass out, but she lets go. You breathe as deeply as you can through your nose.

“You’re so cute. I know you’ve been practicing holding your breath for me. Sweet little Bunny. Show me how good you’ve gotten.”

Jane plugs your nose again. The fact that you practiced does make it less scary, makes the feeling of suffocation more familiar. But you don’t have any control. You’re not the one choosing to hold your breath, and it won’t end until Jane wants it to.

Your practice and preparation don’t matter. It never will. You’ve been spending all this time hurting yourself when you should’ve just been enjoying the time you had where you weren’t being hurt. Kit was right. Of course they were right.

You can’t beg. You know it wouldn’t help anyway, but somehow that makes it worse. You’re completely powerless against someone simply plugging your nose.

You force your hands to stay down at your sides and try not to squirm. Fighting her will do nothing at best and get you punished at worse. You squirm anyway. God, you’re so fucking weak.

It’s amazing how long a minute can be. Jane once again releases you right before you pass out. You inhale, and she cuts off your air supply once again.

“Does it help? Do you feel powerful? In control? Strong? Was it worth it?”

You can’t answer.

“I doubt it. There’s only so much air your lungs can hold. You’ll always run out of air pretty quickly, no matter how much you work on it. Liam. My Bunny. You’re not the brightest, are you?”

Your vision swims. Can she do permanent damage, like this? You don’t know. Isn’t it three minutes of oxygen deprivation before your brain gets damaged? No, wait, that’s before you die. You can go three weeks without food, three days without water, and three minutes without oxygen. But you remember something about people surviving being stuck under ice for hours without air… Where did you even hear that three rule, anyway? Was that even true?

Jane is still talking, saying your name over and over. Your insides burn, but you feel nice. Ha, she’s trying to torture you but instead you feel nice. Wait, why’s she trying to torture you? You didn’t do anything. What’s happening? Why can’t you open your mouth?

The world spins and your vision is tinged with dark blue. Jane lets go. You still can’t get enough air. She plugs your nose.

You smile beneath the tape and close your eyes. The ground is rippling, up and down, up and down. You think this wouldn’t be the worst way to die. Are you dying? Where are you?

You feel like you’re floating. You feel like you’re a flame, flickering, flickering, flickering. You feel like…

You feel like…

You wake up sweating.

You lie on the floor of a room you haven’t seen before. It’s so fucking hot. Your clothes are soaked with sweat. It’s so hot.

Your head hurts. Your mouth is still covered with duct tape, but your hands are unbound. You could take it off. She never told you to keep it on, you wouldn’t be breaking any rules.

Or maybe she did tell you to keep it on. You stopped listening to her, while you were being suffocated. You should’ve been listening.

Best not to risk it. You don’t want to give her any reason to hurt you worse.

You slowly get to your feet. It feels a bit better, to not be making as much contact with the hot concrete. But it’s not enough.

This is the hot room. You try to remember what Kit told you about it. They didn’t say much, except that usually Jane leaves people in here for longer than an hour.

You’re not sure how this is supposed to help with the goal of forgetting your name. Maybe it’s not. Maybe Jane just wants you to suffer.

You’re starting to feel lightheaded, after only a few minutes of standing. You feel nauseous.

The door doesn’t have a handle on your side, and it won’t push open. Like always, there’s no escape. You will be left in here until Jane wants to let you out.

Your heart pounds. You shouldn’t be panicking, that will heat you up even more. Still, your thoughts race. How long will she leave you in here? You don’t want to be in here, you want it to stop.

You double over at another wave of nausea. The room spins. The duct tape is loosening from the sweat on your face.

What would Kit do? What would Dollie do?

You wish Kit had given you advice. That’s what you wanted, when you asked what things might happen. Is it better to take your clothes off, or are your damp clothes keeping you cool? Should you be standing, or should you be finding a position that takes less energy while still lessening contact with the ground?

You don’t know. You wish Kit was here, which makes you feel bad. You shouldn’t wish they were being tortured with you. But you know it would be easier if they were here.

Tears fall from your eyes. No, you can’t lose any more water! You have to stop!

But your panic just makes the tears fall faster. You want to curl into a ball, but that will just make things worse.

The duct tape over your mouth falls off. You would put it back on, to avoid upsetting Jane, but being able to breathe through your mouth makes you feel one hundred times better.

And, well, now it’s already fallen off. So if Jane told you to keep it on, you’ve already failed. No point in going back.

Your hand spasms and you gasp. It reminds you of being electrocuted and it /hurts/. Is that normal?

When your feet start spasming, you have to sit down. You try to focus on your breathing, but your mind keeps going back to how hot you are.

And how sweaty you are.

And how badly your head hurts.

And how your throat hurts.

And how you’re dizzy.

And how you’re thirsty, so so thirsty.

And how you’re nauseas.

And how your muscles keep spasming.

You’re going to have to get better at distracting yourself if you ever want to handle situations like this. You know you’ve experienced it before, that feeling of separation from your body and the pain, but right now you are stubbornly locked inside your body.

Your nose starts bleeding, because of course you need to add blood loss to the long list of things going wrong with your body.

She won’t let you die. She said that that was a long way away. She won’t leave you in here long enough to die.

You don’t know if that’s a relief or not.

You recite songs in your head (not out loud, you’re too thirsty for that). You count the minutes. You focus very hard on not crying. Blood and sweat and maybe some tears drip onto the ground.

Your chest hurts. Is this it? Did she go to far? You throw up and it hurts, it hurts your stomach and your chest and your throat and your head, and you can’t breathe. You hands spasm at your sides.

There’s only so long this can go on. Either she’ll let you out or you’ll die. This will end.

You repeat it to yourself like a mantra. This will end, this will end. It can’t go on forever. This will end.

You start to feel like you’re not so much breathing as moving air around. Hot air comes in and out of your lungs, and it doesn’t help. You’re suffocating, you’re dying, oh god you don’t want to die, you don’t you don’t you don’t. You need to get out!

You are overwhelmed by dizziness. You know, suddenly, that you’re going to survive. You’re starting to realize that what you need to survive and what you need are two very different things.

Your body falls forward, and you’re unconscious before your head hits the concrete.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @ghostsinthecloset

#whumptober 2022 #no. 5 #every whumpee’s needs #blood loss #running out of air #hyperthermia #oc #original content #fic #torture tw #suicidal ideation tw #suffocation tw #heat torture tw #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #nonhuman whumper #multiple whumpees #pet whump #whumpee #whumper #2nd person pov #jane’s pets

[bloodsweatandpotato]

Day 5

Hyperthermia

Fandom: Original work

Characters: Generic whumpee

Tw: some blood

Summary: Whumpee’s car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. They can’t remember how long they’ve been walking…

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

One foot… in front…

Whumpee’s knees buckled, and they wavered for a moment, before their legs gave out entirely. They crumpled to their knees, just managing to catch themself with their hands before falling flat on their face.

They blinked, inhaling shakily as they licked their cracked lips.

Copper tainted their tongue, and whumpee was almost relieved to have that wetness on their sand-dry tongue.

If they ever made it out of there, they were never going back to… wherever they were. Wyoming? Kansas? They had driven for so long, eyes glazed over and mind numbed by panic and aimlessness. They didn’t know where they had ended up, besides the fact that it was flat and dry and covered in yellow-brown grass.

Whumpee raised their head, trying to swallow against the overwhelming nausea. The walls of their throat stuck together, and they coughed, tongue thick in their mouth.

They closed their eyes, not yet even thinking of getting up. They were too hot, too tired. The seemingly-never ending stream of sweat that they had so despised had dried, leaving their skin red and exposed.

Whumpee fuzzily mused that maybe the fact they had stopped sweating was bad.

They blinked, a sudden, fleeting wave of lucidity washing over them.

They moved one shaking hand, pinching the index finger of their other. They held their finger, waiting until the nail bed turned white from the pressure, before releasing. One, two, three… they counted five seconds before color fully returned.

Oh… Whumpee begun shaking for an entirely different reason than the heat and exhaustion.

If they didn’t stand up then, they didn’t think they would ever get up again.

They blinked, and just like that, the thought was gone.

They would get up in a moment.

A drop of blood landed on the gravel of the road shoulder in front of them, and Whumpee belatedly realized their nose had begun bleeding again.

They closed their eyes, crumpling until their head rested on the pavement. Just a moment. Just a moment and they would get up. It wasn’t that bad, they weren’t even that hot anymore. Just tired and dizzy and in need of a rest.

Just a short rest.

The last thing Whumpee heard before they blacked out was the sound of a car barreling towards them.

#whumptober2022 #whump #no.5 #hyperthermia #blood tw #blood #whump writing #whump drabble #whump art #writing #art #generic whumpee

[robinrites]

Day Five: Best-Worst Bad Guy

Happy Whumptober Day 5!

Prompts: Every Whumpee's Needs, Blood Loss, Running out of Air, Hyperthermia

TW: Suffocation, gunshot wound, heat stroke, hallucinations, water deprivation.

Villain knew it was only a matter of time before this happened. They held their right hand against their left shoulder as they darted down the hallway, occasionally stealing glances at their pursuers. They pulled their hand away for a moment, only to see it was covered in their blood. 

“Fuck.” They whispered before pressing their hand back over where they had been shot.  

“You can run but you can’t hide Villain,” Supervillain called as she followed them down the hallway. 

Villain ducked into one of the empty labs along the hallway and hid out of sight as best as they could. They held their breath as they heard Supervillain’s heels click on the floor, then paused at the door to the room they were currently hiding in. Seconds passed, Villain held in their breath, afraid even the tiniest noise would alert their pursuer of their location. As Supervillain’s heels clicked away, Villain let out a sigh of relief. They went to inhale, but suddenly found all the air had been sucked from their lungs. As they gasped for air, they couldn’t help but want to cry. 

“Tt, foolish Villain.” Supervillain’s shoes clacked as she came back towards where Villain was hiding. “Have you forgotten what I’m capable of?” Even if Villain wanted to respond, they weren’t sure they had the air to do so. “Show yourself if you want to breathe again.” Villain felt their face turn blue, their lungs burned for air. Somehow they stumbled back out into the hallway, and the air rushed back to their lungs. Villain took gasping, shuddering breaths as they tried to regulate their breathing again. 

“Fuck you.” They panted, mentally promising themselves they would flip Supervillain off once they could focus on anything but being suffocated. 

Supervillain squatted down to where Villain was kneeling and tilted their chin upward, “To think I took you under my wing.” Supervillain spat in their face, then sneered, “I think it’s high time you relearned some manners.” 

Two guards, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, each grab one of Villain’s arms, quickly dragging them away from Supervillain. Villain wants to fight so desperately, but one look in Supervillain’s eyes reminds them of what will happen if they try to escape again. If only suffocation got easier each time it happened. 

Villain feels a pinprick in their neck as Supervillain begins to walk away. The guards are smart like that. Without the threat of suffocation, what else would keep them in line? They numbly register being dragged down several flights of stairs. Villain knows this will hurt later, they’ll probably be bruised from it, but what else can they do? Their limbs feel heavy, almost as if they were lined with lead. The lights get dimmer and dimmer as they descend levels until finally they have reached sub-basement 3. 

Villain barely registers being tossed in a cell, or the fact that they are now chained to the wall with barely any wiggle room. They want to call after the guards, maybe bribe them, but their mouth refuses to open. Words die in their throat before they can hit their lips. 

When they wake up the next morning, the first thing they notice is the intense heat. All the moisture is gone from Villain’s mouth, and there isn’t a single drop of water in sight. Villain goes to rub their eyes, which are itching from how dry they are, only to be reminded that they are chained to a wall. They let their head roll backwards for a second, hoping it’ll help them collect their thoughts. It doesn’t. 

“Hello?” They call, as loud as they can. “Hey I think you guys left the heater on!” Villain tugs experimentally against their chains to no avail. “What’s a person gotta do to get some water around here?” They try to joke, but the lack of moisture makes Villain cough over the sound of any response. “Hello?” They drop their head, sweat rolling down their forehead in droves. “Fuck! Okay I’ve learned my lesson, I’ll be a good little villain now just please! Can I at least get some water?” 

They are about to give up on yelling, when they hear the sound of a lock turning in the door. A guard storms in, face red with rage, and he’s carrying what looks like a water bowl for a dog. He sets it in front of them, then crosses his arms. 

“Will this get ya to shut up?” 

“Yes! Oh gods yes please thank you!” They wait expectantly for the guard to uncuff them so they can drink, but he doesn’t make any moves to do so. “Can I be uncuffed so I can drink please?” 

“Ha!” The guard rolls his eyes, then kicks the bowl a little closer with his foot, spilling precious water. “Boss lady said she wants you trained, so we’re startin’ with the basics. Eatin’ from a bowl.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“I could jus’ take the water away if that’ll make you happy.” 

“No!” Villain shouts, “I’m sorry, please don’t.” They awkwardly bend forward until their head is inches from the bowl of water, wincing at the strain this position puts on their arms. They take a sip of the water and almost spit it out when they realize it’s warm. They force themself to swallow, then steal a glance up at the guard. 

“Somethin’ wrong?” 

“The water it’s-” 

“Warm? I’m aware.” He laughs cruelly, “We’re sweatin’ the goody-two-shoes out of ya. Now drink up before I take it away.” 

Villain bites back a cry before returning to the warm water. They drink the whole bowl, feeling slightly less parched than before, but still craving crisp cool water. The man picks up the bowl, then glares at Villain one more time. 

“Aren’t ya forgetting something?” 

“Thank you for the water.” They drop their head, both as a sign of respect and a sign of exhaustion. Satisfied, the man exits the cell, quickly locking it behind him. 

Villain wants to bang their head against the wall behind them. They want to cry so badly. Their throat begins to choke up from holding in the tears, but they know crying would waste precious water. Eventually, the urge to cry disappears, replaced by a new feeling: fear. They aren’t sure how long they’ve been sitting in the cell, possibly a couple hours. 

All they are sure about is how hot it is. Villain’s heart feels like it’s been moving a thousand miles per hour, and they feel absolutely drenched in sweat. Villain pities whoever will walk into the room next, even though they are numb to the stench of their sweat, they are positive this room reeks. Villain spots a figure in the room, when did the door open? 

A warm glow surrounds the other person in the room. Villain can’t help but smile as they take in the glittering nest of curls resting atop this new person’s head, as if it was a halo. They watch this woman step closer to them, then they feel her hand cup their cheek. So faint it’s almost as if she wasn’t really there. She laughs, was it something I said? Villain doesn’t remember saying anything, but why would this person laugh if nothing was said? 

“Help me.” Villain manages to sputter out, but the person just smiles, then turns to go. Villain tugs as hard as they can on their bindings. “Wait! Please don’t leave me! I’ll be good-er bad! I’ll be the best-worst bad villain there ever was….” Villain shakes their head, “I’m getting all mixed up now aren’t I?” The woman grabs the door handle and pulls it open, then walks into a white light. What happened to the corridor outside? The guard? 

The sound of the door creaking open snaps them back into reality. Was it really all fake? A caped figure sneaks into the cell, quickly scanning it for any threats or weaknesses before focusing on Villain. They move the hood so it no longer obscures their face, only to reveal the woman from Villain’s hallucination. 

“Villain?!”

#heroes and villains #supervillain #heroes #villain whumpee #villain whump #villain #whumptober 2022 #no 5 #whumpblr #whump community #hyperthermia #blood loss tw #running out of air tw #whumpee #one shot

[savebatsfromscratch]

Day 5 - I’m Sorry, I Can’t Really Focus Right Now?!?!

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42168798

-

Summary: Hiccup has fallen into the ocean, his boat is wrecked by fear. (And the current lol.)

-

Note: Idk. Hiccup in the ocean what will he do. I haven’t read these books in a while, not sure if you could tell lol.   The italics is either dragonese or Hiccup thinking, depending on where it is.

Cws and Tws: Almost drowning, numbness, getting knocked out, previous injury, bleeding

Words: 686 (oh wow that is pathetically short, sorry small fandom you deserve more than this)

Prompt: EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS | Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia

-

Chapter text (under the cut):

Hiccup flailed in the water, gulping for any flash of air as the stormy waves of the open ocean crashed over him. The vampire spydragon bite on his arm made it near impossible to swim, but at least to was numb, because the pain of an open wound in the salty waters of the ocean wasn’t exactly something that Hiccup wanted. 

Even so, the water was cold, and the splintered pieces of his boat kept smacking into him with each change in the current. And as both things shocked any small bit of breath out of him (in a rather irregular schedule), Hiccup already had a few too many problems to deal with.

”You have to get up!” a crackly yet high pitched voice squeaked above him. It was the Wodensfang, and based on his frantic sounding wingbeats, he was struggling in the wind and rain just as much as Hiccup was in the water. 

“Thanks,” Hiccup choked, spitting out water as a momentary lack of waves filled his little area, “I hadn’t quite realized that yet.”

The Wodensfang continued to speak, but Hiccup was plunged under the waves before he could hear the conclusion of the little dragon’s words. He squeezed his eyes shut, so he couldn’t quite see what was happening under there, but he could’ve sworn he felt the obvious roughness of a dragon slide by his leg… 

He was back into the air as four tiny paws gripped onto his shoulder, dragging him up with all of their might as the Wodensfang flapped his wings like a hurricane. Hiccup opened his mouth to thank him, but another cold wave of seawater smacked into him before he could form the words, filling his mouth with salt and splinters from his shattered boat.

“You mustn't do that!” The Wodensfang chidded, breaths heavy and wings slowing as he let go of Hiccup’s shoulders, “You have to get to Tomorrow!”

The thought of the island made Hiccup so worried that he almost didn’t notice the odd numbness in the side of his body that wasn’t numb from the Vampire Spydragon bite. “But I haven’t-” he started, pausing to choke on seawater for a moment, “-haven’t got any of the things!” 

The Wodensfang scoffed, flying a bit closer to him as he spoke, “That’s never stopped you before.”

“I HAD all the things before!” Hiccup yelled back, his arms slowing even as he dipped further before the water. (He was just so cold.)

The Wodensfang spun in a little circle, clearly trying to think, “But you’re the future king of-” he dodged a falling piece of the mast, “-the Wilderwest! You’ll figure something out.”

Hiccup was really feeling the effects of the cold now, and when he looked down at the water, he was horrified to find a red stain filling it. When had he started bleeding…? “Wodensfang!” He said, speaking in Norse out of desperation for a second, “My boat crashed in the middle of the ocean!” He paused less for effect and more to spit out water, “I CAN’T get the things from the bottom of the ocean, let alone in a short enough time!” 

The Wodensfang paused, and Hiccup tried to feel for whatever part of him was bleeding. But it was either numbed from the cold of the water (which was taking away much of his mobility), shock (which he had forgotten could do such a thing until that very moment), the Vampire Spydragon bite, or some unholy combination of the two.

‘Oh Thor,’ he thought as another wave crashed over him, ‘I need to get out of the water…’

The moment he resurfaced the Wodensfang was talking again, but before the water could finish spilling out of his ears (and therefore before he could hear what he was saying), he felt something hit the back of his head. It was like the pain happened in slow motion, first an unexpected shock of splitting pain, followed quickly by an overwhelming sense of dizziness as his arms gave out on him, and then…

Nothing.

And the pain of the world drifted away from him.

End of Chapter notes: Yay. :) I finally wrote for this fandom again.

#whumptober2022 #prompt: EVERY WHUMPEE’S NEEDS | Blood Loss | Running Out of Air | Hyperthermia #passing out #blood #drowning #tw: drowning #tw: blood #tw: passing out #httyd #httyd books #httyd books fanart #fanfiction #my art #my writing #actual post

[warmblanketwhump]

i can second the hyperthermia ask lmao. i got heat exhaustion at work the other day (i'm a face painter) and i threw up and everything. vision swimming, super sweaty, the works. they had to call my dad to come pick me up 😔

ughhh this one got buried - so sorry, anon! that definitely sounds miserable, and not a great time to still be outside 😔💛 i was at a concert this summer where it was SUPER hot and I didn’t feel good and can relate - it’s definitely an awful feeling!

#hyperthermia #tw emeto #m speaks #anon #being outside when it’s hot is ROUGH

[fletcherwilbury]

@whumptober Day 5: Hyperthermia

Warning for overworking, exhaustion, fainting, heat rash, and dizziness.

#whumptober #whumptober 2022 #whumptober day 5 #hyperthermia #tmnt #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 donnie #tmnt 2012 leo #tmnt 2012 casey jones #jonatello #overworking #exhaustion #fainting tw #heat rash #dizziness tw #fanfiction #archive of our own

[waytoocrispybread]

'will that be all?' asks two months pregnant man, 1 degree weather change away from running off into the woods only to be found post sockeye salmon migration floating amidst the dead bodies of the fish

#this is about me #sorry chat the period hormones got me fucked up rn #i have had both hyperthermia and hypothermia this month its been rough for a dumb fucj like me #fuckingg uhhhhhhhh #pregnancy mention #tw pregnancy mention

[artandwritingwithscorpion]

Better late than never I suppose

#whumptober2022 #no.2 #no.5 #Caged #Hyperthermia #Fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fanfic #fanfiction #tw: panic attack and child injury #Fnaf Gregory

[cultofdixon]

Huddling for warmth

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • A blizzard occurred during the harsh winter after the farm and before the prison. You and Daryl got trapped in it and things didn’t go perfectly…• ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Nudity • TW: Hyperthermia / Minor Injury / Anxiety / Scars / Illness

Requested by: Anon

When the fire happened, everything changed. It came naturally that Rick became the leader of this group but everything was icy.

Now they were starting all over in finding a place to call home…or at least a temporary shelter for the upcoming winter

“Here” Y/N shrugged off her jacket giving it to Carl for an extra layer of warmth as the weather was getting colder for winter.

“She’s going to freeze to death if she keeps giving her coats to Carl and Lori” Glenn makes the comment to Maggie after she finishes getting a fire going in a house they were holding up in for the night. Little did he know the archer was listening to such.

About an hour passed and Rick returns with a deer that Daryl obviously got. But they also went through a few homes and Daryl approached Y/N who was leaning on Carol near the fire, dropping a jacket over her shoulders and didn’t stay for her to get a word in.

But he saw the smile on her face and that caused an old familiar feeling to burn in his chest.

“The winter will get worse and we should scavenge a few places before holding up for a good month” Hershel tells Rick while looking out at the snow that started to fall.

“I’ll get Glenn, Maggie, and Carol to come check a few houses with me. You and Lori can keep an eye on the rest” Rick stated adjusting his jacket and giving Daryl a look. “Think you can hunt some more game before the weather gets thicker?”

“I’ll try but the second the tracks ain’t clear, I’m coming—-“

“You ain’t going alone. Take Y/N. She has huntin’ experience. She’s hunted with you before” True. Before Rick returned from presumed dead, Daryl went hunting with his brother and the previous hunter before the Dixons came…also known as Y/N. But she didn’t join him on the trip before he heard his brother was left on a roof.

Y/N was ahead of Daryl following tracks they’ve caught on at the edge of the tree line by the neighborhood they’re held up in. He half expected her to be a chatterbox like how she was before the barn fire. But something always had to be off.

Before he could say anything to her, she readied her hunting bow and landed the shot on the unlucky rabbit.

Opportunity “Yea ever heard of a lucky rabbit’s foot?”

“Yeah, but doesn’t it usually have like…an amethyst with it?”

“Thought it was an amulet” Daryl questioned only to get a short lived laugh out of Y/N causing a hint of a smirk on his face.

She rises to her feet with the rabbit in hand brushing the hair out of her face to look at the archer. “You want the foot?”

“Sayin’ I need some good luck?”

“Dunno. You’re the one that said it” Y/N kept a smile on her face that soon faded when the cold breeze was a bit more intense than she expected. “Hershel said winters will be bad. Just. Didn’t expect that”

What was just a breeze seemed to pick up the more they trekked along in the forest…

“Have the winters always gone from mild to extreme?”

“You aren’t originally from Georgia?” Daryl brushed his hair back when the wind blew harder than before.

“That a deal breaker?” Y/N jokes only to suddenly trip and fall into the snow that’s collected since the morning. “Jeez. Maybe I need that lucky rabbit’s foot”

The crimson in the white became clear to Daryl as he knelt down to make sure she didn’t hurt herself to a certain degree. Thankfully just a scratch from the tree root they couldn’t see in the snow, which started to concern Daryl with how the weather started to pick up the more they were out there.

“We should head back. Or try to find our way back”

“Before it gets worse?” She added while cleaning up the blood with her bandana as it’s going to have to do until they can get a better look at it. “It’s already there”

“Our foot prints got swept” Daryl frowns knowing that would likely happen. He rose to his feet helping Y/N up as he tried to take a moment to listen to the surrounding but even the wind was picking up as much as the snow fall.

It got to blizzard level pretty quick.

“This is getting bad” Y/N had to shout for Daryl to register anything, but as they continued on through the blind scenery…the sound of something moving through the snow caught both their attention until the archer turned around.

No Y/N.

Daryl’s panic started to set in because on top of not seeing his surroundings. He had zero clue on where Y/N could’ve fallen or been dragged to.

The hiss of the wind continued to throw the archer off when he followed the trail before it disappeared right away. He quickly realized when he slipped falling on his ass that she had fallen…but fallen into the river they passed before the blizzard became more prominent.

“We have to be careful, Y/N” Daryl states gesturing to the river they were currently passing when the snow started to pick up in inches.

Y/N laughs at the man. “Okay captain obvious. We aren’t going to be able to see it later if this blizzard picks up”

“Hopefully not. We’ll be fine”

But we aren’t fucking fine! Daryl thought as he carefully made his descend toward the river and while the rushing water picked up in his ears…he couldn’t hear anyone.

“Y/N!” He screams and was about to step in the water when something grabbed at his ankle.

The new instinct was to take his knife out and plunge it into the water skull, but when he knelt down it came clear.

“Holy fuck. Thought I’d have to go swimming”

“I-I-It’s a b-b-bit c-cold” Y/N coughed out a bit letting go of his person to lay in the snow like before. The moment she felt into the water, she was wide awake and knew she had to get out. But the second her soaked body met the cold harsh weather, it brought her to this semi frozen weak state. Crazy how quick the body reacts.

“Can yea move?” Daryl shouts only to ensure that she can hear him but with no response only shaking breathing he could barely hear, he brought his arms under her armpits starting to drag her to the main path out of the ditch by the riverbank. “Think warm thoughts” he kept repeating even if every fiber of her being wanted to curl up and scream.

Y/N wanted to scream when the cold only got worse for her as Daryl brought one of her arms around his shoulders.

“We need to hide out somewhere”

“F-Fast” She gripped onto him trying not to succumb to the cold making her falter in her steps.

Daryl tried his best not to stumble because of how she was. His anxiety eventually got the best of him and he didn’t care if she’d protest getting him wet given her soaked person when he picked her up bridal style to get a faster pace going.

The two ended up in a small house nowhere near the neighborhood they were originally in. There was no time to question how they even got far from where the rest of the group is. Daryl had to barricade the doors to the room they were in and try to get a fire going to help warm up Y/N as she was placed on the couch in the living room shivering.

“R-Remind me, n-n-never t-t….s-shit” Y/N groans pulling at the soaked clothes on her person wanting to take them off as she hated the uncomfortable sticky feeling. But there was more going on and it started to concern her.

And the man that was currently trying to start a fire in the fireplace knowing he might have to move Y/N closer to the fire. The second it started, Daryl rose to his feet rounding the couch and pushing it closer enough for her to feel it. But even then it didn’t work in its entirety.

“Gotta strip yea”

“W-Woah. B-Bu…Buy m-m-me dinner f-first” Y/N scoffs in a playful manner listening to the man groan before he went further into the house scavenging for anything and found a blanket he had to shake out before even thinking of wrapping Y/N in it.

Daryl set the blanket on the arm rest. “Strip. I won’t—-“

“N-Need h-he—help” She coughed slightly after and Daryl instinctively pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. She was starting to get warm and not in a good way.

“Fine but I need your—-“

“F-Fuck Daryl! I-I-It’s fine!” Y/N snapped gripping the back of the couch to get her to sit up as Daryl brought himself beside her helping her get out of the wet clothes.

Her clothes laid in a pile beside the couch as Daryl was about to straighten them out close to the fire to try and dry, Y/N pulled the blanket over her shoulders more but manage to trap Daryl by bringing herself into his lap. She couldn’t speak given once the clothes were off she was even colder. The blanket wasn’t going to instantly help and the archer had been inside for some time that the snow melted off of his person so that she could do what she was currently doing.

The archer froze when she climbed into his lap curling up against him taking in his warmth and tugging the blanket to cover every exposed bit on her person. He didn’t look at her, for a sense of privacy. Not that she cared. There was something else but now wasn’t the time. Daryl carefully wrapped his arms around her bringing her close and eventually shifting his body to lay down with her trapped between him and the couch.

“…please pull through” Daryl whispers hoping she would respond even if it’s intentions were for her not to hear. But given she hasn’t said anything in a minute, got him worrying again. “Y/N?” He shifted slightly going to check her pulse but just the smallest movement jostled her eyes to open with a glare before closing once more and hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

Y/N went in and out most of the night but her shivering stopped after a couple hours. She clung onto Daryl with a bruising grip taking in all the warmth he gave…he didn’t dare letting go for whatever reason afraid she freeze all over again.

But after being in that state for two days and her clothes dried eventually with the help of the fire…Daryl let go to help her redress keeping his focus on her actions as she fumbled trying to work the buttons of her flannel that he eventually helped her.

The archer wore his crossbow on his chest, the rabbits on his belt, and carried Y/N on his back still wrapped in the blanket on their way back to where the others were.

About halfway there, Rick and Glenn met them as they had come to a decision recently to go out and search for them once the blizzard passed…

“Is she okay?”

“She’s sick” You don’t survive freezing temperatures without a cold or flu to follow.

“Is she bit?” Glenn gestures to her ankle wrapped in bandages Daryl had.

“No, she fell. Fell once before falling into the river” Daryl states walking passed to make it to the house as the two who joined them kept an eye on their surroundings.

“You’re lucky we found some Tylenol on the run we went on when y’all went hunting” Rick states. “Should help with the fever”

“Hershel is gonna want to isolate her when we get back. Just in case—-“

“Don’t yea dare finish that, kid” Daryl snapped while pushing the door open with his foot as Rick took care of keeping it open for him to come through.

Out of instinct, Hershel rose to his feet gesturing to the other room to keep Y/N in even if it was the kitchen and Maggie laid a blanket on the floor before Daryl laid her down.

“Wish I had a thermometer to get an actual reading, but she definitely feels warm. I’m guessing you held up somewhere to try and warm her up to avoid hyperthermia” Hershel gave Daryl a look listening to him hum in response. “Well yea did good, son. Kept her from getting worse”

When she woke, Hershel got her to take some of the medicine they collected along with some water before leaving her to sleep once more. Daryl waited til the old man left the room before pushing the table in the doorway in case of emergencies. He sets his crossbow down against the wall kneeling beside her adjusting the blanket to cover her more watching her roll over to face him.

“Hey…”

“You can speak clearly now” Daryl jokes about the shivering stuttering mess she was before and that got a small laugh from her.

“Thanks for keeping me alive…” Y/N whispered shifting a bit to get comfortable on the floor as Daryl gently brushes away the hair in her face.

“Had to…I wanted to…I needed to” He whispered to her as he brought himself to sit on the floor keeping close to her watching her extend her hand from under the blanket to hold his.

Daryl stayed with her the entire time…the entire time.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

[mha-quotes-and-such]

ok so i was thinking of quirk drawbacks and... i came up with a list 👀

TWs: mentions of eating disorder, body dysphoria, cramps

aoyama - stomach cramps

mina - burns

tsu - stomach cramps/hibernation

iida - leg cramps

uraraka - motion sickness

ojiro - tail cramps

denki - short circuit/memory loss

kirishima - everything hurts

koda - not being able to use his voice

sato - out of energy

shoji - arm cramps

jiro - overstimulation/hearing loss

sero - tape gets stuck / arm cramps

tokoyami - exhaustion

todoroki - hyperthermia/hypothermia

hagakure - vision impairment

bakugo - hearing loss

midoriya - muscles cramps / paralyzation?

shinso (because we dont like mineta) - overstimulation/voice loss

momo - exhaustion / (TW) eating disorder

aizawa - passing out

mic - hearing loss / voice loss

midnight - exhuastion

tamaki - (TW) eating disorder

mirio - (TW) body dysphoria

nejire - body cramps

toga - (TW) body dysphoria

dabi - burns

shigaraki - scars

twice - overstimulation / exhaustion

compress - hand cramps

I think these make a lot of sense! Ive also heard the headcanons of Bakugou have nerve damage/reduced sensitivity in his hands, and Kirishima having dry/itchy skin, which I really like too

#not a quote #ask #head canon appreciation day #ask to tag

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐼𝒳: 𝒮𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁, 𝒲𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒟𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you again to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

TW: aftermath of an overdose, addiction, relapse, crying, panic attack, brief mention of needles, canon typical violence, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Author's Note: The descriptions of overdose treatment in this chapter come from my best understanding of this article from the NIH. They may be inaccurate.

Summary: John and Vincent are forced to trust a civilian doctor to save Vincent's life.

Since they had united three days ago, John had been the only one to touch Vincent. He had not considered what it would feel like for someone else to do so in his place.

The doctor, a man right around John’s age who had arrived still dressed in pajamas, had insisted they open the windows and blast the AC, and frozen items from the fridge were piled around Vincent’s head. The ceiling fan hummed above them at its highest setting while the doctor leaned over Vincent to put a needle in his arm. He emitted some half-conscious whine of miserable protest and then fell silent again. An impulse rose up in John, to take a step forward, to be there for him, but he managed to restrain himself – there was nothing he could do, and the stitches had to be redone next.

Logically, he knew how outrageous it was to resent a doctor who was actively saving Vincent’s life. But he still wished it were him, wished that this, too, had been a part of his training. To stand by idly, of no use to Vincent, filled him with an ache. An ache that had already frozen his body into a tensed, motionless statue at the side of the bed with feet planted wide apart in wait for orders. An ache that felt far too familiar.

Whatever he did, he must not think about the last time this happened. The last time he waited at a bedside, unable to do anything…

“You were right to put him under cold water.” The doctor pulled him out of his reverie. “The only mistake was taking him back out. He probably overheated again immediately, and lost consciousness due to that. But it’s not a stroke.”

John finally managed to exhale. “So why is he not awake?”

“I’ve just given him a minor sedative, to prevent heart attack. Counteracts some of the effects of stimulants. But it won’t last very long. He’ll be awake again soon.” The man looked him up and down. “You, on the other hand, look more like a hypothermia than hyperthermia risk. You should warm up.”

John had stopped noticing his own shivering at some point in the shower, and since then, he had been soaked to the skin in wet clothes. “Right.”

“I can have the front office throw your shirt in the dryer. And your friend’s clothes.”

He nodded. Awkwardly, he pulled off his shirt, and the man’s eyes appraised his tattoos with thinly veiled alarm before settling on the holster at his hip. “…You know, he should really be in the hospital. It’s not worth staying on the run just to die of infection. Did you ever tell me how he got shot?”

“No.” He held out the balled-up shirt and let the sounds of rain stretch uninterrupted between them.

The man took it gingerly, staring at John’s face, still littered with cuts from the car crash. “I can also look at – “

“No. Thank you.”

He finally had the good sense to leave the room.

So John wrapped the comforter around himself and sank into the armchair, gazing intently at Vincent. He managed to look even more bedraggled than he had when John carried him over the threshold that first night. He was extremely pale, with dark shadows under his eyes from so many days of insomnia, and his wet hair clinging to his forehead. There was that horrible ache again. The way it tugged at John’s heart was almost literal, a pang through the chest. Vincent may be a terror, but John had decided that, given the choice between the sleeping angel on his deathbed and the waking demon full of life, he’d take the demon every time.

Before long, Vincent was stirring feverishly. John went to his side before he knew what he was doing, leaning over him, the comforter falling to the floor in a heap. “Hey. How do you feel?”

His eyes opened halfway, and he pawed at John’s hand. “Like everything is dragging behind itself,” he slurred. “Water, please.”

John hurried to obey, and by the time he turned back, Vincent wore an entirely different expression. His eyes wandered languidly over John’s chest and shoulders, starstruck. In a small, hoarse voice, “The Ruska Roma has a good tattoo artist.” He sipped the water in the manner of a fine wine and licked his lips.

“Really, Vincent? This is not the time.” But he was grinning in relief. Clearly the Marquis was getting back to his old self. “…I’m glad you’re okay. Doc said there’s no permanent damage. But you could have died.”

“You saved me,” he said, with a smug little grin. God, he was adorable.

“Don’t do it ever again.”

“I’m sorry.” Something about the speed with which he said it and the way his grin suddenly faltered betrayed hidden depths of shame. “That’s easier said than done, Mr. Wick,” he said defensively.

“I’m not angry with you. I was worried. I want - ” This could really piss him off if he wasn’t ready to hear it. But it was worth the risk. John gathered himself and finished the sentence. “I want to get you help, if you’re willing.”

Vincent looked away and released a labored sigh, somewhere between pain and ecstasy. “I have never had someone worry over me for that. But now that I do…I would like to get better, I think.”

John glowed with pride. “When this is all over, we’ll – “

The door opened. Vincent turned towards the doctor, his affectionate side vanishing in an instant, replaced by something curious and cunning. Even looking up from the bed, he managed to look down his nose at this stranger who had intruded on their private moment. “Voici donc le médecin que vous m'avez trouvé. [So this is the doctor you found for me],” he said, speaking to John without breaking eye contact with the doctor. “Peut-on lui faire confiance? [Can he be trusted?]”

“Il faut l'espérer. [We have to hope so.]”

“Does he speak English?” the man asked John. He looked extremely hesitant to talk to Vincent.

Vincent’s glare could have killed. “Yes. Explain to me why my…assistant has no shirt in this very cold room.”

My assistant. What were they to each other? It was just occurring to John that he could not possibly explain that to anyone.

“Your clothes are being dried.” The man frowned. “I need to ask you both some questions.”

John didn’t like where this was going. He liked the look of mirth in Vincent’s eyes even less. He was getting ready to toy with this man, and that could only end badly. “Marjorie said you didn’t ask questions.”

“Ordinarily, I don’t. But in this case…” His eyes were lingering on John’s holster again. “If it’s alright, I just want to ask your friend about his medical history. Uh, or your…boss?”

“Something like that.” John made a point of handing the gun to Vincent and locked himself in the bathroom.

A minute or two later, laughter filtered through the wall, ending in a fit of strained wheezing as it disturbed Vincent’s stitches. “You can come out,” he called. “This idiot thought you kidnapped me. Ah, that’s too much.”

John gave an apologetic half smile to the doctor. “I appreciate the concern, but I think we’re done here, unless he needs anything else medical.”

“No, we’re not done here.” Vincent leveled the gun at the man, snapping from mirthful to joyfully vindictive in an instant. The man held both hands above his head, shaking. Dog growled, turning from one to the other, unsure what was going on.

“Hey. What are you doing? He just saved your life.”

“He also called the police on us.” Vincent was laughing again, now a low chuckle that said it-just-about-figures.

“What!?” Damn it.

“I – I didn’t mean – “ He was stuttering in confusion. “Look, Marjorie is too lenient when it comes to these things. You need to get to a hospital. It’s better to face your trial and get medical attention than to keep running, especially if you’re in some kind of hostage situation. Please don’t make your sentence any worse. If you kill me it’s just…it won’t help anything.”

Vincent smiled bitterly, and dragged himself up from the bed with as much dignity as he could manage while dressed in nothing but underwear and gauze. He swayed on his feet for a moment, still struggling with blood flow after that ordeal, but maintained his hold on the gun. “Jo- er, assistant, please get out your phone and search for news on wanted persons in the New York tristate area. And Pennsylvania.”

He did, and saw Vincent’s photo staring back at him. “Jean Felix, wanted for first degree murder. Potentially held hostage by another suspect, likely accompanied by a grey bulldog…no photo of me, I guess Winston must have talked them out of that one too.”

“Did they specify a method?” Vincent asked casually, now strolling right up to the doctor to press the gun flush against his forehead. “I hope they said axe. That would be…colorful. I’ve always wanted to try my hand with an axe.”

“What the hell is going on?” The doctor asked desperately, unable to avoid Vincent’s livid eye contact. “Are you saying you were framed?”

“Oh, now you ask? I thought you knew all about it yourself. Going to be the hero of the day, weren’t you? The nervous, twitchy little hero of the day, sticking your nose into other people’s business.”

“Let’s just – “ But John was too late. Vincent turned the gun sideways, and bashed it across the man’s face, breaking his nose in a shower of blood. The man doubled over screaming wildly, as Dog set off in a fury of barking.

Vincent, meanwhile, was collapsing against the wall, having overexerted himself. John ran to him, pulling him upright.

“Shit!” Still supporting Vincent, he turned to the doctor. “You should leave.”

He didn’t need telling twice.

Vincent lolled against him, spent rage giving way to fear and frustration. He chuckled weakly. “This is what happens when you trust people, John.”

“You survive. You would have died otherwise.”

“As if I won’t now, thanks to that rat!”

“No you won’t. I will keep you alive.”

As if to contradict him, both their phones lit up at the same time, first with one notification and then with a second. Vincent lurched towards the nightstand, trying to grab his. John’s arms around his waist kept him from falling. “Let go of me!”

Unwilling to touch him without his say-so, even for his own good, John lowered him to the floor. “I’ll bring it to you. But we already know what it is.”

He took a deep breath and handed Vincent his business phone – the source of endless trouble. He looked down needlessly at his own. Contract Update for Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont: Target cited at Blue Moon Motel, 206 Golden Key Rd, Kutztown, PA 19530. And then: Contract for John Wick: $20 Million. Open. International. Target cited at Blue Moon Motel, 206 Golden Key Rd, Kutztown, PA 19530.

Vincent was in the fetal position.

John went to his knees beside him. “Regardez-moi. Nous allons régler le problème. [Look at me. We’ll sort it out.]” He did his best to hide his own dwindling confidence. Vincent’s heart couldn’t take any more right now.

“Tu as tellement de chance que je ne l'ai pas tué. [You’re so lucky I didn’t kill him.]”

“Je sais. Mais nous n’avons pas le temps. Il faut qu'on bouge, d'accord? Puis-je vous aider? [I know. But there’s no time. We need to move, okay? Can I help you up?]”

Vincent turned his face away for a moment, screamed wordlessly into the carpet, and then turned back to John. “Oui. Bien. Tout va bien. [Yes. Fine. Everything’s fine.]”

John pulled him against his chest crushingly for a moment, before standing. “Oui. Tout va bien. [Yes. Everything’s fine],” he echoed.

Forcing down waves of emotion, he glanced around at the disarray surrounding them. “Let’s go. Grab anything important and put your shoes on. I’ll get the duffle bag.”

Another flight through the rain and they stumbled into the front lobby, John supporting Vincent on one arm, wrapped in a towel, and carrying the bag on the other.

“Oh my lord, what happened to you boys? And I just saw Mr. Elliot drive off too.”

“We’d like to check out. We’ll just take our clothes, if that’s okay Marjorie. I’m so sorry, genuinely. You’ve been very good to us.”

“Don’t tell me he called the cops, he promised me…”

“Yeah.” John sighed. “Listen, I know this is sudden, but…I’d like to buy your car.”

She sighed right back, eyeing his gun. “Don’t suppose I have a choice in the matter. Well, it’s an old junker anyway. The check engine light never turns off, and the brakes are starting to go. Okay if I clear out the glove compartment? I’ve got photos of the grandkids.”

John nodded.

When she got back, he ran his card for $20,000.

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#john wick #john x marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont #john wick fanfic #wickblr #marquis de gramont whumpee #gunshot #angst #emotional whump #hurt/comfort #whump fic #assassin whump #ao3 crosspost #enemies to lovers #dddne #// drugs #// relapse #// addiction #// overdose