#tw dehydration

[h-a-unted]

No good deed goes unpunished.

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 24: Forced to Beg

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

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y/n_fan

liked by user, user, user, and 1,923,193 others

y/n_fan: I was bored and then remembered that y/n talked about how she didn’t have any water during Saudi Arabia and got curious. I rewatched all the races and so far have found 6 instances where y/n didn’t have water during the race. What on earth is happening in redbull??

view all comments

user1: seriously?? 6?

↳y/n_fan: I’m not even to Zandvoort too

user2: they better fix this before Singapore

↳y/n_fan: I’ll storm their headquarters myself if they don’t

↳user3: I’ll be right behind you

user4: 6!!! What the fuck is wrong with them???

↳y/n_fan: quite a lot I suspect

user5: did you really want to listen for all the times she didn’t have water? Or did you want to rewatch the races for Charles?

↳y/n_fan: ok listen…

↳user6: that’s a big mood. I’ve had Monaco on repeat since it happened

↳y/n_fan: ok that’s not one of y/n’s best races but damn did he look good on the top step

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @msimpala-67 @Americanvenom13 @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16

[faux-ecrivain]

Tables have been turned

(Trigger warning: yandere behavior, kidnapping, dehydration, and starvation. As well as a yandere reader, a yandere sister who doesn't show up in this chapter and Stockholm/Lima syndrome. This one is a little darker than my usual stories, but don't worry, it's only temporary. Also, this one is long, and I did use a grammar checking website. If anything seems off, it's because of the website. The one I usually use didn't let me check my grammar because there were too many words in this post. I'm actually super excited about this story, I've had this idea in my head for a while but didn't write anything because of the slump I was in. Hopefully, you guys like cause I really want to continue this.)

It wasn't hard kidnapping someone; all you had to do was be patient and memorize their schedule. Everywhere he went, everyone he talked to, and every store he shopped at could easily be discovered. Talas isn't a paranoid person. He never looks behind him and double-checks the locks on his front door. He just floats through life, unbothered and unconcerned with anything or anyone. He never considered himself a target. Sure, he wasn't the tallest or the strongest, but he wasn't interesting either. Sadly, just a little bit of caution could have prevented this situation and prevented him from being tied up in your dingy basement. If he hadn't been so friendly towards your sister, she would have never fallen in love with him.

"Why, why are you doing this?" He bravely asks with a quivering voice and huddled up in the corner. He rests his bound hands on his knees and tries his very best to disappear into the shadows. Shrugging, you walk forward, TV tray in one hand and pocket knife in the other. "Because she asked." Furrowing his thick brows, he flinches as you approach. "Who-" Gulping, he continues. "Who asked?" Your head tilts as you process his question; a dull gaze meets his frightened one as your dry voice responds. "My sister, who else?" Surprise and betrayal flicker across his face once you respond. Brows raised, you roll your eyes and crouch, placing the tray on the ground; you then reach forward with the knife. Talas flinches yet again, curling up in the corner to avoid your knife. He couldn't believe this; Olivia is the reason he's stuck here?! Rolling your eyes yet again at his cowardice, you waste no time yanking him forward by the ropes tied around his ankles. Predictably, he falls over as he's pulled towards you. "Quit cowering; she wants you alive."

This does not comfort him; instead, it worsens the dread within him. Your sister is the only reason he's unharmed. What if she changes her mind? Oh god, he's doomed, isn't he? The slicing of rope distracts him, and he watches as the fibers fall apart and land on the ground. He almost considers escaping until he realizes that his feet are still bound and you don't seem inclined to unbind those. You lean back, grab the tray, and bring it to him. "She wants you to eat." Oh, does she now?For some reason there is an unexplained rage within him at that sentence. His captor wants him to eat? In a show of rebellion, he tosses the tray out of your hold and pushes you away. Not that it does much; after all, you're much stronger than him.

Your vacant state does not relent as you acknowledge his disobedience. "I told her this wouldn't work." You stand, looming over him motionless for a moment. Discomfort crawls up his spine as your unforgiving glare remains, piercing into his innocent soul. "Guess you can starve." You croak, stepping away and turning without a second glance. Panic builds in his stomach as you walk away, panic at being left alone, at the potential idea of starvation. But rationale tries to chime in, assuring him that you wouldn't do that. After all, your sister loves him, and you mentioned that she wants to keep him alive. Surely she wouldn't let you starve him, right?

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

Oh, how wrong he was. It hadn't been very long since you walked away, locking him in this wretched place, but it was long enough to start to wear him down. He did his best to count the time, but it was hard to do without a watch, and it was even harder to count the days without a calendar. He assumes it's been three days, though; he couldn't tell. Most of his time was spent asleep. What he did know was that he was thirsty, his throat was terribly dry, and he would do anything for a glass of water.

Tired eyes watch the ceiling, following the pattern of the concrete and drawing imaginary shapes on it. This is what he did when he wasn't sleeping; he occupied his mind. It worked, to an extent, but it can only do so much. When you first left, he had tried untying the rope around his ankles; sadly, whoever tied it did four different knots, and he was too weak to keep trying. Sighing quietly, he licks at his dry lips and curls against the thin mattress he's forced to lie on. Just as he was returning to the arms of Dreamland, the door swings open, and he shoots up, causing mild dizziness, and so he lies back down. His wary gaze watches as you enter; he notices the sweater you wear and the pants you paired it with.

Oh, and combat boots, how intimidating, he muses. Talas is so bored that he's started analyzing outfits, hurray. Catching himself, he steels his nerves and cautiously watches your approach. "Olivia wants me to check on you; she thinks you'll listen now." Your apathetic voice drones; clearly you disagree with her. Determined to ignore you, he eyes the door behind you; you probably locked it, but he can still fantasize, right? Exhaling softly, he blearily blinks his tired eyes and briefly glances at your face. Then he turns his gaze to your shoes; they're leather, he notices, and they're worn. They must be old; there are even a few stains on the bottom. He wouldn't be surprised if it's blood. Crouching, you reach for his face; he freezes as you force his chin up.

His fear fades for a moment once you bring a glass of water to his lips, and his exhaustion disappears for a moment. Talas' pale hands snatch the glass from your hand, chugging it desperately. You scoff, but he pays no mind. Once the glass is empty, you effortlessly pry it from his cold hands, and he nearly begs for more. Then confusion occurs as he tries to understand why you allowed him water. "Olivia wants you alive, remember?" Oh, right. "Why?" He croaks. Your gaze makes him feel stupid for asking. "Because she loves you, obviously." Anger, again, rushes through him, and he weakly forces himself to sit up. "Bullshit, if she loved me, I wouldn't be down here." But you don't lash out; no, you just stare, vacant and uninterested.

Then you tilt your head. "We all love differently, Talas." The way you address him sends shivers through his body; hairs stand as he tries to understand your dead tone. "Are you going to behave now?" Leaning forward, you place a heavy hand on his shoulder, and he tenses. "My sister made a wonderful meal for you." Your other hand soon joins the other and holds him still. "A delicious soup, I believe it's chicken noodle. She's been simmering it for a while; you really should try it." His stomach grumbles, ignoring the protesting of his mind, at the thought of warm soup, and his favorite at that. Wiping at the drool that begins to gather at the corner of his mouth, he tries to pull back. You don't let him, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Aren't you hungry? You haven't eaten in three days; that's a long time for someone...like you." The subtle jab at his weight is not lost, but he's too preoccupied to care. Talas bites his lip, trying to distract himself from the hunger. "No." He murmurs, insistent on rebelling. You sigh, release his shoulders, and grab the cup, which you had previously placed down. "Oh well, I tried." Rising from your stance on the floor, you shake your head and turn from him yet again. He watches as you walk away, as the door locks yet again, and he's left in the dark. A small amount of regret begins to build in his gut, but he buries it under his stubborn desire to prove something. You come back a few more times that week, offering water every two days and constantly tempting him with something delicious.

But he persists, stubbornly refusing each time. It's around the fourth week that he starts to crack.You hadn't come down in nearly four days; he was again thirsty, but most notably he was lonely. Sure, you were a terrible person, but at least you visited him, unlike the woman you claimed loved him. 'If she loves me so much, why hasn't she stopped by? Why is it always you?' His treacherous mind begins to think. 'Why doesn't she intervene? Are you just using her as an excuse to hold him hostage?' Scoffing, he leans against the wall, a shiver wracking his body as the cold begins to set in. "Geez, some blankets would be nice." Talas murmurs, running his arms and then tucking his hands in his sleeves.

He leans his head on his knees and stares at the floor, avoiding the sight of his bruised ankles and fighting back tears. He never asked for this; he was just being nice. He doesn't want to be here. What did he ever do to deserve this? Sniffling, he buried his face in the fabric of his pants and hugged his knees tighter. Talas' pity party is interrupted by the lock of the door; it's you, it has to be you. His head shoots up, eyes wide as he watches you enter. Gasping, relief overwhelms him once he sees you walk in with a tray. You've brought him something, and it smells amazing. Stomach grumbling, Talas sits straight as you grace him with your presence.

Vaguely he registers the door slamming shut, acknowledging the fact that it was likely Olivia who shut it, as your hands are full. You casually stroll over to his mattress, greeting him with a snarky comment. "She's tired of your disobedience." You lean down, sitting on your butt and crossing your legs. "And I'm sure you don't want to drag this out, right?" He should've been irritated by that comment, but he was hungry and tired, so he said nothing and simply shook his head. Then you smiled at him, and he was shocked; you never smile, and yet here you were gazing at him with a victoriously smug glimmer. He found this mildly upsetting but was too starved to care.

Patiently, Talas waited for you to place the tray in front of him, and then he attempted to feed himself. Sadly, his hand was far too shaky to hold the plastic spoon, and you took it from him. He whines, assuming you were going to take his meal from him but was pleasantly surprised when instead you began to feed him. His poor delusional mind, worn from being stuck in a dingy basement with little to no light and absolutely zero outside interaction, felt a flicker of affection for such a simple act. Did this mean he was swayed? No, he still refused to accept the fact that Olivia loved him, but he was more permissive now, and that worked fine for you. It meant Olivia could finally start visiting him, with supervision, of course.The meal ended far too quickly for Talas' liking, but he didn't protest, simply grateful to be fed.

When you began to gather the utensils up, placing them in the empty bowl, he began to feel minor panic. Was he going to be alone yet again? His nervous gaze flickered across your empty face, and he hesitantly reached for your sleeve. Your eyes snap to his hand, and immediately you pull away; disgust crosses your face as you snarl at him. "Don't touch me." Wincing, Talas shrinks into the corner and curls his arms as tight as possible around his knees. Oh no, what if you hurt him? Yes, she wants him alive, but she never mentioned unharmed. Or did she? He doesn't know she hasn't talked to him. Your fierce expression lingers for a moment, then slowly dissipates, and you seem to move on from the interaction as you grab a napkin and dab at his face.

At first, this gentle action frightened him, mostly because you had snapped so quickly, but being lonely messes with one's mind, and he was ever so lonely. So, he allowed you to treat him so kindly and then frowned when you were done. He watched as you got up, resisting the urge to pull you back lest you snap once more, and exhaled quietly. Staring down at him, your croaking voice draws him back to the present. "Olivia is going to stop by tomorrow; don't mess up, okay?" You warn him with a stern glare and a dark tone. Talas gulps and nods, watching as you walk away, and observes the peculiar way you knock at the door. Once you leave, it's quiet yet again, and the cold begins to seep into his bones, as does the detestable longing for company.

[serickswrites]

I Get Overwhelmed

Warnings: deserted, left for dead, head injury, bruises, sprain, hallucinations, dehydration

Whumpee stumbled along. They were so tired. They were beyond thirsty. Everything hurt. But they couldn't stop. They had to keep going.

They hobbled on their swollen, bruised ankle, no doubt horribly sprained. Each step was agony. But they couldn't stop. They had to keep going.

Worse than the overwhelming thirst was their aching head. Whumper had hit them pretty hard. Had hit them over the head, tossed them from the car, and sped away. Leaving Whumpee alone in the unforgiving heat.

"Cheer up, Whumpee. You can do this. Keep going," Caretaker said as they walked along beside Whumpee.

Whumpee knew Caretaker wasn't really there. That they were a hallucination. But they appreciated the company. Because they couldn't stop. They had to keep going.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat @artisticdemon

[sweetmmminori]

I wanna go home and take a niiiice long nap... with a glass of water...

[styx-class-nhp]

Does anyone know how to get a memetic out of your system because someone sent me [ObsidianTalon.omf.secure]

And even though I intercepted it I still have a dry mouth and a headache

[courtneygacha]

Careless pt.3

Part 1, Part 2

Tw: Escape, bruises, passing out, unconsciousness, dehydration, unclear character status

It was very easy to escape from Whumper, especially since they hadn’t bothered to chain them to anything. Whumper had assumed that Whumpee would cry and cry, make themselves too weak to stand up. I mean, they hadn’t moved since Whumper took them about a week ago. Why bother tying something down that wasn’t going to move anyways?

But after a few days the realization hit Whumpee that Whumper was right; Caretaker wasn’t coming for them.

And so Whumpee regained their strength and fled Whumper’s home. Which to their surprise, was in the middle of nowhere.

Whumpee was sore and exhausted, trudging through the night with bruises all over their body. They even thought that their wrist was broken.

Maybe me and Caretaker will match… Whumpee thought painfully.

The night was hot and humid, giving them heat flashes and making them sweat a lot. Their mouth was dry and they were oh-so-thirsty. If Whumper didn’t try to kill them, dehydration surely would. When was the last time they drank water…? It’s been a bit since they’ve been with Whumper…

The highway they were walking on seemed like it would go on for miles.

Whumpee was shaking with every step, expecting their knees to give out and crumble each time they moved. They wanted to lay on the floor and sleep forever, but they knew that no one would come for them if they did.

“W-We’ve just gotta… get to safety…” they huffed with each step.

A little pebble on the sidewalk of the highway threw Whumpee off their balance, having them land sideways on the ground. Their cheek scraped the road and it began to bleed. Whumpee started to cry. Cry because they were tired and hurt. Cry because they were sweating and thirsty and on the verge of passing out. Cry because they knew nobody was coming for them.

If nobody’s here to help, why am I trying? They thought to themselves. Whumpee just laid on the side of the road, too weak and too much in pain to push themselves up.

Whumpee started to have muscle spasms in their legs from dehydration. Their throat was dry and their body was begging for a drink of water. There was nothing in sight, and Whumpee’s vision began to grow dark.

I’m sorry… Whumpee thought, though they weren’t sure who they were apologizing to. Caretaker probably wouldn’t give a shit if Whumpee was able to apologize to their face. So they were apologizing to themself, for being too weak to get to safety, for always being such a nuisance to other people, for putting themselves in this situation, and for giving up and letting them die in the humidity of the night.

Taglist: @whumpy-whump-fanfics @bookbutterfly9 @whatwhumpcomments @whumpdreamz @diamond-flavored-whump @zoethehead @annoyinghairdoranchhumanoid-blog

[the-vast-avatar]

The fact that millions of acres where just. No life exists is absurd to me. No birds, bugs, or even plant life in some extreme cases. If you were dropped in the middle of it, no matter where you looked or ran to, you would die. It would be a death sentence only defined by dehydration.