#altprompt 11

[arianaofimladris]

Whumptober 2022

Another Witcher installment for Whumptober 2022.

Prompts used: - NO. 11 "911, WHAT'S YOUR EMERGENCY?" - Self-Done first aid - NO. 15 EMOTIONAL DAMAGE - New Scars - NO. 19 ENOUGH IS ENOUGH - Alt. 11 Stabbed

If you prefer to read on ao3, the story is available here: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42431703

Please consider tossing a few words to your writer. I accept and appreciate all kinds of reviews, critics too.

***

Sanctuary

His senses came back slowly. First was the scent or herbs and fresh linen. Second – the damp cloth on his forehead, low enough to cover his eyes as well. Third was the pain. He tried to move and his breath hitched as his left side flared up.

“Ah, finally!”

Geralt blinked as the cloth was removed. The voice was familiar and one he dearly wished to hear in his current situation. Nenneke, the priestess in the temple of Melitele, was the one he had hoped to reach. It seemed he had somehow succeeded, though the last thing he remembered was slow, painful ride with growing dread that he would not make it to Ellander in time. He couldn’t recall actually reaching the temple, but is seemed he had.

"I-," he tried to push himself up and felt the last bit of blood drain from his face as the pain returned with all its violence. His instinct was to curl back, arm wrapped protectively around his abdomen, hand pressed to the gaping holes at his side. He felt thick bandages under his fingers, the nauseating feeling suddenly overwhelming everything but pain.

"No, no, don't! It's too-"

-

"-Geralt? Oh, come now."

He felt warm, plump fingers patting at his cheek. He fought with his heavy lids and blinked, but his mind was too foggy to adjust his pupils. Geralt squinted and saw Nenneke leaning over him, one hand keeping him firmly in place, the other still on his face.

"What-?" His throat felt like sandpaper.

"You back with me? Good. Don’t try to move just yet, everything is still so fresh. Here.” The priestess raised his head a bit and pressed a mug to his lips. He drank greedily despite the awful, sour taste of the drink. It wasn’t worse than his potions and seemed to work just as well.

Once the pain dulled a little, Geralt finally managed to focus his gaze on Nenneke. She looked weary, dark circles under her eyes standing out against her pale face, but her eyes were lively as ever and her cheeks flushed with anger. She gained more weight since he had last seen her, but her movements were swift and energetic as always, despite her obvious weariness. Gone was her long braid and the robes she wore were different shade than he had known. Geralt remembered how she used to wrap her braid around her head to keep it out of her way. Now her hair was shorter, put in an elegant bun. His brain finally supplied him with information where he had seen the robes she was wearing. Oh, he realised. Mother superior. She was no longer one of the priestesses responsible for tutoring healers. She was the head of the temple.

He must have looked even less lucid than he felt, because Nenneke cupped his face again.

“Geralt? No, don’t fall asleep just yet, I need to redress the wounds and a little cooperation from your part would be appreciated. Tell me, what was that? Shall I worry about poisoning as well?”

“No,” the witcher whispered. “Griffin’s claws. I cleaned it.”

“Alright, I want you to turn on your right,” Nenneke slid one hand under his back. “Don’t try to do it on your own, just work with me. You somehow managed to keep your intestines inside you and I would like them to stay like that. A griffin? A mere griffin managed to grab you in half like that? What were you trying to kill it with? A spoon?”

Horizontal change of position didn’t cost him as much, but he still sucked a breath as Nenneke touched his side. Glancing down, he could see red spots on the dressings covering the deep puncture wounds the claws had left. He was glad the griffin hadn’t managed to tear the whole part of flesh from his side. He wouldn’t have managed to patch that up well enough to even hope to reach Ellander.

“I went after one. There were two. And a young one,” Geralt explained. “I wanted to deal with them anyway. Be done, go on.”

“So you were cocky. Look where it left you.” A stream of curses left Nenenke’s mouth as she finally removed the bandages. “No, don’t you move!” She hissed sharply as Geralt couldn’t stop a painful whimper and tried to roll back. “Don’t make it worse!”

Even if he wanted to oppose her, he had no strength to do so. Nenneke worked on his wounds, cleaning them and swearing at fresh blood that stained the cloth she was using. Geralt focused on his breathing, trying slow and calm his heartbeat. Both were too fast and shallow for a witcher.

After what seemed like forever, Nenneke wrapped him up again and let him rest. Geralt sighed in relief and swallowed, trying to get rid of the metallic taste of blood from his bitten lip.

“You still awake? Good. I want you to try and eat a bit.” Nenneke covered him back with blankets and carefully propped him up with additional pillows. Geralt tried to cooperate, but his head lolled against his will; it seemed impossible to keep it up. Nenneke sighed and sat at the edge of the bed, supporting his head to feed him. The witcher feared his stomach would rebel, but the broth was mild and warm. The process was painfully slow and humiliating. Frankly, he found himself too weak to really care.

A little food seemed to work wonders and at least the nauseating feeling was gone. Nenneke helped Geralt lie down back on his uninjured side and the witcher watched her lazily as she cleaned her tools and picked the bloodied bandages. After a moment of silence she caught his gaze and her expression hardened.

"One more thing, Geralt. What possessed you to take those drugs of yours? You came here quite idiotically high considering your state."

Geralt rasped. "Couldn't bear riding,” he admitted. “Had to stay awake somehow."

“Well, you didn’t come here exactly lucid,” Nenneke scoffed. “A group of merchants you met on the road brought you here two days ago, barely conscious, hanging on your horse like a sack of grain. Don’t look so surprised, people around know witchers come here for healing and learning, you’re hardly the only one.”

“Nice change,” he muttered sourly.

“That didn’t exactly answer my question.”

"Ran out of painkillers," Geralt winced.

Nenneke's nostrils flared dangerously. "What do you mean you ran out of? I don't know about your witcher tutors, but I sure remember teaching you better than that."

Geralt winced. "Had a rough month."

"Yes, I've seen." Nenneke shook her head in admonishment. "What did they stitch you that with? Twine?" She pointed at the fresh scar running a little below his right shoulder blade and down to the ribs. The skin was still pinkish, the edges rough and uneven.

"Nothing," Geralt replied. "I couldn't reach it, and-," he winced again and looked away. The memory still stung, despite everything.

Vesemir had warned him, warned them all before they set off, each on his own. He has warned them people would likely either hire them or spit at their sight. Geralt had quickly learned not to play the valiant knight. Still, so far the people he dealt with were suspicious but civil enough, so it came as an unpleasant surprise when he returned to the village with the head of the wyvern and was told to leave as soon as he was reluctantly paid. Nobody seemed to care he came back bleeding and they refused to help him. Geralt left then, preferring to set his camp in some secluded spot where he wouldn’t have to watch his back constantly. He patched himself up, then spent there the next few miserable days before he felt good enough to travel. The wound healed quickly, though not as neatly as it would have, had it been taken care of. Hence Nenneke’s obvious displeasure.

"And?" The priestess was clearly waiting.

Geralt told her briefly what happened, finding out that keeping his eyes open was becoming harder and harder. A full stomach, along with pain dulling potion and the warm blanket tugged around him made the prospect of undisturbed sleep irresistible.

“Fools and barbarians,” Nenneke placed the mug angrily enough to slosh a bit of broth. She sighed. “Well, I’m not letting you out of here until you are healed. Rest now, I will check on you later.”

[whumpneto]

Whumptober 2023 - No. 11: Alt Prompt #1 - Betrayal

Milo Ventimiglia as Ethan Tell in Tell (2014)

[random-fandom-whump]

Whumptober Day 27: Alt Prompt #11 - Stabbed ↳ Young Wallander S01E01

[mrmustachious]

Get Out of My Head

Summary: Virgil hurts Gordon in the worst way imaginable.

Day(s): 6, 11, 15, 18, 20, Alt 15

Prompt(s): “It should have been me.”, Captivity, “I’m fine.”, Tortured For Information, “Hit them harder.”, “You will regret touching them.”, Reluctant Whumper

Virgil paced back and forth across the dimly lit room. It was cold and damp, and there were no windows, only one small bulb that swung softly from the ceiling and created the limited light.

Virgil wasn’t concerned about any of that though. He barely paid attention to the cold he felt or where he was or how he’d gotten there. No, right now he was only concerned about where his brother, who had been at his side not long before they had gotten into this mess, was now.

Virgil rubbed a hand over his face as he spun on his heel and paced across to the other side of the room. If he could remember what had happened, he could figure out why he was there and maybe put together a way to get out.

And a way to find Gordon.

Read on AO3

[whumpypepsigal]

Whumptober 2022 | No. 28

Alternative Prompt No. 11: Stabbed

The Cleaning Lady s02e01-e02: “Look what they did to you.” — “What Hayak did. He sent two guys. And if I don't get out of here, he'll send more to finish the job.”

+bonus:

[sasuga-whump]

Whumptober 2022: alt prompt - sensory overload

Reunion the Sound of the Providence ep 4

Liu Sang's supernatural hearing causes him to be overwhelmed

[loopielupie]

Whumptober Day 18 - Alt prompt: Panic

Missing scene, post Taklamakan Desert Fight - Season 1 , Episodes 14 & 15

Xxxxx

“You’re dismissed. Go get some rest, full debrief will be at 12:00 tomorrow.”

Setsuna doesn’t wait to see what his fellow pilots do, turning and walking out of the briefing room. His skin is on fire, itching and writhing under his tight flight suit. As soon as he makes it into his designated room, he scrambles for the zip, making a choked off noise when it gets stuck in his uncoordinated attempt. He manages to pull it free and pushes it down to his waist. But it’s not enough. He grips his rash guard and yanks it over his head, stumbling when he’s momentarily blinded and suffocated by tight, sweat-soaked fabric clinging to his face. Disoriented, he smacks his hip into the corner of the desk and bites back a pained grunt before tossing his rash guard behind him and scrambling for the balcony door. It slams loudly on its runners but Setsuna doesn’t care as he slides down the glass and gulps lungfuls of crisp sea air, squeezing his eyes shut against the sting.

Goosebumps spread across his arms and torso and he shivers at the sudden temperature change, his skin is still singing with anxious overstimulation. He tucks his knees to his chest to block some of the wind and ground himself and stares out at the sparkling sea below as he tries to settle himself.

He’s not aware of anyone else on the balcony until a green-clad leg enters his peripheral vision and he looks up to find Lockon there, his own flight suit similarly pulled down to his waist. Setsuna loosens his grip on his legs a little, an old reflex in case he needs to run. There’s this urge to do so, to escape the island entirely, go back to his apartment where he can be alone, even though he knows Lockon, trusts Lockon. Because he doesn’t want anyone to see him lose it like this. But Lockon doesn’t mention anything about it, just offers him one of his usual smiles and a casual wave like they didn’t just spend close to 24 hours under continuous assault:

“Mind if I sit here?”

Setsuna pulls his attention back to the sea rather than say anything; he’s not sure he can actually speak right now. Thankfully, Lockon seems to understand and settles against the second panel of glass. He doesn’t crowd him and Setsuna feels his shoulders climb down another inch at the realisation. Lockon doesn’t say anything else and a quick glance to the side to see him leaning back against the glass, eyes closed and quiet, suggests he won’t.

For all the world, he looks like he's just taking a late-morning nap.

Setsuna, though, can see the dark shadows under his eyes and the minute tremors that run down his arms and into his hands, even where they’re pressed together between his legs. Setsuna can feel his own hands shaking, too. Lockon is not fine, no matter how much he pretends to be.

Setsuna’s just about to maybe try and ask a question, not “are you ok” because that’s stupid: none of them are, but something when Lockon opens his eyes. Setsuna feels himself flinch at being caught watching but Lockon doesn’t seem to notice and just heaves himself to his feet with a tired groan.

“C’mon, Setsuna,” he says, inclining his head towards the door. “We need to eat and drink something before we turn in and I dunno about you but I need a shower.”

His voice is light but the exhaustion is clear. Setsuna can feel the old sweat stinging his skin and the way his hair sticks to the back of his neck and shudders. So he nods in agreement and follows Lockon back inside, turning towards the shower room to try and scrape the previous 24 hours off his skin.

It doesn’t really work; the steam of the hot water is stifling, too reminiscent of his suffocating cockpit. Setsuna fumbles to turn it to cold, bracing against the shock but welcoming the different kind of sting.

[distant-screaming]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: คาธ | The Eclipse (TV 2022) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Akk/Ayan (The Eclipse) Characters: Akk (The Eclipse), Ayan (The Eclipse) Additional Tags: Angst, Canon Compliant, Episode 11, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crying Series: Part 14 of Whumptober 2023 Summary:

"I did it," Akk says. "I did everything by myself. No one else was involved." He's almost crying, but not quite. The words taste like ash on his tongue, relieving as much as they are terrifying.

Everything falls apart, then.

 (or: the ep 11 scene)

[catwings-writes-things]

Chapter Three of my Dracula/The Magnus Archives fusion AU where Mike Crew’s story happens to Mina and Lucy is up! Mina has entered into the feelings of the hunter. She’s also accidentally summoned some dogs. Unlike when Arthur did it in Dracula, this is not helpful.

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Whumptober day 3! Hopefully I tag this right because it’s an alt prompt. Featuring Silvie!

Protect Protect Protect

           Silvie sat perched in the branches of a tree outside the rebel hideout she and Oliver and Silas were visiting. Her keen yellow eyes saw everyone who entered and left the dark hole at the base of a massive tree stump, one that made the tree she sat in now look like a twig. She could smell their scents too, the boys’ familiar ones mingling with new scents of the Aguithans who were hiding there. If she listened she could hear their faint voices, though she couldn’t make out the words.

           The boys were making plans. Silvie was keeping watch. She didn’t like being around new people. Even other Aguithans made her nervous; she had been on the wrong end of their claws and teeth too many times for them to seem friendly. Not yet, anyway, maybe it would change someday (Oliver said it would).

           A new scent reached her nose and she tensed. Blood. At the same moment the voices in the cave rose and grew harsh. Her tail flicked, and she sprang out of the tree, twenty feet to the ground below. She ran to the mouth of the cave and crouched there, ears strained to hear.

           “Stop it, leave him alone!” Silas’s voice sounded scared and strained, like someone was holding him back.            “Look kid, you’re strangers here, we have to see if the rumors are true. If your friend really has all that power inside him it shouldn’t be too hard for him to give us a glimpse. Then we’ll believe you.”

           A growl rose in Silvie’s throat, and her hackles rose. Idiots! They didn’t understand! Oliver would get hurt if he used Almitak’s power, they hadn’t mastered it yet. But he wanted to help, Oliver always wanted to help, so he came anyway and now-

           She heard a cry and Silas screaming and smelled more blood.

           She saw red.

           A roar tore from her throat and Silvie ran forward, launching herself at the nearest Aguithan scent. She couldn’t see, but she felt fur and flesh tear as she ripped her claws across them. The Aguithan screamed. She didn’t wait. She launched herself at the next scent and sliced her claws through it too.

           The mist over her eyes cleared, and she saw her friends. Silas was restrained to one side by a large Aguithan with gray fur and an ugly scar on his face. In the center of the room was Oliver, his eyes consumed with light, terror covering his face, as he was held between two other Aguithans. One held a knife with blood on it.

           All this she saw in a frozen moment. She snarled, and sprang at the nearer Aguithan holding Oliver. She ripped her claws through his shoulder and ears, then pushed off him and slammed into the second. Oliver fell from their grasp and crumpled on the floor.

           Silvie looked up from the gashes she’d torn on the other Aguithan’s chest. Her claws dripped blood and her eyes were wild.

           “They are under my protection,” she snarled. “And they don’t have to show you anything.”

           The Aguithans stared at her, all of them but the one holding Silas sporting wounds from her claws. They were not half as bad as the ones she’d received when she was littler. They would heal.

           The Aguithan holding Silas let him go and he ran to her, froze for just a second, then bent over Oliver, who was crying. Silvie looked down at her friend and saw the cuts on his arm and chest. They hadn’t even taken his jacket off, and now it was torn. Oliver loved his jacket.

           Silvie’s eyes met the gray Aguithan’s. “I should kill you.”            He stared back at her, uncertain, then smiled a smile full of teeth. “I think you would, even though you’re just a kitten.”            “We don’t want your help,” she snapped.            “I-it’s okay, Silvie, I’m okay,” came Oliver’s shaking voice, and she turned to him, eyes softening.

           “I won’t kill them,” she told him, calmly. “But I should.”            “If your power is half as much as that girl’s,” said the gray Aguithan, pointing to Silvie. “Then we’ll fight with you.”            Silvie scoffed. “Not very good fighters if you can’t even stop me.”            He shrugged. “Or maybe you’re just a good protector.”

[treemaidengeek]

Whumptober: Possession & Protectiveness

Ft. Lan Xichen / Song Lan & Lan Xichen / Jin Guangyao

The Untamed

.............................................................

Lan-er's fingers flew over the guqin strings, faster and faster. The skin at the nape of my neck prickled. An instant later he turned wide eyes to me, lips parting on a soft "uhh" of distress.

Then the shaking started.

I was at his back in an instant, trying to still his convulsions with the gentle pressure of my embrace, reaching around to grasp for his hands. They strummed on, frenetic. I felt the sticky wetness of his blood under my fingertips. The energy of the room constricted around us, as sudden and dangerous as a summer storm.

And then, just as I reached for Liebing, Lan-er went utterly still.

The voice that emerged, delicate and pained, from his throat was… was…

"Er-ge?"

I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. This wasn't happening, couldn't be happening.

"Er-ge," he repeated, with wonder. Lan-er's sturdy form shifted in my arms. He half-turned to meet my gaze.

That broke my paralysis. My love's eyes were wide and deep, mouth held in a slight muoue, brows peaked slightly toward the crown of his head.

It was painfully familiar.

It was the most alien thing imaginable.

And… Lan-er's muscles, from the slight curve of his cheek to the knots of his shoulders, were almost rigid. Was he aware inside his body? Was he fighting?

“Jin Guangyao.” I took a breath to steady my voice. “Let him go.”

“I missed you.” He tilted his head--Lan-er’s head--to press his cheek into my chest.

I flinched away. “You don’t belong here anymore. Let him go.”

I could exorcise him, I thought wildly. A-Yao’s cultivation was not especially strong in life. It probably wouldn't be too difficult, even with the boost of resentful energy he must have received from the manner of his death.

But could I extract one soul from a fierce corpse without also banishing the other?

I wasn’t certain.

His face did… wrong things. I could see A-Yao’s pain and Lan-er’s fear tangled in the same beautiful umber eyes. A-Yao’s full mouth had been so mobile and expressive. The pouts, the dramatic frowns, the quick little smiles all looked so eerily incongruous on Lan-er’s subtle lips.

“I don’t belong anywhere anymore,” he agreed. He turned to kneel facing me and took my hands in his. I could feel them shaking with tension. “All of you fine nobles trapped me in a box to be Baxia’s bloody ragdoll forever.” He lowered his eyes and his voice.

How was he articulating so clearly in this stolen and scarred mouth? Lan-er was hardly silent, but his hands carried his words. I had never heard speech from his lips.

It didn't sound exactly like my memory of A-Yao. But I was painfully certain that the voice was not Lan-er's.

“It hurts, you know," he continued. "Not just the spiritual torture. I thought…” He swallowed. (Lan-er rarely swallowed. A-Yao was performing. The knowledge did not make me ache any less.) “I thought you saw me as an equal,” he finished quietly. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of, it’s true. But I wouldn’t expect you to let them do this to me.”

I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to hold his hands or thrust them away. I continued gripping them. Lan-er might or might not want the contact right now. But he certainly didn’t want A-Yao inside him. At least I could give him something safe to hold onto, to try and stay sane.

Gods. Lan-er often didn't even let people he trusted touch his skin. To have a stranger, and such a complicated one, inside his body–

“Please don't make me force you out. I will," I warned. "But it would be damaging for you and for the one you are possessing." I shook my head. "You built the coffin where you now lie. You can’t escape the consequences of your actions anymore. I’m sorry.”

His hand cupped my cheek. His voice was barely a whisper. “Er-ge. Don’t leave me alone in the dark.”

“I have been praying and dedicating merit.” I fought the impulse to shrink from the touch. “The rest is up to you.” With another breath, I hardened my heart and my tone. “Lianfang-zun. Let Song Lan go.”

For an instant, Lan-er looked at me with terrified and furious eyes. My breath and my surging heart tangled in my throat. My lips parted, wanting to cry his name like a summons, not quite daring.

Just as swiftly he was gone. A-Yao glared at me from stolen eyes blown wide. His tightening fingers clawed into my cheek.

"You've replaced us." A-Yao's voice shook with jealous indignation.

"Should I stay in solitary seclusion forever?" I snapped. "Yes. I found someone. He is one of the kindest, gentlest, most devoted people I've ever met. I love him. And you're hurting him." I flinched and reached up to touch the hand gripping my face. "You're hurting me," I added softly.

We sat motionless. He had forgotten to breathe, I realized.

"I did love you," he said at last, quietly. "You and Da-ge both. I never meant for– for any of this to happen."

I nodded once. My throat closed over all the words I had screamed into the night, written in endless journals, wanted to say and been unable to shape with tongue and voice.

"Can you ever forgive me, my heart?"

I swallowed, hard, past that clot of unspoken things. A fever radiated from my throat into the stiff space between my ribs and settled, hot and roiling, in my belly.

I didn't answer.

He reached, tenderly, to brush the tops of my cheeks. Oh. Tears. I was crying.

"Please stop," I choked out.

He sat frozen for a short forever. I choked again, pressed my hand to my mouth. Drew a deeper steadying breath. Stilled my mind and spirit for what I must do next.

He half-rose and kissed my forehead, scattering my fragile resolve, and resettled himself neatly onto the floor.

Then abruptly Lan-er sagged into himself shivering. He stared at me with the wide and wild eyes of a cornered animal.

Panic gripped me. "I'm–so sorry. Are you--do you want--can I help–"

He shook his head and made a shoving-away gesture. He used me to hurt you. His hands shook. I should go.

I grabbed the trailing hem of his sleeve. "No--please, not unless you want to. I–" Something within me shattered. "Can I hold you? Would that be alright?"

He hesitated, spine stiffening.

"Oh gods, I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask that. Please, do whatever you need to do. I'm so sorry." I was babbling. "I'm alright, I'll be alright. Please don't worry about me. I'll be– I'll be here. Or down by the falls maybe. You're safe. Don't play again without Wangji or me supporting, but– you're safe. He can't reach you without a way in."

He hugged his arms firmly over his chest as if he were holding the pieces of himself together. He blinked, stared through me with haunted intensity, squeezed his eyes shut, opened them again.

I… I'm sorry, I don't doubt you, but–promise me you won't hurt yourself?

"I won't," I promised, and then caught up with the question. My troubled ex-lover had used Lan-er's body against his will, to hurt me.

I cursed. It wasn't exactly parallel to what happened to Xingchen, but it was close enough.

"I won't," I repeated firmly. "I'm not going anywhere. No surprises." No suicides.

He nodded slowly, mechanically. Closed his eyes again. Took a slow, deliberate breath.

I forced myself to respect his space as he uncurled his body one finger, one limb at a time.

Can we walk to Crystal Falls together? he asked, finally. I… don’t think I can do touch right now. I’m sorry.

“Please don’t apologize,” I interjected swiftly. “I’m sorry that–he only came because–” I swallowed. “This is my fault.”

His umber eyes flashed. Don’t you dare blame yourself for this, his hands sliced sharply into the air. He stole so much from you. Don’t give him that as well. His actions have never been your fault.

Hot tears pricked my eyes again. I blinked them back along with the urge to protest. I wanted to take care of him. An argument is not what he needed.

“Let’s go to the falls together,” I said.

He twined his fingers in the drapes of my sleeves, and we walked together out into the twilight.

[whumpneto]

Whumptober 2023 - No. 11: Alt Prompt #1 - Betrayal

Milo Ventimiglia as Peter Petrelli in Heroes (S03E06)

[ladylucksrogue]

Day 11!

Inspired by that one line in one of the Clone Wars novels in which it is mentioned that Anakin once shot Obi-Wan's ship down due to a faulty update...

Anakin crash lands after shooting down Obi-Wan's fighter and goes to find him, fearing the worst, completely ignoring his own state.

[justheretobreakthings]

AI Whumptober Art Day 11 (Alt. Prompt 7): Protective

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

[mrs-luigi-vargas]

Chapters: 3/3

Fandom: Super Mario & Related Fandoms

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Kamek & Bowser, Kammy & Kamek, Bowser & Luigi, Mario & Luigi, Kammy & Bowser

Characters: Mario, Luigi, Kamek, Bowser, Kammy

Additional Tags: Cave-in, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, catatonic via magical exhaustion, Luigi is having a Bad Time mentally, Kamek is having a Bad Time physically, y'all know how whump is, whumptober 2022

Further along in their journey to rescue Princess Peach, Mario and his adventuring party gets ambushed and funneled into a cave. The cave collapses, and they get separated. Some end up in better shape than others by the time they reunite.

Chapter 1 Prompts: Ambushed, “I’ll be right behind you.”

Chapter 2 Prompts: Cave-in, Separated, Dislocation, Self-done First Aid, Punching the Wall, Anger Born of Worry, Magical Exhaustion, Catatonia (ft. “Just get it over with.”, Stabbed)

Chapter 3 Prompts: Catatonia, Allergic Reaction, Tears, “I don’t want to do this anymore.” (ft. Waking Up Disoriented)

[viva-la-whump]

Whumptober - Day 8

Chapter 7

altprompt 11 (replacing prompt no. 24) - Panic

Vah’nya had been right. Ba’kif had allowed both ships to go on the mission. Even the slightest possibility of finding a way to defeat the Grysk was too good an opportunity to pass up.

And so here they were, the Steadfast and the Springhawk, sitting in a remote part of the Chiss Redoubt near one of the as-yet unexplored planetoids, waiting for…something.

Borika had stayed aboard the Steadfast, acting as a sort of caregiver for Vah’nya as she recovered, while Thalias and Che’ri had transferred to the Springhawk once it had arrived in orbit over Ool. It made sense to split their forces like this, having two people on each ship who’d experienced the same thing, more or less. And for her part, Thalias was glad to be on the familiar ship, and she could tell Che’ri felt the same. However, there was another reason why Thalias was glad to be back, and that reason currently sat in the command chair, looking over the sensor data on his display board.

Senior Captain Ufsa’Mak’ro and Thalias hadn’t always been friends, but much had changed over the past twenty years. Nothing official had ever happened, though. It was a time of upheaval and chaos and their circumstances didn’t let them spend too much time together. But maybe, just maybe, if whatever this plan was ended up working…that might change.

A rapid beeping drew Thalias out of her musings and she looked at the source of the alarm.

“Sir, the sensor officer said. “There are multiple objects coming out of hyperspace directly–”

But he wasn’t able to finish before those multiple objects appeared in the viewscreen. Directly in front of them.

“Shields up!” Samakro ordered, but it was too late.

Whatever those things were, they were on them in a second, ramming into them and pulling the ship along with them. Thalias caught a quick glance at them before she fell to the deck and slid back towards the command chair. They were some sort of…creatures. Creatures the size of starships and with…tentacles?

One of the tentacles smashed against the viewport and a spider web of cracks appeared and instantly started growing across the window before the blast shield slammed into place, clocking their view of the entities and keeping the vacuum of space from killing them. All around her, Thalias heard shouting and alarms.

“Shields at 60%!”

“Engine One is offline!”

“Stabilizers are damaged!”

“Hull breach on deck–”

“The Steadfast is hailing!”

“We’re being pulled towards the–”

Thalias’ head swam with all the noise, hardly making sense of it all. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, her heart pounding, her eyes wide with fear as she looked up and saw Samakro gripping his display board and barking orders. Thalias saw his mouth moving but couldn’t hear what he was saying over the sudden ringing in her ears.

The ship bucked again and Thalias, just getting to her feet, stumbled back towards the navigation station. 

“Che’ri!” she yelled, her own voice sounding hollow in her ears. “Che’ri, are you–?”

“Alright.” The response was clear and calm, cutting through the chaos and panic. Che’ri sat there, hardly seeming fazed by what was happening. She looked at Thalias and smiled. “It’s alright. He’s here, and everything’s going to be okay.”

Only, Thalias didn’t feel that at all! Alarms rang out, people were shouting, and she could feel the Springhawk shudder and pitch under her feet.

“Sir, we’re being pulled into the planetoid’s gravity well!”

“Engage forward thrusters!” Samakro ordered

“They’re not responding!”

“Keep trying!”

Another voice called out. “Shields at 40%!”

The shuddering got worse and Thalias felt like the ship was going to shake apart.

“Starboard forward thruster engaged!”

“We’re approaching the surface!”

“Brace for impact!”

All crewers were already strapped in their harnesses, but Thalias didn’t have a chair to strap into! So she wrapped her arms more tightly around the navigation board, sparing one more glance at the serene young woman beside her before squeezing her eyes shut and waiting for the inevitable…