#febuwhump 23

[shih-coulda-had-it]

FEBUWHUMP DAY ELEVEN | FEVER | wc: 100

“What do you mean, you haven’t had a booster shot in fifteen years?”

Yoichi peers at the blurred face staring down at him, suspicious of the dark shadow hovering around the eye area. His older brother had found that intimidating power only a month ago, and he wore it constantly, even around family. What color are the eyes? he asks himself, but before he can determine that, he sees the feathery pale blue strands of Sanjuro’s ponytail.

“Hey,” says Sanjuro. “Are you even vaccinated?”

He plays dumb. “What are those?”

The right-hand man of the rebellion heaves a huge sigh.

[scullysexual]

05.02

Febuwhump Day 5: "I just want to go home." Whump prompts. Post Irresistible. AO3. @today-in-fic

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

She’s sitting on the curb, a blanket wrapped around her. There’s still lots of activity; the ambulance silently flashing its siren, cops and cars still linger about and then there is Scully staring off into the void- alone, ignored.

You pull away from the crowd, placing yourself down on the curb beside her.

“How you holding up?” you ask and while she only shrugs you can tell by her appearance she isn’t doing well.

You sigh, unsure what to do but knowing this Scully scares you.

“I can book a motel room for the night if that’s what you want.”

“I just want to go home,” she says quietly. You nod.

“Yeah, I’ll book the flight soon as.”

Then she’s crying again and now you are really scared. You push that fear aside however and move closer to her, wrapping your arms around her again.

You say her name, trying to comfort her but you feel like you’re doing nothing. She buries her face in your shoulder all the same.

Looking into the crowd you see one of the cops staring back at the two of you, an expression you can’t quite make out on his face. Your eyes meet for a second before the cop quickly averts his gaze, caught, guilty. You hate it, it makes you weary. They shouldn’t be seeing Scully like this, you think.

“Come on,” you say, pulling her up as you pull yourself up. “Let’s get a room anyway, we don’t need to stay- we’ll find the earliest flight and leave.”

She nods and you lead her to the car, helping her into the passenger seat. Once satisfied that she is comfortable you quickly run over to your own side, anxious to get away from the prying eyes, away from the memories of Minneapolis, Minnesota.

[thebigoblin]

The Saturday Routine

@febuwhump Day 7: Made To Watch + @badthingshappenbingo Square Filled: Hiding An Injury (card attached at the end). Also, will post on ao3 later. EDIT: POSTED!

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski & Eli Stilinski-Hale

Tags: Hurt Derek Hale, Hurt Eli Stilinski-Hale, Blood, BAMF!Stiles, POV Eli Stilinski-Hale, Sheriff Stilinski Makes An Appearance, Attempt at Humor, Spark Stiles Stilinski, True Alpha Derek Hale, Fluff & Angst, Happy Ending

The last thing he clearly remembers is watching his dad laugh.

They were in the locker room of the high school, after-hours, joking around as they normally do on Saturdays. His dad is a trusted man, the Sheriff's consultant, and an overall loved Beacon Hills citizen. Which means that the Principal of the school — Ms. Natalie Martin — has allowed them to use the school grounds for practicing, even if he isn't good at playing lacrosse (yet, says dad's voice in his head).

This is all routine. Waking up early on Saturdays, getting ready and having breakfast, going to the school, practicing lacrosse there for hours, and only leaving when it's time for lunch. What isn't is this huge gap of memory, his head pounding, and his ears ringing.

And, most importantly, these ropes.

"Wha-?"

He can't even speak. His throat is dry, he needs to drink, he needs to remove these ropes from his wrists and most importantly, he needs to know his dad is okay.

He coughs to clear his throat. Once, twice. "Dad-"

"Shh," he hears through the ringing in his ears, and thank fuck, that's his dad. He is fine.

"You are-"

"Eli, please shut up."

He shuts his mouth with a clack of teeth. He tastes blood, but it's okay. At least he knows now, his dad is here, and he sounds fine. Right? Right.

But where is he? Where are they?

This certainly isn't the diner they frequent for Saturday lunches.

He would just open his eyes and check, but as it turns out, he has blindfolds on, too.

He's 99% this is the work of hunters.

Wait... he hears chanting.

"Is that fucking chanting?!"

"Eli!" His dad hisses, somewhere from his front, but it's too late. A door opens with a loud creak, and it's creepy enough, but then the one who opened it has to speak, too.

"Aha! You wolves are awake. Good. Very good."

Cliché witch dialogues. His tata was right — these villains are very predictable.

As he's wondering about his tata and what he would do to escape — WWTD (what would tata do) — he's suddenly moved from his position. It's good, because he was starting to cramp.

"Eli!" His dad is shouting behind him, and he wants to tell him something, anything, just to reassure him, but then the witch slams over a duct tape on his face.

He knows the taste of it because of his many, many spent evenings working on his tata's jeep.

"Mmmph!"

"Quiet, baby wolf. You are required for your purity, not for your tongue. I will not hesitate to cut it."

"Mmmphh!" They really are after virgins! He really should invest some time in his love life at this point. Hell, it won't even be hard to convince his parents to let him date — he just needs to find someone who matches his energy.

He's shaken out of his thoughts when he realizes the chanting is growing louder.

There are more of them?

His dad must have realized this earlier, because he's cursing them and growling, his loud, Alpha roar not too far away. He knows because he's heard it loads of times, and it's always as mesmerizing as it is terrifying (his tata always smells disgustingly horny when it happens).

"Get the Alpha now. He's angry enough to fuel the spell."

Oh.

Oh.

He was just the bait.

*

His blindfolds are taken off the moment he's put into the cage, large and glinting silver under the sunlight coming from the open roof of the cave.

There are six witches, standing in a circle, wearing grey and blue robes. Their faces are hidden, but all have the same tattoo on their necks: pigs. Who the hell tattoos that?

His focus only stays on them for a minute, though, because just then his dad's being dragged through the only entrance by the seventh member. His dad is in chains and tattered clothes, and he's huffing in pain, growling at everyone until he sees him.

"Dad! What the hell did you do to him?!" He directs his question to the circle, who ignore him until his dad is in the centre of it, eyes locked on him.

It's like he doesn't even care about himself, as long as his kid is safe. Eli hates it.

He wants his dad to be okay!

"A wolf will fight tooth and nail for its cub," one of the witches says, and Eli snaps his eyes to her. She is smiling at him, a crooked, cruel smile. "And your father? He fought well. Like an Alpha should."

"He is poweful," another witch adds.

"And he will be useful to us." A third one intones, voice heavy with expectation.

"You will not hurt my dad—!"

His dad says at the same time, "I will help you, but on one condition."

The attention is shifted to his dad.

Eli knows exactly what his dad is going to say — he starts protesting, but no ears heed his words.

"Release Eli, and I will do as you ask. His safety, for whatever it is you want me to do."

The witches tsk, admire, appraise.

Eli waits for their answer.

"No."

He sighs in relief.

His dad tries to move, to attack, maybe, but he can't. He's on the ground before he can, and Eli has to crane his neck to see — it's a fucking taser. To the back.

"You said you wanted a virgin!" He shouts. And the attention is on him now, even his dad's, who is writhing with pain on the stone ground. "My dad is not one. Obviously. He's a gross adult who does those gross things with my tata, they always keep kissing, it's all very teenage horror. Don't ask." He waves his hands around as he keeps talking. "Me, on the other hand? I haven't been kissed." He's not proud of it, but he's only fifteen.

Sure, his tata met the love of his life at sixteen, but on the other hand? His dad met his one true love at the age of twenty-two, and even then it took them years to figure their shit out.

Eli has hope.

The witches cackle as one.

"Oh," one of them says, "how precious. Are they not, sisters?"

"They are." They all echo. Fucking creepy.

"They think we need only one of them. How optimistic of you."

No.

He is not just the bait.

He locks his gaze on his dad's. They're both panicking.

Eli can do nothing but watch as his dad is made to stand on shaky legs, their eyes still locked with each other's. The witches have once again formed a circle, and his dad is in the middle of it, and Eli can't take his eyes away.

Not even when they slice his dad's shirt, remove it completely. Not even when they put a knife on his chest and stomach, carve three lines vertically downwards. Not even when his dad cries out in pain, mouthing "Leave! Escape!" every second of it, his eyes as scarlet as the blood coming out of him.

All he can do is watch and cry, his wrists still tied, his wolf still sheltered.

*

His dad is unconscious, now, and he's too far for Eli to check up on. The only sign he's alive is his weak heartbeat — Eli can hear it, even if faintly. He wishes he was a better wolf, but unfortunately he is not.

That is what happens when you're a magical tree baby, half of both your parents, somehow. He's hardly a wolf and not at all a spark.

He's 100% useless.

He's crying, because that's the only thing he can do.

He doesn't even kick up a fuss when they come for him, next.

They don't tear off his t-shirt; they pull it up, just start cutting into him. One single slash across his abdomen, like they did his dad's: First in the middle; from the middle of his pecs to his belly button. Then the left side, below his pec till the belly button, and same on the right side.

The knife is on his left side, just about to slash into him, when the witches' robes suddenly starts flying like there's a huge gust of wind.

Eli's t-shirt falls into place right as the witches fall on the ground.

"Tata!"

It's him. Weilding his gun and anger.

"Nobody takes my boys," his tata growls, a very good impression of his dad's, and every single witch is done for now.

They go down like nasty flies his tata hates.

Eli doesn’t focus on the whole fight, though. He knee-walks towards his dad, checks his breathing just to be sure, and cringes when he sees the blood and injury on his stomach. Its healing, but slowly — they must have used wolfsbane on the knife.

"Take him out to the jeep!"

He does as his tata asked, puts his whole strength on saving his dad. He almost doesn't make it; his dad is too heavy, he can't, he can't pick him up, but his dad can die—

He's a fucking Stilinski-Hale and he can do this. He's the son of two of the strongest people and he believes he can save his dad.

On the fourth try, he's able to carry his dad bridal style. His tata is still fighting, three witches on him at once, the other four thrown against the cave's walls, but he knows he can handle himself.

He can.

Eli puts his dad on the backseat of the jeep, and he's just secured him when his tata comes out, quickly taking the driver's seat and telling him to sit as well so they can run to Lydia. There's no space left in the backseat, so he sits on the passenger seat.

"Are you hurt?"

"No." He lies. Dad is the priority, not him. "Tata, he's not healing,"

"Shh, baby, shh. Your daddy will be okay," his tata brings a hand to his face, the other on the steering wheel, and it comes away wet. He didn't even realize he was crying. "He'll be okay. Your dad is strong, and you know him, he never misses a game."

"Granpops and him have a watch party tomorrow," he reminds himself. They have never missed one. Ever.

"Yes. He'll never miss it. Okay, baby?"

He's hated being called baby ever since he was four. He loves it now.

"Okay." And then because he thinks this is the last he'll every say: "I love you both. Sooooo much."

*

When he wakes up, his head is pounding, and he hears screaming.

It's his tata. And he's not yelling as so much as... venting.

About him.

"That dumbass kid didn't even tell me he had an injury! And not just any injury, a frockin' slash! Through his abdomen!"

His granpop's laugh. The belly laugh.

"It's not frockin' funny! Dad!"

"You did it again!" What did tata do again?

"I— your grandchild could have died and you are focused on your son saying made-up bad words? Seriously?" Eli imagines his tata throwing his hands up, and the fond smile that graces his dad's face when he does. He and grandpops generally just leave them alone at that point, because after that it's just a toin coss away from a make-out session or full-on sex.

"Kid, I had you as a teen. This doesn't even phase me anymore. He'll be fine, he's a strong kid."

Pause. Then: "He is. He is totally Derek's kid."

"And yours, Stiles."

"Nope," it sounds like he's aggressively cleaning dishes, a plate grating under his harsh hands, "today he's just Derek's kid. How the fuck — yes, dad, be proud of me for using actual cuss words, why not — they got kidnapped off of the school grounds when he's an Alpha, a True Alpha, and now they're both pretending to not be awake to postpone my wrath." Oh, so his dad's fine now. "And they're both wondering if the other is okay or not. Der, your kid is alive, and Eli, your dad is fine."

"That tone means trouble," his grandpops says, unnecessarily.

"Thanks for stating the obvious!" Eli shouts, and he hears his dad saying the same, and then they're both groaning, probably due to the stitches being pulled. Though his dad groans louder.

"Wow. You really know them."

"I just know your favorite son-in-law. His kid's literally just the same."

"Hey, now, you know Eli is your carbon copy."

Eli lets the conversation wash over him, the familiar sounds lulling him into sleep, right until he hears his name and being a Spark in the same sentence.

"...saw his eyes, they were purple."

"This was when he picked up Derek?"

Oh.

Oh.

He believed.

"Yeah. It was so cool. His eyes then turned beta yellow."

His tata hums, and then it's silent.

Eli wants to know more.

He gets up from his bed, careful with his injury, and realizes with a start — this is his bedroom, on the second floor, and his tata and grandpops are clearly on the first floor, in the kitchen.

He's running at full speed right until he hits the landing of the stairs and bumps shoulders with his dad, who was doing the same.

They both groan as their stitches once again complain.

"Told you!" His tata shouts over them groaning in pain.

"How?" Eli mouths to his dad. He didn't hear anything.

"Notepad," his dad mouths back.

"Notepad!" His tata shouts from below at the same time.

"Okay, wow, you really do know us well."

"Kid, don't be so surprised," Grandpops says, and then, "Your tata is a Stilinski. And you are half Stilinski too. We do amazing things."

"Yeah," his dad says softly. Louder, "You three are amazing. Though, I have to say Stiles is something else entirely."

"No buttering me up will work! And no bribes either, house chores or... other means!"

Eli shudders. "Ew."

His dad gives him a look.

Grandpop calls out a greeting. "And that's my cue to leave. Stiles, leave Derek alive for tomorrow's game. We have never missed one and we won't be starting now. And don't be too hard on Eli, remember he's my favorite grandchild."

"I'm your only- okay, when will me shouting and groaning combo will end?"

"No promises, dad. And you two, don't you dare think of hiding out in your rooms."

The two of them walk downstairs, and even though he and his dad share a look of solidarity, they know they're no match against one Stiles Stilinski-Hale.

At least they're given smiley-pancakes after they have been thoroughly reamed (and hugged a million times).

* END *

my bad things happen bingo card —

[zarvasace]

More Than You Can Chew

(febuwhump day 12, I like this one!)

Summary: At the end of the Roaring Twenties, Warriors has to come clean about his vampirism so they can track down who kidnapped Wind.

Prompt: "Can you hear me?" Warriors POV, Wind-centric. Historical setting, vampires, blood and gore. 4k words, rating this Mature for gratuitous violence near the end. This is very dumb and so much fun. Set in 1931 America. CWs for the gore and WWI trauma. :) AO3 link!

---

Warriors pulled his hat off as he ducked through the bar's front door. Conversation and laughter nearly drowned out the record playing near the wall, some popular singer he didn't know. A haze hung low in the air from all the pipes and cigars. Warriors just held his breath. 

A few people called out at him, and he gave them his best smile and a wave before heading into the back rooms. If his heart was in the habit of beating, it would be in the running for a race. 

He felt the tension as soon as he entered the club room in the back. The others looked up when he arrived. 

"Anything?" Time asked, standing at the head of the repurposed, paper-strewn pool table with his hands behind his back. He'd loosened his tie, and he didn't seem to notice the coffee stain on his white sleeve. 

"Yes," Warriors responded before he could back out. 

Hyrule perked up from where he sat in the corner with Wild, both of them fussing over a table laden with Bunsen burners and beakers. A concerning stream of colored vapor rose into the air from one of their experiments. Their experiments looked like magic, sometimes.

"What did you find?" Hyrule said.

Warriors shrugged his jacket off and hung it up beside the door, trying to collect his buzzing thoughts and delay the inevitable. He pulled out one of the mismatched chairs and sank down into it, rubbing at his mouth. He should've had something to drink before coming, perhaps that would've calmed his nerves. 

"It's bad, isn't it?" Sky asked quietly, noticing the hesitation. Next to him, Twilight pressed his lips together, looking up from the map of the city. Four took a break from writing and sat back to wipe at the inkstains on his fingers, waiting for Warriors to begin. Legend similarly looked up from his knitting—he'd never quite gotten over the childhood wartime habit. 

"It's not good, no," Warriors responded. He had everyone's attention, now. No backing out, he reminded himself. His words seemed to leave him, and the only thing that came out was—"Wind is older than me."

Legend stared at him. "Hyrule, check him over, I think he hit his head."

"No, I'm being serious." Warriors shook his head at himself. "I'm sorry. That was an awful way to begin."

"Do you know where Wind is?" Twilight asked impatiently. "Yes or no?" 

"I have important context for his disappearance. It'll lead us to him, eventually. Or, just me, I don't… if you…"

"Warriors. Spit it out," Time interrupted. Steel glinted in his eye, a far cry from the scared young adult Warriors remembered meeting in France. 

Under that gaze, Warriors found himself sitting straighter, despite the memories. The others knew he'd fought in the Great War, same as Time had, though they didn't know the extent of it. Warriors appeared too young to have been a soldier, at least one who hadn't lied about his age. He knew Sky had, in order to get in at the end.

"Yes, sir. This is going to sound a little bit crazy, everyone, but you need to bear with me. Time, you may not remember, but in your very first unit as a soldier, I was in command." Warriors watched the confusion float over Time's face, echoed in a few others around the table. "When that slew of reorganization came through, you transferred out, and Wind transferred in."

"What?" Sky asked slowly. "Wind wasn't even born then, Wars." 

"I know what it sounds like, Sky. Look, I knew he had to be too young to have been honest on the enlistment form, but there he was, and we needed people, so I didn't push it. I just made sure to watch for him, and got a bit attached, I admit. He was always a reckless kid." He got a few snorts from that. Four looked thoughtful, though most of the others still frowned like they thought Warriors was insane. 

He continued. "We were in the trenches. Our unit was scattered, I was terrified they'd throw in some gas, and all I could focus on was finding Wind." Warriors smelled dust as he remembered. Dust and blood. "I found him, alive apparently, covered in blood. I managed to tackle him before he got hit with shrapnel from a shell. I got hit with it instead, felt the bits lodge in my lungs. I was definitely going to die. He screamed at me for saving his life, but what was I supposed to do?" 

"Wars," Time said in warning. The lamps tossed darker shadows over his face than usual. 

Warriors shook his head and tried to get to the point. "To make a short story even shorter, he asked me if I wanted him to save my life. Instead of dying that night, as I perhaps should have, I stopped aging."

"What are you saying?" Wild asked. He'd wandered over to listen to the story. 

"Wind and I are vampires, and I think his recent disappearance has to do with that."

The sudden silence in the room pressed in on Warriors's eardrums. He felt like the static in his head would become visible any second now. He had no idea how they'd react, though based on past evidence, he was mildly confident it wouldn't be with metaphorical pitchforks. Or literal ones. Honestly, he'd be somewhat impressed if they found literal pitchforks out here in the city. 

"Hm… that changes a few things about our theories." Four broke the silence, picking up a red pencil and standing on his chair to reach over the table. He drew a few confident lines, dividing the city map into pieces. 

Wild tapped one of the lines. "Move this over to Emerald Street, that treaty was signed last week."

"Oh, was it?" Four erased that border and redrew it where Wild indicated. "I didn't think the Eldins would capitulate."

"They didn't," Twilight said, "until the Farons increased the offer, something like two hundred thousand total." 

"Hm, that's more than I expected."

Warriors let out an entirely mortifying squeak. "How the hell do you three know so much about recent vampire politics? Four, those are the clan territories!" 

"Obviously. You don't get very far in the supernatural side of the city without working around them." Four finished his edits to the map and stood back. 

"Okay." Time held up his hands and took a visible breath. "I think we need to reevaluate. If you are aware of the supernatural in this city, and were before this conversation, raise your hand."

Warriors did so, of course. Four, Wild, Twilight were unsurprising after the recent conversation. Time, Sky, and Hyrule followed. 

Legend burst out laughing and dropped a knitting needle to raise his own hand. "I was wondering when this would happen! We've all been hiding each other from each other, and it's been hilarious."

"You knew?" Twilight asked, dropping his hand. "And you never said anything?" 

"I tried," Legend responded. He picked his knitting back up. "But you all brushed me off. I gave up. I asked Wind what was in his flask once. He told me it was vodka."

"It usually is vodka," Warriors said. His brain began to work again. 

Wild tilted his head. "Not blood?" 

"No, that's disgusting, stored like that, and barely does anything for you."

"Oh. Storing it works for me." 

Warriors narrowed his eyes in utter bafflement. 

"Half," Wild said by way of explanation. He shrugged. "My father's side. Hateno clan."

"Huh." Warriors crossed his arms. "Well, to get us back to the point—I recently learned that hunter activity has been increasing subtly the last few months, and I know where a few of their lairs are."

Sky looked startled. "You think hunters have him?" 

"That's an unfortunate conclusion," Time said, leaning over the table to stare at the new version of the map, "but I don't think you're wrong. Mark where those lairs are, if you would, Warriors." 

With a nod, Warriors stood and got to work. As they talked and adjusted their ideas, their true natures came out bit by bit. Hyrule and Time were partly fae, with Four and Legend different sorts of almost-fae as well. Sky had strong air elemental ancestry, and ties to that community. Wild was, as he'd said, half-vampire, and Twilight was his cousin on the human side. 

It was relieving to hear Wild make a pun about blood-sucking and the laughter that followed. Even in his wildest dreams, Warriors had never imagined such an outcome. The best he'd hoped for was a ready acceptance and curiosity, but that had felt out of reach. Although he was worried for Wind, Warriors's hope in a successful rescue grew.

They made a plan to find and save Wind. 

---

It took two more days, but through a combination of investigation and good, old-fashioned breaking and entering, the eight of them figured out where Wind would be. The restaurant was a good place to hold secret vampire hunter meetings, Warriors thought. At several floors tall, it had many hiding spots, and the clatter of patrons and the kitchen would hide most sounds of a struggle. Nobody would blink twice at people visiting often, either, unlike a brothel or a bank. 

Time, Twilight, and Wild had entered earlier, getting a table and smuggling in a tiny, winged Hyrule in Time's jacket, and Four inside Twilight's shadow. Legend sat outside watching the exits and keeping an eye out. He said he knew a guy for a getaway vehicle, so they let him work that part out. Sky and Warriors snuck in through the maintenance entrance, gaining surprisingly easy access. They wandered the halls with aprons and brooms, looking like they knew where they were going. 

"This feels too easy," Sky muttered. "We're in a hunter's den and we just waltzed right in."

Warriors winced and took the next turn, following the faint smell of blood. "Don't remind me. I keep worrying that some light will go off somewhere and an alarm will sound and all the doors will lock and someone will start screaming about vampires."

"We're all here with you. You have nothing to worry about."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but there is rather a lot to worry about at the moment. Have you seen anyone yet?" Warriors paused as a woman in a long coat passed, stalking more than walking down the hall. He caught a glimpse of silvery weapons under that coat, but she didn't glance at them as she swept past. 

Once she left, Sky answered. "No. Not yet. Of course, I'm not exactly practiced at looking for fairies and shadows, so I could have missed them."

Warriors stumbled just a little when the scent he followed changed abruptly. He regained his balance and picked up the pace. "He's this way."

"How do you know?" Sky hurried to catch up. "You can smell him?" 

"Yes. I've been following a faint trail of blood, but this is unmistakably Wind. I'd know his scent anywhere." Warriors walked slower past the next few doors, and his patience was rewarded with a dim hallway hidden behind one of them. It was silent back here. 

Sky closed the door behind them. "You said he saved your life. He turned you into a vampire?"

"Yes. It was painful."

"I'm sorry." Sky got the hint and dropped the subject. 

"Ugh, everything back here reeks," Warriors complained, "The trail is muddied too much to follow."

"The hallway isn't so long, we can listen at each door and open them if we have to."

Warriors took the right side, and Sky took the left, pausing at every door. Though Sky said to listen, the oppressive silence amplified the sounds of their clothing and Sky's breathing until that was all Warriors could hear. Sky could hear very well, so he listened, while Warriors relied more on his nose, even with all the ambient scent throwing him off. 

Near the end of the hallway, Sky sucked in a breath. "Wars. This one."

They put their brooms down. Warriors was the one to try the door handle. Upon finding it locked, he attempted to break the wood with his elbow, but only succeeded in taking off a few splinters. It must have been reinforced. He stepped back, frustrated. 

"Allow me," an unexpected voice said, and Four appeared practically out of nowhere to pull out his lockpicks and crouch in front of the doorknob. 

Sky startled. "Four! Where did you come from? My heart nearly stopped."

"Mine nearly started," Warriors added, mustering a joke but not quite a smile to go along with it. 

Four shook his head in amusement and started wiggling his pins inside the lock. "Hyrule and I have been following you for a while. Hyrule's outside that door back there, holding up a spell to keep people away from here."

"That's handy," Sky said. 

"Mhm." Four lost interest in conversation as he worked. It took a few tense minutes, but soon enough, the lock clicked open, and he smiled. "There."

Warriors put a hand over Four's before he could open the door. "Hold on. I don't know what shape he's in right now, and I know he wouldn't want to hurt anyone. Go tell Hyrule to let one person in, someone we don't mind killing."

Four glanced at him sharply, then seemed to understand. He nodded, and his form under Warriors's fingers melted away into shadows. 

"You stay here," Warriors told Sky, "for the same reason. I doubt they fed him, and having you so close might hurt more than it helps. Whoever Hyrule lets back here, subdue them and toss them in."

Sky looked troubled. "You think we need to kill someone?" 

"Like I said, I doubt they fed him. He's a vampire. He needs blood. Depending on how much they hurt him, he could need an entire adult to come back to himself." Warriors tried to impress the severity of the situation to Sky through his gaze, and Sky backed down.

"I… suppose there are worse places to find a victim than a vampire hunter's den." 

Warriors nodded, then took a breath and slipped into the room.

The single small window had been blocked first with paint, and then with several boards nailed onto it from the other side, letting in no light. Besides the blood-streaked floral wallpaper and bare floorboards, the room was devoid of any decoration. A chain hung from a closed hook bolted into the ceiling, trailing down to wind on the floor like a coiled snake. The chain ended in a pair of small manacles, locked around thin wrists. 

Warriors hurried to Wind's side, kneeling down and gathering him up in his arms. He had a split lip and discolored throat, and his blue shirt had been torn down the side. His skin was cold in Warriors's hands, which told him right away that Wind had to be starving. No real heartbeat, no breath, no signs of life except for the very slight fluttering of his eyelids. 

"Wind? Can you hear me?" Warriors asked quietly. "Don't fall asleep for twenty years again, like you said you did that one time. Come on, kid." 

Wind made a soft noise in his throat and stirred. He opened one eye. "Wars? Mm… not a kid."

"Yeah, I know, you're a very powerful vampire, born sixteen-ninety-whatever, grew up in the Golden Age of Piracy, I get it. You remember that, right?"

"Mhm. 'Course. Tired."

Warriors lifted him up a bit as he heard a scuffle outside. "How about hungry?" 

"Not thinkin' about that." 

The door opened, and Sky appeared. He hauled an older man into the room by the arms, straining a bit to drag the weight. Warriors wasn't very hungry, but the scent of the man's bleeding head wound hit him hard, especially against the stale smell permeating this room in particular. 

Wind groaned and turned to hide his face in Warriors's shirt. "Go 'way, Sky."

Sky hesitated, but Warriors impatiently gestured him and the body in. "He just doesn't want to hurt you."

"That's not a reason to come closer!" Sky said, though he continued to pull the man toward Wind. 

The nearer he got, the tighter Wind held onto Warriors, who winced at the trust. It wasn't that he planned on breaking it, of course not, it was just odd to play this side of it. Wind had held him back from indulging his baser instincts more than once, when he was figuring things out. The bloodlust was hard to fight, and Warriors knew how strong Wind had to be to keep his head and not attack Sky right there. Warriors kept a hand on Wind's head.

"Where do you want him?" Sky panted, once he'd successfully dragged the man within five feet. 

"Drop him there and go."

Sky hesitated, but he dropped the man's arms. "Do you need anything else?" 

"We're fine." Warriors hugged Wind a little closer and gave Sky his best smile. It felt like a wince. "We've done this before."  

"Right. We'll make sure the way out is clear." Sky left, just a little hesitant. 

Once the door shut again, Warriors relaxed his hold on Wind. "There we go. Take as much as you want."

Wind had moved beyond the point of understanding words. As soon as Warriors let him go, he pounced, chain rattling as he attacked the man. 

Warriors sat back and let him at it. Wind had never been a very clean eater, for as long as Warriors had known him, but he always went out of his way to try to not hurt whoever he took blood from. He'd passed on a few of his techniques to Warriors, who'd adopted a similar strategy. 

Right now, Wind was too far gone to bother with any of that. If the man hadn't been dead before, he definitely was now, with his throat half-ripped out and the rest of him quickly exsanguinated. 

After several minutes, Wind slowed, and soon stopprf. He hung his head over the bloody corpse for a few long seconds, then pushed himself to his feet and turned to face Warriors. 

In the dim light, with half his face and front soaked with fresh blood, his bruises healing with the excess running through his veins, Wind looked every inch the two-hundred-year-old vampire he was. He looked down at the red-slick manacles around his wrists. 

"Four picked the lock to get in here, he can probably pick that one, too," Warriors offered. He stood, too. 

Wind lifted his hands to look at the metal. "He doesn't need to." Two sharp pops rang out through the room, and the manacles dropped to the ground. Wind adjusted his broken thumbs back into place with his teeth and allowed them to heal. 

Warriors rolled his eyes. "That's unnecessary. You were just starving."

"Well, now I'm not starving or chained up." Wind offered a bright smile, and something in Warriors's stomach loosened. This was probably barely a blip on Wind's meter of inconveniences. "Did you say Four?" 

"Yes." Warriors opened the door, and Sky stood up straight. 

"Wars! Everything all right?" Sky peeked past Warriors to see Wind, who still stood there in all his bloody glory.

Wind froze, then hesitantly, futilely tried to wipe his chin off with a hand just as red as his face. "Um…"

"It's okay," Warriors told him, looking both ways down the hallway before exiting the room. "I told them all."

"You told them all?" Wind hissed, shoving past Warriors. 

Sky offered Wind a single handkerchief, one clearly soaked by blood before and imperfectly cleaned. It would never be white again. It would also never hold quite as much blood as it would neeed, to clean Wind off. It was a nice gesture anyway. 

"He did," Sky said as Wind narrowed his eyes. "As it turns out, all of us thought we were hiding the supernatural from everyone else."

"You're kidding." Wind hesitated, but took the handkerchief and wiped his mouth off. It only mostly worked.

"Not at all," Warriors confirmed. "Come on, we need to get out." 

Wind crossed his arms as they started back toward the main hallway. "I don't want to just get out, Wars, I wanna burn this place to the ground."

"No. There are civilians here, Wind, it's a restaurant. Someone would notice."

"I've gotten away with arson before," Wind grumbled. 

Warriors shook his head. "Not today."

"There is a fight going on, though." Sky put his hand on the doorknob. "It sounds like Time and Twilight are doing somewhat poorly out there. I don't know where Wild and Hyrule are, but I think Four is avoiding the fight to keep watching."

"How do you know?" Wind asked. "Wait, I can ask later. Don't die so I can ask. First, if there's a fight against these hunters, I'm going to get my revenge. Sweet, cold revenge."

Sky glanced at Warriors with mild concern. 

"That last bit of blood in someone's veins is the strongest," Warriors said by way of explanation. "There are advantages to killing. He'll be riding high on that wave until he burns it out. It's not a bad idea to let him run wild for a bit."

With a shrug and an expression of 'So help me, Wars, I hope you know what you're doing,' Sky opened the door onto a shambles of a fistfight. 

As Sky had thought, Twilight and Time struggled against the vampire hunters and thugs that had gathered in the area. There were more than Warriors had anticipated—more than ten, less than twenty. It wouldn't be an issue with all nine of them, but with only three or four… Twilight held his arm stiffly, and Time was backed into a corner. Four had joined the fight, but some of the hunters' tools were clearly bothering him. Wild was visible down the hall, running toward them with a black frying pan in his hand and a full-sized Hyrule right behind him. 

Wind kicked the door open the rest of the way, banging it against the wall and drawing everyone's attention. He grinned, bloody fangs on full display. 

"Did you know," Wind said, stepping out into the hallway, "that most vampires were killed off in the fifties? The seventeen-fifties, mind you. Hunters like you did their damndest, but could never kill me." The fight had stalled, everyone hypnotized, possibly literally. Warriors had never received a straight answer about that particular rumored ability.

"I'm one of the only old ones left. You know what that means, don't you?" Wind paused as if waiting for an answer, but none came. "You've bitten off more than you can chew, hunters."

The spell broke, and Wind launched himself wholeheartedly into the melee. He laughed as he dug his fingers into sternums and ripped apart ribcages. He tore his teeth into flesh and cracked open skulls like eggs. 

With a full, hopped-up Wind on their side, unafraid to let loose, the tide of the scuffle quickly turned. Despite the carnage, Wind always managed to identify friend from foe. He kept well away from hurting Twilight or Wild or any of the others. Sky and Warriors didn't even bother joining the fight after seeing how it was going. 

Once every enemy had been felled, Wind stood up and threw aside a handful of entrails. They landed on the wall with a wet splat and slid down to the baseboard, leaving a streak of blood. "That's it?" 

"That should be it, for now," Time said, unfazed. "We should go before someone calls the police. Are you all right, Wind? You seem a little… manic."

Wind sucked a bit of blood off of his hand. If Warriors had thought he was bloody before, that was nothing compared to now. It was caked in his hair, and he'd probably start complaining about it once it began to dry. Sky's handkerchief wouldn't even make a dent. "I'm fine. That took care of all the extra energy. I could go for a nap." 

"Come on. Legend should have a ride ready," Sky said, ushering Hyrule and Wild over the mess of body parts. He wrinkled his nose. "We can get everyone baths and a change of clothes." 

"That sounds nice." Wind grabbed Warriors's sleeve and hung on as they headed toward the exit. "You hungry? You could go grab one of those for the road."

"I don't need your leftovers," Warriors said flatly. He smiled easily, though. Wind was always looking out for him. And he'd always look out for Wind. 

Wind scoffed. "Pfft. Picky baby."

---

Ending A/N: Hyrule had to go looking for a guy to kill, and he found some dude yelling at a waitress because she wasn't responding to his solicitations. He deserved to die.

Wind was born 1696 and turned into a vampire around 1710, during the golden age of piacy. He is eternally 14. Sorry, Wind. He mentions vampires dying in the 1750s, and unfortunately that included Tetra and her crew. He's a little bitter about that and will take any chance to get back at hunters for them.

I liked this AU! I might do more with it! :)

[deputy-morgan-malone]

Muzzled - Febuwhump Day 3

He tapped his fingers on the table.

Maybe this is the time she’d listen.  Maybe this is the time she’d really hear him - it had been so long, she’d seen so much, he must have gotten through to her in some ways - she might have thought about it, after she left him -

The door opened and Jacob’s great bulk filled the frame.  He pulled her through by the arm -

Oh.

Joseph looked at Jacob, and it was probably only because he knew his brother so well that he detected the slight smirk on his face.

He looked back at Morgan - green eyes darting everywhere over that - cover.  Looking angry and wary, like she always did in a room with him.  She looked away, deliberately, when he met her eyes.

He looked back at Jacob.

“She barely says anything as it is,” he said.

Jacob smirked a little more fully.

“She’s dangerous, Joseph,” he said - trying to sound serious.  And he could see, as his brother said it, it became less of a joke.

Jacob looked back at her.

“Especially with my training.  You should see what she did to her last cellmate.”

Morgan looked away - stiff, still.  Like she did.  Refusing to ask for help.  Mercy.

She was wavering oddly - trying to lean away from Jacob, but also having to steady herself against his grip on her arm, hands tied behind her.

She was dangerous.

But not that dangerous.

“Take it off,” he said to Jacob tiredly.

Jacob gave him a look - half-amused, half-bitter - and pulled her over.  She flinched away from his hands on the leather - in her hair.

There wasn’t a hint of gratitude in her eyes.

(Febuwhump 2023)

[serickswrites]

I Care

Warnings: captivity, physical violence, restraints, drugging, creepy/intimate whumper, yandere, suicide, faked suicide, fake blood, presumed dead

Whumpee came to slowly. Their head was pounding and their mouth was dry as cotton. What happened? Where am I? Whumper! The thought had Whumpee starting awake.

"My love, you are awake," Whumper whispered into their ear, lips gently brushing the shell of their ear. "I am so glad."

"Wha," Whumpee had to clear their throat to get the words out, "what didjou do?" Where did you take me? Where is Caretaker? What have you done?

"What needed to be done," Whumper said coolly. "Really, I thought you would be happy, we're together, just like I promised we'd be. I always keep my promises."

What needed to be done? Oh God. Caretaker! "Caretaker?" Whumpee said as they realized they were restrained in a bed. Memories of the moments leading up to Whumper taking them flooded Whumpee. They had opened the door, expecting Caretaker, but found Whumper. They opened their mouth to scream, but Whumper came at them, punching their mouth, boxing their ears, and then grabbing them and......a sharp prick and then nothing.

"Oh they're alive, Whumpee. Don't worry. I wouldn't kill them. Though that would have made my life much easier," they said in afterthought.

Whumpee sighed. Caretaker's alive. They'll find me. They always find me. "They'll.....hunt....you." Their mouth was still dry, the words stuck like glue to their tongue.

Whumper giggled. "They're not going to come looking for you. I made sure they wouldn't."

Whumpee's heart pounded in their chest. They tried to free their hands, but the silken ropes bound them so tightly. "What didjou do?"

"I faked your death. At your own hand of course. That way Caretaker will never suspect me. And you and I can have all our time together. Just like I've always dreamed."

Faked my death? Suicide? I would never! Images of Caretaker's grief filled them, the pain so palpable. They think I'm dead. They think I'm dead. I'm not dead. They think I hurt myself. I would never. I could never hurt them that way. "Why?" Was all Whumpee managed to croak.

"I'm doing this because I care about you, Whumpee. More than anyone else." They cupped Whumpee's cheek and stared into Whumpee's eyes, a maniacal gleam filling their own eyes. "I care so much about you, Whumpee, that I will do anything to take care of you. Even if it means making sure no one will know you. No one will come for you. It's only you and me."

Whumpee spat in Whumper's face. It was the only thing they could do, they were bound to the bed so tightly. "Fuck you," they hissed.

Whumper winced as they wiped the spit off their face. They reached into their pocket and pulled out another needle. "I think you just need some time to think about how great our time will be with no one to interfere."

Whumpee tried to roll away. Tried to free their hands. Tried to do anything to avoid the prick of the needle. But it was in vein. As Whumper stabbed their neck with the needle and depressed the plunger, flooding their body with a potent sedative, Whumpee realized that until Whumper trusted them, until Whumper believed they wouldn't try to escape, they would remain tied to the bed.

I will get out of here. I will get back to you, Caretaker. Whumpee made their silent vow as they began to slip into the deep sea of unconsciousness. I will get back to you. Caretaker. I love you. Please, don't give up on me.

[heart-of-a-rebel16]

Day 11 lads!

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump Day 23: Presumed Dead

Content warning: murder mention, blood mention, gun violence mention

There was someone standing in Caretaker’s livingroom. Caretaker recognized them instantly, and their heart froze in their chest.

“I thought you were dead,” It was all they could say. They knew they should’ve said so much more, but shock froze their tongue in their mouth, muting any other emotion with its intensity. It filled their limbs with lead, their mind too full of confusion to remember they had a body.

Caretaker could only stare, wide eyes watching the figure they thought they’d never see again. At the figure of the person they’d killed.

They’d seen Whumper die. Caretaker had aimed the gun, pulled the trigger. They’d seen Whumper fall like a sack of bricks, a scream on their lips that had filled Caretaker with nothing but satisfaction. Whumpee had helped them bury the body.

Whumper was dead, exactly how they should be. Dead and buried and burning in hell, body in an unmarked grave, being eaten by scavengers. Whumpee had finally been safe.

And yet here Whumper was. Alive, standing in Caretaker’s livingroom in the dead of night.

They looked dead. Their face was drawn and pale, ashen. Blood stained their clothing, long dried. The ugly, rust brown streaks marked a path from the bullet wound in their chest, staining their front, before dripping down to mark their sides. It was too much blood for someone to lose and remain standing. Too much for them to be alive.

Whumper smelled of blood and dirt, like a corpse that’d crawled out of the grave.

Whumper took a step forward, and Caretaker flinched back as if they’d been hit. Terror finally pierced through the disbelief. Caretaker stumbled back, legs shaking, hands grasping for a weapon they knew wouldn’t save them.

“You–you’re fucking dead!” Caretaker screamed. “How–how–?”

And Whumper, dead and buried, smiled. Their teeth were covered in blood.

“You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you?”

[silvrash-797]

Another one of @ajscico 's wonderful ideas!

Lost in a sea of sand

Day 23: presumed dead

Read on ao3

Tried something different - there's no pov character

Three days.

Three days ago the portal dropped the Chain dead center in Wild's Gerudo desert. Everyone, that is, except for Wind.

Two days ago they killed the molduga stalking the southern oasis, giving the rest of the Chain a safe place to rest. Search parties went out on rotation, but sandstorms and the vastness of the land made tracking the Sailor impossible.

Three days spent wandering, hunting for any trace of Wind. Three days spent trying to nourish a seed of hope beneath crushing waves of guilt.

He came through with us. Where did he go?

We filled our canteens just before the portal. He’s a smart kid – as long as he’s rationing he should have a bit more time left.

He’s never had to deal with sandstorms, what if he’s buried somewhere?

The sandstorms can’t be all through the desert, right?

What if he’s frozen somewhere? The desert gets cold at night.

He knows how to hole up in unfavorable conditions, he’ll be fine.

Where else can we even go?

What if he’s…

No one would say it, but everyone was thinking it: What if he’s dead? What do we do?

Four days. Five. Six. Still no sign of Wind. Search parties continued to go out; no one vocalized that they were mostly looking for a body, now.

Everyone was sick of palm fruit and hydromelons, but sicker still with guilt.

He was just a kid.

We can’t just give up!

All the desert shrines have been checked. He’s nowhere near any of them.

What do we tell his sister? His grandma?

Even rationing, there’s no way he had enough water to last this long.

Could he have found another oasis?

One week ago, nine heroes of courage stepped through a portal. Only eight emerged.

Why did it have to be Wind?! What has he done to deserve this?

. . .

A new portal comes to sweep them away from the oasis.

Eight heroes of courage slowly march through, a shattered Chain dripping with regret at the loss of their missing Link.

[keldrakey]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) Characters: Merlin (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen (Merlin), Leon (Merlin) Additional Tags: Febuwhump 2024, Presumed Dead, Fix-It, Episode: s05e12-13 The Diamond of the Day (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon Lives (Merlin), but everyone thinks he's dead, Queen Gwen (Merlin), Domestic Fluff, Arthur and merlin go live on a farm, Arthur Pendragon Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Magic Ban Lifted (Merlin) Series: Part 22 of Febuwhump 2024, Part 136 of Merlin Summary:

All of camelot believes their king to be dead, little do they know hes living somewhere amongst them with merlin

[shih-coulda-had-it]

FEBUWHUMP DAY 7 | MADE TO WATCH | wc: 479

a/n: tw for Yoichi’s canonical hunger strike, and also a tw for a panic attack. man, I really did wish that Izuku would get to run through his predecessors’ memories during the Villain Hunt arc...

//

The nightmares run on their own sense of time, and they refuse to be quieted in spite of Izuku and the vestiges’ best efforts to stifle the memories, both foreign and familiar. Izuku resigns himself to the unpleasant task of sitting through them after All Might caught him skipping sleep for the third night in a row--what is the memory of a body crushed beneath rubble compared to All Might’s helpless expression?

This one starts off quietly, at least. An unlit room, silent save for the presence of someone breathing, slow and steady. Izuku can hardly see himself. He knows he is sitting on a warmed floor, but little else.

“You need to get out of here,” says the First, suddenly.

“I haven’t managed that in other memories,” Izuku reminds him. “What happens here? Where is here, anyway?”

“It’s my--it’s my prison. You’ve seen it before. Just not without--without the light.”

“Oh. Where All for One gave you…”

“Yes.” Without warning, the First suddenly sits down next to Izuku, pressing their shoulders together. Izuku puts two and two together--the hiccup-y, gasping tone and the trembling frame--and swallows hard. He wishes the Second, or even the Third, was here to brace their willowy predecessor. “I get out. I get out. I--I know I get out, I get out--”

“Shodaime,” Izuku interjects, and he grasps for the man’s hand, trying to anchor him by interlocking their fingers.

“I can’t even tell when this is. Do you feel it? The hunger?”

He grimaces. “Now I do.” It is a gnawing thing, scratching for attention and still successfully ignored by the memory’s version of First, who only exhales a little louder. Izuku chews his own lip, wondering how to distract the First from dwelling on this hellish existence. “What was the first thing you ate, after?”

The First coughs out a laugh, even as his hand returns the desperate grip. “Oh, you’ll think terribly of them if I tell you. They were so guilty afterwards, even though I told them that it was the best thing I’d had in--in--” His rambling breaks off into a whimper. “Kyuudaime.”

“I’m here,” says Izuku uselessly. “It’s okay, I’m here.” 

“It was a protein bar,” the First manages. “It was quite possibly the worst flavor and texture of any protein bar I’d eaten, and trust me, Kenji and Sanjuro fed me lots after they decided I wasn’t a liability.” He shudders. “Kyuudaime, I don’t want you to watch this. Not if it’s the start. Not even if it’s close to the end.”

“Think of it this way,” Izuku returns, even though some animal part of him quails at bearing witness to a prolonged hunger strike staged in the dark. “When we get out of this, I am going to ask All Might for the largest bento possible. And I’ll be sure to enjoy every bite.”

“Please do.”

[scullysexual]

15.02

Febuwhump Day 15: "I'll be here the whole night, okay? Nothing can get you while I'm here." Sleepy scenarios. Irresistible. TW: Sleep paralysis. AO3. @today-in-fic

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

You are in that white room. Laying against the cold, metal operating table. Unable to move your body, your eyes dart around in its place. It is quiet. Where are all the men? Where is Mulder?

A shadow falls over you and your eyes follow in its direction.

Mulder’s bedroom, eyes still open. You still can’t move, you can’t speak. It is happening again. You try to clench your fist like Mulder taught you, try to will yourself out of this hold, concentrating so hard to unbind yourself from this paralysis.

A cold sweat overcomes you. The shadow is in the room with you. You can’t look away, eyes drawn towards it. You can only try to scream- you hear yourself screaming in your head- as the eyes of Donnie Pfaster stare down at you.

A light is switched on and Pfaster is gone.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you hear Mulder say beside you. Your eyes flick to him hovering above you.

The hold on you is released. You can move and speak again. You crash towards his body and sob, your cries muffled against his shoulder. His hand slips from your fist to circle around your back, holding you as he soothes you.

Eventually the cries subside and you pull away. Mulder wipes the remaining tears from your face.

“Sleep paralysis, huh?” he says.

“I hate it,” you answer with a sniffle.

He holds you again and your eyes close, your body thoroughly exhausted.

“Will it happen again?” he asks.

You shrug, praying it wouldn’t but it probably will.

He lays down and guides you to do the same. You lie close, face to face.

“I’ll be here the whole night, okay? Nothing can get you while I’m here.” He lets out a breath. “You sleep, Scully.”

“And what if it happens again?”

He smiles softly. “I’ll wake up sooner.” He presses a kiss against your forehead. “Sleep, baby.”

You close your eyes, letting the sleep surround you and pull you under. Your last conscious thought is of how comforting he smells.

[skyward-floored]

Febuwhump day 21 - shackled

I’m gonna be honest with ya the shackling is not the focus lol

This one is a little different than the others have been! It’s actually a scrapped idea for the main fic, and is more of an au now because this is not how Cloud and Gloam actually meet. But I kept the little bit of it I wrote around, and decided to repurpose the idea for this.

So it’s basically an au where the Yiga’s plan actually worked in the first place, so instead of all the heroes bouncing around like time-traveling ping-pong balls, they’re all pulled to botw’s time first thing. Which leads to... a lot more stress.

Courage of ages explanation

————————————————————

Link awoke in a dark room.

He blinked his eyes open, but his view barely changed, dim shadows everywhere he looked. The ground was cold and hard beneath him, and when he reached for his pouch, he found that he didn’t have anything with him except the clothes on his back.

Could this be a dream?

His heart rate picked up a little at the thought, and he sat up, his head spinning as he tried to get his bearings. His forehead felt oddly sticky too, and he raised a hand to touch it, but his arm didn’t go as far as he wanted, a metallic clank accompanying the movement.

His arm was shackled to the wall.

Link swallowed, his stomach churning unpleasantly as he realized this wasn’t a dream. It was too real for that, even among all of the realistic dreams he’d had before. But if it wasn’t... Where was this? Nowhere on Skyloft was this dark, and the Surface... was this the Surface? It must be, there was nowhere else he could be. The ancient cistern maybe? Somewhere in the desert?

Well wait, where had he been before here?

Link searched his memory, but all he could come up with was going to bed for the night, Zelda giving him a slightly worried frown when he’d coughed a bit. He’d reassured her he was fine, and then kissed her...

Zelda...

He tried to take in a deep breath, but his breath rasped in his throat, and he coughed, wincing at the gunk he heard rattling around inside of him. Wonderful. He must be on the Surface; the air down here was too thick, and it was aggravating the cold he’d already had.

He closed his eyes as his head throbbed, and couldn’t help the small groan that escaped him. This wasn’t good. He had no clue what was going on, aside from the fact that he’d been chained up and put in a dark room by someone (something?) and his cold was getting worse. Wonderful.

And then a noise suddenly rang through the cell, a soft growl that made the hair on his neck stand up.

He wasn’t alone.

He squinted through the darkness, and realized one of the nearby shadows wasn’t merely a shadow at all, but rather a creature, intelligent eyes staring at him in silence.

Link startled, but then looked a little closer, trying to figure out what exactly it was. It appeared to be a large, furry animal, snout muzzled and leg chained. It stared at him as he looked at it, exhausted blue eyes trailing across his face and pausing at the blood no doubt staining his forehead.

It whined, and Link stared at it, scooting a bit closer as his head throbbed.

Something told him this animal wasn’t a threat, despite its large size and multiple scary features. Some deep-rooted instinct was urging him to trust it, and so he scooted even closer, both steadily watching each other.

He slowly reached a hand out, and the beast gently bumped its head against his palm.

“You’re trapped too huh buddy?” he rasped, running a careful hand along it’s fur before gently scratching his ears, “looks like it’s just you and me. Wonder what they want with us.”

The beast whined again, and Link rubbed his fur, hoping he’d enjoy being petted in the same way remlits did. It seemed to work, the beast gently butting his hand again, and Link almost smiled to himself.

“Wish I could get that off of you,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “Having something like that around your face can’t be comfortable.”

The beast huffed, and nuzzled his hand as best as he could, almost like he was saying not to feel bad about it. Link chuckled, then broke into coughs, his throat aching as he breathed harshly into his arm.

The animal whined and shuffled closer to him, resting his head on his lap and looking up at him with what seemed like worry.

“I-I’m okay, I’m okay...” Link rasped, trying to breath and not agitate his throat. “The air down here it’s just... a lot.”

The beast in his lap studied him for several moments, then let out a soft huff, pressing his forehead against Link’s arm.

“Thanks buddy,” Link murmured, running his hand through his fur.

The motion soothed them both, and the animal’s thick fur helped warm Link, chasing away the chill that had settled into his bones, and making him sleepy instead. He knew he should probably stay awake, figure out a plan or something, but the beast’s fur was soft and warm, and his eyes drooped against his will.

Link curled up a bit further, the animal settled comfortably against his chest, and the two of them dozed off.

(...)

Link awoke to an angry growl.

He startled, brain even fuzzier then before, and quickly wiped the sleep out of his eyes as he sat up. The beast he’d been curled up with was crouched protectively over him, a low growl escaping its throat.

There was light in the room now, coming from a torch. It was held by a person in a strange red bodysuit, and three more of them were approaching him and the beast, weapons glinting at their sides.

Link sat up and scooted backwards, looking at the soldiers as his heart thudded.

“Who are you?” he croaked, throat unpleasantly sore. “What do you want with us? Did you put me in here?”

The strange soldiers didn’t reply aside from chuckling, and they both suddenly leapt forwards, grabbing the beast and manhandling him towards the door.

He was snarling angrily as his chain was yanked, but the creature couldn’t do anything to the people pulling him away, only struggle madly as he was dragged. Link strained at the chain his wrist was in, but it didn’t stretch nearly long enough to stop the soldiers from dragging his cell mate out the door.

“Leave him alone, let him go!” Link shouted, then broke down into coughs as he shouted.

The soldiers only laughed and pulled the beast further away, still struggling and growling angrily through the muzzle. Link managed to raise his head through his coughs, and met the beast’s eyes as he was dragged away, an intense worry directed towards him bright in his eyes.

And then he was gone.

(...)

It took Link hours to fall back asleep.

Which normally would be so concerning Zelda would’ve taken his temperature, but the reason for it this time was pure worry for the strange beast that had been his cell mate.

What was he? Why had he been imprisoned with him? Why did his captors even imprison them both anyways? Where had they taken him?

Was he just a food source?

The options kept his mind racing for hours. And when he finally did fall asleep it was in small restless increments, after which he would jolt awake, his right hand itching and mind churning with dreams he couldn’t remember.

And his cough only seemed to get worse.

He’d finally managed to fall asleep a bit more deeply when a loud clank woke him back up, some dormant reflex of his urging him awake. Link looked blearily up at where the sound had originated, then blinked, staring at what was going on. The strangely dressed soldiers had returned, the same who’d taken his companion, but they had no blue eyed beast held between them.

No, they were instead dragging a hylian along the floor, one who was struggling viciously against the men who were manhandling him inside.

And also wearing a tunic surprisingly similar to Link’s knight uniform.

The soldiers unlocked the cell and near flung the hylian in, one of them quickly crouching down and chaining him with the same line they’d used on the beast.

Link didn’t shout, knowing it would only make himself cough, but he did level the soldiers with a glare. They ignored him, and when the hylian leapt at the soldier who’d chained him again, the biggest of the group kicked him squarely in the chest, throwing him backwards with a grunt.

They stalked away, laughter echoing behind them, and the room went silent.

“Hey,” Link called softly once they were gone, trying to stop his voice from wheezing too much. The other hylian hadn’t yet moved from where he’d been kicked, but at Link’s words he grunted and slowly raised his head. “Are you okay?”

The hylian blinked at him, something odd shining in his eyes as he slid himself up into a sitting position. He sat up with a slight jerk, then clutched at his side, hissing at the movement that was obviously faster then he’d meant to make.

His darkish-blond hair hung in his face, looking unkempt and dirty, and there was blood smeared on his cheek, still leaking slowly from a cut dangerously close to his eye. He stared at Link for several moments before replying to his question.

“I’m... I’m okay,” he answered finally, and concern sparked in his eyes as he looked over Link. “I wonder if I should be asking you that.”

Link blinked at him.

“I’m fine,” he rasped quietly, confused at the man’s seeming familiarity with him. “Who... who are you? Do you kn-know—”

Link broke into a coughing fit, unable to stop himself, and before he knew it the other man was rubbing his back and telling him to breathe. His head felt fuzzy as he tried to catch his breath, and a chill shuddered up his spine, making him shiver.

But when he finally caught his breath, the man gave him a worried smile, and patted him on the arm.

“My name is Link,” he said gently. “And we’ve... well, we already met.”

Link stared at the other Link in disbelief, and the man chuckled a little, then winced.

“You uh... remember the wolf that was in here a few hours ago?” he asked, and Link hesitantly nodded, supposing that a wolf must be the large beast that had been keeping him warm. “Well, I’m... him. The wolf.”

“How is that possible?” Link said in a dumbfounded rasp.

“It’s a long story,” the other Link sighed. Something equally sad and angry flashed in his gaze, but it only lasted a few seconds. “And a bit much to explain right this second. Who are you?”

Despite how awful he felt, Link couldn’t help but smirk.

“Link.”

The other Link raised both eyebrows in surprise. “Your name is Link too?”

“Yep.”

The other Link let out a hearty laugh, amusement making his eyes twinkle. “What are the odds? I don’t suppose you’ve ever fought a fellow named Ganon, have you? Or been turned into a wolf?”

Link shook his head. “I never fought anyone named... Ganon. And I didn’t even know what a wolf was until you showed up.”

Other Link’s face turned more serious then, and he rubbed at his side, looking thoughtful.

“Hm. I don’t suppose... have you seen anyone else in here? A guy a little younger than me, blue tunic, blonde hair?” he asked, and Link shook his head. Other Link sighed in relief, and leaned his head against the wall. “Thank Ordona. He must have gotten away.”

“Pardon me for asking, but who?” Link asked, and Other Link’s face softened.

“Another Link. This is his world, I’ve been traveling with him. We were ambushed, totally and completely overwhelmed, but if he’s not in here with us then that’s a good sign. He must’ve gotten away,” he said with a smile. “We’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Link coughed again, and Other Link’s face darkened.

“Well... maybe not nothing. You okay?”

“Fine,” Link croaked, blinking tiredly. He felt sore and exhausted despite only waking up a little while ago, and his head still felt fuzzy with sleep. Other Link placed a tentative hand on his forehead, and Link was silent as he hummed worriedly.

“You feel pretty warm,” he murmured, and Link shook him off.

“Doesn’t matter. I need to get out of here, Zelda... I can’t remember what happened and I don’t know if she’s okay—”

“Okay, whoa, hold your horses bud,” Other Link said, holding a hand up. His eyes were wide, but something knowing shone in them. “Your name is Link, you know a Zelda, and you were put in here with me? That’s too much of a coincidence. Have you ever heard of a fancy trinket called the Master Sword?”

Link blinked at him. “I forged it.”

Other Link blinked back. “You— Wow. Well that would explain a few things then.”

“Explain what?” Link said, starting to get annoyed. All of this Link talk was just making his head hurt even more. “What does this have to do with a-any—“

He broke down into a coughing fit again, one that went on longer than any of the previous. A hand rested on his shoulder, and Link probably would’ve flinched if he hadn’t been coughing so hard his lungs felt like they were on fire. The hand started to rub, and Link continued to cough, the sounds rough and quite honestly gross sounding, not to mention painful.

But he did eventually stop, and didn’t resist when the other Link pulled his head over to rest on his shoulder.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to keep secrets,” Other Link said gently. “I just... wow. Did you really forge it?”

“Reforged really,” Link rasped. “But I still don’t know what that has to do with anything.”

Other Link sighed, and looked around the darkened room, Link just barely able to see the blue in them. “It has to do with everything. And since I don’t think we can escape at the moment, I’ll try to explain.”

He smiled, and Link suddenly noticed how similar they looked, even apart from their clothing. Other Link’s eyes nearly matched his own blues, and their hair was close to the same color, even styled similarly.

They could’ve been brothers.

“I’m a Hero of Courage,” Other Link said, holding out his palm. “Just like you.”

And a soft light shone from both of their hands, three familiar triangle sending warmth through their spirits.

[theshiaxartist]

Daxter learned his lesson and will never again run when Jak needs him.

Wanna help me make a Jak and Daxter Tarot deck?

You can also vote on a big Jak and Daxter related poll!

[deputy-morgan-malone]

Panic - Febuwhump Day 8

Flames.  Flames licking all around her, heat.  The smell of gasoline.

The helicopter had crashed, and it was burning, and there was something tight, tight, around her waist.

All she could see was fire everywhere, and the smell of hot metal, and the heat like a constant burning wind blowing over her face.

She looked up, and there they were.  Yellow eyes – sunglasses.  Looking down at her.  He was smiling.

He leaned down and pushed her arms against the back of the seat.

“No-one is coming to save you,” he said, clear over the crackling, roaring flames.

She tried to struggle – tried to reach her belt.  She couldn’t breathe, the heat and the smoke.  He was holding her arms, grabbing them as she moved them, and she couldn’t reach her belt, couldn’t reach the clasp.  It dug into her stomach like a gut punch.  He was still smiling.

The flames were everywhere, she couldn’t even see a way out, see past them, and she reached her belt, but she couldn’t get it open, couldn’t get it open –

“Morgan!  Morgan!”

It was dark and she could move her head, but someone was holding her arms.  She fought, thrashed – but they wouldn’t let go.

“Morgan honey, it’s okay!”

It was cold.

It was cold and she stopped. There was a bright light – but it was a torch.  And it was Adelaide’s voice.

It was cold and still.

She breathed. Breathed.  Pulled her arms out of Adelaide’s grip.

Adelaide let her.

Dark and cold and quiet in the bunker, except for the sounds of her breathing.

She saw Adelaide’s face, her golden hair, in the shaft of torchlight.  Watching her, carefully.

Morgan felt her face screw up.

She turned over, towards the wall, away from the light.  She never thought she’d be ashamed of something like this – but here she was.

And she really ought to be used to it, by now.

She raised her hand and put it to her head.

Adelaide just sat on the bunk.

“It’s okay, honey,” she said.  “It’s alright.”

(Febuwhump 2023)

[serickswrites]

Through Me

Warnings: strangulation, drowning, infection, forced to watch

Team Leader couldn’t raise themself up off the ground when Whumper returned. Whumper always wanted all of the team to stand at attention whenever they walked in the room. Or it would mean worse pain. 

But Team Leader couldn’t do it. They were too drained. Too exhausted from repeated waterboarding. Too bruised and hurt from Whumper holding them by their throat. And they were too weak from the infection that was ravaging their body. 

They knew they had to stand up. Had to stand up or Whumper would hurt them or one of their team worse. They pressed shaky hands to the dirty ground and tried to lift themself, but couldn’t. 

“Come on now, Team Leader,” came Whumper’s soft drawl, “you can do it. You want to. You won’t like the consequences if you don’t.” Whumper laughed at the last. 

Team Leader knew they had to get up. Knew their well being and their team’s well being depended on it. They tried again, but gave up after it was clear they could barely lift their head. They succumbed to a coughing fit that left them gasping for air and barely conscious. 

With a growl, Teammate One stepped forward. “Leave them alone!” 

Whumper stopped their advance. “What?”

“You’ll have to go through me to get to Team Leader!” Teammate One’s voice was strong despite being choked a few times by Whumper. 

“And me!” Teammate Three’s voice was just as strong as they, too, stepped forward. 

“Me too!” Teammate Two’s voice was a little softer, but still as clear and resonant as always. 

Whumper chuckled. “Well, isn’t that something? All of you volunteering for what Team Leader’s been forced to endure? Too bad.” 

Whumper shoved through the team and grabbed Team Leader by their hair. Team Leader cried out as Whumper dragged them along. “If you had just gotten up, it wouldn’t have been so bad, Team Leader. It could have been better. This was your choice. And now your team gets to watch, too.”

Team Leader struggled weakly against Whumper. They couldn’t let their team see this. Couldn’t let their team watch them die. Team Leader couldn’t do that. 

“Still got some fire in you, I see. We’ll see after this. If there’s anything left,” Whumper said darkly as they wrapped their hands around Team Leader’s throat. 

What little breath Team Leader had managed to gasp in wasn’t enough. Soon they were struggling against Whumper, hands scrabbling at the back of Whumper’s hands around their throat. Whumper’s grip tightened as Team Leader tried in earnest to get free. “That’s it Team Leader. Fight. Fight for your life.”

The world began to grow fuzzy on the edges. Sounds were distorted. They could hear Whumper’s grunting breaths over them. Could hear their own choking sounds. And they could hear the cries of their team. But soon it all faded away.