#febuwhump day 12

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump Day 12: Semi-conscious

Content warning: Delirious whumpee

They found Whumpee in the hospital parking lot, curled up in the backseat of an empty car.

It was unbelievable how far they'd gotten. With no shoes, a system addled with enough painkillers to leave someone twice their size seeing stars, and fresh stitches in their stomach, Whumpee had managed to avoid a dozen nurses and sneak out undetected. Nobody had even realized they were gone until Caretaker had come to visit them. The entire hospital had been in a panic looking for them ever since. 

If Caretaker hadn't just spent the last half hour frantically looking for them, they might've been impressed.

Carefully, Caretaker approached the side opposite Whumpee, knocking gently on the glass in hopes of not starting them. Whumpee flinched hard, eyes darting to the source of the noise. For a long moment they stared, pupils blown so wide their eyes looked black. They kept staring, even as their shoulders slumped, fear in their eyes consumed by a hazy listlessness once more. They didn’t move to get out of the car.

Consequences of barging into a stranger's car be damned, Caretaker opened the car door and slipped inside, scooting close to Whumpee. Whumpee simply watched then. 

They looked Whumpee over, sagging in relief when they saw that, beyond a few smugges on their hospital gown, they were unharmed beyond their previous injuries.

Whumpee didn’t speak, only stared with glassy eyes. Caretaker broke the silence. 

"So," they started, trying to sound casual. "Why'd you leave the hospital?"

Whumpee’s gaze slides off of Caretaker, unfocusing. “I…It was…bad in there,” their words were slow and trailing, as if they were struggling to follow their own train of thought. “They wanna hurt me.”

Caretaker reached over and took hold of Whumpee’s hand, rubbing circles into bruised knuckles. They gave the hand a squeeze, silently urging Whumpee to calm down ."Hun, everything's okay, you're just a little confused right now. The doctors want to help you, and they can't do that if you run away."

Whumpee only shook their head. The movement, it seemed, was too much for them to handle. They slowly tilted to the side, body slumping to rest limply against Caretaker’s side, head still faintly shaking. They let out a pathetic whine.

Caretaker had no idea how they’d managed to escape the hospital in their state. Gently, they moved Whumpee’s head to rest more comfortably on their shoulder, using their free hand to text a message confirming they’d found Whumpee in one piece. 

They looked over to Whumpee, slumped limply onto their shoulder. They were bruised and battered, eyes clouded and unfocused, but they were alive. They were safe, and if it took them time to realize it, then Caretaker would give them that time. 

"We'll stay in here until you're ready, okay?"

Whumpee murmured something in response, eyes fluttering shut. 

[adrift-in-thyme]

Febuwhump Day 12: Semiconscious (Warriors & Time)

Ao3

CW for poisoning, vomiting, blood and injury, and a near death experience

————————————

He stopped seeing clearly long ago.

His surroundings are no longer distinctive shapes. No, they are mere colors now, smeared and edged in the glare of lantern light. It is as though someone poured oil out on the street and left it to be trampled.

Warriors stumbles over something substantial and nonexistent. Another wheezing breath tears out of his lungs. Everything tips sideways and he goes with it, tripping over his own feet. He collides with a lamp post, frightens a blurred figure, garners murmurs of “inebriated” and “not right in the mind.”

He doesn’t care. Not much is bothersome, he’s quickly realizing, when you can’t breathe.

Wildly, he glances around. The buildings lean right, then left, their glowing windows seeming to leer at him. The inn…he has to find it. That is where his brothers await, that is where he can get help.

Warriors gulps in air and gains nothing from it. The ground tilts. He goes down, bile rising in his throat. He has already vomited up everything his stomach contained. But his body is desperate, desperate to rid itself of whatever is killing him.

So, it tries again.

He comes up feeling no less dizzy, no less sick. If anything, it is worse now. When he shoves to his feet, his vision goes abruptly dark. For a moment, he is certain that this is it. This is when he collapses, surrendering to the bitter embrace of oblivion. But then it screams back into a mirage of shifting shapes and nauseating shades of vibrancy.

“Captain?”

Warriors blinks rapidly. Someone is standing before him – a woman he thinks. The visible edges of her expression convey worry.

“Are you well?”

He grins and it feels wrong. Lopsided, clumsy, sharp…a grimace more than anything else.

“Not to worry. ‘M fine.”

“Oh.” She frowns now. Or at least, he thinks that she does. Drunk, her silence screams. Irresponsible. “O-oh alright, then. Goodnight to you.”

It’s good a thing, his mind assures him, as Warriors gazes dazedly at her retreating form.

It’s a good thing that they think you’ve drank too much. Better than them knowing. Safer.

…yeah. Safer.

He is certain he’s going to be sick again. His lungs rise and fall, and nothing comes of their efforts. The ground churns like the sea in Wind’s Hyrule. If only it were warm here like it is on that beautiful beach. But no. Here it is icy cold.

He shivers, stops the failure of his equilibrium with a nearby wall.

Just find them. Find…find your brothers.

Darkness tinges his vision again, spreading like an ink blot on cloth. It grows from left to right, and he lists sideways, drifting towards it. Something catches his boot on the way over. He stumbles, fails to catch himself, crashes down in a tangle of long limbs and thick fabric.

“Oh, look what we’ve got here!”

Giant forms move in the borders of his waning sight. Warriors stares up at them, icy heat prickling the back of his neck and head. Everything smells and tastes of iron. Everything hurts.

“It’s the princess’s favorite little errand boy!”

Something flat and harsh connects with his cheek. Warriors’ head snaps sideways. He chokes, coughing blood onto the pavement.

Get up! His instincts screech. Get up and fight!

He ignores them. It’s so easy to do that now. They are usually so loud, so boisterous and unignorable, hardened and loudened by years of experience.

It’s nice to silence them for once.

“He don’t look so good. Looks like somebody already got a hit on ‘im.”

“Poison?”

“Seems like it. He reeks of something rancid and it ain’t whiskey. His breathin’ ain’t right either.”

“Well, then.”

A hand fists in his collar. The next thing he knows, the ground is falling out from beneath him. He hovers somewhere above it, gazing obliviously at the space before him. Something is there – or maybe someone – but he can’t make out their features.

“He’s all lonesome out here. Might as well finish what they started. It’ll be easy.”

He should be afraid. He’s not.

Warriors feels nothing now except pain. Well, pain and the curious sensation of drowning. Strange, he doesn’t remember seeing water anywhere around here. But maybe he’s simply floating in it, unknowing, unseeing. That would certainly explain how cold he is.

His body slams back into the ground, and what little wheezing breaths he had managed to garner abruptly flee. Dull panic slices through the haze for a split second – just long enough for him to grab a wisp of air. Then, it’s back, a fog as thick as the stuff hovering over Time’s Lost Woods.

Unavigatable. Unbeatable.

For once, he can’t win this battle. For once, he has an excuse to succumb.

And he’s not one for giving in – his stubbornness is practically unmatched – but throwing in the proverbial towel now…fills him with relief.

“Go on boys! Gut him!”

The words reach his ears, but he hardly hears them. And he certainly doesn’t comprehend. Everything is so very far away…

It’s odd how without oxygen the world grows soft.

His head flops sideways. Lazily, he blinks into the indistinct expanse of Castle Town. The colors run together more than ever now. He can hardly tell them apart anymore.

Its beautiful, he thinks, with a loopy smile. Like Arty.

The soft shink of deadly metal surrounds him. Pain streaks through his abdomen. He coughs. Blood spills down his chin and drapes his tunic in crimson. It is wonderfully warm.

Again, metal strikes. More blood, more warmth. More pain.

His eyes flutter. There is not much to see now. But darkness is beginning to be replaced with dazzling light.

It is as beautiful as Castle Town…maybe even more. It beckons him, envelops him like a hug.

Come, it whispers, in the voice of his mother, come to me, dear child. Rest.

Somewhere, someone screams.

Warriors smiles and it is a soft, gentle thing. He starts to step forward.

“No!”

Hands grasp his wrist, as small as a child’s yet, much too calloused to be. Warriors dares to glance over his shoulder.

Mask stands there, his green clothing even more vibrant in the world of white. Tears have turned his large blue eyes the color of Warriors’ scarf. His lip trembles, despite the way he has it between his teeth. And while his grip is strong, his expression is a rapidly crumbling wall.

Warriors feels the tug again, the call from the endless light. He needs to go. He wants to. Sweet Hylia, he wants to.

“Sprite…”

“You-you can’t!” Mask shouts, stepping closer. He is shaking, Warriors realizes. The child who has faced monsters larger than himself armed with nothing more than a cocky grin and a slingshot is shaking. “You can’t leave me!”

The tears fall and smudge the markings that have now appeared on his face. Shades of blue and red trickle down his cheeks.

Warriors blinks and suddenly, the child’s hands are drenched in blood. He gasps, stumbling back. But Mask holds on.

“Sprite, I’ve got to go,” he says, desperately, because he must see that he can’t remain here. It’s time…isn’t it?

“No. It’s not.”

Mask ducks his head, as a sob tears at his tiny body. Salty water plunks onto the ground. It sounds like raindrops.

A downpour on a sunny day. A child curled beneath his scarf, grinning mischievously. A beautiful woman laughing, face upturned to the sky.

A tear slides down Warriors’ own cheek.

“Oh, Link…”

“Please,” he croaks, soft now, vulnerable. Broken. “Please, don’t leave.”

A single eye meets Warriors’ two. A face marked by a war god crumples, every year, every battle, every loss written in the tears streaming down it.

The captain moves closer. The light seems to dim now, lessened by the aching in his heart. Time…Time should never look like that. If he could reach him, maybe he could make that pain go away.

Time drags in a trembling breath. Crimson-drenched fingers fist in Warriors’ scarf like he did so often as a child.

“I need you, big brother.”

Warriors take another step and another and another. He can’t stop now. The decision seems plain. Whatever is behind him, wonderful though it may seem, is not yet for him. Not when Time is looking at him as though he is his entire world and then some. Not when he can hear them now — the faint pleas of the other heroes.

His brothers. His family.

He reaches out, fingers brushing Time’s cheek. The hero’s breath hitches as he leans into his touch.

“I’m right here, Sprite,” the captain promises. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

With a sob, Time falls into his arms. Warriors closes his eyes and buries his face in his shoulder. And as they cling to each other, the endless white surrounding them comes crashing down.

[serickswrites]

Semi

Warnings: explosion, fire, head injury, blood

Nothing made sense. Nothing made sense to Whumpee as the world erupted into flames. Nothing made sense to Whumpee as sounds crashed in and out, as their vision went in and out of focus. What had happened?

As Whumpee tried to clear their vision, blinking hard against something wet and warm, Caretaker's face suddenly loomed in front of them. Whumpee could see Caretaker's lips moving, but the sound was disconnected.

"Can you......me?" Caretaker's voice was distant. And frantic. What had happened?

Whumpee groaned and blinked again, letting their eyes rest. They were tired. So tired. Caretaker's hand tapping their cheek had them opening their eyes once more.

"None of that," Caretaker's voice was clearer. Their eyes were tight with worry.

"Wha?"

"Whumper set off a bomb. You hit your head. Everything's on fire." Whumpee could suddenly hear Caretaker with crystal clarity.

Whumpee blinked. That made sense. "Whumper?"

Caretaker shook their head. "Doesn't matter. You're what matters. I need to get you out of here. Just stay with me, Whumpee."

"'m tired." Their eyelids were so heavy. The wetness was warm against their cheek. Blood. Blood was flowing down their face. That was the warm wetness. They were bleeding.

"I know you are," Caretaker said as they started to drag Whumpee. Whumpee was so much bigger than Caretaker. There was no way Caretaker was going to be able to carry them. "But, I need you to stay awake. Stay with me, Whumpee."

Whumpee grunted in response. They were determined to stay awake. If Caretaker was working hard to get them out of there, Whumpee could work hard to stay awake. For Caretaker.

[thepinklink]

Febuwhump collab day 12: Semi Conscious

Go read Peggy’s wonderful story here!

[kabie-whump]

♡ Febuwhump Day 12: Semi-Conscious ♡

@febuwhump

I already had the first 11 days of Febuwhump finished and queued by the time I got around to watching Hazbin Hotel but now (2/6) it’s all I can think about! Enjoy :)

Content: Alcohol, references to Angel-typical sexual abuse, references to snuff films, Huskerdust

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Angel Dust is slumped against Husk’s bar.

That’s where he always tends to end up, especially after a hard day in the studio like this one must have been considering the bruises on his neck and peeking out from under his clothes.

Angel doesn’t have to tell Husk his order anymore. It’s always one of two things: something fruity with more sugar than alcohol, or something just bordering on straight liquor. Tonight looks like a night for the second.

“Drink up, legs.”

Angel picks his head up with effort, taking Husk in with half-lidded eyes. His movements are slow and uncoordinated. He starts to reach for his drink, and Husk snatches it away.

“Hey!”

His voice is slurred.

“You’re already wasted,” Husk accuses.

“Gimme.”

Husk knocks back Angel’s drink. He’s not one to waste perfectly good booze.

Angel gives a weak middle finger before he lets his head thump onto the bar’s surface again with a groan.

“That bad, huh?”

Angel shrugs. “I don’t think it even counts as kinky anymore. At this rate the next one’s gonna be snuff.”

Husk tries to hide the way that idea makes his skin crawl. He knows it won’t happen. Valentino would never kill his biggest star. It would be a waste of resources, and there’s no one else out there like Angel Dust.

“One drink? Please?”

“Fine. Just one.”

It turns out, one drink was exactly how much Angel needed to end up near-comatose.

“Come on, legs,” Husk grunts as he tries to corral Angel’s many long limbs into his arms. The spider is light enough for him to carry, but he’s so unwieldy when his legs are almost as long as Husk’s whole body and his four arms hang limp when Husk tries to get him to hold on. “Work with me here.”

Angel giggles into Husk’s fur. He tries to wrap his arms around Husk’s shoulders but only succeeds at slapping him in the face.

It’s slow going, but Husk eventually manages to drag Angel upstairs and into his bedroom. He passes out the second his face hits the mattress, and Fat Nuggets doesn’t hesitate before curling up under his armpit.

Husk stares down at Angel with a deep sigh. This dumbass is going to be the death of him he’s sure.

He definitely doesn’t draw the covers carefully over Angel’s limp form and brush his hair out of his face before he leaves. That’s something people do when they care, and Husk doesn’t care.

Not even a little.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[triforce-of-mischief]

Febuwhump Day 12: Semiconscious

Notes: no warnings or anything, this is just an excuse to get those nice asterisks out there. I'm tired but stubborn, much like Time will be in this short dialogue fill.

(reblogs > likes)

****

"Mmh..."

"Hey, Time. Took you long enough."

"Lege...?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"I..."

"Hey, no, stop trying to sit up. Stop it. Lay down."

"Jus' worried..."

"I'm not a kid, Time. I can handle myself."

"..."

"I can handle you too, old man, stop giving me that face."

"Legend?"

"I'm already right beside you, Time, how close do you want me to get?"

"..."

"Okay, okay, stop reaching for me already. If I lay beside you, will you go back to sleep?"

"Safe."

"Oof."

"..."

"Yeah, you keep sleeping that off. We'll be safe here. I swear it."

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: Day Twelve

Prompt — semi-conscious (from @febuwhump calendar)

TW: semi-conscious weak Whumpee, medwhump, medical Whump, injured Whumpee, stab wound, blood, description of poisoned wound, poison, bad realistic writing of medical stuff (I’m not a doctor), needles/syringes mentioned, medicine mentioned, in vitro means of administering medicine(If I missed any tags please lmk, I know people are squidgy about medwhump so general warning)

*~*~*~*~*

Youngest bursting through the door was the first warning Doctor got that there was a problem. Medic was next through the doors to the medbay, holding it open for Right hand and Rogue who carried between them a semi-conscious Leader.

“This bed,” Doctor said immediately. He stood, taking his glasses off and rolling up his sleeves as Rogue and Right Hand lifted Leader between them and placed him carefully on the bed. “What happened?”

“He just collapsed at the door,” Youngest said, their voice high pitched.

Doctor’s eyes cut to Medic’s who was doing a good job of trying to ignore their stare. “How didn’t you notice this?”

“Do you?” Medic snapped, running a hand through their hair. “He obviously hid it from us!”

“Fine. I’ll deal with it. I need you to clear the room.”

“I can help,” Medic protested but didn’t speak further at the withering look Doctor sent them.

“You can see to the rest of your teammates and make sure none of them are likely to collapse in the next ten minutes.”

“Hey,” Right Hand said tightly. “This isn’t Medic’s fault. You know how stubborn Leader is.”

“All the more reason to be extra vigilant.”

“You being a dick isn’t exactly helping Leader, Doctor,” said Rogue, baring her teeth at him.

“Clear the room,” said Doctor. “I don’t need everyone’s snide comments while I work.”

There was a few more grumbles before the teammates left the room one by one. Right Hand pushing Medic and Rogue out before they punched Doctor before he helped Leader. Youngest was the last to leave, sending worried looks at Leader and nodding at Doctor before leaving.

Doctor straightened and got to removing Leader’s combat gear. “Leader? Can you hear me?”

“Ung,” Leader hummed in what Doctor could only assume was a yes.

“Do you know where it hurts? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Hot… hot, pain, fell..” he mumbled incoherently. Doctor clicked his tongue against his teeth as he got down to Leader’s undershirt that had a stain of blood slowly growing.

“Hot?” Doctor asked. “As in burn? Burning pain?”

“Mind… fire,” Leader supplied and Doctor hummed. He lifted the shirt to see a small knife wound, about two inches in diameter that was the cause of Leader’s pain.

“I need to clean it, Leader,” said Doctor, turning to grab the rubbing alcohol and cotton pads. He doused the pads in alcohol and said quickly: “alright. I’m going to do it now.”

Leader whined out through gritted teeth, grabbing at Doctor’s wrist to stop him as Doctor rubbed the wound, searching for the incision. “There you go, Leader, almost done.”

Between the wipes over the wound Doctor noted the purple hue surrounding the knife wound. He hummed to himself thoughtfully.

“Mind… fire,” Leader grumbled pathetically. “Burn, please ugh… burn.”

“I have some good news and bad news, Leader,” said Doctor. Leader’s pain filled eyes met Doctor’s and Doctor smiled reassuringly down at him. “You’re not going to die.”

Doctor left Leader’s sight as he crossed the room to the medicine cabinet containing all the antidotes to common poisons and other drugs that affect the system. When Doctor turned they saw Leader turned over, trying to push themselves into a sitting position. Doctor would have smiled at the sheer force of will if it didn’t endanger Leader in that moment.

Doctor came back with a bottle and syringe which he placed next to the tourniquet on the table beside Leader’s bed before gently pushing Leader back into a lying position.

“I know exactly why your mind is on fire,” Doctor continued. “It’s Venom’s blade which you will be happy to know we have the antidote for.”

“…tthha.. hnk… Doh.. ct—”

“Hush, Leader. You need to save your strength. That’s the good news,” Doctor said, cutting Leader off. Leader’s bleary eyes opened slightly in question. Doctor had to contain his smile for the next part as he drew the liquid from the bottle into the syringe.

“Baad—”

“Yes. Bad news next,” said Doctor lightly, grabbing a tourniquet from the table next to Leader’s bed. Doctor attached the tourniquet to Leader’s arm, just above the elbow and put his hand around Leader’s, forcing him to make a fist to find a vein.

“Supervillain needs you out of commission for the next part of his plan,” said Doctor conversationally, letting go of Leader’s hand once he had found a vein.

Leader blinked bleary up at Doctor, his eyebrows furrowing deep. “Wh— what?”

Doctor smiled down at Leader. He put the back of his hand on the back of Leader’s forehead. “Hmm, look at you, Leader. You’re so out of it.”

Leader lifted a lifeless hand to bat at Doctor’s hand. “Nn- funny…”

Doctor grabbed Leader’s wrist in a tight, strong grip and placed it back by Leader’s side. With his other he laced it through Leader’s hair, brushing the sweaty strands from his forehead.

“Look at you. You’re so sweet and docile like this, if you weren’t so good at your job we wouldn’t have to intervene like this, y’know.”

“Doc..” Leader whimpered then let out a loud groan of pain and turned away from Doctor’s hand on his forehead.

“Hush now, Leader. You did exactly what we wanted you to do. I’ll tell your teammates that I can’t determine the cause and that you’ll have to sweat out the poison for a few days under my excellent, watchful care.”

Leader tried to roll away from Doctor but Doctor didn’t let Leader so much as twitch away from him. He caught Leader’s chin between his thumb and index finger with a sharp smile.

“You have done beautifully. Now rest up, when you wake the world will need someone like you.”

Leader’s eyes narrowed into a glare. A pathetic glare, but a glare nonetheless. “Team… stop you,” he said with a heavy breath.

Doctor’s smile turned sweeter. “You’d best hope for their sake they don’t try,” said Doctor as he let go of Leader and got the syringe, flicking the tip of it.

“Now, you’ll just go for a small nap Leader. It should aid with recovery.”

Leader had barely strangled “N” out of his mouth before he felt the needle pinch into his arm. He hissed, shaking his head miserably as he used his free hand to push Doctor away.

Doctor smiled at his pathetic attempts to stop Doctor from injecting him with anything now that his intentions were revealed. On a good day, well, any other day Leader would have been able to dominate Doctor physically, but physiological wise, Doctor would always win.

Doctor pulled the needle out and undid the tourniquet as he watched Leader’s eyelids fall heavy over his eyes. The barest flashes of Leader’s eyes told Doctor that Leader was trying to fight sleep.

Doctor grinned down at him. “Go on, Leader. Fight it as long as you can, I’ll be here, ready to administer another dose if necessary.”

Leader’s eyes finally closed and his grip on Doctor’s arm loosened then fell to the bed with an unceremonious flop. Doctor returned the bottle of anestesia to the medicine cabinet, locking it again with his key. Months of undercover work and finally Supervillain was ready to make a move. Doctor smiled at his reflection in the cabinet glass.

Time to go sell Leader’s mysterious illness to the team.

[theshiaxartist]

Probably hard to sleep when chronic pain and night terrors are in full swing.

[fanfictasia]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hunter & Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Hunter & Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) (minor), CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo & Hunter & Omega & Tech & Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) Characters: Clone Trooper Hunter (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Wrecker (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Tech (Star Wars), CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) Additional Tags: POV Hunter (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Hunter Needs A Hug (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Hurt Hunter (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Hunter Whump (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Canon Compliant, Missing Scene, Angst, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Febuwhump, Febuwhump 2024, Prompt: Semi-Conscious

Summary:

On Bracca, Hunter is shot by Bane.

Read on:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14326716/1/Febuwhump-Day-Twelve-Semi-Conscious

https://www.wattpad.com/1421249877-the-bad-batch-one-shot-collection-febuwhump-day

[popcorn-plots]

Febuwhump day 12: Semi-conscious

Title: 984 deaths, one life with you

Words: 741

Summary: Stephen has a nightmare in the library, one he didn't quite wake up from until he was safe in Wong's arms.

~~~

Stephen had fallen asleep in the library. It was a common enough occurrence that most of the students ignored the sleeping Sorcerer, even going so far as to avoid his little corner of the library. Wong was wont to do the same, when Stephen was in his line of sight and he could keep an eye on the man.

When he wasn’t, which was more common, Wong tended to move his paperwork or current romance novel (masquerading as a scholarly text, of course) or whatever he was working on at the moment to Stephen’s side. Wong would adjust the sorcerer so that his head was lying in Wong’s lap. Wong would run his fingers through his hair or just let his hand rest on Stephen’s shoulder until the man woke up.

This was a frequent ritual for the two of them to partake in. Less frequent were the nightmares, but they did occur. Usually, Wong would hear the shift in Stephen’s steady breathing and could push the dream away. Sometimes Stephen would wake, disoriented and confused and Wong would comfort him. When the nightmares got really bad, Wong would open a portal to their bedroom where Stephen would let himself break down without the prying eyes of gossiping students.

Today, there were no such luxuries. Wong didn’t even know Stephen was in the library, but he figured the students would alert him if his husband was there (the students thought the librarian already knew that the Sorcerer Supreme had tucked himself into a secluded corner of the Master’s section).

Wong was only alerted when he heard a low groan a few shelves down from where he was reshelving. Despite his feelings of unease, Wong told himself it was nothing. There was quiet for a few more seconds as Wong reached for the next book. There was an audible plea and suddenly, the silence was pierced by a scream.

Wong dropped the book. He knew that scream.

The librarian raced around the corner to find Stephen nearly falling off the bench, his breaths coming in short gasps and his wide eyes glazed. He was crying out, whimpers escaping his throat as he clawed at his neck.

Wong rushed forward, kneeling in front of his terrified husband. “Stephen–” He tried. There was no response, Stephen either couldn’t respond or was too deep in his mind to register Wong’s vice.

His neck was an angry red and his fingers were swollen. Wong grabbed Stephen’s hands.

Stephen freaked, letting out a strangled sob. Wong forced himself to ignore the pain eating at his heart at seeing his beloved in such a state, making himself pull Stephen into a hug, trapping his hands between them.

Stephen struggled, jaws clamping painfully as tears slipped from his eyes. After what felt like an eternity, Stephen’s struggles had died down to unrestrained sobbing.

Wong pulled away, only to be pulled back when Stephen clawed at Wong’s shirt. “Stay…” he whispered.

Wong closed his eyes and nodded, forming a portal to their bedroom. Stephen needed him right now, his apprentice was capable of running the library by herself for a few hours.

Wong picked his husband up almost effortlessly, cradling the shaking sorcerer to his chest before pulling back the sheets of their bed. He gently settled Stephen on the bed, joining him after toeing his shoes off and setting Stephen’s own shoes on the floor. He crawled in next to his husband and pulled the sheets over them.

Stephen’s breathing was calmer in the familiar space and he rolled over to face Wong, curling up next to him. Wong automatically took his shaking hands and started rubbing them, but not before brushing a tear from Stephen’s cheek.

“Wong, I–” Stephen swallowed. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“It’s okay. I’m here, just take your time.”

Stephen took a deep breath. “I… I was back in the dark dimension.” he said slowly, almost as if it hurt to speak. “Loop 984. H-he strangled me….”

Wong let go of his hands to pull Stephen into a hug. “I’m sorry. It’s over now. You’re safe here.”

Stephen nodded, wiping away a new wave of tears. “Thanks…”

“Of course. I love you and I will always be here for you.”

Stephen sniffed. “I know…. I love you too…”

Wong pulled Stephen to his chest, holding him close until Stephen was asleep again, breathing steadily in the quiet sanctuary of their bedroom.

Ao3

[chrysochroma]

In a tulip field: Always More

@febuwhump 2024: day 12: ALT 6: immortality

Rating: Teen And Up

Words: 232

Fandom: Original Work

Warnings: Discussion of death

This is inspired by @writing-is-a-martial-art ‘s ‘you meet god and she’s mostly dead fish’ post

read on Ao3

They tell you to live a long life. They wish you prosperity, many more, to outlive your enemies. They want the best for you, they want you to be happy and comfortable for all of your days. They want you to stay, and they want to stay with you. But at what point does more become too much? Is it when your family and friends can no longer stay, when they have all left this world, leaving you alone? Is it when the world falls into ruin around you, leaving only remnants of what you remember? Is it when your memory, your mind start to leave you, too? Is it when the stars blur into nothingness and explode into existence all around you? Or is it when the sun stops shining, leaving you in an abyss of darkness? Or, even yet, when new light comes to the universe, and new life is born, and new souls grace the world? Is that when it becomes too much? No. It will never be enough, never for those who dared defy time. Not even when they scream out to all that does and does not exist, begging for freedom, for bliss, for death, will it be enough. Not when they resent all of those wishes that were cursed upon them, will it be enough. It will always be longer, and there will always be more.

[arecaceae175]

Febuwhump Day 12: "Can you hear me?" (Sky)

AO3 link. This is a continuation of Day 6: Natural Disaster (Wind) found here.

Warnings: avalanche, panic, if you're claustrophobic perhaps skip this one, the word drowning is mentioned, ambiguous ending

Part 2/3. Part 1. Part 3.

Sky didn’t know what to do. 

The sounds of the world were muffled by the snow. It was quiet enough that he could hear his own rapid heartbeat, getting louder and faster the longer he was stuck. When the snow hit, he had tumbled and rolled and now he didn’t even know which way was up. The cold was overbearing, seeping through his clothes and deep into his bones.

He had frantically tried to move, to dig his way out, but the snow was too heavy. Any movements he made just solidified the snow more, and made it harder to move in any other direction. The weight of the snow was pressing on his legs and his throat and his head and constricting his chest so much that he couldn’t even take a full breath. The snow felt as solid as rock, and impossibly heavier.

The first movements sent snow cascading into his eyes, his ears, his throat. His meager body heat melted it quickly, and he choked and coughed as water slid down his throat. 

His breathing was starting to come in short gasps, his chest hitting the wall of snow and bouncing back. His heart was racing. How was he going to get out? More importantly, how was he going to get Wind out?

Sky shook his head as much as he was able, took as deep a breath as he was able, and closed his eyes to count backwards from 10. He let the anxiety fade from his body and be replaced by adrenaline and his innate need to protect. He couldn’t help Wind if he started having a panic attack stuck in the snow. 

His heartbeat was still faster than he’d like, but his breathing evened out by his third round of counting. His head felt slightly more clear. Ok, Sky thought, time to figure this out. 

Wind couldn’t be far. Sky had held onto his hand until they were ripped apart by the snow. They would have each tumbled, but Sky hoped in the same direction. Sky had the urge to turn his head and look, but his head was completely immobalized by the snow. He shivered, and he knew enough about the cold to know that was a good thing. He was supposed to worry when the shivering stopped.

Sky cleared his throat, and called out. “Wind?”

He waited in silence, holding his breath, but there was no response. 

“Wind!”

Nothing. 

“Wind! Can you hear me!” 

Sky was yelling as loud as he could, but he couldn’t get enough breath. He didn’t know if Wind was too far away to hear or- 

Sky’s heart skipped a beat. Wind might have been knocked unconscious. He might have been crushed even more than Sky, without enough space to draw a single breath. Sky shuddered and clenched his eyes shut. He might have struggled and choked and drowned on the melted snow forced into his throat. 

Sky’s heart started racing and he tried to draw in a breath, but his chest his the wall of snow. He was starting to feel lightheaded. He was stuck under a mountain of snow, freezing, suffocating, lost. He didn’t know where Wind was and he didn’t know where Wild was. He had no idea how to get out. 

“Can anyone hear me?”

[serickswrites]

Can You Hear the Silence

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, wounds, blood, infection, forced to watch, self sacrifice

Caretaker strained against the rope that bound them to the chair. They could feel their raw skin chafing against the harsh rope fibers. It burned with every movement. But they didn’t care. They had to break free and get to Whumpee before it was too late. 

Whumpee lay in a heap across the room. They had gone silent a few hours ago. They had been in the middle of a coughing fit, breath coming in wheezing gasps, when they fell silent and went still. Caretaker had tried to rouse Whumpee with only their voice, but it had been to no avail. 

Whumper had been torturing Whumpee for days. Beating them, cutting them, burning them even. All of it in front of Caretaker, just out of Caretaker’s reach. Whumper continued to remind Whumpee that Caretaker would gladly trade places with them, but Whumpee never let up. Never let Caretaker get hurt.

As they got paler and paler, their eyes brighter and brighter with fever, Whumpee continued to insist Whumper hurt them and not Caretaker. And Whumper obliged. 

“Whumpee, how bad is it,” Caretaker had asked earlier that morning before Whumper had come in. Whumpee had curled around the restraints that kept them out of Caretaker’s reach. The early morning sunlight made their skin look ashy and pale, grey even. 

“It’s...it’s...it’s not good,” Whumpee took several heaving breaths. “I...I..I think the wound on...on..on...my arm is infected.” They closed their eyes as they tried to breathe deeply. 

Caretaker had to keep from gasping as Whumpee held up their arm, blood and other fluids still oozing from the long, deep cut on their left bicep. “I’m getting you out of here.”

That was hours ago. The silence of the room had Caretaker’s panic mounting. They had to get Whumpee out of there. Had to get out of the silence. Caretaker screamed their frustration into the empty room. “Whumpee? Whumpee? Can you hear me? I’m getting you out of here. Hold on.”

But Whumpee didn’t reply. Didn’t stir. Didn’t stir as the rope binding Caretaker to the chair broke. Didn’t stir as Caretaker shouted their triumph and hurried over. Didn’t stir as Caretaker, with a sob, picked them up. And Whumpee didn’t stir as Caretaker ran from the room, making promises about getting help. 

Whumpee didn’t reply as Caretaker begged them to wake, begged them to fight through the fever and infection that ravaged their broken, beaten body. Whumpee didn’t reply because the darkness had sucked them under. Whumpee didn’t reply because the silence had won. 

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump day 12: “Can you hear me?”

“Can you hear me?” Asked by Caretaker as Whumpee wakes up in a hospital bed.

“Can you hear me?” Whispered shakily by Villian, the gaggle of heroes surrounding them forgotten, as they cradle their unmoving Henchman.

“Can you hear me?!” Shouted desperately over the phone as a struggle is heard on the other side. The line goes dead a moment later.

“Can you hear me?” Purred by the telepath directly into Hero’s mind. By the smugness in their tone, it’s obvious they know the answer.

“Can you hear me?” asked over the intercom by the cold voice of Scientist. 

“Can you hear me?” Whispered into the dark tightness of the cave-in. They’ve asked almost every hour, unwilling to speak much in the dusty confines, but desperate to know the person trapped beside them was still alive. They haven’t received a response recently. 

[fletcherwilbury]

@febuwhump Day 12: "Can you hear me?"

Warning for illness, fainting, heart problems, and fever.

[baubeautyandthegeek]

Deaf To Love - Isobel Castille/Maggie Bell

A/N: Day 12 of @febuwhump​ .

“Can you hear me?” Silence. The sound of gunfire mere minutes ago had put Isobel on high alert and the lack of response was making it worse. “Bell? Can you hear me?” “Iz…” Maggie’s reply is slow, slightly weak and Isobel instantly knows what’s happening. “I can’t hear you, I know you’re there. Send help… OA…” Crackles cut up Maggie’s words and Isobel almost chokes on her own breathing at the next words that come through. “I’m okay.” It's enough and Isobel signals for the medics, radioing in quickly and walking away to slump into her office chair, aware of Jubal following and not daring to look up. If he’s nice right now she’ll cry and she has to stay professional right now.