#febuwhump helpless

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump day One: helpless

Oh yeah we’re doing another prompt calendar!! My favourites, I write things I never usually do because there’s a time limit and it’s fun. This prompt was hard, but I tried B)

CW: strained family relationships, dysfunctional family, kidnapping (implied)

*~*~*~*~*

Henchman escorted Villain up the opera-like staircase of the mansion, all marble floors and Greek style pillars to hold up the second floor. The first time Villain saw it they marvelled at the sheer class of it all. Now though, it was nothing more than a means to an end, Villain could be walking through the mud for all they cared, their mind was on other matters.

Henchman opened the door and Villain stepped in. The door closed behind them and Villain didn’t stop walking until they were at the chairs in front of the large mahogany desk.

Supervillain had his back half turned, looking out the window with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“How nice to see you, Villain,” said Supervillain. He didn’t turn his head as he spoke, just continued to stare out the window into the world outside.

Villain clenched their jaw at his easy, blasé tone, but anger never got Villain anywhere, so they took a second to relax it before speaking.

“Hello Supervillain. Wonderful weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

Supervillain hummed in agreement.

“Harvest season is nearly upon us,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Villain. “Have you been keeping your garden well?”

“I’ve been a bit busy recently,” Villain replied, tone clipped. Far much harsher than they intended for it to come out.

Calm down Villain, they chastised. Clasping their hands behind their back to stop clenching them into fists. An obvious action, one Supervillain would no doubt see through, but it comforted Villain at least. They could pretend that they were hiding it from Supervillain.

Supervillain said, tilting their head down to look at their glass, swirling the honey coloured liquid inside gently, “yes, I’ve heard of your recent escapades. Not from you, of course.”

An obvious dig at Villain. Villain wanted to erupt then and there but they didn’t, they forced themselves to remain calm.

“You can’t seriously expect me to come visit anytime I have gossip,” Villain scoffed running a hand through their hair. “I mean, what with being searched and seized every time I come in here and escorted through the halls like some stranger! Only for you to not have the decency to even look at me when I speak to you.”

Supervillain stopped the motion, raising their head. The hairs on the back of Villain’s neck stood up at the easy movement and they realised they had gone too far too late.

Supervillain turned their body from the window to face Villain. Villain fought the urge to step back. Why should they? They said exactly what they thought, and it wasn’t their fault anyway. Supervillain was the one who brought it up, not them.

Villain’s hands tightened into fists behind their back.

“Sorry, Villain. You must understand, it is very hard for me to look at traitors.”

The word traitor hit them like a punch to the chest, winding them.

“What do you—”

“Don’t play stupid, Villain,” Supervillain said, tone even, as if he was still talking about the weather. “I raised you better than that.”

Villain clenched their jaw, locked their lips and turned their head away.

“You have been reckless, Villain. Running around the city, fraternising with Heroes. How do you think that makes me look? That my own child is blatantly disobeying me publicly?”

Villain didn’t reply.

Supervillain sighed. From the corner of their eye they could see Supervillain moving around their desk, the barrier between them, Villain’s safety net and coming to leaning on the front of it, arms folded over their chest.

“Can you blame me for having you searched when you come in? I don’t know where your loyalty lies anymore.”

“It—” Villain began in protest but that was all that fell from their lips. “I—” they tried again, but nothing. The truth was that Villain didn’t know anymore. They didn’t know something they used to be so sure of.

They were a Villain through and through three months ago. They were born to it, grew up in it, the heir to their father’s empire. They liked being a Villain, they liked scheming about how to subdue Heroes and intimidate juries and witnesses.

They were unequivocally a Villain three months ago.

Then Hero showed up and turned their entire world upside down.

These days Villain helped Hero with their problems and understanding the inner workings of Villains to properly subdue them.

Other Villains.

Never their father’s.

Never.

They weren’t a traitor.

Burning eyes met their father’s cool gaze. “I’m not a traitor,” they said, voice thick with emotion.

Supervillain pushed off the table and stood in front of Villain.

“I don’t know that, Villain. I only know what I’m told, by people I trust.”

“What right hand?!” Villain demanded, throwing their hand out in a wide gesture, so close to completely losing it.

“Why do you want me to trust you Villain, hmm? Is that it?” Supervillain demanded, fury resting just under the surface of their skin below the calm expression. Villain let out a soft tch before turning their head away again.

Supervillain said, “Villain look at me,” and so Villain did. Supervillain raised their fist and placed it over Villain’s chest. The shrewdness of his age shining sympathetic in his eyes.

“How can I trust you when you are so clearly at war with yourself, Villain?” Supervillain asked, voice soft. It nearly broke Villain.

Very nearly.

The soft voice almost felt familiar, like how Supervillain used to speak with them when Villain had failed something and was punishing themselves for it. If they got less than 90 in a test, if there was someone annoying them, when they failed a mission. More usually when they were late in the night, pouring over every plan, every minute detail, every possible scenario and cursing themselves because why didn’t they see it before?

The times when Supervillain would find them with a cup of tea and a soft, sympathetic smile much like their expression now, coaxing them to go back to bed. That they were being too hard on themselves.

Villain would protest. They would say that they refused to be caught unaware again, to be in a situation where they were stuck. So completely helpless.

They didn’t need to rely on anyone, they shouldn’t have to.

“I will always be here,” Supervillain would say. Then when Villain would stare back at their work, Supervillain would take the seat next to them and sit with them while they worked through the problem.

Sometimes Supervillain would be silent.

Other times he would vocalise the issues he saw with the plan in hindsight that couldn’t have been known before the day.

Villain would wake up in their chair. Supervillain snoring beside them, head resting on their chest.

Villain’s fingers clenched into fists, then unclenched and clenched again. They didn’t know what they should do… what side were they on?

“Let’s make it easier, Villain,” said Supervillain stepping back, dropping all contact from Villain. He slid his hands into the pockets of his tailored trousers, tilting his head at Villain. “Why did you come and see me today?”

“Because—” Villain said without thinking then stopped short.

Supervillain blinked. “Because?”

Because Hero’s missing, Villain didn’t say. And I’m worried you took them.

Supervillain was waiting patiently, though their eyes told Villain everything they needed to know. Business Supervillain was talking to them now, not their father. Which means…

Villain schooled their expression and said, “because you took Hero, and I’m here to get them back.”

The corner of Supervillain’s lips quirked up into a half smirk.

“So bold to assume, Villain.”

“I’m right though, aren’t I?” Villain challenged, taking a step forward. “If you’ve done somethi—”

Supervillain held up a hand to silence them, and Villain hated the way they cut themselves off. Supervillain lowered his hand to the button on his desk that Villain knew went straight to Right Hand.

The door opened not a moment later and Villain didn’t have to turn to know Right Hand was at the door. The snivelling little runt.

“Right Hand, could you show Villain to our guest, please?” Supervillain asked, not breaking eye contact with Villain. “And if they try anything, throw them in beside them.”

“Of course, sir,” Right Hand replied, a smile in his voice. “With pleasure.”

Villain glared at their father who smiled in return.

“Why?”

Supervillain shrugged. “I wanted to meet the Hero who turned my own flesh and blood against me.”

“You met them, now let them go,” Villain said, taking another step closer.

Supervillain tilted his head. “Are you asking or demanding?”

“Whichever gets Hero free faster,” Villain replied.

Supervillain said nothing for a beat. Instead his eyes just searched Villain’s face, for what Villain didn’t know. Answers?

“If you behave, we can discuss Hero’s release over dinner.”

Villain wanted to protest. They wanted to scream and shout, and shove Right Hand down the stairs just because, but they couldn’t. They couldn’t do anything because their stupid gun and knife were taken off them when they arrived and were sitting safely out of their hands.

They hated to admit it, but without them… Right Hand could probably beat them in a fight. Maybe not a battle of wits, but a physical scuffle… Villain was well and truly helpless.

Villain didn’t reply. They turned on their heel and shoulder checked Right Hand on the way out the door, walking towards the cells themself. They didn’t need Right Hand to escort them, they never did before.

This was their fucking house.

All they needed to do was descend to the cells to find Hero — their home.

[whumpinthepot]

@febuwhump 2024

Day 1. Helpless

—

Dialogue prompts:

“I hate feeling so helpless.”

“You’re not helpless, get up.”

“Stop acting so helpless.”

“You’re so fucking helpless. C’mon. Get up.”

“I was helpless to stop them.”

“You’re not as helpless as you think you are.”

“You’re helpless, you know that?”

“You’re helpless to do anything.”

“Seeing you so helpless like that excites me.”

“How could you do that to someone so helpless?”

“Leave that helpless person alone!”

“I want them helpless and begging.”

“So you’re saying I’m helpless to do anything?”

“Ohh, you poor helpless little thing.”

“How helpless are you, really?”

“You helpless piece of shit.”

“Pretend you’re helpless to get close to them.”

[cupcakeslushie]

Trying @Febuwhump!

Day 1: Helpless

[linecrosser]

Febwhump 2024 - Day 1 - Helpless

- unable to help -

[linkiscool333]

@la-sera @across-violet-skies

Link on ao3 should work, here is @hyah-lian beautiful work if not.

[arctrooper69]

Helpless

Hello friends! I'm gonna try to get through a good chuck of Febuwhump this year!

Prompt #1: Helpless @febuwhump

Warnings: Imperial!Tech. Mentions of needles and implied torture.

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

It wasn't the fact that you couldn't move that frightened you the most. Neither was it the blinding lights of the laboratory, nor the frigid metal table that chilled your naked skin. It was the goggled clone who entered into the room behind Dr Hemlock.

"T-Tech?" The words were barely a whisper.

Dr Hemlock chuckled, "I'd like to introduce you to my new science officer. You will be under his care from here on out. I suggest you comply with his direction or things could become rather unpleasant and I don't think any of us want that."

Your heart pounded, chest tightening, threatening to choke you with every beat. You glared, the initial fear quickly succumbing to rage. "Kriff you! What did you do to him, you monster!?"

Hemlock seemed unaffected by the outburst, and simply pressed a small button.

A cry of pain wrenched itself from your lips, jaw snapping shut as a burst of electricity coursed through your body. It was over as soon as it had begun, leaving muscles to twitch as you gasped for breath.

He tutted, "Like I said, cooperate and things will go much easier for you."

He turned to the clone, "Report to me immediately if you find anything useful."

"Yes sir."

Hemlock nodded and briskly turned and walked out of the room.

"Oh Tech..." You sighed with shakey voice, unable to stop the tears running from the corners of your eyes. A mixture of horror and guilt settled deeply in your gut, threatening to poison every thought. "What did they do to you!?"

Tech was silent. He turned to a console across the room.

"Subject is alert and attempting to use emotional appeal to influence the decision making of the chief science officer." He spoke to himself, typing something into the console in front of him.

"Tech!" You shouted, tugging at the restraints,

"Answer me, dammit!"

He was silent for a moment. "Subject appears to be agitated and aggressive. Cooperation will need to be coerced if behavior continues."

"Please talk to me..." The anger seemed to melt, flooding you with a warm, heavy helplessness and heartbreak as he turned to you.

This was not your Tech. It couldn't be. That curious light behind his eyes now deadened into a steely emotionless logic.

"Please..." You pled quietly once again, "Don't you remember me?"

He pulled a metal tray beside him filled with various tools and instruments.

Gloved fingers palpated your inner arm drawing a silent gasp. For a brief fraction of a second your heart jumped at his touch - a body's hopeful instinct seeking that physical connection. Those hands had touched you before, but never so callously - never so cold.

"Relax, this will not harm you. I simply need to collect a few blood samples."

If you closed your eyes, maybe you could imagine that you were back on the Marauder. Maybe you could send yourself back to remember how Tech's fingers passionately caressed over your skin - anything to dull the cold precision of his current examining.

You jerked, pulling against the restraints that held you back. The needle didn't hurt as much as much as the look of indifference in his eyes.

"You used to love me, Tech. Don't you remember?"

He entered something into a datapad and looked up.

"This will go a lot easier if you cooperate."

You pulled against the able again, attempting in vain to rid yourself of this prison.

He regarded you cooly as he walked back to the tray beside the table. "I would advise against that."

"Please!" You pled, tears once again running down your temples, "Use that big extraordinary mind of yours to realize this is wrong!"

He was silent again. You tried to meet his eyes but he simply turned away, grabbing something off of the tray.

"Tech, please!" Your wrists were sore and raw, stinging and burning as the restraints bit at them once again, "I won't let you do this!"

He turned back to face you.

"I do not need your cooperation to gather these results. Fighting me will only make this more unpleasant for you. It is your choice."

He paused, allowing you to consider the options. Anger won over the sorrow.

"Kriff you."

He sighed, "Very well."

A barred restraint snapped across your shoulders and chest and another across your forehead. You felt them tighten - squeezing and pulling - until they allowed not even the smallest wiggle.

"Tech!" You gasped, "Please! You know me! Please don't do this!" Your voice cracked, "Please!"

"Relax, and I will be finished shortly."

"I love you, Tech. Whatever you do to me.... Just remember it isn't you."

A moment of hesitation. A fraction of a nanosecond. A tremor of a hand. One blink and it was gone. As you looked up at him, perhaps there was just a glimmer of sorrow - a single tear unshed and hidden far away. Hope that maybe with time, all could be saved.

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[milkyplier]

Febuwhump is upon us!

And SURPRISE!! This year, me and the incredible @skyward-floored are collaborating!!! :D!!

Peggy is writing for Febuwhump, and I’ll be drawing a scene from each day that she writes!

Please go read her amazing work right here!! :33333

Febuwhump Day 1: Helpless

[oliversrarebooks]

Febuwhump Day 1: Helpless

tw: forced drugging, restraints, medical whump, forced brain surgery, implied mind control, stun weapon

It was like hitting a brick wall.

One minute, Toshiro was slamming into henchman after henchman, taking them out at a speed faster than the human mind could comprehend. The next minute, his face was rapidly meeting the floor.

His ears were ringing, his vision blurring as his eyes threatened to close on him. His muscles were weak, and it was if someone had pulled the plug on the nerves connecting his brain to his body. The tile floor was cold against his cheek as he fell to the floor with an embarrassing thump, as gracefully as a sack of potatoes, and equally able to move.

Some kind of stun gun. Stunning... thing. Vibrations. His newly fogged mind tried to reason through the situation. He was in the middle of Dr. Moon's lair, and although he'd cut a wide swath through her armored goons and lab interns, he hadn't spotted the good doctor herself yet. 

Which meant that this was probably all a trap, and he had obligingly raced into it at top speed.

Fuck. Whatever that weapon was had rendered him helpless. Unless he could recover quickly, he'd be screwed.

He struggled to regain his bearings through the dizziness, managing to force his weakened arms to push him up off the floor, when the low, strong vibrations racked his body again and knocked his tenuous grasp on control far away.

"Well, now, I'd call that experiment a rousing success," said a familiar and infuriatingly smug voice. 

Toshiro struggled to focus on the clean white sneakers that stepped in front of his face. Dr. Moon crouched down in front of him, grabbing his chin and directing his blurred gaze into hers. 

"Did you enjoy it as well?"

"Fffff..." Toshiro tried to get his mouth to cooperate enough to at least tell her to fuck off.

"Fantastic? Fabulous? Is that what you're trying to say? I think that's what you're trying to say," she said, nonchalantly snapping thick metal restraints on Toshiro's wrists. 

Oh, this situation was getting better and better, wasn't it? He could probably use his supersonic vibration to break these cuffs, but it would take some time, and that was at full power, which he most certainly was not. He was still stunned enough that he felt like he might pass out at any moment.

"Don't worry, you're in good hands now, my dear little hero," she said, running a hand through his hair. "Katie, can you get my guest his little party favor?"

A young woman in a lab coat looked confused by the request. "Party favor...?"

Dr. Moon sighed. "The IV. I'm talking about the IV I had you prepare."

"Oh, yes!" she said. "Right away, doctor."

"And let's make him more comfortable! Can two of you get him onto the surgical table?"

"Yes, doctor."

IV drugs? Surgical table? Toshiro's blood ran cold. What the hell was she planning? Her experiments had roughed him up many a time, but she'd never done anything like this. 

"Whaaaa..." he slurred pathetically, flopping like a dead fish as a couple of henchmen lifted him onto a padded table. He was still too numb and dazed to fight, and his window of escape seemed to rapidly be coming to a close. As a couple of scrawny scientists effortlessly held him down on the table -- humiliating enough that his embarrassment fought with his growing fear -- Katie returned with a large bag of translucent blue liquid on an IV pole.

"Oh, you're going to just love this, Toshiro," Dr. Moon said, brandishing the IV line's needle with theatrical flair. "You never get enough breaks, do you? I'm about to give you a nice long one."

Toshiro couldn't help his composure breaking slightly. It was one thing to be injured while fighting, or even to be captured and tortured. It was another thing entirely to be rendered unconscious, completely defenseless against whatever the mad scientist wanted to do with him.

"No need to look so upset. This won't hurt at all. You're just going to get very, very sleepy. You'll be just a bit drowsy and slow for the next, oh, let's say the next while. I wouldn't operate any heavy machinery."

She was bringing that IV needle closer to his elbow. He summoned all of his strength to try and pull away, knowing that as soon as he had that drug pumping into his body, it'd all be over. Unfortunately, his muscles were still largely unresponsive from the double stun just a few minutes ago.

Damn it, he had to -- !

The doctor effortlessly got the IV into his vein with a practiced hand, taping it down securely. He looked on in horror as the light blue liquid snaked down the tube and into his arm, willing the drug to somehow stop before it reached him. His arm felt cold and heavy at the injection site as the sedative began to flow freely into his system.

"That should kick in long before you get your bearings from my wonderful stun weapon," she said, stroking his cheek and looking down at him with malicious glee. "And I want to drink every last drop of your fear as you go under."

Toshiro glared as best as he could, testing his powers. Maybe if he could get his supersonic speed working, he could dislodge the IV from his elbow before he absorbed too much of the drug. His fast metabolism meant it took a lot to put him down, anyway.

He was already so groggy from being stunned, and so focused on forcing his uncooperative body to move, that he didn't even notice the buzzing in the back of his skull until it was too late. In seconds, the buzzing transformed into a deep drowsiness, muffling his thoughts like a blanket of fresh-fallen snow, draining him of energy, making his eyelids droop.

"And there it is!" said Dr. Moon with a cackle. "Isn't that the most delicious feeling of helplessness? You look so tired already. Don't fight it, now. Just let my beautiful drugs sing you to sleep. A nice little lullaby..."

Toshiro's efforts to try to shake the IV off had turned into a desperate struggle against the urge to give in and go to sleep. He was so exhausted, and he could feel his mind zoning in and out, his eyelids threatening to close. But he couldn't give in. 

"Don't worry, you'll be sedated, but not entirely unconscious. We can't have you fully under for brain surgery, you know."

The shock of adrenaline forced his eyes back open. Fuck. Anything but that.

"No need to panic, it's not a lobotomy. We don't use ugly words like that here. And my methods are far more precise," she said, as Toshiro's heart raced. "I'm just going to... slow you down. Make you more malleable. Easily influenced, let's say. And at only a small cost to your intelligence."

His half-asleep mind woke up enough to panic. Suddenly, he could move. He felt strength in his arm again, enough strength to try and shake free of the IV line that would be the end of him.

He had to get it out at any cost. If he didn't, when he next woke up, he might be some stupefied henchman to his archnemesis, his faculties cut out and left on the floor of her lair. A fate far worse than death -- at least in death, he'd be remembered as a hero. Not remembered as a drooling, dull-witted minion who used to be a hero, cut down by one of his former comrades.

No, he couldn't allow that.

His powers responded, and he willed his super speed to vibrate his arm hard enough to loosen the tape, to dislodge the needle. As soon as he got rid of the threat of the drug, he could break free of the bonds and escape.

"Oh, dear," said Dr. Moon. "Katie, be a dear and take the fight out of our guest again."

Toshiro's eyes widened just before he felt the stun weapon rumble through his body. His hold over his power slipped, his limbs sinking back onto the table. Disoriented and unable to move, the sedative quickly took hold of him once again.

"There, there." The doctor replaced the tape on the IV line. "Just relax, go to sleep, and it will all be over soon. Poor, helpless hero."

He groaned weakly, Dr. Moon's evil grin fading from sight as his vision tunneled.

"He's almost out. Finish preparation in the operating room," she said over her shoulder, before turning back to him. She leaned in close and whispered in his ear, running a hand through his hair. "If all goes well, you won't be waking up as yourself ever again," she cooed. "You're going to go to sleep, and I'm going to win."

Her voice sounded muffled, from far away, and his tongue was too thick and clumsy to respond back.

"Go to sleep. Just go to sleep..."

----

I've been struggling a bit with writing and the Febuwhump prompts looked delicious, so I decided to do a few of them!

New Bookseller chapter soon, promise.

[skyward-floored]

Febuwhump Day 1 — Helpless

Day one! Just a reminder that I’m sticking to my lu Incredibles au for this, which is more or less a superhero au (if you need more explanation, feel free to ask!). I’m not going to do every day of febuwhump this year, but I’m going to do a bunch! I’m excited to share what I’ve been working on :)

Also me and @thepinklink collaborated on things this year— she’s made some fantastic art to go with the fics! :D

You can see today’s here!

Anyway, here’s some more Hyrule backstory, as suggested by a couple people. Warning for some child abuse (nothing extreme, but it is there) and mentioned past injuries.

Read on ao3

————————————————————

Link clutched his bag to his chest as he crept down the hallway, heart thudding in his ears as he stepped shakily past a door with a faint light shining out from under it.

It didn’t open once he was past though, no voices coming from inside, and Link softly exhaled, continuing on his way.

He made extra care to avoid the boards he knew creaked, even though they were hard to spot with the only source of light being a sliver of uncertain moonlight shining in through a window. He had most of the boards memorized at least, but it was still tricky, and the bit of snow piled on the sill wasn’t helping matters.

Link bit his lip as he stepped past the stairs and the rotten board to the side that nobody had replaced, and squinted through the dark for the door that led to the street outside. It was right over here somewhere, but the faint light from the window didn’t reach this far.

“Where do you think you’re going?!”

Link’s heart shot straight up into his throat as a hand grabbed his arm and yanked him backwards, forcing him to drop the small bag he’d had clutched in his arms. His meager possessions spilled out on the floor, and Link swallowed thickly as he looked up at who’d caught him, a man named Carok.

“Well?” he asked sharply, and Link scrambled for an excuse, his exhausted mind not up to its usual speed.

“I-I was just... I wanted to go outside?” he stuttered.

“In this weather?” Carok snorted, glaring at him. “No... I don’t think so. You know the Eyes of Ganon don’t take kindly to deserters, brat.”

But I’m not deserting! I’m not one of you! You just won’t let me leave! Link wanted to wail, but his throat had grown too tight for him to speak anymore.

“We give you a home, a dry place to sleep, food and shelter and a purpose, and you repay us by running away?” Carok spat, and Link looked down at his dirty boots, trying not to cry. Crying always made it worse. He wouldn’t cry.

Carok glared at him, and dragged Link back down the hallway, ignoring his weak struggles to get away.

He’d been so close.

He’d thought everyone was asleep, and since he’d had to heal that one guy’s hand (his stomach still rolled thinking of it), he assumed they would think he was still too tired to try anything. And admittedly, he was exhausted, but this was the first chance he’d gotten in ages to try and get away.

He’d only been stuck with this group for a few months, but he wanted out.

And he’d completely screwed it up.

Carok opened a door and shoved him inside, and Link’s hands grew clammy as he looked around, realizing he was in the cellar they always locked him in when he’d done something really wrong.

“Boss’ll deal with you tomorrow,” Carok growled as he slammed the door and locked it. “Take some time to think about how grateful you should be that we take care of you.”

Link didn’t bother replying that they hadn’t even remembered to feed him today.

He whimpered as Carok stomped away, and he sat down, tucking his arms around his knees and curling up into a tight ball. He’d try and get out, but he’d been thrown in here enough times to know that it wasn’t possible. No windows, and no doors aside from the one he’d just been shoved through.

Just dark and oppressive, and even colder then where Link usually slept.

He sniffled, allowing the tears he’d been fighting to keep back come out now that he was alone. Pain throbbed out from his arm where he’d been grabbed, and Link lit his palm up just a little, rubbing his hand over the worst of it while tears slipped down his nose.

Bruises were tricky though, and he could only ease the soreness a little. Not to mention they hated when he used his powers on himself, and he was still worn from using his healing so much, so Link only soothed the worst of it before letting his light fade, the darkness falling over the room once more.

Link rested his head on his knees, and closed his eyes, barely able to tell the difference from having them open.

He just wanted to leave. The other places he remembered living had been bad, but this one was millions worse. His old caretakers may have forced him to heal every little scrape and prick of a finger, and gone between ignoring and screaming at him at the drop of a hat, but at least the worst injury he’d ever healed there had been a broken arm.

Here he had to deal with gunshots, and knife wounds, and horribly burnt hands that were nearly blackened from—

Link swallowed thickly, trying not to be sick again. He’d already thrown up once after he’d healed those burns, and didn’t want to smell it all night.

Once he managed to get his stomach to settle, Link thought back to his failed escape, dread chilling his bones at Carok’s parting words. The boss wasn’t forgiving at all, and Link really didn’t want to be in the same room as him when he found out he’d tried to leave. He still had the scar on his back from the last time he’d messed up.

Link wiped his nose, wrapping his hands tighter around his knees.

He was sick of living like this, stuck with people who only wanted his powers, constantly scared of what he’d be forced to do. It made living on the streets look like fun in comparison, and that was saying something.

A sudden exhaustion washed over him, and Link buried his face in his knees.

He hated them. He hated this place, and the people who kept him here. And he so badly wanted to hate his powers that had gotten him trapped here too, but he... he couldn’t.

Despite it all, Link liked having powers. They made him feel special, and fixing injuries always felt right, deep in his chest. It was useful too, even when it wore him out and made him feel dizzy, and Link really did like them. He just... wished they hadn’t gotten him here.

Link looked back at his bruised arm, and something hot burned in his middle as he thought again of escape.

This was only a setback. He wasn’t going to stay here, he was going to get out, and never do anything he didn’t want to ever again! He’d find somewhere where he’d never be cold, or hungry, or hit when he did something wrong, he’d go wherever he wanted!

Link wiped his face with his sleeve, and settled in for a cold night, thoughts already going towards another escape attempt when he got out.

He would get away from here.

And when he did, he’d finally be safe.

[serickswrites]

Helplessly

Warnings: blood, bleeding, wounds, unconsciousness, temporary character death, cpr, stabbing, stab wound, caretaker and whumpee

Caretaker was helpless. So completely helpless. And they hated it. Hated it more than anything, including Whumper. Because they could do something about Whumper. They had done something about Whumper. But now they were helpless. They hated it.

They were helpless as they watched Whumpee collapse with a stab wound in their gut, blood pouring over Whumpee's fingers as they cried out. They were helpless as Whumpee lay there bleeding. Helpless as Whumpee begged Whumper to stop. Helpless as they managed to disarm Whumper and get to Whumpee. Helpless because they couldn't keep Whumpee conscious. Couldn't keep their blood inside them. Caretaker was helpless to save Whumpee.

"GET THE MEDIC IN HERE NOW!" They had roared to the rest of the team as they tried to keep Whumpee alive. "Stay with me, Whumpee, keep your eyes on me. Please," they had begged Whumpee.

Whumpee had blinked sluggishly at them Blinked and took shaky, trembling breaths. But they hadn't been able to keep their eyes open. They were helpless against the darkness that pulled them under. Just as Caretaker was helpless to keep them awake.

And so now Caretaker stood to the side as they watched the medics try to revive Whumpee. Caretaker hated being helpless. Hated that they couldn't stop replaying the last hour to see if they could have done something. Hated that they could only watch helplessly as the Whumpee's body jerked with each compression.

Caretaker was helpless. They hated it.

But as Whumpee sucked in a huge breath of air, Caretaker dared hope. Hope that perhaps though they were helpless, someone wasn't. Hope that the medics could keep Whumpee's heart beating. Hope that Whumpee would make it to the hospital. Hope that Whumpee could be saved.

And suddenly Caretaker wasn't so helpless anymore.

[kybercrystals94]

But She Still Cries

Read here on AO3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 1 | Prompt 1: Helpless

Rating: G

Words: 350

Summary: Omega tries to comfort Crosshair…Crosshair doesn’t know how to do the same. (Character Focus: Crosshair, Omega)

Omega is waiting by the door when they return him to the cell. She doesn’t say anything when she wraps an arm around his waist and accepts his weight when he leans against her a little too heavily. They stumble to the cot, and Crosshair sits down with a sigh that wheezes out like a whine.

“Do you want water?” she asks.

Crosshair shakes his head.

“Okay,” Omega says. She sits down next to him, presses into his arm, takes his hand in hers and twines their fingers together. “Do you want to hear another story?”

Crosshair doesn’t respond, but he grips her hand. It is answer enough.

Omega tells the story about Tech winning the pod race. Details like names and places are omitted, their absence replaced with lies obvious to Crosshair, but confusing to anyone who is listening in. Omega embellishes with laughably exaggerated details — a skill she learned from Wrecker undoubtedly.

Crosshair listens, eyes closed, heart broken. It is strange, listening to memories of his brothers that he does not share, from a person – a sister – he does not know. While she is chronologically older than him, biologically, she is much younger, a child. A being that should be cared for and comforted; and yet, since her arrival in his cell, she has taken the role of nurturer. It feels wrong, but he accepts it, telling himself that it is for her benefit. Obviously, feeling useful keeps her calm. She doesn’t cry as much since he’s relented to being coddled.

But she still cries.

Like now.

Her story cuts off sharply, and she takes a shuddering breath. Her hold on Crosshair’s hand tightens. “I miss them.”

Crosshair is exhausted and pained, every muscle protesting movement. Even his mind aches, a throbbing pulse. He doesn’t know what to say or do that would bring her solace, because, really, there is nothing he can offer. Not when his decisions put them here.

“My heart hurts,” Omega whispers, voice shaky.

Crosshair recognizes the affliction with excruciating clarity, the tight fist of loss and regret.

And there’s nothing he can do.

END

A/N: I am absolutely ecstatic to start Febuwhump 2024! Most of the stories will be TBB themed; however, I might toss some TCW stories in the ring for your consideration.

✨Let me know if you’d like to be on my taglist! ✨

Taglist: @followthepurrgil @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424

[uniquevoidflowers]

Summary:

Warriors, Wind, and Legend are captured by some guys who want to take revenge on Warriors for the war.

_______________________________

Day #1 of Febuwhump 2024: Helpless

[writerlovestropes]

Red Hood is crossing the street one night and he's hit by a car. Tim Drake scrambles out of the passenger seat, but his Uber driver doesn't stick around to face Red Hood's wrath. Tim is 13 years old, so Hood knows he wasn't the driver, but Tim still wants to make up for what happened, so he says he owes Hood a favor. That is the beginning of an unlikely truce that turns into friendship that turns into little brother acquisition.

aka: Tim owes Red Hood a favor and through a series of back and forth favors, he gets adopted by the Red Hood and the Outlaws.

This is my Febuwhump story! 29 chapters of Whump, angst, hurt/comfort, humor, fluff, and everything else I could throw in there. Every chapter is a different prompt. Will update every day of February!

Febuwhump 2024 story!

I’ll be uploading a chapter every day for all 29 days of February! I’m also reblogging this post every day and changing the tags every time I upload a new chapter to the current day’s tags. Fingers crossed that it will get reblogged on the Febuwhump blog :) 

@febuwhump  

[linecrosser]

Febwhump 2024 - Day 22 - "You weren't meant to be there"

SQH was pulling a big-brain-move, setting up a trap-and-destroy-array with the goal of eliminating enemies of his King (specifically getting rid of his uncle).

He did not expect that MBJ would just... teleport right into the middle of it, just because SQH was there.

The array targets Ice Demons specifically harsh, so MBJ got hit with its full force.

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Day 1: Helpless / Caught in a Snare

@febuwhump prompt: Helpless @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Caught in a Snare

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Cadet Crosshair, Cadet Hunter, Cadet Wrecker, Cadet Tech Cadet Batch as featured in my WIP fic 'Pieces of the People We Love' - haven't read it? All you need to know is that Crosshair is the oldest, and Hunter is the youngest! Word Count: ~935 Click here to read on AO3

Synopsis: Experimental Unit 99 are on a training exercise and struggling to shake down with their new member, CT-9931 ‘Hunter’.

Crosshair scanned the forest constantly, enhanced eyesight picking up minute details which would escape his brothers’ notice. Tech loped along on his left, tapping away at a scanner which showed a relief map of the terrain, and Wrecker was on his right, heavy gun swinging idly from his hand.

Hunter was a handful of paces ahead of the three of them, skittishly glancing about as he guided them through the unfamiliar training course. The newest addition to their squad was more at home in this wild environ than he was in the halls of Kamino, and even Crosshair was begrudgingly impressed by Hunter’s enhanced senses as he kept them unerringly on track, without once referring to Tech’s map readouts.

His gaze zoned in on the ground ahead of them, and he pulled up short.

“Hunter.”

The younger boy tuned at his name, brown eyes flashing curiously from beneath his unruly mop of curls. Realising Crosshair had stopped, he slowed his steps until he too was still.

Tech and Wrecker halted between the two of them.

“Problem, Crosshair?” asked Tech, glancing between them.

“Give me your vibroknife, Hunter.”

Hunter bristled, teeth baring in a snarl. “What do you need it for?” he asked, defensiveness clear in his voice.

“I just need it,” said Crosshair, holding his hand out demandingly. “Hand it over.”

Scowl darkening, Hunter glanced at Tech and Wrecker for support. Tech shrugged his confusion, giving Hunter a sympathetic look. Wrecker turned to Crosshair.

“You can use my vibroknife, Cross,” he offered, unsheathing the blade which hummed to life. “Let Hunter keep his.”

Crosshair shook his head. “No, I need Hunter’s.”

Begrudgingly Hunter tugged the vibroknife from its sheath and held it out at arm’s length. When Crosshair didn’t move he muttered a curse and took a step forwards to close the distance between them, shoulders rising with tension.

Crosshair snagged the vibroknife and twirled it neatly between his fingers, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face. “Thanks, di’kut,” he said with a sardonic smile, not bothering to hide the creeping satisfaction of watching Hunter seethe.

With an audible snarl Hunter spun away from him, stalking forwards along the path.

The snare closed round his ankle, swift and decisive. Hunter was whipped into the air with a yelp, instinctively lashing out at nothing. Tech echoed Hunter’s yell with a surprised exhale, and Wrecker gave a bark of laughter.

“Hunter! You walked straight inter that one!” crowed Wrecker, picking his way carefully to the inverted clone and reaching out to stop him swaying. Hunter swore and swung at him, setting himself spinning as Wrecker leaned back easily to avoid the blow.

“We were warned of the potential of traps in the environ,” said Tech, peering up to follow the cable caught round Hunter’s leg. “I am surprised that none of us noticed it–”

He trailed off as he realised Crosshair’s shoulders were shaking.

“Ah.” He straightened his goggles. “Crosshair. Am I to take it that you did, in fact, spot the presence of the snare?”

“I am going to kill you,” snarled Hunter through bared teeth, although the effect was somewhat diminished by his inverted position and the gentle spin he found himself in.

Crosshair sauntered forwards, twirling Hunter’s vibroknife casually. “Shame you don’t have anything to cut yourself free with,” he taunted, leaning down so he was on eye level with the upside-down Hunter.

“Don’t worry Hunter, I’ll getcha down-” offered Wrecker, but was cut off by Hunter’s furious glare.

“I don’t need your help!” he spat defiantly, fixing Crosshair with a look full of loathing. “Give me my knife!”

Crosshair bared his teeth in a wicked grin, carefully holding the vibroknife in front of Hunter. The smaller boy lunged for it, reaching as far as he could, but his fingertips grasped empty air and he swung away.

Wrecker failed to stifle a laugh, and even Tech was covering his mouth with his hand to hide his amusement. Hunter’s face was slowly flushing crimson, though whether it was embarrassment or just the blood rushing to his head was hard to discern.

“What’s the matter, Hunter? Infallible senses didn’t notice the trap?” drawled Crosshair, an antagonistic smirk still painted on his face.

“You distracted me!” howled Hunter, thrashing about angrily. “You asked for my knife to distract me so I wouldn’t spot it!”

“Hmm, I guess I did,” the sniper gloated, tumbling the knife across his fingers once more before sheathing it at his belt.

“Awright Cross, you had your fun,” said Wrecker, smothering his grin as he shot a sympathetic look at Hunter. “Let’s cut him down.”

“Spoil-sport,” sneered Crosshair, starting along the path again. “Come on, Tech.”

Crosshair listened to the sounds of the other two as he walked away. There was a thud as Hunter hit the ground, a muffled, “I’ll kill him-”, and the sound of a scuffle as Wrecker restrained the furious young clone.

“That was rather unkind, Crosshair,” admonished Tech, falling into step beside his brother.

Crosshair discerned the truth of Tech’s amusement in his brother’s smile. His lips pressed thinly together.

“Now he’ll know better than to give up his weapons.”

“You’re his squad leader. He trusted you.”

“That’s the point,” said Crosshair, dropping his voice so that their words wouldn’t reach Hunter’s enhanced senses. “He didn’t like that feeling. Being helpless. Better he learned that now, with us, than… somewhere else.”

He risked a glance back to where Wrecker was carrying Hunter under one arm, the smaller boy squirming and cursing the whole time. His smile softened.

“Little idiot,” he muttered, with something close to affection.

[waywardwizzard]

There were times when Mal had felt helpless.

When Kaylee had been shot. When Wash had been tortured. When the Shepherd had gotten hurt and the Tams had almost been burnt at the stake.

Sernity's ex-client stood in front of him, quietly talking to his goons. Unfortunately, whenever Mal felt helpless, he tended to get defensive. And sarcastic. Not a good combination to be honest.

Ivan stared at the captain balefully, ignoring the glob of blood and spit busy congealing on his leather shoes.

"That wasn't nice."

"Yeah, well, I ain't exactly nice. 'specially not to people who kidnap me and mine."

Tutting, Ivan waved a goon closer, glancing at the captain as he spoke.

"Start with the young ones. Let's see if he'll behave then."

Mal tried to lunge at them but he hit the metal griding of the dock yard with a thud, his vision swimming. What the diyu hit him?

"Let them go, Ivan," he ground out, blinking rapidly. His head gave a vicious throb and he wished he could shoot the gorram hundan. "They have nothin' to do with this."

"You misunderstand, captain." Ivan's hand shot out, long fingers digging into his jaw hard enough to bruise. "They have everything to do with this."

Screams tore through the empty yard and Mal's heart stopped.

No.

"So captain," Ivan asked, smirking, "will you behave? Or not?"

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Author's note-

Hi everyone! Guess who's back! If there are any tw tags I missed/should add please feel free to tell me and I'll add them.

Also, it wouldn't be a waywardwizzard fic without apologizing, soooo

I'm sorry about this. This is gonna be bad. Because apparently I'm only good at writing angst. But! I really wanted to try a prompt challenge again so here y'all go

<3

@febuwhump