#febuwhumpday3

[cupcakeslushie]

Febuwhump Day 3: Bite Down

Aftermath of one of Mikey’s worst Battle Nexus injuries!

[linecrosser]

Febuwhump 2024 - Day 3 - "Bite down on this"

[whumpinthepot]

@febuwhump 2024

Day 3. Bite down on this

—

Forcing whumpee to bite down on a red hot fire poker, forcing their jaw to clamp down against the iron, burning flesh against the instrument, the smoke going up their nose as they smell their own skin crisp, gurgling on hot blood, and when its pulled away skin rips from their tongue and lips, blood gushing out of their face making it impossible to make out anything but choked screaming.

[kybercrystals94]

Grounded (Part 1)

Read here on Ao3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 3 | Prompt 3: “Bite down on this.”

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Broken Limb

Rated: T | Words: 911 | Summary: Crosshair is injured during a mission. [Character Focus: Crosshair, Hunter]

Blinding pain greets Crosshair’s return to consciousness, and a sharp gasp ejects from his lungs. A hand clasps hard over his mouth, pressing so tight that finger shaped bruises will certainly form. Crosshair struggles against his captor, writhing, shaking his head frantically, but an arm wraps around his chest, and hot breath whispers against his ear, “We have to be absolutely silent, Cross, just a few more minutes.” The words are spoken on air, no voice, but Crosshair recognizes Hunter’s reg sounding cadence.

He sinks back into Hunter’s chest plate and nods. Hunter moves his hand, and Crosshair tries to breathe quietly, force himself to inhale and exhale steady, slow breaths. Agony stutters the attempt, making his breathing ragged.

An eternity and a lifetime goes by before Hunter’s grip around him relaxes. “They’re gone,” he says, voice still quiet, but present.

“What happened?” Crosshair manages to grit out. When he tries to sit up, his vision goes white. He barely suppresses the scream that tries to claw out of his throat.

“Don’t try to move,” Hunter warns.

Crosshair thinks of a choice comeback, but can’t make his voice form the words. He growls out a pathetic sound instead. He isn’t even sure where the pain is coming from, but it consumes him wholly.

“I’m going to lay you down,” Hunter says.

Crosshair offers a jerky nod.

In a few, excruciating movements, Hunter slides out from where he was holding Crosshair upright and lays him back on the ground. They are in a heavily forested area, evergreens looming over them, tops scraping an overcast sky. The underbrush is tall and dense, an excellent hiding place. Because they are hiding. Why are they hiding?

“What happened?” Crosshair asks again, more insistent, trying to ignore the pain induced nausea threatening to evacuate his stomach.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Hunter asks instead, turning to rummage through his kit.

“If I remembered what happened, I wouldn’t be asking,” Crosshair hisses.

Hunter casts him a sidelong glance. “Answer my question, then I’ll answer yours.”

Crosshair closes his eyes, willing himself to remember anything past the pain. “We split up…from Wrecker and Echo. Tech is with the ship. Radio silence after Tech discovered our comms had been compromised. I fell…” The sound of bone snapping is another memory that conjures up, but instead of voicing it, Crosshair lifts his head to look down at his leg.

“Don’t,” Hunter says, reaching out to stop Crosshair.

It’s too late. Crosshair chokes on a gasp at the mangled state of his left leg just below the knee. There’s blood. A lot of blood. And bone. There shouldn’t be bone.

His skin burns cold.

Hunter pushes him back gently. “Breathe, Cross, breathe.”

But Crosshair can’t breathe. His chest feels tight, compressed. No matter how hard he tries, the humid air feels impossible to drag into his lungs.

“--with me, breathe with me,” Hunter is saying, exaggerating his own breathing for Crosshair to follow.

A hand wraps around Crosshair’s, and he clutches it like a lifeline. Hunter leans into his space, making it where he can’t see his injury even if he wants to. He doesn’t want to. “Nice slow breaths. Good.” Crosshair knows he is not doing good with his shallow, gasping breaths, but the encouragement helps nonetheless. His breathing begins to steady. “Good job, just breathe. In…out…good.”

Crosshair closes his eyes again, willing himself not to panic. Panicking won’t do them any good. He knows this. He focuses on his breathing.

“I’m going to stabilize the wound so that we’ll be ready for when the extraction comes,” Hunter says after several long moments of letting Crosshair regain his composure. “I have a hypo for the pain, but it’s probably going to only take the edge off…under the circumstances.”

Crosshair’s stomach turns, but he gives Hunter a tight nod without opening his eyes.

Hunter lets go of Crosshair’s hand, and the loss of physical grounding is more alarming than Crosshair will ever admit out loud. He fists his own hands together, hoping the action will be comforting, but it isn't the same.

He can hear Hunter rummaging through their med kit again, then Hunter says, “Hypo,” before a needle prick bites into the soft flesh of his neck. The relief is small but immediate, a numbing warmth coursing through blood.

“I need to stop the bleeding. Wrap the wound to prevent any more contamination,” Hunter begins to explain. He sounds like Tech a little, the words he’s using. It’s strangely reassuring.

Crosshair feels the foliage by his head move as Hunter shifts closer. “It’s going to hurt,” he says. “I’m going to have you bite down on something so that…you know.”

Another stiff nod is the only affirmative he can give, and some kind of knotted cloth is put in his mouth. Crosshair bites down on it hard, teeth sinking into the coarse fibers of fabric.

When Hunter begins to staunch the wound, it takes every ounce of resolve Crosshair can muster not to cry out, although he does cry. He can feel pain induced tears manage to escape, mixing with the cold sweat that begins to track down the sides of his face. His hands, still knotted together, unlatch to claw at the ground. He tries not to move, but his body writhes slightly of its own volition.

“Almost done, vod,” Hunter says, voice barely breaking through the agonized haze.

Everything goes dark.

TBC

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[batrogers]

Febuwhump Day 3, "Bite down on this"

I promise Link knows what he's doing here LOL

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

Febuwhump Day 3 -- "Bite Down on This"

tw: description of injury, burns

The battle was over. Four doubled over himself and braced his hands on his knees, panting open-mouthed, as the last of those cursed fire-breathing aeralfos were picked out of the sky by Wild and Twilight. The ambush had come upon them unexpectedly, and they’d been forced into a loose defensive circle as the flying monsters tried to pick them off one by one. Despite their surprise, it seems they’d escaped without any major injuries. Legend was nursing a shallow scratch on his shoulder that he’d earned when one of the flying beasts had tried to fly down and snatch Wind up from the ground, Sky’s hair had been singed at the tips, but other than that, everyone was whole and well besides a few burnt sleeves. Four straightened—his chest was still tight despite the battle being over, how odd—and he withdrew a cloth from his pocket to wipe away the black blood from his beloved Four Sword. 

“Four!” someone shouted, their voice high and tight with worry. Four looked up with a start—was he in danger? Were all the monsters not actually gone? But it was only Warrior, who was running towards him, his face twisted into a look of panic. Four sent a glance behind himself—nothing was there.

“Captain,” he returned with a bit of confusion, “what’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter,” Warrior said smoothly as he reached Four’s side, breathless from his burst of speed. “Can you sit down for me, Four?” 

There was a specific tone to Warrior’s voice—one that he used on the younger heroes to calm them when dealing with injuries or bad nightmares—that put Four’s nerves on edge. “What’s wrong, Captain?” he asked again.

“Nothing, nothing. Just keep breathing, you’re fine.” Warrior took Four’s arms and forcefully pushed him down to sitting. Four was getting a bit irked—he shrugged him off, pulling away. “Legend, call Hyrule and Time, quick! And Sky, we’re going to need some help over here!”

“If nothing’s wrong, what are you doing? Hey!” Four tried to bat him away, but Warrior would not be deterred. Instead, he took Four’s sword out of his hand and placed it to the side, then dragged up the bottom of his shirt. “Hey! I was cleaning that!”

Warrior ducked down to glance under Four’s shirt, then looked into Four's eyes intently. He moved his hand to Four’s stomach as if to press down, but Four felt nothing. “How are you feeling right now? Any pain? Any discomfort or pressure at all?”

“No!” Four batted his hands away again. “What are you doing?”

Warrior sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Oh, that’s not good,” he muttered to himself. “Rulie! Get over here now! Don’t look down, Four, you’re all right.”

So of course, Four looked down. The whole front of his tunic was burnt away, crisped at the edges. The skin underneath Warrior’s hands was molted black and red. Oh. But even at the sight of the burn, he felt no pain. A flood of lightheadedness surged through his head, making him dizzy.

“Hylia, what did I say! I don’t know why I even try,” Warrior bemoaned in a forced joking voice that Four didn’t find funny at all. “Do you think that you can get your tunic off?”

“Oh Hylia,” Time swore underneath his breath as he appeared in Four’s field of view. “Oooooh, sweet Hylia.”

“Uh…  probably,” Four managed to mutter, his mind stuttering at the sight of his own blackened flesh and Time’s reaction. Why… Why couldn’t he feel it? It was his own skin, wasn’t it? 

Somehow, Four ended up on his back. Sky and Hyrule were both looming over him now, their faces pinched tight in panic. His tunic had gone… somewhere. Hyrule’s hands were on his stomach, glowing with pink magic. His whole body was hypersensitive—the grass tickled his bare skin, a little rock dug into his shoulder, the breeze tugged at his hair where he lay—and he still couldn’t feel Hyrule’s touch.

“I… I can’t heal this,” Hyrule murmured faintly. Beads of sweat shone on his forehead. “There’s… there’s just too much dead skin. We’re going to have to clear it all out first.” 

“I feared that was what you’d say,” Warrior said. “Alright, Time, Twilight, get over here! We’re going to need you as well. Wild, do you have any medical training for dealing with burns?” A response rang in Four’s ears. “Good, then you get over here too then. Bring some sterile washcloths, if we’ve got any.”

“Tell us what to do, Warrior,” Sky said. Twilight was there too, hovering over his shoulder. His face was white.

“Hold him down,” Warrior answered, his expression grim. “We’re going to have to excise the wound before we can treat it, and he’s gonna fight once the pain starts to hit. I should know. But we can…” 

“...have anything for pain management?” Time’s voice asked.

“...ot for this, it won’t touch it. Wouldn’t kick in in time any… have to be fast or he’ll…”

Four tipped his head back and stared up at the sky, feeling disconnected from his own body. He was starting to feel… bad. His side still didn't hurt, but something was wrong. “Warrior…” he managed to croak out. “What’s…?”

Warrior was at his head in an instant. He brushed Four’s sweaty bangs out of his eyes—where had his headband gone?—and smiled down at him thinly. “Hey, Smithy. Hanging in there?”

Four licked his lips. They were dry and numb. “What’re you…?”

“You’ve been burned, and we’ve got to deal with it, now,” Warrior answered, yanking his scarf from his neck. “I’m not going to lie, it’s going to hurt, but you’ll be okay. Can you bite down on this for me?”

Four’s eyes slowly focused in on the object held up before his face. It was Warrior’s blue scarf, folded and balled up into a makeshift gag. Somehow, he dredged up enough energy to nod, and the fabric was shoved between his teeth without further ceremony. The floral smell of it burned his nose and made his head swim.

“Everyone ready?” Warrior asked, looking up at the heads surrounding him. There were nods all around. Four’s eyes fluttered shut, overcome by a sudden tiredness. “Alright, hold him down. Let’s get this done as quickly as possible. Hyrule, stand by.”

Four found his head in Sky’s lap, his arms trapped. At his feet, Time and Twilight each straddled a leg, pinning him to the forest floor. He groaned, laying his head back into Sky’s lap. Someone—was that Legend?—held one of his hands in between his own, rubbing his thumb over the back of his knuckles.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Legend said, squeezing his hand. His eyes were wet. “Just hang on, you’re gonna be okay. Hyrule, have you got enough magic for this?”

"Y...yes, I think so."

Oh, Four finally realized somewhere in the back of his mind. This is going to suck.

Warrior looked away. “Wild, let’s start. Wind, get a potion ready.”

Their hands moved to his stomach. For a moment, he felt nothing. Then pins and needles, accompanied by a sort of bone-deep cold, dove deep into his skin. That cold warmed into a sort of tingly heat, which then turned into hot, all-consuming pain. 

Four screamed. He bucked against the grip holding him down, his back arching and his feet kicked uselessly against the forest floor as he tried to crawl away from the fire in his stomach. He begged them to let him go, just stop, just let him die, please. Eventually, just as Hyrule stepped in, his hands shining pink, darkness rose to save him from the pain, and he didn’t fight it.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

only to hurt, never to hold

gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 3 - "bite down on this" | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 360

summary: Din suffers a semi-serious injury in battle.

This is technically a drabble in the "live to rise" gladiator!Din universe, but it can be read as a standalone piece. If you're following "live to rise," this takes place in the time jump between his 48th and 60th fights (the timeline really doesn't matter; it's just a battle we didn't see).

warnings: canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, prisoner of war, indentured servitude, fight to the death, au where the empire wins, discussions of genocide, discussions of war, graphic descriptions of violence, graphic descriptions of injuries, gore, brutality, hurt/no comfort

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Din thought about skipping the medbay, but he’s glad he didn’t when he returns to find you already patching someone else up. You don’t need the burden.

You might have been gentler, though. 

His injury had been deemed serious enough for treatment but not enough for bacta. It was almost comical, the way the universe was dangling what could have been. 

The medic had shoved a tongue depressor into his mouth without warning and snapped, “bite down on this, now,” before jabbing the cauterizer against his skin.

In the neighboring cell, he hears your soft voice offer your own belt, and when the hum of the cauterizer comes, the hiss of flesh follows, slow and careful. Wrappers crinkle, and gauze rips.

He won’t deny the furl of envy in his gut. He hadn’t really cared how gentle they tended his wound. No, it was the allure of your fingers against the bare skin of his forearm that had tempted his resolve. Bare skin that had only felt hurt at the hands of others, nothing tender or soft since he was a youngling. 

Truthfully, his own hands haven't given anything tender or soft, either. He's used them only to hurt, never to hold. Until the kid, at least.

He finds he thinks about your hands far more than he should. 

The medic hadn’t spared any bandages or burn treatment. Just a jagged, wretched burn only slightly better than the gash it sealed. No less painful, but less likely to kill him, at least.

The Trandoshan hadn’t needed the spear to hurt Din; hadn’t even picked it up. He just dove at him with teeth and claws. It was probably the most he’d been bloodied by an opponent yet.

Didn’t matter, though. Din was particularly proficient with a spear, even if it had been poorly weighted. 

You had heard him return, of course, ducking from the troopers as they came and went. So when you leave C-3, you rap lightly on his door. “Need anything, Mando?”

He hesitates. Thinks of the medpac in your hands and your fingers wrapping the binding.

“No, thank you,” he says.

Instead, he spends the night on the floor, alternating the cool durasteel floor and lukewarm water from his tap against his wound, unable to find even the roughest edge of sleep. 

[kabie-whump]

♡ Febuwhump Day 3: "Bite Down on This" ♡

Field medicine featuring Ventis, Onthyes, and Shayah :)

@febuwhump

Content: Field medicine, poison, begging, cutting out a projectile

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Bite down on this.”

Ventis shook his head hard, clamping his mouth shut so Onthyes couldn’t slip the band of leather between his teeth. He knew what would happen after, and he didn’t want it.

“You don’t have time to be stubborn, sparky,” Shayah hissed from somewhere down by his burning abdomen. “I gotta cut it out before the poison spreads any more.”

“Give him a break,” Onthyes said. “He’s scared.”

“He’s dying.”

Ventis whimpered, a wave of dizziness hitting him hard. The wet grass under him tickled his bare wrists and the back of his neck. He definitely felt like he was dying. But he didn’t want his last moments to be filled with Shayah carving into him like a roast pig.

“Ventis,” Onthyes whispered, his face appearing haloed by the sun above. “I’m so sorry, but we have to do this. It’ll hurt less if you cooperate, I promise.”

“Please,” he choked out, his hands going to shove weakly at Shayah. “Please don’t.”

Onthyes trapped his wrists easily in one hand and held them out of the way, offering the belt again with the other. “She’ll be fast, I promise.”

Ventis gave in reluctantly, allowing Onthyes to place the leather between his teeth. It tasted like sweat and something smoky.

Everything moved quickly after that. Onthyes held Ventis’s wrists with one hand and covered his eyes with the other, placing a knee gently on his chest to keep him from moving. Shayah’s weight pinned his legs to the wet ground.

The cold touch of a knife to Ventis’s already searing wound, then white-hot agony.

Ventis screamed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Ventisposting taglist (aka a list of people who i want to bake cookies for):

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet @rainydaywhump

[em-writes-stuff]

“Bite down on this”

Day 3 of @febuwhump

Villain and supervillain

429 words

Warnings: dislocated shoulder

~

Supervillain stares at Villain, eyes boring into his back. “We’re gonna have to do it here.”

“What?” Villain squeaks. He turns around and shakes his head. “My shoulder is dislocated. We can’t ‘do it here’ I’ll die.”

“You won’t die.”

“If you’re the one to do it, yes I will. You’ve got super strength, remember? You’ll probably end up ripping my arm out of the socket and I’ll bleed out. Can we just go to the hospital?”

Supervillan shakes her head, “Sorry, too risky. Either I’ll reset it, or you’ll have to press against the wall to pop it back in.” She takes a second, then lowers her voice, “Or you can live with a dislocated shoulder until Hero stops the manhunt for us.”

Villain’s mouth presses into a thin line and he shakes his head, “If you pull my arm off, I’ll beat you to death with it.”

Supervillain chuckles and nods, “That sounds fair to me.”

She helps Villain lay on a table without moving his arm, then holds it loosely past his waist. She shakes it gently, moving it slowly to be straight out from Villain’s body.

“Are you doing ok?”

Villain nods, his face red. “Just keep going.”

Supervillain pauses and reaches for a stick on the ground. “Here,” she says, holding it above his face. “Bite down on this. You look like you’re gonna pop a blood vessel.”

Villain rolls his eyes, but opens his mouth and lets Supervillain put the stick between his teeth. Before he can protest, she’s moving his arm up again, this time past his shoulder and nearly touching his bicep to his ear. He winces, squeezes his eyes shut and clamps his teeth down on the stick, splitting it.

Supervillain bends his arm at the elbow and lowers it to his side, then helps him up.

He spits the stick out and uses his tongue to unstick any splinters still in his mouth while Supervillain takes off her shirt and rips it, fashioning it into a makeshift splint for Villain’s arm.

He tries not to look, knowing how much she values her privacy and swallows thickly after she backs away from him.

“Thank you,” he says, still looking at the ground.

She nods and claps her hands together once, “No problem. No way was I going to keep listening to your barely stifled whimpers when I know how to relocate a shoulder.”

“I was not whimpering!” Villain protests, finally looking up from the ground. “I was…making very manly noises of pain.”

Supervillain chuckles and nods, “Whatever, very manly man.”

[librathefangirl]

Febuwhump 2024: Day 3 Alt 1 - Human Shield

[splinnters]

bite down (1.1k words)

Casey reached over his shoulder and felt around. The same stabbing pain returned as his fingers brushed over something torn and wet. He looked down at his hand. It was covered in dark blood.

Febuwhump Day 3: Bite Down On This

day 3 of whump and I have conquered the embarrassment of only writing depressing fanfic of my blorbos. I was born to do this. (enjoy!)

[flowersfromwind]

Febuwhump - Day 3

(I didn't like this one... D:)

Day 3: "Bite down on this" TW: blood

Link paid attention as Tetra spoke with him. Despite her nervous attitude, there was authority in her tone that truly sounded like the pirate captain she claimed to be. She was saying something about removing the shrapnel and how it would hurt, in her words, like hell. But Link didn't care, nodding in agreement. He trusted the girl's judgement, especially after keeping him awake and having cleaned the wound properly - even though it was with salt water, apparently the only kind of water around, and burned like flames. She knew how to do this with precision from previous experiences and, honestly, this information worried Link more than his current injury. He watched in silence as the girl looked at his face, thoughtfully. She wasn't searching for hesitation or anything else, but rather looking through him. And soon, a frown appeared. Link was surprised to hear quick murmurs apologizing. He forgot for a second that Tetra was just a child, too young for a leadership position and certainly too young for war. And then, without giving him the chance to say anything, she was already talking about options to alleviate the pain. He automatically declined. His last thought at the moment was a way to distract him from the situation. There was no point in it. He needed to be focused. Besides, he had already been through worse, too. But the girl didn't accept it, thinking again. She complained not having other options and unwound the pink scarf from around her neck. In a quick movement, she folded it and handed to him with a request: "Here, bite down on this." Link hesitated, but agreed. If it would guarantee a little of peace of mind for her, it was the least he could do. She was already dealing with so much more than she should have.

[frosteaart]

febuwhump day3: "bite down on this"

[across-violet-skies]

Febuwhump day 3: "bite down on this"

Whumpee: Time

Whump Rating: 7/10

TWs: blood & violence, delirium, resetting bones, passing out

Most of the time, when the Chain got involved in battles along the path, they all escaped with minor injuries, if any. If they were unlucky, then maybe someone had gotten knocked in the head or hit with a stray arrow.

Today, they were very unlucky.

Well, that might be generalizing things. Today, Time was very unlucky. The others escaped unscathed, save for Hyrule who had overexerted his magic during the fight and was now unconscious. But even he was barely injured.

Time, on the other hand, was actively bleeding out.

It was a lucky shot. One of Wild’s Moblins, with their comically large battering rams, had stuck up on Time while he was distracted with a Darknut. By the time he realized, it was already too late. He dodged nevertheless, the club barely missing his chest (the intended target) as it crushed his right arm against a tree. The force of the impact tossed him back as well, head slamming against the very same tree. It had all gotten fuzzy after that– Time vaguely remembered collapsing as someone stepped in to defend him. And then-

…well, he wasn’t sure. Now he was staring up at the sky, blurred faces hovering in his field of view. They were speaking, but it was difficult to make out full sentences with how floaty he felt.

“...you think…”

“...s he awake…”

“...no potions…”

“...shattered…”

“...losing blood…”

One of them leaned over him– royal blue– and started saying something. Time dazedly stared, struggling to understand even a single word.

He jerked suddenly, gasping with desperation as his arm was jostled. He ground his teeth down, breathing in short, huffy gasps.

Then, cutting through the static with sudden clarity: “Bite down on this.” Time’s jaw was pried open, a thick piece of leather shoved between his teeth. It tasted like dirt and salt, the tough leather providing him with something to sink his teeth into.

As another unintelligible voice spoke to him, Time frowned. Something was very wrong; even in this state, he knew something was about to happen. Gentle hands grabbed onto his arm, the most careful touches akin to fire on his skin.

His arm was jerked back suddenly, a horrid crack resounding through the air.

Time screamed.

His eyes– both of them– flew open with the cry, his exhausted, broken body now alight with panicked adrenaline. He thrashed, unable to move his arm but still capable of kicking at whatever was attacking him. He was the Hero of Time, for Goddess’s sake– he would not be taken down by some forest monsters!

The monsters screeched and chattered at him, but didn’t back off. Time found himself getting pinned down, head slamming back into the ground. A gentle hand touched his forehead, warmth spreading through his mind as the ringing in his ears subsided.

Huh, he hadn’t even noticed they were ringing in the first place. Weird.

“-nk. Link!” Time frowned, pausing his struggle. Since when could monsters talk? And why did they know his name? “Hey, are you with me? Sprite?”

Sprite. Nobody had called him that since-

“...C’pt’in?” His voice sounded hoarse, muffled slightly by the leather between his teeth.

His vision was blurry, but he could make out a familiar blue scarf as a figure nodded. “That’s right. You hit your head pretty hard, but we don’t have any potions or fairies. A few of the others left for the village nearby to buy some, and they should be back shortly. Sky and I are working on resetting your arm, but that club did a lot of damage…”

“I can see your bone,” a new voice– Sky?– murmured, clearly distraught. “The Knight Academy didn’t prepare me for this…”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Warriors chuckled awkwardly. “But we’ve stopped the bleeding for now, and Hyrule managed to heal your head a bit.”

“Which he shouldn’t’ve done!” A third voice interrupted, further away than Warriors and Sky.

The Captain exhaled slowly. “Relax, Vet, he’ll be fine. They’ll be back with potions soon,” he reminded, sighing. Warriors turned back, making an expression that Time struggled to make out with how blurry his vision was. “Like I was saying, Hyrule healed your head a little. He passed out again, but Legend’s watching him. How are you feeling?”

Time mumbled incoherently, voice muffled by the leather in his mouth. Even if it hadn’t been there, nothing the Old Man said was intelligible anyway.

“...Right. So… not good?” Warriors guessed. Time closed his eye, nodding slowly. His head ached, to put it lightly, and even though some of the fog had cleared (thanks to Hyrule), it was far from healed. And don’t even get him started on his arm– he could really feel it now, and he was suddenly thankful for the leather preventing him from cracking his teeth.

Time wasn’t sure if he could handle more pain on top of all of this.

He almost wished Hyrule hadn’t tried to heal his head. Obviously, he was thankful for the traveler, but it didn’t do much to help the situation. Yes, Time was no longer thrashing around and fighting monsters that weren’t there, but now he was much more aware of his pain and how unbearable it all was.

Plus, Hyrule was unconscious. Again. That was also bad.

“Think we can set the next break?” Sky asked quietly, hesitant fingers pressing against Time’s wrist.

Time didn’t wait for Warriors to reply, humming a simple “mm-hm” as he nodded once. He kept his eye shut, focusing on breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth. In through his nose, out through his mouth. In through his nose-

Crack.

He let out a strangled yelp, back arching as his feet scrambled for a hold. His eye, although closed, watered, tears threatening to slip down his cheek. Gentle, yet firm, hands held him down, pushing him back into the dirt as he gasped and choked.

“Okay, it’s okay, you did it,” Warriors soothed, slowly releasing the pressure on Time’s chest. “That should be enough. A potion can take care of the rest of it.”

As if they had been summoned, Wind, Four, Twilight, and Wild burst from the bushes, arguing loudly. They quieted instantly, Wild tapping at his slate to produce a red potion and hand it to Warriors.

“Get a green one to Traveler,” the Captain ordered, uncorking the red potion. Sky helped to lift Time’s head as the leather was removed, sour potion quickly poured down his throat. The effects were apparent immediately– the bones in his arm fused back in place, the skin around the injury was knit together, and his head was cleared. Everything was still a little hazy, but Warriors did mention blood loss.

“Here,” Sky murmured, helping Time to sit up. The older hero groaned, holding a hand to his head. His vision swam for only a moment, and then he was back with them. He did a headcount– Captain, Sailor, Smithy, Pup, and Sky were with him, while Champion and Vet were trying to feed a green potion to a passed-out Traveler.

Warriors chuckled, waving a small piece of leather. “You really did a number on this one, Old Man,” he remarked, showing the deep indents left by his teeth. “Glad to have you back.”

“Good to be back,” Time replied, exhaling. “And thank you for fetching us potions,” he added, addressing the others. “Good work.”

Wind hummed, trying to play it cool while his nervous expression gave him away. “Yeah… how's your arm? And your head?” The sailor fidgeted, eyes wide and waiting.

“I'll be just fine,” Time assured him, offering a tiny smile.

“Wind stepped in to defend you after you went down,” Warriors explained, ruffling the sailor’s hair proudly. “He kept the monsters away until we could get to you.”

Time turned to their youngest member, now smiling proudly. “Well, Sailor, thank you for looking out for me. I appreciate it.” He reached to pat Wind’s shoulder with the arm that hadn’t just been healed, nodding slowly at the sailor.

“No problem,” Wind replied with a grin.

Warriors stood up with a grunt, wiping his hands on his pants. “I know this is less than ideal, but do you think you could make it to the village?”

“It’s not too far,” Wind added.

Time sighed, stretching his recently healed arm hesitantly. “I believe I could, yes.” The Captain helped him up, holding him when he stumbled from being light-headed. “I’m alright, I’m alright,” he assured. “Just a bit dizzy.”

“Right, well, as soon as we get there, you’re heading straight to bed,” Warriors decided.

Time shrugged, sighing. “Fine by me.” He glanced around the group. “Is everyone okay? I neglected to ask earlier.”

The Captain snorted, slinging Time’s arm over his shoulder for support. “You were unconscious earlier. I’m pretty sure that’s a good excuse not to ask,” he commented lightheartedly. “But to answer your question, yes. Everyone’s fine, other than some scrapes and bruises.”

“Well, Hyrule fainted, but I don’t think he’s physically hurt at all,” Sky reminded. “He used too much magic again.”

“We gave him a green potion,” Wild spoke up, approaching the group. Legend wasn’t far behind, Hyrule on his back. “He’ll be fine once he wakes up.”

Warriors nodded. “So that’s two of us going straight to bed when we arrive,” he chuckled. “We should get going, then. If the Old Man passes out on us, it’ll be a lot harder to travel.”

“I’m not going to pass out.”

The Captain raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? I’m not too sure about that.” They started walking, each step heavy in Time’s body and mind. The world was rather muted, now that he thought about it… maybe the Captain was right.

As if he could read Time’s mind, Warriors hummed. “Almost there,” he murmured, grunting with the steadily growing effort of helping Time walk. “Just hold on a little longer and you can rest.”

“Just up ahead!” Wind exclaimed, pointing past the underbrush. Sure enough, a small village was within sight, and just in time, too. Any further and Time probably wouldn’t have stayed standing.

Once they were in the village, it didn’t take long to rent out a few rooms and get Time (and Hyrule) resting comfortably. The Old Man was out almost instantly, so Sky left a glass of water on the bedside table and they all left him to sleep. He needed it after all the blood he lost. Some rest would do him good.

–> support me on ao3!

[lamaenthel]

Bite Down On This

[read on ao3] [Febuwhump prompt: "Bite Down On This"]

Bly has to do the unthinkable to his General to save her life after a mortar strike wipes out their company.

Characters: CC-5052|Bly, Aayla Secura, Quinlan Vos Wordcount: 868

" …hear me? Bly? Bly, are you alive?"

Bly blinks, takes a deep breath, and almost passes out again. He's face-down in a pile of… something. Something that smells like copper, fire, and human shit. He pushes himself up, his head spinning, and vomits on top of the bisected abdomen of the clone trooper he landed on.

"Get up!" He's yanked sideways, dragged on his back away from the body. Bodies. They're everywhere, he can see that now. "Get it together trooper, I need you."

"Yes, General," Bly tries to say; it comes out more of a blurry, slurred yrrrs gurnnnll.

"Hold on, Blue. We're coming. I got him. See? You were worried for nothing." General Vos tugs him up and forces him to walk on nerveless legs.

"Bly?" His stomach flips at how weak she sounds. "Oh, Bly, I—ah!" She breaks off with a shriek of agony. His stomach flips again.

"We're here. We're here, Blue." General Vos lets go of Bly's cuirass and drops down beside her. "I'm so sorry, honey. This is going to hurt. Bite down on this and take a deep breath, okay?"

Bly focuses on not falling down. His brain is unscrambling, reassembling his memories like scattered puzzle pieces. Aayla was leading their small scouting company from the front, trying to keep up with her old Master's massive stride. Bly was bringing up the rear, avoiding Vos and the looks he kept throwing over his shoulder. There was a whistle over their heads, then…

Mortar! Spread out!

He was at the rear. She was at the front. He was thrown back. She…

"It's okay, Blue. I know, I'm sorry it hurts. I've got you." Vos tightens the tourniquet around her ruined leg, right above what used to be her knee. 

They had some sausages once on Dantooine, made from roba hogs by the locals. They were so grateful for the Republic's arrival. They donated crates upon crates of fresh meat, vegetables, and fragrant blue rice. They'd never eaten so well. Aayla helped them all find sticks to cook the sausages on over the bonfire—her skin glows like midnight in the firelight—and laughed like a bell when he burned his mouth. 

Bard had overcooked his sausage. The end had burst open and split apart in strips, just like Aayla's leg.

"Get down here, Commander." General Vos adjusts them so that Aayla is cradled in his lap, his tree-trunk legs sticking straight out. He puts a hand on her forehead and whispers something Bly can't hear. Her head falls to the side, lekku drooping limp and lifeless. "Take my lightsaber and cut above the tourniquet," Vos orders, tossing it to the dirt in front of him. 

Bly's legs give out. He falls hard onto his shebs, head spinning. "What?"

"You heard me, Commander." Aayla stirs to life in his arms. Vos scowls and closes his eyes. "Sleep," he orders her, loud enough for Bly to hear this time.

There's two sabers laying in the dirt in front of him. Bly unsteadily reaches for the one on the right, grabs a handful of dirt instead. 

"Now!" Vos growls at him. "Sleep." His voice turns gentle when it's directed at her. He's like a father to me. "Good girl. It'll be over soon."

Aayla is dripping sweat and drooling around the leather strap her Master shoved in her mouth. Her head tosses from side to side, struggling to stay awake. Her lekku come to life only to curl up in tight, distressed spirals.

"I…" Bly swallows down a second surge of vomit. They need a medic. Where's their medic? He suddenly remembers the paintjob of the trooper he woke up on.

"Do it!" The Kiffar General—both of them—shoots him a glare that could melt beskar. "I can't keep her unaware much longer, Commander, she's fighting too hard. Do it before she wakes up!"

"Wake up, Commander," she whispers, her lek curling lovingly around his wrist. She trails a graceful finger down his nose, tickles his lips, chases the touch with a delicate kiss. 

"Do it, now!"

Bly pushes the button, goes blind from the green light. He blinks away the spots, stares down at his Aayla's beautiful leg—she hooks it over his hip, uses it to pull him closer as she cries out his name—and stops. "I can't," he says hoarsely. "I can't hurt a Jedi." My Jedi.

"You want her to be awake and screaming while you cut her leg off?" Vos' fury is incandescent, burning like a corona. "Do it, you useless son of a bitch!"

Bly's double vision isn't helped by his tears. "I can't."

"If you don't I will fucking gut you." Vos means it, but he still can't bring himself to bring down the beam. "Do it now, or so help me—"

"Bly," Aayla whimpers around the strap. Her big, beautiful brown eyes flicker open.

"SLEEP." Vos mouths the command directly against her ear cone. Her eyes close, her head falls limply to the side. Vos' eyes meet Bly's, and his vision is finally steady enough to see that the Kiffar is crying. "Do it. Do it while she's asleep, I'm begging you." 

Bly swallows hard, nods, and brings down the blade.

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @febuwhump, @soliloquy-of-nemo Divider: @saradika-graphics

[whump-about-it]

It Will Hurt Like Hell

@febuwhump Day 3: “Bite down on this.”

CW: cave in, begging, description of injuries, field surgery, implied amputation

Medic ran their hand through their hair as they took in the nightmare in front of them. The whole team had known there was a risk of cave ins in these old mines, but none of them ever expected it to actually happen. That sort of never actually happened. Right?

Medic let out a groan at their collective stupidity. The injuries were numerous. Even Medic was sporting a gash on their head that was leaving their ears fuzzy. But they didn’t have time for that now. Not to be injured. Not to be angry. Right now they had work to do.

Most of the injuries didn't seem life threatening. Lots of nasty cuts and bruises. One or two broken bones. Team Leader had also been hit on the head and it was already clear they were nursing a bad concussion. For the most part, all of the injuries were things the rest of the team could help each other muddle through. All except Whumpee that is.

Whumpee had been standing right under the support when it had given out. By some miracle, the broken beam had protected their head from any of the proceeding rockfall. Unfortunately however, most of the larger boulders had instead landed on their arm, leaving them pinned to the ground and screaming in pain.

"Doc! Help me! Please Doc. Oh my God, it hurts! It hurts so much!"

Medic knelt down next to Whumpee and shoo'd a team member away who was trying to move some of the rocks off. It only took a cursory glance to know Whumpee's arm couldn't be saved. It was completely crushed under massive rock debris all the way up passed the elbow. The bones would be pulp underneath it, and Whumpee was bleeding profusely.

Medic continued to tune out Whumpee's cries and began to pull off their backpack. They took out their medical kit and proceeded to tie a tourniquet around their arm.

"Okay Whumpee, I know it hurts. We're going to get it taken care of in a moment. I need you to take some deep breathes for me and drink this, as much as you can swallow."

Whumpee nodded and swallowed the last of their screams before taking some deep breathes and letting Medic tip the contents of their flask into their mouth. A few seconds later Whumpee was coughing, the agonizing pain of their arm seemingly forgotten for the moment.

"God Doc! Tequila?"

"Gin. And it's all I've got for painkillers right now. Do you want more?"

After a pause Whumpee nodded and Medic gave them another large swallow. While Whumpee was coughing again Medic sat up and and removed their belt.

"At least buy me dinner first."

"Glad to know the gin is working. Now, bite down on this."

Medic folded their belt in half twice and held it in front of Whumpee, who's eyes grew wide.

"W-why?"

"Whumpee I need you to do it quickly. You're loosing blood fast and I'd rather not wait until you go into shock."

Whumpee's face drained of what was left of it's color as they realized what was about to happen.

"Doc... Medic, please. Please don't do this. Please don't cut off my arm. You can save it. I know you can. You're a good doctor. Please don't take my arm."

Medic sighed and leaned close to Whumpee.

“Whumpee. I understand this is hard for you, and I won’t expect you to take this well. But you are loosing a lot of blood, and you’re going into shock. I’m a good doctor, but not a miracle worker. I can’t save your arm. We’re going to have to take it off eventually. And I’d rather it be when you’re properly sedated too, but there is no way we are going to be do that. Some of these boulders are too big to move even with all of us trying. Now, I'm about to do surgery on you with only alcohol as an anesthetic. It's going to hurt like hell, and you're going to bite something, unless you want it to be your tongue, bite down on this."

Whumpee looked at Medic with large eyes that were slowly glazing over. They appeared to falter a bit as though their conscious was wavering, but after a few seconds they leaned their head forward and bit down on the belt.

"Thank you." Medic whispered. "I promise I'll make this as quick as possible."