#Febuwhump day 21

[kabie-whump]

♡ Febuwhump Day 21: Unresponsive ♡

@febuwhump

Low key a continuation of day 19 (but if im being honest you could totally connect all of my generic febuwhump posts into one story if you try hard enough)

Content: unresponsive whumpee, ptsd, disassociation, worried/guilty caretaker, post-rescue, referenced finger amputation

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

It's been a month.

One month since Whumpee made the most idiotic decision of their life and volunteered to be captured by Whumper for the opportunity to gather information about them.

One month since Caretaker tearfully begged them not to go and one month since Whumpee turned their back on their best friend.

Caretaker isn't involved in the rescue mission. All they can do is sit outside the infirmary and mentally reherse what they're going to say to Whumpee when they get back. ("Fuck you for being an absolute idiot and being so careless with yourself and making me worry you dickhead you could've died what is wrong with you-")

Doors burst open. Whumpee is brought in on a stretcher wearing nothing but a thin blanket that is already stained red in some spots and god they've never been this skinny before. Their eyes are open, staring up blankly at the ceiling as they're rushed into another room.

All of the harsh words Caretaker had been saving for Whumpee disappear because one month.

It takes hours, but Caretaker is eventually allowed to see Whumpee. The nurse who leads them in gives them a sympathetic look, muttering something about "be patient and give them time" but Caretaker doesn't hear it as they rush to Whumpee's bedside.

Whumpee's awake. At least, their eyes are open. But they don't even look at Caretaker as they perch at the edge of a chair next to the bed, don't even flinch as Caretaker takes their hand.

"Whumpee? How are you feeling? Are you alright? I was so worried."

Silence. No sign that Whumpee even heard them.

"I'm sorry for how we left things. I just didn't want you to get hurt. You don't have to give me the silent treatment."

They did get hurt. Whumpee is wrapped in bandages and hooked up to an IV and oxygen. Their left knee is in a cast. Their whole right hand is cocooned in gauze and Caretaker tries to pretend they don't know why.

(They'd overheard it a week after Whumpee's capture: "Leader was sent Whumpee's finger in an envelope this morning. Don't tell Caretaker, they'll freak.)

"Whumpee, please. Say something."

Nothing; just a haunted stare. The harsh overhead lights must be hurting their eyes, but still they go an unsettlingly long time between blinks.

A lot of damage can be done in a month.

Caretaker bends over, pressing their forehead to the mattress as silent sobs shake their shoulders.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[serickswrites]

Meant to Be

Warnings: gun, gunshot, gunfire, gunshot wound, blood, bleeding out, mcd, hurt/no comfort

By the time the gunfire had faded to a loud ringing in Caretaker's ears, they knew it was too late. By the time they managed to crawl across the bullet strewn room, they knew it was too late. By the time they managed to pull Whumpee's limp and bloody body into their lap, they knew it was too late.

"Whumpee, Whumpee, please, Whumpee," they sobbed as they tried to rouse Whumpee. Whumpee was unresponsive as Caretaker tapped their cool cheek. Unresponsive as Caretaker tried to wake them. Unresponsive as Caretaker pressed on the large gunshot wound in their chest.

"Please, Whumpee. You weren't meant to be there. You weren't meant to be there. You weren't meant to get hurt. Please, Whumpee, open your eyes. Whumpee!"

Caretaker had carefully laid the trap to catch Whumper off guard. Laid the trap carefully so that they could stop Whumper. Laid the trap carefully so that Whumpee would be far from the action. So that Whumpee would be safe.

And it had all gone to shit.

Caretaker didn't even know how it had all gone so wrong so fast. They only knew that they had been pinned down by Whumper and their goons, each side trading shots, but not hitting anything. Until Whumpee walked in. And then Whumper had a target.

Caretaker had yelled to warn Whumpee off. Yelled to get Whumpee to leave them. But Whumpee didn't listen. They took careful cover, keeping low to the ground as they slowly made their way over to Caretaker. And just as Caretaker thought that maybe Whumpee would be safe, maybe everything would work out, Whumpee tripped, stumbling forward and into the open.

The bullet struck the left side of their chest, spinning Whumpee with a spray of blood. Whumpee went down hard and lay unmoving as their blood began to pool around them. Caretaker couldn't tear their gaze from Whumpee. The one person they had tried to protect. The one person they would have done anything to keep safe. The one person they couldn't bear to see bleed out on the floor only a few yards away.

But Caretaker couldn't go to them. Not until Whumper had been neutralized. If they had any hope of saving Whumpee, they had to stop Whumper. They couldn't extract Whumpee and get to safety if Whumper was still shooting at them.

And so Caretaker stayed hunkered down behind their cover, trading shots with Whumper until at last the gunfire ended. But it was too late.

As Caretaker sobbed into Whumpee's hair, cradling Whumpee's head in their hands, Caretaker decided it wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth waiting for the gunfire to end. It wasn't worth making sure Whumper had been stopped. It wasn't worth any of those things because Whumpee had bled out before Caretaker could get them to safety.

"You weren't meant to be here, oh God, Whumpee. Please. Open your eyes. Whumpee. I can't. Please."

But Whumpee didn't respond. Didn't take a shuddering breath. Didn't blink their eyes open and flash Caretaker their warm smile. They just lay boneless in Caretaker's arms, growing colder by the minute. Caretaker held them close and sobbed harder and harder. Held them and begged them to come back. Held them, refusing to let go, even as help arrived. Caretaker held Whumpee and refused to let help support them. They had failed and they didn't care what happened next because the one person that mattered, the one person that made them do all of this, was gone. And nothing else mattered anymore.

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump Day 21: Unresponsive

Content warning: whipping

Watching Whumpee call Caretaker was one of Whumpee’s greatest pleasures. It was why they always kept their phone with them, always offered to interrupt whatever they were doing to Whumpee to try another call. And sometimes, if Whumper was lucky, if Whumpee was desperate, Whumper would get to dial that number and hand the phone over.

It was the tension in Whumpee’s body Whumper loved. How they’d clutch the phone to their ear like they were terrified of missing Caretaker’s voice. How they’d flinch at every ring, eyes squeezed shut. How they held that phone like a cross, prayers on their lips.

But Whumper’s favorite part was how their breath hitched when the ringing stopped, when a voice finally came through…

“Hey! Sorry I missed your call. Just send me a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

…and Whumpee’s face fell, the stupid little hope they’d been harboring stuck down with a single blow.

They watched as Whumpee sunk to the floor, legs turning boneless beneath them. Their eyes were wide, red-rimmed and teary, the screen illuminating their look of heartbreak. The phone slipped from their limp fingers.

Whumper grinned. “Aww, that’s too bad. Seems they missed you again.”

Whumpee only responded with a sob.

Whumpee took their time getting ready. They dug through their drawers, carefully pulling a cloth bag free. They pulled a whip free, giving it an experimental flick. It cracked through the air like thunder. Whumpee flintched, mouth trembling with a swallowed plea.

“On your knees, Whumpee. You know the deal.”

A low, desperate wail slipped between their lips, but they knew better than to beg. Through sobs, they obediently brought themselves into position. They turned towards the wall and dropped onto their knees. They propped themselves up against the wall, palms pressed flat against the bricks. Their back was exposed for all to see, baring a canvas of scarred flesh for Whumper to use.

Whumper watched them for a moment. Shoulders hunched and trembling, tears flowing freely. They didn’t try to move, didn’t try to get out of their payment. Whumper drank up the sight.

They let the whip crack through the air again, just to watch Whumpee flinch.

They brought the whip down, and the first scream of the night tore through Whumpee’s throat. Another mark, fresh and already threatening to weep blood, was added to their back.

Whumper kept going, each strike cracking through the air before finding its mark. By the fourth, Whumpee was openly sobbing. They’d pressed their body fluslh against the wall to remain upright, mouth open in heaving breaths.

Another lash. Whumpee’s body jumped with each strike. The fear of disobedience was the only thing keeping them from fleeing.

Another lash. The hit landed on an already open wound. Whumper smirked as Whumpee’s wails reached a new peak.

Another. Blood dripped from their back like tears. Each strike sent droplets of crimson flying.

By the time Whumper was satisfied, eight stripes had been carved into Whumpee’s back, blood flowing freely. The only sound remaining were Whumpee’s meek, pathetic little whimpers. The wall was the only thing keeping them upright.

Whumper grabbed the phone forgotten at Whumpee’s side, noting with satisfaction that it had recorded everything. They ended the call, sending the message to Caretaker’s inbox. It was only then that Whumpee went slack, dropping to the floor.

Whumper took a moment to take in their sight. Whumpee laid on the floor, blotchy faced, exhausted sobs sending tremors through their body. They didn’t even have the energy to curl inward or protect themselves. They laid limp like a ragdoll, stuck in the same position they’d fallen in.

Whumper took a quick moment to snap a photo. “Do you want to leave another message? Maybe they’ll answer this time.”

Whumpee didn’t respond, shoulders shaking with their tears.

Whumper only shrugged, pocketing their phone. “Oh well. Maybe you’ll try again tomorrow.

They left Whumpee there, crumpled on the basement floor, a broken, bloodied mess. Whumpee did not move as the door shut, leaving them in darkness.

Whumper took their time getting ready for bed. Taking a nice, long shower to loosen sore muscles, eating their favorite meal for dinner. Each indulgence felt better knowing that Whumpee was denied it.

When they were ready, they slipped comfortably into bed, and grabbed the phone plugged in by their nightstand. They opened the screen, a picture of Whumpee and Caretaker, smiling hand in hand, greeting them.

They lazily flicked over to the phone app, checking Caretaker’s messages.

17 missed calls from Whumpee, and 17 corresponding messages Whumpee and paid in blood to send.

Whumper opened the most recent message and was greeted by screams.

[comfort-questing]

21. unresponsive

"don't be worried," they had told her, "he's still recovering. he'll wake soon."

every morning the healers came, with their magic and their potions; every visit left the bruises a little fainter on his pallid face, his the tawny skin undertoned with gray. it had been almost a week now, the servants helping her tend him, the sorrowful and guilty looks on the faces of his knights almost too much to bear.

(you did all you could, she told them. that he lived till his return - that's your doing. the accident wasn't. the fall wasn't.)

she would have to be kind to them so, for many years to come, if he never woke again.

so she sat in the old chair by the window, watching the light cross his face where he lay in the bed, curling her arms around her drawn-up knees in old childish habits returning. she told him of the reports from the guards, and the news from the villages, and the misadventures of the chickens and the hunting dogs, because if he could hear he would surely rather hear something cheerful than only the cautiously measured words of the healers and servants and knights. sometimes she was a little rough, accidentally, with brushing his hair and redoing the braid behind one ear, and would watch his mouth and eyelids closely to see if he felt it.

in the nighttime it was the worst, with the fire burning low and the wind singing its old sad songs in the chimney: because then it seemed most likely to her that she would have to lead his people alone, without him, a lady by marriage and courtesy and not one of their own mountain folk. and they would be kind to her, as she was kind to them, but it wouldn't be the same. it could never be the same.

(wake up, she told him, bitterly around a throat full of tears; don't leave us all. we need you.)

but on the morning of the eighth day she woke, joints askew and sore where she knelt half-slumped against the bed, and felt a hand on her head, ghostly light and bone-thin; and hazily half-awake she murmured his name, and realized that she wasn't alone after all, after everything.

[keldrakey]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Merlin (Merlin) & Everyone, Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) Characters: Merlin (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Leon (Merlin), Gwen (Merlin), Gwaine (Merlin), Gaius (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table (Merlin) Additional Tags: Febuwhump 2024, Last Man Standing, Blood and Violence, Stabbing, neck breaking, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Kidnapping, Fighting Rings, Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Panic Attacks, Flashbacks, suffocation, Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Heavy Angst, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Knights (Merlin), Good Friend Leon (Merlin), Leon & Merlin Friendship (Merlin), Shock, fight to the death, Until one person is left, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending Series: Part 20 of Febuwhump 2024, Part 134 of Merlin Summary:

Merlin gets kidnapped, when the gang finally find him hes covered in blood and in a state of shock

[popcorn-plots]

Febuwhump day 21: Unresponsive.

Title: his hidden sorrows

Words: 566

Summary: Tony find Stephen nearly dead, barely breathing, an empty bottle of painkillers just out of reach.

~~~

“Strange?” Tony Stark asked, knocking on the Wizards door. “You good in there?”

Normally, Tony wouldn’t be worried. Strange was a grown man, he could do what he liked. It wasn’t Tony’s job to keep tabs on the Wizard, especially with his day job that Tony absolutely did not know of. But Strange was staying in his quarters at the Avengers Tower after a long battle. From the little Tony even saw of Strange (totally not FRIDAY’s constant monitoring), he had a set schedule.

He trained at 6 in the morning (Tony still didn’t understand why he was up that early most days), had breakfast by himself at 7:30 but would visit with the team when they came down at 8. He disappeared, then returned around 1:30 for lunch. He ate dinner with Wong at the New York Sanctum around 9.

Strange had missed every meal with the team that day and Tony refused to admit that he missed the Sorcerer’s presence. He chalked up his concern to the fact that Wong called him, telling Tony that Strange had been acting weird the day before and mere hours before he dropped off the face of the earth, he had completely blocked the mental link between him, the Sanctum, and Wong. He had put up so many defenses that no one could find him unless they were familiar with his energy signature, and that signature had never left the Avengers Tower. So Tony was knocking on Strange’s door.

“Strange… we’re worried about you. You haven’t been down all day and Wong’s worried.” Still, no response. “Strange- Stephen. Come on, open the door!” More silence. Tony took a deep breath, trying to ignore the weird, sinking feeling in his chest. Nothing was wrong, right? Strange could have had an emergency and left without a word or he got back late and was still asleep.

“Stephen. If you don’t open your door, I’m going to break it down.”

Utter silence. Tony swore he could hear a pin drop (if one were to drop right then). Tony waited for another few seconds before sighting.

Tony tried the door, only to find that it was unlocked. Huh. 

Strange’s room was dark. The bed was made, the desk in the corner of the room stacked with dusty books. Tony had never been in Strange’s room, but even he thought it looked unlived in. There was nothing on the walls, not even a single picture. The only thing that marked it as Strange’s room was the books. Unread (probably), and forgotten (less-probable).

“Stephen?” Tony whispered. There was no response, but Tony felt like he needed to check the bathroom.

This time the door was locked. Tony was about to turn away, but something told him he needed to at least check .

All it took was a thumbnail and a few seconds of jiggling, and the door swung open to reveal Strange himself, laying on his stomach, barely breathing, an empty bottle of NSAID inches from his outstretched hand.

Shit .

Before Tony could fully process the situation, he was kneeling beside Strange, trying and failing to wake him up before demanding FRIDAY to pull up his vitals and call Doctor Cho. From what Tony could understand, Stephen was alive, but barely.

Another 10 minutes and he’d be dead. Tony didn’t want to lose anyone, especially Stephen.

Not after losing everything he loved.

Ao3

[arecaceae175]

Febuwhump Day 21: Shackled (Twilight)

AO3 link. Warnings: concussion, animal abuse (implied, offscreen), captivity

Twilight had never wished for silence as much as he did in this moment. Dozens of animals were trapped in this room, shoved into cages far too small and making their displeasure known. Loudly. Every sound sent spikes of pain through Twilight’s head. 

Concussion, his foggy mind supplied. His head throbbed, he was dizzy, and his eyes couldn’t quite focus on anything. 

Somewhere behind him, an animal yelped in pain. Twilight flinched and tried to bring his paws up to cover his ears. The clinking of the chains was amplified as he moved and he couldn’t hold back a whimper. Twilight let his paws drop back to the ground with a huff of frustration. He rested his head on his legs and glared at the chains.

The shackles were clasped tightly around his legs, squeezing and rubbing him raw every time he moved. Twilight had considered switching back to his Hylian form, but the shackles were too tight, even around this form’s thinner legs. They would crush his arms if he tried. The cage was barely big enough for him now, curled up as a wolf. He would be cramped and stuck as a Hylian. 

Small mercies, Twilight thought. 

Twilight hoped the others had realized his absence by now. His muscles were already growing stiff, his throat was dry with thirst, and his stomach growled. 

There was another animalistic scream. Twilight whimpered again and curled into a tighter ball.

The poachers were making their way through the room, but Twilight couldn’t see what they were doing. Whatever they did to make the animals scream like that, it was only to a few per day. Twilight figured they would be far from reaching his cage when the others showed up for a rescue. 

Once he got out, he was going to make sure the poachers never laid another finger on an animal.

[theshiaxartist]

I spent way too long on the backround haha It’s really fun to play with Jak’s eyes too

Wanna help me make a Jak and Daxter Tarot deck?

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

[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 & Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) Characters: Clone Trooper Hunter (Star Wars), Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Clone Trooper Tech (Star Wars) (minor), Clone Trooper Wrecker (Star Wars) (minor) Additional Tags: Missing Scene, Canon Compliant, Omega Needs a Hug (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Panic Attacks, Family, Depression, Febuwhump, Febuwhump 2024, Prompt: Unresponsive

Summary:

Omega has never liked closed spaces. Well, no one does, but after being kidnapped, and after Kamino, she's starting to find them... difficult to focus in.

Read on:

https://www.wattpad.com/1424096207-the-bad-batch-one-shot-collection-febuwhump-day

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14329977/1/Febuwhump-Day-Twenty-One-Unresponsive

[baubeautyandthegeek]

Woman In Chains - Maggie Bell/Isobel Castille

A/N: Isobel is stolen, Maggie and Jubal refuse to give in until she’s free again. Written for @febuwhump�� day 21.

The chains rattle where she’s shackled and fighting. She’s been pulling at them for a while now, twisting enough that the chains protest and Isobel curses loudly when she’s yanked backwards. She needs to get out of the shackles sometime. She’s back on her feet in minutes, ignoring the chafing at her wrists as she attempts a new escape. The door slams open and she’s aware of nothing but Maggie. Maggie who looks angry, angrier than she’s seen in a while and then the shackles are released and she lets herself slip to her knees, burying her face in Maggie’s vest, slim fingers tangling into her shirt, anchoring her. She’s really here, Maggie found her. “I’m going to kill him.” Maggie’s voice is husky and she’s answered by a husky laugh from behind her. “Too late.” Jubal’s face is covered in blood and Isobel rises slowly, sinking thankfully into his hug. She’s safe, Maggie found her, Jubal ended the man who took her. One of many people who seemed to hate anyone who wasn’t willing to become a baby factory or white. This time she’s safe, this time it ended well. For now that’s enough.

[in-love-with-writing-whump]

Febuwhump 21: Shackled

Caretaker's jaw went slack as they looked up at Whumpee. Their leader, their teammate, the strongest person they knew... The person their selfish heart loved more than anything or anyone else...

Whumpee hung from an altar, shackles of iron pinning them up as the blood from their stab wounds pooled on the floor. Their head lulled to the side, and for a moment, Caretaker feared they were gone.

*No. I would've known if their heart stopped beating.*

They rushed the Whumpee's side, pressing their ear to Whumpee's chest. *Thump... Thump...* They smiled through tears of relief, cradling Whumpee's face in their hand before stepping back as B and C lowered them, A working on breaking the shackles.

Whumpee sagged on the floor, groaning quietly as they looked up through half-alive eyes. Their hand grazed Caretaker's cheek, shaking and cold. A weak smile touched their lips as they thumbed away Caretaker's tears, whispering their name.

Caretaker pressed their forehead against theirs. "I'm here now. Whumper will never hurt you again."

FEBUWHUMP 2023 IS HERE!

the prompts this year were chosen through a suggestion poll and subsequent vote, where over 350 people voted for their favourites. the top 28 make up the core prompts, and a mixture of the next most popular and this blog’s personal favourites have become the alternatives!

i’m so excited to see what you all create with these prompts, and hope they’re inspiring enough to trigger a whole month’s worth of creativity for you! if you have any questions, make sure to check out the blog’s FAQ, or check out the previously asked questions on the blog before sending one of your own!

please note: this year, notifying the blog of completionist status will happen through a google form that will be released closer to the end of febuwhump.

full write-up of prompts and rules under the cut:

Keep reading

[serickswrites]

Heavy Burden

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Warnings: captivity, torture, botched escape attempt/rescue attempt, restraints

Caretaker stared down at the shackles around their bruised wrists. They had been trying to break out of the cuffs for hours. But it had been to no avail. 

They had thought their plan was fool proof. They had thought they would get in, grab Whumpee, and flee. And Whumpee would be safe. Whumpee would be home. What Caretaker did not account for was that Whumper had a partner. And that partner was very big and strong. 

Before Whumpee had had the chance to call out to warn Caretaker that Accomplice was behind them, a hand closed over Caretaker’s throat. Accomplice threw Caretaker bodily into the wall and everything went dark. 

When Caretaker came to, they were shackled. And they weren’t in the same room as Whumpee. But they could hear Whumpee. Hear Whumpee begging and pleading. Could hear Whumpee implore someone to spare Caretaker. To grant mercy. And they could hear Whumpee’s screams of pain. 

That was hours ago. Hours of Whumpee’s screams and sobbing. Hours of Whumpee begging for Caretaker’s life. And hours of Caretaker trying to rip the shackles from their wrists. Caretaker could not endure hearing Whumpee cry out like that. They had to get to Whumpee now. Save Whumpee. Free Whumpee. Now. 

But Whumpee had gone suddenly quiet mid scream. The silence sent chills up Caretaker’s spine. They had tried to break their own thumbs to slide the cuffs off, but couldn’t. They couldn’t do it. Couldn’t break free to save Whumpee. And now they had to exist in the silence. Until Whumper came for them. 

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump day 21: Shackled

Five hours ago, Whumpee was sure they'd never sell their team out. Five hours ago, that'd been ready to face any pain their captors had for them with a grin. Three hours ago they had done that, spitting out a mouthful of blood and mocking Whumper’s attempts at intimidation.

Whumper had dragged them from the interrogation room, bringing them down the hall and into A dimly lit room. The room was barren save for a large glass tank, big enough for an adult man to sit comfortably within. On the floor of the tank were a pair of metal cuffs.

Whumpee had been forced at gunpoint to lock their legs in the cuffs, leaving them trapped in a kneeling position. Then the lights went out. And then the sound of water trickling in began. 

The water was warm, the temperature of bathwater. It’d been a relief at first, but now it was simply suffocating, the steam making the air thick and claustrophobic. Whumpee felt the water brush against their neck for the first time and shivered.

They’d lost their bravado hours ago, leaving way for panic to creep in. They felt like they were fighting just to breathe. The water lamping against them felt crushing, squeezing them from all sides, constricting their breath and movement. The air was suffocating, almost more water than air. They couldn’t breathe. 

They couldn’t take this. The insistent trickle of water, the growing dread as it inched closer to their face. The darkness around them, giving them no distraction from the rising tides. It was maddening. Every fiber of their being told them to stand, to use their free arms to pull themselves up, but they couldn’t. They were trapped.

Whumpee bit down on their tongue, forcing the urge to cry out, to bed Whumper to release them, to offer anything in return for their freedom, down. They just had to wait and their team would come.

Whumpee knew their team would come for them, they just didn’t know if they’d come in time.

[fletcherwilbury]

@febuwhump Day 21: Unresponsive

Warning for Overworking, exhaustion, illness, coughing, wheezing, pneumonia, physical abuse, child abuse, medication

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Febuwhump - Day 21

Pairing: Beau x reader

Prompt: Unresponsive

Warnings: language, severe head injury

_______

“Beau.” I glanced up from my desk, Jenny and Pop wearing grim expressions. “Uh, Y/N’s the unresponsive female that got called in.”

“What?” I said, shooting to my feet. “What the hell-”

“We don’t know. ER doc says she has an injury on her head.” I grabbed my coat, heading for the door. “Beau-”

“You’re in charge. I’ll be back later.”

____

“I don’t understand,” I said again, slower this time. The doctor sighed, running a hand over his mouth before he pulled me further away down the hallway. “When’s she going to wake up? It’s been hours.”

“Sheriff Arlen, as I said before, Y/N has an extensive head injury. She should be waking up but she’s not, which means it’s entirely possible she doesn’t.”

I shook my head, the doctor giving me a sympathetic look. “She’s not in a coma. She’s just knocked out. She-”

“She is in a coma, Mr. Arlen. Good news is she’s breathing on her own but at this point, brain damage is highly likely. Even if she were to wake up, she may not be the same. We need to do more scans.”

“She can’t…” I trailed off, the doctor gently pushing on my back.

“Go sit with her. We’ll do everything we can but you have to prepare yourself for the possibility of some hard decisions in the near future.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ll discuss those with time. Someone will check on her soon.” He left me at the entrance to Y/N’s room. White bandages wrapped around her head, wires stuck in her. I barely got my feet to move over to the chair by the bed. This couldn’t be happening. She had to wake up.

She had to.

“Come back to me, Y/N,” I whispered, grasping her hand, holding it to my lips. “Fight it out in there and come to me. Please. I don’t know what to do without you.”

But I got no response. Only the beeping of the monitors telling me she was still alive, if barely.

_______

[uniquevoidflowers]

Summary:

Stuffing the letter in his pocket he looked around. The old man barely hid a smile from his letter, and then folded it and put his hands by his sides. The vet looked at his and rolled his eyes with a fond smile. Wind…

The sailor’s eyes were impossibly wide, and Warriors saw tears begin to form and fall down his face. The captain rushed over. “Sailor? Is everything okay?”

_________________________________________

Or Wind's Grandma dies.

Febuwhump 2024, Day 21: unresponsive