#but hey! more whump knowledge

[honeycollectswhump]

remember: if you give your whumpee stitches, they need to be taken out after a week. because otherwise they run the risk of fusing with the wound. the longer you wait the worse it gets….

and when they get taken out eventually, it hurts so much worse. plus there’s a chance the stitches rip in the skin, so not all of them are taken out and can lead to infection.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 20

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Graphic depictions of illness; allusions to major medical procedure; accidental violence (m on f); allusions to child abuse

A/N: Finally. I make no excuses and a lot of apologies. Daryl is going through it right now but it's not just my normal whump. Reader gets to find herself again. I say that as vaguely as possible but you'll see at the end and in coming chapters.

A day and a half. A full fucking thirty six hours. The group still hadn’t returned. While it was logical to be concerned for their safety, you just couldn’t seem to look any further than the man on the bed no more than a foot in front of you. His fever raged and his breathing deteriorated, shallow rattles and painful fits of coughing. Still, those were less distressing than the moments he would wake, not remembering where or when he was. 

During one such episode, you had been a peer from school. An innocent girl who had followed him home one day to catch crawdads in the creek behind his house. His one friend that he had to hide in the crawlspace until he could get his father to beat on him instead of looking for you. He didn’t have any friends. You were special, he said. The bruises were worth it. 

Of all the ways to get Daryl to talk about what had happened to him, this wasn’t what you had expected. 

To make matters worse, he had become violent, waking in a rage that no one could understand. He was swinging punches and trying to leave the bed, Lori holding you away from him while Hershel of all people tried to subdue him alone. It was the grating of his own voice against his throat that had brought on the coughing, the force of which had eventually tired him out. 

You had appreciated the concern but had asked Lori not to come between you and Daryl again. Though she had retreated in a huff, Carol later assured you that she was only concerned for the safety of you and the baby. She wasn’t angry and she wasn’t judging Daryl for something over which he had no control. 

Things were quiet at the moment. You hummed and carded your fingers through the archer’s hair. He had been sleeping without interruption for a little over an hour, but his breaths were seeming even more labored. 

You were beyond exhausted. Two or three hours of sleep, barely eating between bouts of nausea, you were nearly to the point of being confined to that sickbed right alongside Daryl. 

“How’re the patients?” 

You didn’t lift your head, only your eyes. “Baby and I are fine. Daryl sounds worse than when you were here earlier.”

“Let’s take a look at you two and then I’ll examine Daryl.” 

There was no point in arguing. You didn’t have the energy. Sitting up straight in the chair, your back protested from the time spent bowed over the edge of the mattress, but you continued the journey to relax against the backrest. Your hand never released Daryl’s. 

Hershel motioned toward your sweater in a silent request for permission and received a mumbled knock yourself out in reply. Baby Dixon was still for the moment after hours of kicking and rolling and seemingly trying to fit a foot between your ribs. The veterinarian smiled gently upon removing the stethoscope and rolling down your sweater. You were grateful for the small gesture, likely would have left it up if he hadn’t taken the initiative. 

“Heartbeat’s strong. Seems to be doing just fine according to my limited knowledge. You really should get some rest yourself. Eat something, drink more.” His stethoscope was already nearing Daryl’s chest when you noticed it; the twitch of a hand before fingers curled into a fist. 

“Daryl, no!” You weren’t meaning to hurt the old man, inwardly wincing when you heard the thud of his body hit the floor. You were just quick enough to shove him out of the way, Daryl’s fist barely grazing your cheek instead. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s Y/N. You’re sick.” You kept your voice soft, right next to his ear, holding him firmly in a way he couldn’t escape in his weakened state. 

“Hershel! Y/N!” Carol and Lori burst into the room, Beth just behind them. You heard the girl begin to cry and tend to her father but the other two were quiet. 

“Where—dunno—can’t think—”

“I know, Daryl. It’s the fever.” He was coughing into your shoulder, his skin hot and dry where it touched yours. “You’re safe. I’m here. Thumper’s here.” The archer made a sound in his throat and by some miracle, you knew what it meant. Otherwise keeping your hold on him, you fumbled for his hand and pressed it firmly to the side of your belly. “Feel that? You woke them up too.” Your lip was wobbling, your voice threatening to do the same. “They just want their daddy to rest now so they can too. How ‘bout it, hmm?”

You pulled back slowly, steeling yourself for whatever it was you would see in his eyes. You almost whimpered when there was nothing short of exhausted recognition. 

“D’I hurt—” 

Your cheek burned and felt wet, but you shook your head. No, you wouldn’t tell him while he was like that. “I tripped. Face-planted. You definitely would have laughed.” He didn’t believe you, that much was obvious, but thank heavens for Thumper and a well placed punt straight to Daryl’s palm. His reaction was sluggish, head bowing to watch his hand rub circles over that spot. 

“Hey, kid. Go—easy on—your mama.”

“How about you go easy on their mama too and drink some water for me?” With your hand behind his head, you slowly guided him to his mountain of pillows. “Just a bit, okay?” He gave no answer. His palm continued to caress your bump. You wondered if he would still be so affectionate once he realized you weren’t alone in the room. 

With one hand raising his head slightly, the other tipped the cup to lips. He didn’t drink as much as you’d hoped but it was something. His eyes were closed but his fingers remained steady, curling and straightening over where you could feel the ripples of movement. It was as if they could sense one another. Daryl was calm, only the cough moving him at all. The baby’s movements were gentle waves below his hand. 

You didn’t dare move, allowing him the comfort he likely didn’t even know he was seeking. If you were being honest, you were relaxing a little as well. With a sigh, both tired and contented, you slouched but stayed next to him. 

“Is he okay?” You asked, finally rolling your head toward the others. Beth and Carol were getting Hershel to his feet, Lori pacing behind them with an expression you just didn’t like. 

“I’m perfectly fine.” The man answered for himself, patting Beth’s hand so that she would release him. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered, risking placing your hand over Daryl’s. When his fingers went still, you gently guided his palm back and forth over your belly. 

“You did nothing wrong, Y/N. I should have been more—”

“He’s going to seriously hurt one of us.” Lori interjected, continuing her pacing. You shot her a warning look, eyes narrowing when she shook her head. “I understand this is out of his control, but this is Daryl and out of all of us, he’s hardwired for violence.”

“Lori, you should go.” You spoke quietly, not willing to disrupt any rest the archer might be getting. You could only pray that he hadn’t heard her careless comment. 

“We should just take shifts to come check in on him. You could rest and eat, we’d probably hear him cou—”

“Are you seriously suggesting I leave him alone up here?” Where the anger was coming from, you had no idea. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the concern for Daryl that was constantly eating at you. It hardly mattered, you’d made it clear that she was crossing a line. Your tone was dripping with venom. “Carol.” You beckoned, eyes remaining on Rick’s wife. “Please, take Lori downstairs before I say or do something I would definitely regret.”

“Come on, Lori.” You heard Carol say quietly, a heated glare continuing between you and the other woman as she was led from the room. Once the door closed, your anger dissolved as quickly as it had materialized. “Beth—Hershel, you know—”

“We know he’d never hurt any of us on purpose.” The girl said in that sweet southern tone of hers. “You neither.”

“Having two expectant mothers in one room with enough charged energy was just asking for an explosion of some sort. Now don’t you stress yourself over it any further.” As he neared, Hershel squeezed your shoulder. “Think you might be able to keep him from becoming agitated long enough for me to take a listen?” He lifted the stethoscope. 

You nodded with a sniffle, wiping away a tear. “Yeah. If you can go around, I have an idea.” The old man rounded the bed while you crawled up beside Daryl, gently pulling him onto his side and against your chest. Once situated, you pulled his hand back onto your belly, and though he didn’t move it, you felt him relax a little further into you. “Daryl.” You whispered into his hair. “Hershel’s gonna listen to your lungs. The stethoscope is gonna be cold but your skin is hot from the fever. I’m right here. And it’s just Hershel.” 

You carded your fingers through his hair while Beth leaned over you to clean the cut on your cheek, hands just as gentle as her father’s. There wasn’t so much as a flinch when the cold instrument pressed against the archer’s back. You paid attention to the his reactions—or lack thereof—but you also watched Hershel and the way his expression fell. It was then you knew he would tell you nothing good.

“His right lung is full of fluid. It’s hindering his ability to breathe normally. The cough is still productive?” You nodded slowly. “May I see?” Well, that was disgusting but Beth carefully pinched one edge of a cloth and carried it to Hershel. You didn’t care to have that ick on your fingers.

Your attention turned back to Daryl, his weight heavy on your side, chest rattling, cheeks flushed, and lips pale. When would the group be back? Were they okay? Should you plan to leave?

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?” You didn’t look up from stroking the archer’s cheek until your name was said again. The expression you were met with was grim. You had your concerns about the pink frothy liquid that accompanied the mucus. Fuck. You should have told Hershel immediately. “What is it?” 

“If I don’t do something about the fluid in his lung, it is possible he may—for lack of a better term—drown.” 

“When they get back—” He cut you off with a shake of his head.

“This can’t wait that long. We don’t know if—we’re not sure when they’ll return. I need to see if I have anything that I can use. What we were able to grab from the farm was extremely limited and even that has been cut in half with being on the road.” Hershel was mentally running through inventory as he began to leave the room with his daughter in tow, turning but not meeting your eyes. “I’ll need him awake for this.”

Start waking him up now. That’s what he meant. You were horrified. You had no idea how to thoroughly explain to Daryl what was going to happen, because you didn’t know. Why did he need to be awake? ‘Oh, you’re going to drown slowly if we don’t do this now.’ How badly would it hurt? 

“There’s a—time an’ place—to be pullin’ on—a man’s hair an’ this—ain’t it.”

You sputtered out apologies and let go immediately. “I didn’t even realize—I’m so sorry.” He wasn’t even looking at you, half lidded eyes blinking slowly and staring toward the wall. Your tight grip returned but this time on his bicep, pulling him more snugly into your side but easing when he buried his face against your sweater to cough. Gross, but what could you do?  “Daryl. Do you think you could try to—”

“Heard the—the old man. M’awake.” 

The two of you laid in silence, not necessarily uncomfortable but with the looming fear of what was to come and if could even possibly help him. Your fingers ran a trail up and down his arm while his hand splayed out over your belly, eventually sliding around to your side to shift you toward him. Face to face, you could now clearly see the exhaustion, the way the illness was slowly tearing him down, and the resignation in his eyes.

“I’m scared.” The words slipped from your tongue unbidden, and though his expression didn’t change, he brought a fiercely trembling hand to your cheek, hot against your skin.

“Me too.” The admission shocked you to your core. Daryl always strived to be strong for everyone. Hell, it was what led him to his current position in the first place, trudging on while ill just to make sure you and the group—mostly you—were fed. “Didn’t fall.” His thumb barely brushed the bruised cut on your cheek. “M’so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He opened his mouth, presumably to speak but quickly turned his face into the pillow to cough harshly, the force rocking his body hard enough to jar your own. You twisted to reach for a cloth, shushing him when his hold grew tighter, openly displaying his discontent at the thought of you moving away.

With gentle swipes, you wiped his face and then the pillow, folding the fabric before laying it above your heads for easy access. 

“I don’t wanna do this without you. Thumper needs their daddy. And,” you swallowed, face crumbling and tears stinging your waterline, “I need their daddy too.”

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Why the hell was he comforting you when he was the one being ravaged by an illness that would have been easily remedied in the old world? You really were weak, dependent. Where was the headstrong woman that had shown no fear on her own during the first days of the turn? “Stop—stop lookin’ at me—like m’already dead.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pulling away abruptly to cover a fit of barking coughs that left him groaning, face lined with pain while he gasped and heaved to catch his breath.

You had no chance to offer him any sort of comfort before there came a knock and Hershel entered, Carol at his heels. “We have what we need. Well, what can be used in place of what we need.” He held some sort of thin tubing, a syringe, and a plastic mixing bowl, while Carol carried a mostly empty bottle of whiskey, some gauze, tape, and a knife. Even with your wide eyes displaying a naked fear, Daryl never turned to look. “Is he awake?”

“Get it—get on with it.” He grumbled, weak but to the point.

Hershel merely shook his head with that fond smile he had developed toward your group since the farm. “Carol, could you sanitize the knife?” Seeing her pour a portion of the liquid over the blade made your stomach turn, or maybe it was your own illness rearing its ugly head to take advantage of your weakened state. Regardless, you looked away, finding Daryl’s eyes on your own. “First, I’ll need to find the right spot. You’ll have to be completely still for this, son.”

“Yeah, okay. Got—got it.” The archer wheezed. In your peripheral, you could see the veterinarian’s arm moving, pressing and counting the ribs in search of the correct site. Daryl was rigid, his eyes squinted but remaining open and focused on you with the occasional flitting down to where your swollen belly pressed against him. His hand fisted into the fabric of your sweater on your hip.

“Okay, I’m going to—”

“Just do—just do it for christ sake.” 

The old man was still behind him for a moment, long enough to draw your gaze to his. He nodded, a silent request for you to do what you could to keep Daryl still and compliant. Drawing your eyes back to the dull blue that was watching you with such intensity that you felt crushed under the weight, well, that must have been enough for Hershel to continue.

Daryl made a noise in the back of his throat, the slightest spasm of pain indicating that the knife had pierced his skin. Hershel and Carol were moving behind Daryl, communicating through whispers and gestures while you felt Daryl’s arm begin to shake, your sweater pulling tight against your body.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so good, Daryl.” 

His eyes suddenly clamped shut, your sweater rising away from your hip when he twisted his fist. The seconds felt like minutes that felt like hours of watching him tremble with fever, weakness, and restraint. Finally, there came the blessed sound of liquid hitting the bottom of the plastic bowl. 

“Catheter is in place as best I can tell. We’re getting fluid. Don’t hold your breath, son. Nice and slow.”

You could tell he was trying, each breath a wheeze laced with pain. Slowly, you moved your hand from his arm to his face, just brushing your fingers over the stubble on his cheek. “We need to start thinking of names, you know. Thumper is cute but the baby isn’t a rabbit even though they feel like one sometimes.” Daryl’s eyes opened, tears pricking at the pinched corners. You knew he couldn’t answer you and so did he, probably couldn’t even if he tried. “I try to picture what they may look like. I hope they look like you, big blue eyes and maybe even a permanent scowl so that when they smile, it’ll be the most beautiful thing we’ve ever seen.” You thumbed away a tear that escaped down across the bridge of his nose toward the other eye.

When his throat spasmed, you thought maybe he was going to be sick but then he began to cough, loud and agonizing and dry. Your wide eyes found Hershel’s, the calm in the old man’s gaze fizzling out your terror.

“It’s okay. Just keep him still. The coughing forces out more fluid. It’s almost over.”

As painful as it was for Daryl, it was agonizing for you to watch him suffer with no way to help him. “It’s almost done. You’re doing great. Stay still and stay awake. Can you look at me?” He answered with the smallest of nods, an almost imperceptible movement. Carol moved closer to Hershel. It was torture to not know what they were doing out of your sight but at the same time, an immense relief. The zip of tape being pulled and torn was surely a sign of the procedure coming to an end.

But it was when Daryl drew in the deepest breath you had heard in two days that you felt yourself relax, truly and utterly just drain of tension, placing your forehead against his. “It’s over. Just rest now.” You focused on his even breaths, just the slightest wheeze, the barely audible rattle. He was limp against you, his hand still tangled in your sweater but no longer holding on. The archer was exhausted and sleep had claimed him almost instantly.

“Hershel?” You need not ask anything. He knew.

“It won’t last long, but it buys us some time. The incision was deep but small. I will examine him in a little while, make sure it stays clean. In the meantime, listen for any struggles with breathing. Let him rest.”

You nodded, your forehead brushing against Daryl’s. The used supplies had been gathered and the old man had already made his way downstairs. You caught Carol’s eye as she started to close the door.

“An hour.” You stated flatly.

“What?” The other woman stepped back into the room, her brow drawn.

“I’m giving them one hour. If they’re not back, I want the list and I’m going. There won’t be a discussion.” No room for argument. “You sit with him while I’m gone. You’re the only other person he really trusts.” She looked as if she might object, but when her shoulders relaxed, you knew you’d won. With a nod, she left the room.

Without Daryl’s desperate attempts to breathe, it was so quiet, a sound you welcomed and reveled in so deeply. Hershel had opened a doorway and you’d be damned if you’d let it close. Moving your arm below his to wrap around him, low on his back to avoid the incision, you used the leverage to pull yourself as close to him as you could with baby Dixon barring the way. The archer didn’t stir. Pressing your lips to his forehead, you felt the fever still burning hot, only fueling your determination to get what he needed if the group failed to return.

“I don’t care what you say or what you think. I don’t care why you think I shouldn’t.” You spoke softly, a near whisper. “I love you. And I am not losing you.”

Of course you had fallen asleep. Daryl was resting comfortably, albeit still feverish. You were cozy beside him. You felt safe while simultaneously feeling like you were guarding him. It had been more than an hour, that much was certain. Hershel hadn’t given a timeframe regarding how long the treatment would help Daryl and you were taking no chances. It was time to take things into your own hands.

As fate would have it, just as you began to disentangle yourself from Daryl, there were frantic footsteps on the stairs. Fuck. Daryl was too weak to move if walkers had wandered into the area. The door burst open without a knock, revealing a breathless blonde teenager wearing a brilliant smile.

“They’re back!”

You stared. It was all you could do, your voice had seemingly decided it was in just as much shock as you were. Besides, she had already disappeared, leaving the door wide open. A sob worked its way up your throat but you blocked it with your teeth, looking down at Daryl as he slept. 

He would be okay.

The glare you had fixed on Hershel settled the maybe you should wait outside argument rather quickly. You weren’t leaving Daryl to be manhandled should he wake up confused. 

A herd had blocked their direct path back. Of course one had. Because the world was cruel and unforgiving and the dead were always hungry and always looking for a life to take. 

Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were bringing up supplies while Maggie assisted her father with Daryl’s care. An IV was started immediately, after carefully searching for the perfect vein due to his state of dehydration. They didn’t have the cannulas to waste. Fluids were started right along with a bag of something called Azithromycin—an antibiotic, Hershel had said. They had scored several bags of each, along with a few other things that could be used for injuries or illnesses. But when they brought up the oxygen tanks, you could have sobbed.

The nasal cannula placement was what finally woke Daryl, bloodshot eyes scanning the room before you saw the first signs of panic. “Ssh. It’s okay.” You slid your hand under his and squeezed his fingers softly. “They’re back. Just let Hershal do his thing, okay? And then I’ll chase them all out. I promise.”

You were so relieved to see his usual scowl shift into place, even if it was somewhat diminished. “Fine.” He rasped.

“Good. Now, since I have your attention—don’t touch that—” you swatted his hand away from the cannula, “take these pills.” Hershel wanted around the clock alternation of acetaminophen and ibuprofen every four hours to get the fever under control. 

With an utterance of something containing the word bossy he let you place the pills on his palm and tossed them into his mouth, swallowing them dry while you sat there offering a glass of water. There was a look shared between you that would have been amusing had either you had the energy to laugh. “Thanks.” He whispered, his hand shaking when he accepted the water. He only took a couple of sips but you wouldn’t hound him just yet. The fluids were going and he likely would take a while to feel like doing much of anything.

“We’ve done everything we can do for now. Just need to keep an eye on those bags and hang new ones when they’re empty. Keep giving the fever reducers and, son, try to drink when you feel like. The sooner you’re taking in fluids on your own, the better.” 

“Leave that oxygen right where it is too.” Maggie added in a no-nonsense tone.

Daryl’s nod was sluggish, his chin almost staying on his chest during the gesture. The commotion, everyone moving, even while he did nothing more than take a couple of pills, had left him running on fumes. As promised, you were up, hand on your lower back to rub away the ache there as you used the other to shoo everyone out of the room.

Absolutely nothing was stopping you from crawling under those sheets with him and sleeping for four glorious hours. You had asked Carol to keep an eye on that. Thank heavens he was lying in the middle of the bed. The side with the IV needed to be avoided. 

Actually lying down with the intention to sleep, knowing Daryl was receiving the help he needed, you were just done for, already drifting off and somewhere between awake and asleep when you felt Daryl’s knuckles brush against yours. You took his hand without a second thought.

“Are you sure about this?” Carol asked, standing with you in the doorway of the bedroom. She was nervously glancing back and forth between you and Daryl. Aside from a few bouts of those harsh, barking coughs, he had slept the entire four hours and barely woke enough to choke down the pills before being pulled right back under. 

“I’m sure.” You secured your knife in the sheath on your thigh and wiggled Daryl’s gun holster a little to the side so it wasn’t gouging into the bottom of your belly. Your rifle was long gone and you weren’t about to alert anyone else to your plans by choosing a different weapon. So with both your bag and Daryl’s crossbow on your back, you were ready to head out.

“You don’t have anything to prove, Y/N. We’ve lived off less. There’s a little jerky left and we have some cans—”

“I’ll be fine, Carol. I’m only going to be a few hours and hunt small game. If I happen across a doe that I can lift, I’ll take that chance, otherwise, it’ll be squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, or opossums. Yum.”

“What do I tell him if he wakes up and asks for you?” She shifted nervously.

“The truth. We don’t lie. If he tries to come after me, knock him out or barricade the door.” 

She followed you to the top of the stairs but not down, staying close to Daryl as she had promised. “You really don’t need to go.”

“I do. I’m the only other hunter in this group. I won’t have him trying to go out sooner than he’s ready to make sure there’s enough.” You paused on the bottom step, staring at the door and then toward the kitchen where everyone else was gathered. Chewing your bottom lip, you climbed up two more so she could hear you without alerting the rest. “If I’m not back before his next dose, I’m headed west. That’s where they can look.” 

Carol looked so stricken and unsure so you offered her a smile, as she always did for you. Finally, she conceded. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

[ohtobeleah]

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter Three: [In The Arms Of The Enemy]

Summary: Both you and Jake come face to face with the man you only know as ‘The Commander’ who you soon find out has very little patience for bullshit.

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Word Count: 4.6k

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Every Naval Aviator you had ever known had a shadow. A dark cloud of fear and doubt that followed even the best into the cockpit. Every day you’d pretend like the shadow wasn't there, it's what got you this far, hoping that if you went faster, pulled harder, mastered harder techniques, achieved more, did better, got stronger and knew enough knowledge to rival an F-18 Natop book, that the shadow would give in and give up the chase. 

“Hollywood.” But like they say, you can't out-run your shadow. “Hey hotshot, you okay?” Jake's voice was as angelic as an angel's whisper as it cut through the fog in your mind. You weren't sure where you were or how long you’d been out for. But what you did know is that you felt like crap. 

Jake watched through the bars of his cell as you made an attempt to get up onto your knees. You'd been lying face down in the dirt of the cell floor. Drooling to the point mud had begun to form where your cheek had been squished against the clay. Inhaling all kinds of nasty things. 

“There she is.” Jake beamed as he pressed himself up against the metal bars that kept him from you. “You're okay, just breathe alright.” Jake had been awake for a while now. He’d just been listening, taking in his surroundings before they had shoved you into your cell. Time was hard to tell, but Jake estimated you'd been on the ground unconscious for roughly twenty minutes. 

“Where are we?” You asked as you got up onto your knees. It was a little harder to achieve with your hands tied in front of you. The rope itself was pulled tight enough to give you pins and needles, but not hard enough to cut off blood flow completely. “Oh my god where the fuck are we!” It wasn't until you turned around in a panic that you saw it. You let out a blood curdling scream that came from the depths of your soul when your eyes landed on the dead body in the corner of your cell. Still tied up but very much dead.

“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD GET ME OUT OF HERE!” You cried as you fell back onto your ass and shuffled closer and closer to the bars that kept you apart. You didn't stop moving until your back collided with the metal. “Jake! Jake you have to get me out of here I can’t–I can't breathe!” 

“Hey, hey hey–shhh I got you, I've got you.” Jake tried his best to try and calm you down. He’d been looking at that same dead body for the better half of what he assumed to be an hour before they brought you in. “I'm right here with you, okay?” 

“Oh god oh god oh god oh god.” It was the only thing you could say as you felt Jake right behind you. He did what he could to try and comfort you, but his own hands were tied in front of him. The same as yours. No matter how much he tried he couldn't squeeze his arms in through the gaps in the bars. He could probably get one, but not two. Not tied at the wrist like this. 

“Don't look at her.” Jake cooed, his voice still as calm as ever. Level headed as can be in a time like this. “Hey, Hollywood, don't look at her, turn around and look at me.” He asked softly as he stayed right behind you, right in your ear so you could hear him, so he could make sure you could hear him through the panic. Through the fear. “Turn around and look at me Y/n, just me.” 

It took everything you had to peel your eyes away from the woman slumped in the corner of your cell. It took everything you had to turn around and face Jake Seresin as he kneeled on the dirt of his own cell. Face to face with you up against the bars. 

“We’re gonna get out of here–” It was a vastly different take on the matter to what you had to say. “I'm gonna get you out of here, I promise.” 

“Noone knows where we are, we don't even know where we are.” You sobbed as Jake reached through the bars as much as he could to grip your hands in his. “I'm so scared.” 

“I'm scared too.” Jake admitted as he held your hands in his. “But we’ve gotta be smart here alright, you don't show them you're scared because the minute they see you're scared they’ll use it against you.” You understood the logic, but how the hell were you supposed to mask this? “And when they come back, which they will, you don't struggle.” Only then did Jake sound scared. Although he’d told you he was, he didn't sound it. If anything he sounded as confident as he did all the time. “You don't give them a reason to hurt you okay and I promise I will get you out of here.” 

All you did was nod as you tried to silence your sobbs. Jake had never seen you cry before, now he’d seen you cry enough for a lifetime. The thought of you being in this situation with him killed him. It was always him, just him. Jake had always flown solo. He’d never gone down in enemy territory before. And he hated that the time he did he took down his Weapons System Officer too. 

“Who is she?” You asked softly as you tried to calm down. “The woman.” Jake had had more time than you to try and figure that question out. He had an idea, but he wasn't entirely sure. 

“She's a pilot.” Jake answered hesitantly but he knew you'd figured that much out yourself. “I can't see you patch though.” It was Jake's very polite way of asking if you could take a look. He didn't want to ask you out right knowing how much fear coursed through your veins, but when you nodded he knew you got what he was asking. 

Jake watched as you stood, using the support of the bars to help you up. Things were so difficult with your arms tied in front of you. Jake did the same thing, he sat on his ass and pushed himself up. Your cell seemed so much smaller than it did a second ago. With Jake whispering in your ear that everything would be alright the dead body seemed a million miles away. Now? Now it seemed as though she was at your feet before you'd even taken three steps. 

“You’re okay.” Jake reminded you as he watched you step closer. “I'm right here with you.” It wasn't true, but it was nice to hear. You crouched down in front of her. The woman who was dead in your cell. It didn't look like she had been gone for too long. Her skin was cool to the touch but there was no rotting smell. The smell you think about when you think of dead bodies. “Can you see anything?” 

They must have wanted you to investigate, maybe they wanted you to know who it was. Because her uniform looked as if it had been washed, cleaned and dried of the blood they surely spilled over it. Her patches were all still there, including her callsign. 

“Dutchess.” You frowned as you looked at the patches and callsign on her uniform. Struggling to understand how she ended up here. “It's Captain Sarah ‘Dutchess’ Hewens.” Jake had heard about the missing Captain that had been reported missing in action just shy of four months ago. You all had. It had been the scuttle butt across every naval station. How she ended up here he’d never know, but you had a theory. “Jake, we were ambushed.” You turned around with fear in your eyes as you rose to your feet. “They had to have known we were coming because the second we were in that canyon they were on us.” 

It had all been such a blur Jake hadn’t even thought about it. All he was thinking about was trying to get out alive. He was thinking about his wingman, Rooster. Never once did the thought of an ambush cross his mind. But evidently it had crossed yours. Which made you the best WSO Jake had ever known. 

“You think Dutchess tried to trade intel for her life?” Jake asked as he stood by the bars. He wanted nothing more than to be in the same cell as you. He couldn't protect you with bars stopping him from getting to you. 

“I think she did whatever she had to do in order to survive.” You said exactly what Jake had just in a more forgiving way. “They knew we were coming because Dutchess told them hoping it would keep her alive, how else would they have known we were coming?” 

As you looked at Jake through the bars of your cell and he looked back at you with the same realisation and disbelief evident all over his face, you remembered he was struck on the back of the head. 

“Are you okay?” The softness in your voice was a stark contrast to the anger you had just before explaining your theory on the ambush. “Your head?” 

“You don’t have to worry about me hotshot.” Jake sent you that signature grin everyone loved. “But for the record? I’m fine.” 

“How about off the record?” Jake wasn’t expecting you to care so much. He thought for sure you’d want to kill him yourself for getting you into this mess. But you didn’t seem to pass blame. “I saw what that guy did to you. It must have hurt like a bitch.” It was then Jake let out the smallest of chuckles to himself as he nodded in response. 

“Off the record i've got a little bit of a headache but it's nothing I can't handle.” Jake explained as he stood face to face with you at the bars that kept you apart. “What about you? How're the ribs?” There was something about Jake that brought you comfort. If you were here alone you probably would have already given up. But when he looked at you like you were the only light that could guide him out of this hellscape–you couldn't help but to feel just a little special. Even in the darkest of times. 

“Yeah, no they’re fucked.” Your complete honesty made the pair of you laugh for just a fleeting moment. With that laughter came a little bit of reprieve, it made you feel even just for a second that you were at the Hard Deck just trying to fit in. It made you believe as you closed your eyes and revealed in the sweet sweet sound of Jake Seresins laugh that you were looking at him looking at you from across the bar. 

But then you opened your eyes and you were still in hell. 

“They hurt, but like you said, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” Your eyes trailed down from Hangman's eyes to watch as he pressed his lips together in a fine line. He was unsure, unsure if you were alright. Unsure of everything. “How the hell are we gonna get outta here Jake?” 

“I don’t know.” He sighed, letting his forehead rest against yours through the bars. “But I promise you I’ll figure that out.” You knew there was no way he could ever really promise that, but still you believed him. “Trust me, you and I? We weren’t born to die. We’re Hangman and Hollywood.” Jake tried to get you to smile as fresh tears began to stream down your cheeks. “Hollywood and Hangmans story doesn’t end in some dingy cell in some unknown territory.” 

“When exactly does our story end?” You asked as you felt Jake raise his hands up from in front of him to gently touch your chin. 

“After this? Hopefully old and gray in some retirement villages where we can spend our days bickering over the fact that we should have sued for a hell of a lot more than we end up suing for.” That made you smile, it made the corners of your lips turn into your cheeks. “It doesn’t end here.” 

Every Naval Aviator has a shadow. And the only way to get rid of a shadow–is to turn off the lights, stop running from the darkness—and face what you fear. Head on. 

You had no choice but to face your fears when your smile was ripped right off your face when the wheels of your cell door opening echoed throughout your cell. Jake felt you go stiff, he noticed how you held whatever little breath was in your lungs and he saw how fear took over your entire being. 

“Don’t give them a reason to hurt you.” Jake mumbled as he stayed put. He wasn’t leaving the bars. If this was as close as he could get then so be it. He wasn’t moving. “I’m right here.” 

“Let’s go.” The Insurgent ordered as you stepped away from the bars and made your way towards where he stood with arms crossed and feet spread slightly. He was built and tall and once again clothed head to toe in black clothing. Leaving you no way to identify the man. “Did you enjoy getting to know your cellmate?” He asked with an evil laugh that would have made the devil himself shiver as he gripped your arm hard. “She was my favourite.” He drew you closer so that you were as close as you could get. He snickered deeply as he inhaled your scent, you swore he could smell your fear. “But something tells me you’ll be a little more fun to torment.” 

“Okay Buddy let’s go.” All the while Jake was watching you, he didn’t notice his own guard coming to the door of his cell. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Jake argued as he turned around to face the guard. “Where the hell are we!? what are you doing with her!?” It was hard to watch but it happened quicker than you could look away. “Ahhh!” Jake fell to his knees as the guard in his cell tased his side. Sending volts of electricity through his body that he couldn’t fight. 

“Jake!” You tried to rush to his aid but the man who had come for you held you back against his chest and placed a rough hand over your mouth. 

“I swear to god if I didn’t have orders to keep you alive I’d smear your guts along the walls of this fucking cell.” He hissed before spinning you around only to shove you out of your cell into the hall. “Now fucking walk, I don’t wanna have to tell you again.” 

“What are you going to do to him?” Although you were being shoved out into the corridor your eyes wouldn’t leave Jake as he laid fetal style on the dirt floor of his cell. “I asked you a question!” Your insubordination cost you a slap across the face hard enough to nearly crack your neck. Jake heard it, the other guard heard it. 

“God I wanna fuck the fire out of this one.” The guy manhandling you snickered at his partner. 

“Not yet.” Was all the guy who was towering over Jake replied. You watched with a whine as he brought his leg back only to kick Jake and kick Jake hard right in his gut while he was down. “Take her to The Commander.” Again there was a harsh kick that had Jake groaning in unbearable pain, but all you could do was watch and take in small identifiable features of your captors. 

Deep voices, tall, the hand that had wrapped itself around your mouth was caucasian, the size boot of the guard kicking Jake had to have at least been a ten or more. Small, hopefully valuable pieces of a much larger puzzle. 

“Is that all you’ve got, big guy?” You heard Jake laugh as he tried to get up off the ground as you were being ushered along. You saw it coming the second his arrogance slips past his tongue. That same taser that had jolted Jake in his side was now pressed into his neck. 

“JAKE!” There was no answer, no response or sign of life as you rounded the corner struggling. “Let go of me!” It was everything he’d told you not to do. “Let go of me!” But you needed to fight. “I’m not going anywhere with you!” It was then again you were hit with that same paralytic as before, a sharp sting followed by a quick burning sensation left your vision darkened and distorted before you were falling to your knees. 

Unable to move and unable to fight. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

When you’re little, nighttime is scary because there are monsters hiding right under your bed. When you get older, the monsters are different. Self doubt, loneliness, regret. And though you may be older and wiser–you still find yourself scared of the dark. 

The room you woke up in was dark and all consuming but just from the smell alone seemed cleaner than the grim covered cell you’d just been dragged from. All at once, all the lights were in—blinding you in bright white light. 

“I’m sorry my men had to get so physical with you so soon into your stay with us.” You heard a man speak from the corner of the room. “I’m hoping once we have a chat about what exactly it is you and your comrade are doing here that I’ll be able to tell them to be a little less hostile.” He spoke calmly, level headed. 

“Who are you?” You strained against the restraints keeping you down on the chair you found yourself in. 

“You can call me The Commander.” Was all he said as he stalked around the room. To your surprise the more your eyes allowed the light in, the more you came to realise he was on full display. No dark clothes, no hidden identity. Just a simple man in a simple suit. He looked well kept, clean and shaven. Like he had just come off Wall Street. “And what can I call you in return?” He asked politely enough as he sat down on the edge of a barron desk. 

“Hollywood.” You simply croaked out. He nodded in a sign of gratitude. You were still assessing your situation. 

“You and your friend seem to have been flying a little too far away from home don’t you think?” The room you were in smelt of chemical cleaner and notes of bourbon. The bourbon must have been from The Commander himself. 

“Well the US hasn’t always been known for keeping within its sovereign borders.” You sighed, still coming to. “Has it.” The Commander chuckled at your wit as he stalked towards you. 

“Still doesn’t answer my question Hollywood?” He reminded you as he towered over your still sitting body. He was harsh as he gripped at your face to make sure you were looking up at him. “Why are you here?” 

“The google reviews on your accommodation package need some updating.” You answered proudly. “Only reason I’m here is because the reviews said the rooms were bright and spacious.” It earned it a fist to the side of the face. “Ahh!”

“I’m not a patient man.” The Commander explained as he remained towering over you. “I’ll get what I want and I’ll go to any lengths to get it.” He paused as he bent over to level with you. “Just ask Captain Hewens.” The look on your face must have been enough to tell The Commander exactly what he needed to know. That you weren’t so confident after all. “It’s simple, you give me what I want and I won’t kill your friend.” At the mere mention of Jake your heart rate increased enough to send heat racing to your cheeks as you strained against your restraints. “Bring him in.” The Commander ordered as double doors that rivaled something straight out of an asylum busted open.

The two guards, you’d decided to nickname them dumb and dumber, dragged Jake in. They both carried his weight with one arm each as his head slumped and his head hung low. 

“Oh my god.” You gasped at the sight of Jake before you. He was beaten pretty badly, to the extent where his face was all swollen and cut up. “Jake—“ 

“Nothing I can’t handle.” He made sure to let you know. 

“Now you see Hollywood, I’m in search of information that might aid me in the process of furthering my reach across the globe.” You weren’t all that focused on the explanation you were being given, all you could focus on was Jake at your feet, lying on his back looking up at you. 

“But before we move onto that, I need to know what exactly the two of you were sent here to do.” The Commander walked across the room to pick up a single knife. “And you’re going to tell me just what your government sent you here to do.” The Commander lingered on his explanation as he made his way over to where Jake laid on the ground at your feet, spent and just trying to catch his breath. “You’re going to answer some of my questions and if you don’t I’m gonna slit the Lieutenant's throat.” 

“Don’t you touch him.” Sleep. It's the easiest thing to do. “Don’t.” You hissed as you watched the Commander crouch down to lift Jake's head up by his blood stained hair. Jake laughed in a way you’d never heard him laugh before. It was nearly insane sounding. 

“Jokes on you, I like having my hair pulled.” You caught the moment Jake sent you a struggled wink before he rammed the back of his head right against The Commander's nose. The crack was unreal—it echoed off the walls as he stumbled back a few steps and cupped at his nose. “But usually by pretty women.” Again there was a wink, Jake's arrogance was shining through the imminent peril the two of you were in.  

For a guy who looked as if he’d been beaten within an inch of his life, Jake moved pretty quick. He sprung up onto his feet and swung at The Commander the second he got a chance to. 

You winced as Jake tackled The Commander to the ground, the knife in his handle went sliding across the floor in a spectacular fashion, catching the fluorescent light as it twirled around. 

“Piece of shit!” It was pure anger as Jake let The Commander have it. He straddled the well kept man’s waist as he landed punch after punch after punch. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!?” 

You knew it was over before it even started the second the hospital style double doors opened with a boisterous thud once again. Three men dressed head to toe in dark clothing entered the room with quick haste. One made his way over to you while the other two raced over to where Jake was giving the Commander his all. 

Sleep. You just close your eyes and drift away. But for so many people, sleep seems out of their grasp.

You want it, so bad, but you don't know how to get it. How to obtain such a hot commodity.

“Get off of me!!” Jake spat as he was hoisted off the man in the suit with soulless eyes and an empty heart. “Get the fuck off me!” He was made to kneel as his arms were held out. When Jake had actually stopped fighting his heart sank into his stomach. 

There you were—strapped to the chair with one of the men holding a gun to your temple. Jake watched as your bottom lip quivered and your eyes welled with tears. You’d cried so many tears. 

“I’ll start easy shall I?” The Commander spat blood as he rose to his feet and fixed his suit jacket. “Names, I want both your names.” His tone had changed, The Commander was angry, no doubt about it. “Don’t answer and I’ll kill her right now, right in front of you.” 

“Don’t tell them anything.” Jake looked at you like you were the only one in the room. “I’m right here, it’s okay.” 

“WHAT ARE YOUR NAMES!” 

“I’m not telling you shit!” Jake swore time stood still as he watched the guard behind you move the gun from your temple and fired one single shot into your upper thigh. Your screams could have burst his eardrums as you cried out in shock and pain. The realisation set in quickly that they were serious—it wasn’t just a bluff. Jake and his actions had gotten you shot.

“I’ll give you one last chance to tell me exactly who you are before I blow her fucking brains out right here right now.” Jake's knees felt weak as deep crimson began to seep into your flight suit. This was real, holy shit this was really fucking real. 

“My name is Lieutenant Jacob ‘Hangman’ Seresin, and the woman you just shot is Lieutenant Y/N ‘Hollywood’ Y/L/N.” Jake explained as guilt flooded his broken and battered system. He stayed kneeling on the ground before you as your painful cries filled the silence. 

“Good.” The Commander was satisfied enough. “Someone run their files, I want addresses, stations, friends and family names, you name it.” He added as he gestured for his guards to let Jake go. “Let her go.” He nodded before the man with the gun lowered his weapon. You felt like you could breathe once again. “Someone get me a suture kit and rubbing alcohol.” 

It was all getting blurry, the voices, the room. Blood was pouring out of your thigh at a rate you recognized to be dangerous. Jake moved over to where you sat, now unrestrained. He assessed your thigh before placing his hands on your cheeks to wipe away your tears. 

“I’m so sorry—“ It was an apology bathed in the deepest of sympathies. The Commander watched as Jake kneeled between your legs. It sparked an idea inside his mind that would make it a hell of a lot easier to get the information he needed. 

“I hope you’ve got steady hands there Lieutenant Seresin.” The Commander snickered as he rolled his cuffs up. “Wouldn’t want your partner bleeding out.” It didn’t take Jake long at all to figure out what was happening, because the moment he was handed the suture kit? He knew he was going to have to get used to your agonising whimpers. “Try not to make her scream too much, I’ve got a fucking headache.” 

“I’m really tired.” You mumbled as your head fell forward against Jake's shoulder. He did his best to hold back his own tears as you worked to cup his hand over the bleeding. The other held the back of your head as he turned to kiss your temple softly. “Jake—“ 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He spoke as softly as ever as the Commander and his insurgents left the clean near sterile room. Leaving just you and Jake behind. “I’m gonna fix you up, don’t worry, you can rest.” 

“Mmmm—don’t ever try to be a hero again.” Jake nodded as he let out a painful sob. This wasn’t what he had signed up for. This wasn’t part of the mission parameters. 

“Just stay with me Hollywood.” Sleep, it didn’t always come easy. But once you face your demons, face your fears, and turn to each other for help–night time isn't all that scary. “I’ve got you.” It was the last thing you heard before everything went dark. But you felt a comfort, a warm embrace that kept you safe. 

Why? Because you realised soon enough that you weren’t all alone in the dark.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags 🏷️ @americaarse @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @athenabarnes @imaginecrushes @whyareallnamesgone @mjmaximoffbarnes @amiets2 @mads-weasley @gabbyella @ephemeralninon @xoxabs88xox @pedrohoe04 @starkleila @je-suis-prest-rachel @clancycucumber230 @maisie-rebloging-blog @callsign-barbell @obiwankenobis-lap @some-lovely-day @paperbag333 @callsign-magnolia @jhiddles03 @hardballoonlove @shanimallina87 @seitmai i @abaker74 @missemrose @starset21 @kmc1989 @phoenix1388 @emma8895eb @tsofo26 @itsmytimetoodream

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Whump vs Flufftober: Day 13

familial curse / Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room

After the initial upset, it turned out not to be so bad living here, Yuu thought.

Living in a creaky old mansion had its downsides- shopping was annoying, though Yuu was able to outsource it. Cleaning, they could also outsource, although they felt bad when they weren’t pulling their own weight.

The staff for a house of this size was extraordinarily small, but it was balanced out by the fact that only the shadowy, unseen master lived here as a resident. So that still left Yuu, as the manager of this house, to figure how to make repairs and fix things.

Building up their initial reservoir of knowledge had been difficult, but Yuu felt stronger and more self-reliant now that they were able to cut, sandpaper, paint and varnish their own doors, or figure out a whole meal from little else than the catch of the day and an orange.

It was the thought of meals that took up a lot of Yuu’s mind nowadays.

Ever since that fateful day, when the master of the house, Tsunotaro, had sent up word from Lilia that he’d found the rosemary and chives made the roast pheasant dish they’d had served delectable, Yuu had sough to capture that joy that had crept into Lilia’s voice when he’s relayed the message.

Most of the servants had a grim sort of pallor to them, or at least they he when Yuu had begun to work there. Nowadays, they didn’t all look so bad, but Yuu was still under the impression that expressions of happiness in association with the master were something of a small treasure.

Yuu hadn’t had to guess for long, though, because that very master had visited that night.

Shaking off those thoughts, Yuu reviewed the meal they had planned for tonight. Hearty, warm and plentiful, their creamy-chunky potato soup, to be served with crunchy and savory bits of toasted bread, as well as a few sprigs of fresh vegetables Yuu had plucked from the budding garden they’d been working on, and had made the best they could.

The presence of the master permeated through all of the walls of the formerly drafty house.

When they'd first gotten here, Yuu had thought there was nothing but his presence in this desolate house, stirring the dust with a lazy finger, and tickling the noses of the sparse staff.

But, as Yuu had boarded up holes, swept up the mess, arranged furniture, and hung curtains, the true spirit of the house had come to life, as if it had been dormant prior to their arrival.

The winds blew harsher now, the first time winter had returned since they'd come here, but the house no longer rattled with every gust. Instead, it stood firm, protecting the fires that slept within, and allowing its inhabitants to stay warmth.

Yuu could walk around and feel the strong heart of the house beating under the floorboards with them. It felt like a crazy thought, but Yuu was sure it was true.

As the potatoes simmered, one of the other servants opened the kitchen door.

"Hey, Yuu?" Ace, a hire Yuu had made to help around the house whom they'd grown surprisingly close to, was sticking his neck into the kitchen.

"What's up?" they said, sprinkling in a bit of salt for flavor. The potato soup was good, but Yuu was going for fantastic.

"Do you know where we'd have a flathead screwdriver?" he asked.

That was, in fact, something Malleus knew well. "There should be one in the toolbox in the cleaning closet. but check with Silver first, because he has a habit of taking it and putting it down in the sitting room."

"Thanks!" Ace slapped the doorframe and ran off, and Yuu turned their attention back to the soup.

They got an idea, and tried to banish it as soon as it came.

Biting their lip, Yuu grabbed flour, yeast, and a mixing bowl, and quickly stirred together dough for biscuits.

With one eye on the burbling pot of potatoey goodness, Yuu quickly got a batch of biscuits in the oven as the kitchen filled with the delightful scent of cozy, autumnal food.

Lowering the heat on the pot, Yuu kept stirring until the biscuits were almost done. Then, they quickly ladled out the appropriate number of portions, at least one on a silver tray that would be delivered to Tsunotaro.

The rest of them had been given permission to eat in the main dining hall. so long as there was no one else to be hosted that night. The ranks of the servants had grown quite a bit, and they all liked to eat with each other nowadays.

As a warm, buttery, and faintly burning smell overtook the kitchen, Yuu scrambled to get the stove to turn off and serve each bowl of soup with a nice, warm biscuit.

Yuu wiped the sweat off their brow, the heat of the kitchen getting to them, and dashed off to serve the food.

That night, Yuu was finishing up a few scribbles in their notebook, cross-legged as they sat in the fading candlelight of their desk.

Yuu yawned, wiping the tears of exhaustion from their eyes. They were ready to go to bed, when the shadow at their door appeared.

They could hardly contain the gasp that threatened to spill out of their lips, but the surprise was impossible to hide.

It was him. Though rarely seen and hardly visible, Yuu didn't need to see the horns curling off the top of his head to know it was him, in their hearts.

They stood there, staring at each other for a few moments.

"Hello," he said, in a low tone. "I... I wanted to tell you that the soup was delicious."

Yuu didn't say anything at first. "Thank you," they finally replied.

They stood there, staring at each other as their shadows crawled up the walls of their room.

"You know," they said, rising from their chair. "You haven't come by."

"I know," he replied. "I have been somewhat busy."

"You haven't done anything else, either," they said in a contemplative tone, approaching him more.

He usually stuck to door frames and corners, the darkest shadows of any room. Yuu had taken this to mean that Tsunotaro didn't like it when they got too close.

Right now, however, he wasn't backing up.

"I-"

"Do you not like me?" they asked, in the slightest bit of a mocking tone.

"It's not that," he insisted.

"Then... what is it? You haven't made a move in all these months," they pouted.

Tsunotaro scoffed lightly. Yuu was only inches from where they thought his chest was.

They tried to stare at his eyes, meet his piercing gaze, but Tsunotaro's eyes flicked away quickly.

The last of the candlewick gave out, and Yuu felt someone grabbing their arms, bring them in for a kiss, and shove them back into their room.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Living Weapon Whumpee *BONUS Scene* part 3

Warnings: forced living weapon/fighter, aftermath of being a weapon/semi-retired weapon, lost family, fractured memories

Torn apart and stitched back together so many times he forgot his original identity -- a weapon made of muscle and scar tissue held together by bitter rage.

Monster, a part of him whispered, just like everyone told you.

He wanted to deny it so badly, but was any part of him really himself? Or just a false identity drilled into him after years of training and conditioning to obey?

Who am I? His mind screamed. He thought finding his file would bring him closure, but it only gave him more questions, more holes of knowledge to be filled.

WHO AM I REALLY?

Was he more man, or more beast? Which had more control over him? He knew he could be violent like the beast, but also soft and gentle like a kind man.

But no matter how kind he was, violence would always lurk beneath the surface, sizzling in his veins, violence that LEADER trained into him. Violence that LEADER put there.

Whumpee didn't even realize he was gripping the papers so hard until the slight ripping sound brought him back to the present.

"Hey... are you alright, man?" Max asked quietly. "This must be a lot to take in..."

He had no idea. No idea at all.

Max looked like he was about to say more, when Jake suddenly appeared in the doorway, a little pale in the face with shock, if Whumpee was reading it right. He jerked his chin at Max.

"A word in private?" He said, a bit hoarse-sounding.

Whumpee was instantly suspicious as Max walked past him after giving him a worried glance, joining Jake in the hall.

But Whumpee followed all the way to the doorway to eavesdrop, and even though the two soldiers lowered their voices to a near-whisper, he still heard the conversation loud and clear.

"You know that blonde girl Whumpee talks about all the time in his sleep?" Jake asked gruffly.

Max nodded. "Yeah? What about it--?"

"--One of the prisoners my team just confiscated, uh... er..." Jake stumbled over his words, something he almost never did.

And Whumpee's blood went ice-cold at what he said next.

"One of the prisoners fits the description. I know it's highly unlikely, but is there any chance it might be--?"

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @cepheusgalaxy

@theforeverdyingperson @dragongodryss

[breannasfluff]

Neglectful Moments

Whump Rating: 1/5

“Everyone grab a partner for the portal!” Time’s call had the group shifting in a well-organized pattern.

“Twi, want me to put your stuff in my slate?” Wild with Twilight.

“Hyrule, we don’t have to hold hands every time we go through!” Legend and Hyrule.

“Ready, old man?” Warriors with Time.

“Where do you think we’ll go next?” Wind with Sky.

And that left Four. Alone. Sure, he could join with one of the other groups, but they had each other.

As he does every time, Time says, “You good, Four?”

“Ready to go!” His smile is a little more strained each time. How did he end up the odd one out in the group? He met Sky first! Yet the chosen hero gravitated to their youngest.

It didn’t matter; Four had himself. Blue and red swirl into a muddy purple; anger and longing for what the others have. He’s a hero. Heroes don’t need partners. Even if everyone else has one.

“Legend! Hurry up!” Wild is bouncing in place as he waits for the vet to reach him. “I want to hit the market early before all the good produce is gone!”

“An extra 20 seconds won’t kill you,” Legend snarls. Aches and pains, acquired over several adventures, are made worse by the nipping cold of the air. Why can’t he be home, curled up in front of the fire? Ravio can bring him a cup of hot cider. Or, at the very least, he could still be in bed in the inn.

But no, he had to open his big mouth and volunteer when Wild said he wanted to go into town last night. Never mind that his feet ached and his scars were tight. Never mind that he’s ready to snap the Champion over his knee for the audacity of moving without pain.

What does Legend need to do to get some of that Shrine healing? Die, according to Wild, but some days that sounds like the better option.

“Hey c’mon! I bet I can beat you to the first stall!” And he’s off, ducking and weaving through the early morning crowd.

Legend suppresses a sob as his leg throbs and forces himself to keep going. Heroes don’t get to rest, even grouchy ones. Especially grouchy ones, if the Goddesses have anything to do with it.

“Old man? You doing okay?”

Warriors’ worry is not what Time wants to deal with. Sometimes it’s nice to know others care, but not today. “I’m fine. We need to keep going.”

Wind cries behind them, being carried by Twilight. His leg is broken. Hyrule is passed out in Sky’s arms after a nasty knock to the head. He won’t be providing healing until he wakes up. The rest of them are banged up as well.

Time didn’t escape; there’s a wound to his side that’s slowly spreading a bloody patch through his tunic. He squeezes his arm tighter to his side. The group needs a strong leader right now. They can’t afford to deal with his injury.

Even if—to borrow a phrase from Legend—Din’s tit’s it hurts. Stab wounds tend to do that and Time curses the fact that he has enough knowledge to generalize.

“How much further until we reach the town?”

“Another few hours, I think.” He keeps the waver of pain from his voice and straightens, despite how it pulls on his wound. “Let me know when Hyrule wakes up.”

With a nod, Warriors falls back into line. Time refuses to glance at the wound; as soon as he does the others will notice. If he can make it to the town before it bleeds all the way through, it will be a miracle.

If nothing else, he’s going to delay the inevitable panic. It’s not fatal, and curse that he knows this, too.

Warriors, as he’s now called, works hard to uphold his confident mask. Insecurity is covered by a flashy personality. Fears hidden in jokes. Worries brushed away. When asked how he’s doing, the response is I’m good, even if it’s not true. It’s not a conscious decision. It’s all he’s ever known.

The first fight he’s in, he checks over Wind obsessively.

“I’m fine! Jeez, I’m a hero just like you, don’t baby me!” The sailor fends him off with a growl.

“I’m just worried about you!” Warriors says. “Is there anything I can do? Or get you? Do you want me to take your bag?”

“You’re such a mother cucco.” But Wind passes his bag over, so the captain takes it as a win.

Later, when Wind is distracted with a snack, he cleans and bandages his wounds. It never occurs to him to share that information with his fellow hero.

It gets hard to hide when Time joins the group. By then, half the Chain are used to his mothering and fussing. They let him help, let him baby them to a degree, even if they grumble. Sometimes, they say thank you.

Whenever Warriors helps, it adds another drop to the endless bucket. If he tries harder, if he’s nicer, if he does more—he’ll be able to stay with them. Each time he’s injured he keeps it to himself. Either he bandages it on his own, or he lives with the pain.

The captain is also the most likely to jump in the way of an incoming sword to save the others. At the end of the day, Warriors isn’t as important as them. He’s already disappointed so many people; the most he can do is try to make up for it.

“Aryll, don’t forget your snack!” Wind waves the bag at her, ignoring the eye roll he gets in response. Then he falls into step beside her.

“Hey!” Twilight grabs his shoulder and spins him around. “Where are you going?”

“To walk with Aryll to her friend’s house?” Why is this a question? Wind goes everywhere with his little sister when they are home.

The rancher gives him a flat look. “Is it far?”

“No, just a few minutes down the road.”

“And you are walking her because…”

Wind stares, brows crinkling in confusion. “Because I always do?”

“Sailor, let your poor sister walk down the road on her own.” Twilight waves Aryll on. She hesitates, looking between the two of them, then finally turns and trudges down the road.

Wind watches her go, discomfort rising. He should walk her there. He always does!

Twilight nudges his shoulder. “You aren’t her mom. You don’t need to act like the parent, here. Weren’t you going to show Sky your shell collection this time?”

He was looking forward to that. Still—“I’d really feel better if I went with her.”

“She’s not going to vanish as soon as she’s out of your sight.”

Wind throws him a flat look and mocks flapping wings. The rancher has the grace to wince, at least. “Look, you can’t control her life. And you can’t protect her every second. We’ll be leaving soon.” Wind is still mulish. “I know you care for her but…who’s caring for you?”

The sailor snorts and tosses his curls from his eyes. “I take care of myself.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

[allastoredeer]

Hey! I just want to say, you are my gateway into Radioapple and Hazbin fics as a whole, and boy did you set an expectation for me!! I'm always afraid of coming across OOC fics, and I'm especially picky with what I choose to read at first when I'm still so new to fandom portrayals of characters. When I read the summary and tags of Just Kiss Already, I couldn't believe my eyes because it had everything I was looking for?!? Post season 1, Alastor whump (I squealed at the concept of the angelic wound), Luci having to face the public and his lack of knowledge regarding politics, jealous Vox, Overlord meetings, and! Fake/pretend relationship!! With the sprinkle of rumors and speculation from the public (Idk what it is with me and loving this trope). You delivered a full course meal! The characterization was so so amazing, I love the banter, and I just adore the concept of Alastor being vulnerable in front of someone stronger than him (that someone being Lucifer, who despite being the king of hell, doesn't use his powers to take advantage of Alastor's vulnerable state is ahhhhhh so good). The pacing is incredible, the interactions are golden, and I applaud you for writing POVs that feel real and authentic to canon!

One major thing that made me extremely picky about choosing and reading fics in the fandom was my fear of authors not being able to handle Alastor's Asexuality well. Thank you for doing Alastor justice, I'm so amazed at how well you wrote him in this regard. Like when Vox yelled at him "What does Lucifer have that I don't?", it didn't even cross Alastor's mind that this is a confession of sorts, and instead he thought Vox was talking about power. I love the subtleness of this so much!! The last chapter you posted was amazing in this regard, with Alastor's thoughts about relationships in general. Just, thank you for sharing your work with us, I enjoyed all of it, and I'm so excited to see where the story goes <3333

Another thing I'm still skeptical about is reading explicit fics, because... well, I'm not sure if they will handle Alastor's Ace identity well. Do you happen to have a recommendation for someone like me who's never read Radioapple smut before? And I would also love to know your overall favorite Radioapple fics as well, I've bookmarked some stuff and I don't know where to begin haha. Again thank you, and your blog and asks are so interesting to read!!

HI! HELLO! So this has been sitting in my inbox for a while and its not because I was ignoring it, its because I have come back to read it over and over and over again as I've been writing the next chapter to "Chaggie's Dating 101," and I didn't want to lose it in the void of my blog.

Thank you for this 🥺 not only is it cool being your introduction to Radiapple/HH fics, but I'm so glad you've been enjoying it too!! Hahaha I'm definitely having a lot of fun with "Just Kiss Already" and all the shenangians that are already happening, and knowing that other people are having just as much fun makes me just dlkfnvsdkgjslkgj 😭❤️

I totally get it about being picky. I'm a very picky reader too 😅 Alastor's aceness is definitely something that I can get picky about. Like, it doesn't have to be the focal point every time I read a smut fic--or any fic in general--but when it feels like its either brushed aside altogether or there's underlying aphobia (unintentionally, I'm sure), I nope out real quick. I base a lot of my own ace experiences, thoughts, and emotions on how I write Alastor, and it is so, so validating to see so many other people feeling the same way.

I'll admit, I can be a little more slack with smut fics so long as the smut itself is fantastic, but yeah, there are certain pairings or dynamics I don't stray into because I hate how Alastor is typically depicted, especially in smut fics.

I've slowly been going through all my Hazbin 'marked for later' fics, but here's some radioapple smut fics I have bookmarked (Warning: I enjoy dark and very explicit fics so be sure to read the tags when you look through these):

Bayou in the Mountain by lelepandewritium

With a Coffee and a Caress by winterveritas (<- my current fav radioapple smut fic)

Together In My Pocket by keelywolfe

Unhealthy Attachments by keelywolfe

And, of course, I always recommend checking out keelywolfe's Lucifer's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Relationship radioapple series! I haven't had time to finish it, but I think I'm up to fic 9 or 10 and I'm been loving it so much! It's so much fun! And I love the radioapple smut :3

I'm...just now realizing this is all the Radioapple smut I have in my bookmarks.

Wow.

I've been reading a LOT of smut recently, but looking back, I think it's all been RadioStatic 😂 if ya'll want any RadioStatic smut fic recs, let me know, I have a lot of those.

BUT ALSO! If anyone's read to this point! Here's an update on the chapter 3 of "Chaggie's Totally Legitimate Dating 101 Crash Course" :

The chapter is officially written and is being looked over by my beta's! I'm hoping to have it posted by Saturday or Sunday, so be on the look out for an update 😉 because it's happening very soon!

[phading]

Hi, it's me!

Okay, so there’s probably a lot you don’t know about me. So just in case you’re in the least bit interested:

I try very, very hard never to read incomplete fics. Purely selfish, and the result of reading far too many heart-grabbing stories that never got finished. If you need kudos or encouragement or anything else to continue, I’m here and over the moon excited to read anything you’d like to throw at me. Just let me know what you want in return - comments, critique, suggestions, hugs, encouragement, emojis, whatever ...

I posted one fic a chapter at a time, and I doubt I’ll ever do it again.

Characterization is everything.

If you’ve noticed an absence of Brains, Grandma, Lady P, Havoc, etc… in my fics it’s because I don’t give a twit. Perhaps one day I will evolve beyond this simplistic state.

I suck at prompts, challenges and deadlines. My muse is never in the right headspace at the right time.

I have a ridiculous need to keep it believable when really, the stuff that goes on in the show – no matter how much I adore it – is often somewhat miraculous.

It’s the future, people, I’m allowed to invent things.

In real life, I write kids’ books.

To the best of my knowledge, I’m the oldest member of the Thunderfam. Challenge me if you think you can claim the title.

The first thing of importance I ever wrote was a full length Star Trek Next Gen novel which I submitted to a few select New York publishers (oh, the innocence of youth) . Surprise, surprise, many of them actually read it and sent back comments written on famous restaurant napkins.

So, in light of all of the above, I’m once again doing my own thing. Inspired by the recent “10 opening lines from 10 recent fics” post I’m changing it up to “10 opening lines from 10 WIPs”.  I mean, seriously, I’m a newbie here and have far more WIPs than I do finished fics. So here’s what’s – pray to the anti-depression, anti-chronic pain gods  – coming up …

A WHOLE LOT OF SUPERFICIAL The uniform discarded in a heap on the floor outside the showers was expected – the purple neoprene wasn’t. (Virgil, Scott, shaping up to be humour)

THE LAST ZOO ON EARTH “Say again, John. I thought you said we have a situation at a zoo.” (All brothers, major rescue, major whump, pissed off Gordon)

THERE ARE NO CANNIBALS ANYMORE “Sir! I need you to calm down!” (Hurt Virgil, this one could go graphic in a hurry)

IT DOESN’T HURT Virgil glanced up from the piano keys, searching for inspiration but instead witnessing his fish brother's spectacular dive off the board – a dive that would leave his re-built back in shambles. (Fishtank, chronic pain)

TIGHT ROPE “I’m sorry, John, but if she’s dumb enough to try and pull off this ridiculous stunt, I see no reason why we should save her from her own stupidity.” (rescue gone sideways)

STARSTUCK Alan Tracy had been looking forward to this moment for a very long time. (Hurt Virgil, guilty Alan, Thunderbird 3 whump)

STELLAR “Hey, John, what’s this?” “It’s personal, that’s what it is!” (Guilty John, comatose Gordon, poetry, John has a secret)

CASPIAN John Tracy blinked open his eyes, breath catching when he discovered the most beautiful thing in his universe mere centimetres from his face. (John, OC-John’s lover, angst, Marks and Wings, John is not only a telepathic Ave but he’s bi!)

PSYCHOTIC MEDIUMS The probe entered Earth’s solar system broadcasting a symphony of alien sound that instantaneously drove the half-a-million or so humans who were listening insane. (Virgil centric, angst, sci-fi)

THE JOHN-CODE “Hey, Eos, you wanna help me test this new game?” (Alan, John, Eos, virtual games gone wrong.)

[whumpzone]

Linden & Colton - 27

(masterlist)

wow, it's been a while. the main story is back on track! this chapter was ridiculously hard to write, but im finally happy enough to post it :-)

(slang note: a slash = a piss)

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation

-

Linden flipped the business card around between his fingers, flicking the edge with his thumb like it would help him make his mind up. He didn’t want to get involved. Dom seemed nice and Sooty seemed… hm. Linden couldn’t convince himself that Sooty seemed anything. His calm demeanour could be hiding all manner of things underneath. He still didn’t want to get involved.

But then he thought, what if Dom was well meaning, but he had a friend who wasn’t? What if Dom went to someone else for pet-rearing tips? What if Sooty got hurt, taken advantage of, by someone right under Dom’s nose? Or Dom was convinced that hurting him was for the best?

Linden knew the guilt would eat him alive, so he reluctantly tapped the number into his phone.

“DT Plumbing and Heating?”

“Hey Dom, it’s, uh, it’s Linden. You gave me your card a week or so ago?”

“Oh, hi mate!” he replied, instantly sounding more upbeat. “I’m glad you called! Up for having your brains picked, then?”

“That’s one way of putting it…” Linden joked weakly.

“Yeah, great stuff, great stuff. What’s your availability? Shall we say… tomorrow evening? Free house then, you see. Suzie has piano lessons and the missus is hosting a lecture,” Dom told him.

“Tomorrow evening is fine. It’ll be a lads night.”

Dom laughed, to Linden’s relief. Maybe his social skills were better than he gave himself credit for. “Do you drink?”

“Eh, a little bit.”

“Great. Bring round whatever you fancy. See you!”

The call ended abruptly and Linden pulled the phone away from his ear with a small smile. He hadn’t exactly planned on buying drinks for Dom and himself but… perhaps that was just the way of the world.

-

Dom did most of the talking. Despite, Linden thought wryly, the whole point of the evening being that Dom wanted to ask Linden questions.

Linden listened patiently despite this, feeling a twinge of regret for judging Dom when he evidently had a lot to get off his chest. As he carried on, Linden’s eyes frequently flicked to the pet knelt by his side.

Sooty hadn’t moved a single inch since Linden had arrived, over thirty minutes ago. He simply knelt, breathing evenly and staring straight ahead. His face was just taut enough that it didn’t look like he was daydreaming. It seemed like he was waiting. Perfectly obedient. At his owner’s beck and call.

Sooty wasn’t even looking at him, and yet Linden still felt as though he’d won the staring contest when he pulled his own eyes away, focusing back on Dom once more.

Dom had dressed down for the occasion, which Linden took as a good sign. He had on a retro fleece, white with a shock of blue across the chest, and his top knot had been thrown up with just enough loose hairs to look effortless and still cool- a skill Linden had never acquired.

Eventually Dom excused himself, citing the need for “another beer and a slash”, and then Linden was alone.

Well, not quite alone.

Sooty being right there while Dom discussed him was more than a little uncomfortable. Not to mention it was probably terrifying for Sooty- to hear his owner discuss punishments in terms of when, not if. It at least made Linden thankful that Dom had hardly asked his advice so far. If he had to participate in the idea of punishments as a source of guidance for a pet, Linden was sure he would never gain Sooty’s trust. Perhaps just listening to Dom was participation enough, though. Linden was finding it tremendously hard to interject.

He had to say something to the pet. Nothing conspiratorial or confusing. Just something friendly, something to make him feel respected.

He didn’t think before he actually spoke, guided by a mixture of muscle memory and the knowledge that Dom would return soon. “Sooty… can you look at me?”

As mechanically as a switch flicking, Sooty’s eyes went from the wall to Linden’s face. And held.

Linden hadn’t realised how unused he was to a pet actually maintaining eye contact. Col would usually manage a second or two at most, before the tension and perceived disobedience overpowered him. But Sooty had been ordered, and so he stared at Linden evenly.

He was surely awaiting some order, but his face showed no sign of apprehension or desperation. Sooty’s eyes were a darker brown than Linden’s, and he could see himself reflected in them.

It was startling. Linden quirked his mouth up into a crooked smile. All thoughts of what to say went out of his head.

“Hey.”

“Sir.”

“You uh…”

So far, his conversation with Dom had established a few truths, one being that Sooty hadn’t yet needed punishing. Sooty was extraordinarily well-behaved. Part of that didn’t surprise Linden, given his evident self-control. But Sooty was primarily under the thumb of a child, one that was just stepping into the whirlpool of puberty, and he also had two protective parents to watch out for. He would fall on somebody’s bad side one day.

Linden could see Sooty for what he was- a man in his twenties. Who had been purchased to hang out with an eleven-year-old girl. It certainly proved that Dom was unable to see Sooty as anything other than a smart dog.

“Do you like it here? Is your owner nice?”

Sooty actually allowed a shard of emotion to glint through. Pride, perhaps, or relief. “Sir will know that an opinion is not feasible for me. However… yes, my young Miss is very fair.”

God, he was even worse than Colton. At least Col only said he wasn’t allowed opinions. Sooty was trying to convince Linden it was a full-on biological impossibility.

“I have a pet too, at home. I’m looking after him. You might meet him, one day.”

If there had been anything on Sooty’s face, it was gone in a heartbeat, and what returned was perhaps even more stony than before. “Yes, Sir. My Master has mentioned what a sweet specimen he is.”

A-ha. There was the first tiny crack. No doubt Dom would have preferred a slightly more friendly companion. Sooty was hardly smiling up at him and begging for head pats.

Linden heard the toilet flush from somewhere upstairs, and quickly poured half of his beer into a nearby plant pot. He’d take the monstera cursing him over having to explain that he found beer disgusting.

As Dom sat back down, Linden quickly grasped for something he could talk about comfortably that was in eyeshot- avoiding Sooty like the plague- and asked Dom how long he’d been growing his hair out for.

“Well, it’s obviously no match for yours, but I’ve had it like this for a while now…”

-

Dom concluded by stressing that Suzie loved the pet, it was definitely going well so far, he was just worried that he’d mess up while Sooty was still new. What if he was developing bad habits and Dom was too inexperienced to notice? What if Sooty got too complacent and started acting out? Would the odd punishment for no reason keep him on his best behaviour? What if it made him nervous or jittery? Linden nodded as the questions slid over him and tried not to let on how insane this all was.

“No, it sounds like Sooty’s doing just fine. In fact, better than fine. You need to hear yourself- worrying because he’s too well-behaved. Reward that! Then he’ll know to keep doing it. The last thing you want is someone anxious around your little girl because her dad’s never happy with him.”

“That’s smart, that. This is what happens when you let me talk- I go on and on until I’ve talked myself into a right tizz.”

“Honestly, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Sooty’s clearly no trouble.”

“Hear that?” Dom said, leaning over and patting Sooty’s head, the first time he’d acknowledged him all evening. “You’ve made a good impression.”

Sooty blinked and looked down, his face unmoving. He pushed his head up a little- just enough, apparently, since Dom gave his hair a ruffle before retracting his hand.

“Anyway,” he laughed, rolling his eyes. “I know I’ve not actually picked your brains. Felt great to get all that shit off my chest though. And hey, we’ve got so much in common. See you again soon, right? We can do something more fun than just sitting around yapping next time.”

-

Linden sat on the bus with much on his mind. He swept his hair to sit over his chest, to avoid it accidentally dusting the bus seat.

Sooty was so calm, so well-spoken and so unharmed that Linden had to remind himself that he had gone through hell to come out that way. He was only physically unharmed. Just because he wasn’t Colton didn’t mean he wasn’t vulnerable. It was hard to picture, but Sooty was probably still overthinking, trying to compensate, trying to please, in any way he could. Sooty chose his words carefully, while Col apologised. Both tactics tried to diminish any perceived insubordination.

His mind ran over the night’s events in no coherent order.

Sooty had seemed just a tiny bit peeved at the fact Dom thought Col was a nice pet. He would probably be in for quite a shock if he ever did meet Col in the flesh. Linden’s own household companion wasn’t any closer than Sooty was to being the loving family dog.

Were any pets perfect? Did they all strive for an ideal that didn’t exist? Was Sooty more put-together than Col, deep down, truly?

But Sooty had never been owned before. Was Col like that before he was taken in by his old owner? Had he been a relatively normal, well-adjusted pet? Linden might never know.

By the time he had completed the slow bus journey, stopping for a few essentials from the shop, and taken the long route home to get his steps in, it was far later than he realised. When he got home, he was initially alarmed to find no one in the hallway waiting for him. He had become so accustomed to opening the door and finding Col kneeling before him, head to the floor, mumbling out a greeting- after Linden had spoken first, of course.

He found him in the living room, lying in his usual spot on the floor, fast asleep. He had either tried to stay up for Linden’s return or, more likely, hadn’t been able to go to bed without permission.

Linden watched him sleep, as he sat on the sofa to pull off his loafers. Both of Col’s arms were bent in front of him, like he was praying. It was a peculiar pose. There was something deliberate about it, particularly in the way his wrists overlapped.

Ah. It wasn’t a shock to the system, just a melancholic understanding: they were chained together, weren’t they? My poor Colton. My poor Col. Do you sleep like that every night? Or is it just because tonight, you’re on the floor?

Linden lined his shoes up neatly on the shoe rack, hung his coat in its usual spot, and put his keys in the little dish. The final part of his downstairs ritual was suggesting that he and Col both retire to bed. He had never really noticed that they always went to bed at the same time. At least tonight would be no different.

Where did Sooty sleep? Linden hadn’t seen any oversized dog beds, or a cage. He highly doubted Sooty had his own room, so that left little Suzie’s bedroom, or perhaps the basement or attic. Some corner of the house where no one went anyway, so putting the human-shaped dog there wouldn’t be a problem.

He went to shake Col awake, his mind’s eye seeing the horrified look on his face before it materialised. Linden hoped that one day he’d instead see a look of exhausted indignation. Hey! You woke me up!

“I’m home,” Linden smiled. He was knelt with one knee to the floor, making sure not to lean over Col.

The look of horror appeared like clockwork, and as Col tried to shift onto his knees, he initially kept his wrists pressed together. He paused when he realised, looking down and pulling them apart. Linden wasn’t sure whether to acknowledge it or not.

“You’re here, remember? You’ve got a bed to sleep in. Much nicer than the floor, I think.”

“Yes, Sir,” Col breathed. “Of course, I-I wasn’t being ungrateful, I’m sorry, I’m- I’m so grateful for the bedroom. Welcome home, Sir. I’m s-so sorry I wasn’t there to greet you, I’m useless. I should never have fallen asleep.”

“Of course you get a bedroom, sweet. I came home later than I thought I would. I’m sorry about that. You stayed up.”

“It doesn’t matter about me, Sir,” Col said, doing a poor job of hiding his confusion. Linden probably sounded as ludicrous to Col as Dom had sounded earlier in the night. “You may do as you please. Y-Your pet should be better.”

“It’s alright,” Linden said. He knew if he said I don’t think that, Col would fall over himself apologising for talking back. “I’m tired. Let’s both go to bed, yeah?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you Sir. Thank you for your kindness.”

-

taglist part 1:

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captain-seconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonwardsworld @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @the-monarch-whumperfly @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread @vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate @littlespacecastle @haro-whumps @extrabitterbrain @neverthelass @downrivergirl914

[savebatsartedition]

Whumptober 2024 Day 11:

Summary:

America, Canada, and Ohio are at the Twins Days Festival but it’s too hot out. 😦 Prompt piece used: SEEING DOUBLE

Notes:

...Literally why do I keep forgetting to post every other day. If this sounds like a total crack fic y’all just don’t understand tbh. Twin whump is a crazy genre that I need to make big because dude this stuff hits so different you don’t understand if you aren’t a multiple. (I am a twin.) …though for the record this isn’t heavy at all. It’s just sort of testing the waters of it? Content Warnings: Heatstroke but not fully, mentioned past twin death, referenced climate change Words: 1,165

(Fic also under the cut)

You know. Canada wasn’t exactly the type of guy for warm weather, and, yeah, okay, he wasn't exactly the type for crowds or trips or family vacations either, but he was here anyway. Here, in the wonderful town of Twinsburg, Ohio, and on pretty much the hottest weekend of the year, entirely without access to an air conditioner. To be frank, he was feeling rather miserable.

When America had pleaded with him to join the festivities, reminding him that this festival couldn't possibly last forever, Canada had reluctantly agreed. After all, it might even be a little bit fun. It wasn't exactly often that an immortal like himself got to celebrate this part of himself, and even less often that he got to do it with the person which he was actually celebrating. (Because that's what twin and multiple celebrations were, celebrations of the other multiple(s).) On top of that, America's friend, Ohio himself had once had a twin himself, before he was immortal, and just the thought of a loss like that had made Canada feel bad enough to agree to the trip.

He was really regretting it now.

Of course, Canada was by no means the only one upset, as the record highs were bad enough with or without the knowledge of how it once was, but that didn't make things better. He couldn't even sink into the background as he usually did, as America had forced them all to dress up for the theme of the year (which Canada, dizzy from the heat of the sun and the inside of his costume, did not truly remember), and the costume made him stick out like a sore thumb.

Worse (it really only got worse and worse), the festival was only just beginning. Together the three of them, Canada, America, and Ohio (who was dressed up along with the other immortal twins so he didn't feel quite so bad), stood in the parade, marching painfully through the sun filled streets as they did their best to smile. The roads were lined with many people, both tourists and locals, multiples and not, and they made Canada's head spin even more than it would have been without them.

And, as already stated, there were plenty of reasons for his head to be spinning.

Honestly, he was kind of starting to see double, and he was almost sure it had nothing to do with the wide array of multiples (identical or at least dressed that way) which surrounded him, pushing the three forward but holding them back all the same.

Canada pushed his glasses a little higher on his nose, finding that they had slipped down slightly on a stream of sweat. He fought for breath, though he had not walked further than half a mile.

“Hey dude,” America was saying, though he also seemed to be panting slightly, “Are you okay?”

Canada looked at him, and though he tried to make his face into an expression of “what do you think, honestly,“ he was pretty sure it didn't make it past the “I am very dizzy and scared” stage. He tried to speak, but found he couldn't, not really. The world was too much.

“It's a little hot out, sorry,” Ohio mumbled from Canada's other side, his black hair probably as hot as the asphalt even as he did his best to shield it from the sun's rays with a raised arm. It was clear he was apologizing personally, but Canada (who had gotten quite familiar with the changing climate in the previous decades), couldn't find it in himself to blame the man.

”Of course it is!“ America joked, trying to keep the mood light despite the fact that he was sweating just as hard as the other two, ”I'm here right? A hero has to inspire something like that, right?“

Canada stared at him, but his vision was swirling too much to make a disappointed face. Instead, he found himself leaning limply on his much more muscular twin. (Yeah, they weren't exactly identical, but the double vision continued as Canada rested.)

”You can step out of the parade,“ Ohio was saying, only panting a little bit as the tiny amount of breeze that had existed a moment before was blocked by a tall trio of girls dressed as Red Wood Trees, ”Nobody would hold it against you, it's really hot,” he paused to take in a brief step in the shade of the sparse trees, “Most of them know me anyway, even if they did want to blame you, for some reason,”

He paused his attention to wave at someone calling his human name, and then again to nod at a much more official looking figure. Perhaps someone in the town's management that was not on the float of judges? Canada's mind was too blurry to focus on if that was true or not.

“Dude, you do want to step out of the parade?” America was saying, and it wasn't clear whether he was taunting Ohio, asking Canada a genuine question, or begging for his own sake.

(Though, knowing him, Canada knew it could easily be any of those options, all three at once, or some other strange combination.)

“Maybe,” he managed, trying to un-lean from his brother's shoulder, but quickly realizing that it was a bad idea as the world spun faster when he did, “Maybe we should,”

“The library’s open, but it's far away,” Ohio said, pointing, “Or we could just go sit under that tree, it looks free,”

“Are any air conditioned buildings near us?” America panted, finally giving into the stress of their situation as Canada leaned on him, “I think we need it, dude,”

“Uh, maybe if someone lets us into their house,” Ohio offered, visibility sweating despite how much Canada’s vision was swimming in the heat, “But everyone’s watching the parade or working it, so I don’t think they could even if they would,”

“I notice you don’t mention walking in it,” Canada managed between pants for breath.

“Too busy standing still in the burning sun,” America answered him, sarcastically.

And it was true. The parade had ground to a halt, again.

“America,” Canada grumbled, feeling slightly better when Ohio stood on his tiptoes to extend a thin arm over his head, if not for the pathetic attempt at shade for the gesture, “I am never listening to what you say will be fun, ever again,”

America made a shocked sort of gasp, but the joke was half hearted. Clearly, he too was somewhat regretting what he had done. At their side, Ohio hummed something that was only half agreeing.

This was awful. It was too hot out, people were staring at them (for once not because they were immortals, but still), and the music was too loud. He never, ever, wanted to do this again. 

…and you know the worst part? Canada was already certain that he was going to do it all over again next year.

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

heyyy i asked about that dark bam doc part 2 and I LOVED IT SO MUCH!!!! HLY CRp you are so talented!! want to share my appreciation and if you ever want to do a part 3 i would be such a huge fan, like reader slowly entering a relationship with bam while he brings up what dress she should where to while wedding!! and just her going through this new relationship while and bam is so so happy like a kid in a candy shop. reader is working through bam and his controlling and jealousy!! anyways i loved it so much and you are so damn talented, thank you so much and i love this dark stuff it works so well for bam!!

Can’t Stand Losing You (Pt. 3)

As Y/N and Bam’s relationship grows closer, Bam makes a mistake that he’ll do anything to fix.

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Fluff, Angst, Whump)

2.7k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, toxic relationships, Hurt/comfort, drinking, jealousy, manipulation, stalkerish behavior, makeouts, misogyny if you squint

An: Thank you sosoosos much!! I had no idea that this series would do so well! :) I am so happy that you enjoy it so much and I had a ton of fun writing it!! I especially found it interesting to delve into Bam’s motives and why he does all of these things and how he never has one straight reason for why he does anything :D I’m probably thinking too deeply about this but anyways I would love to continue this series in any capacity if I ever get any ideas so thank you and please keep the requests coming! (Links to part 1 and part 2!)

You were on your way out the door, fixing your lipstick with a swipe of your thumb, when your eyes fell on a glossy issue of David’s Bridal haphazardly tossed onto your kitchen table. For the past few weeks they had been arriving at your doorstep and, to your knowledge, you had never subscribed to them. It wasn’t like you were getting a neighbor’s mail- they had your name on them- but you chalked it up as a coincidence and shook it from your mind as you headed off to dinner.

Since you and Bam had officially gotten together, he had been spending a lot more time in LA, taking you on fast car rides and extravagant dates like the one you were heading off to. You were drowning in all the attention, from the media and your new boyfriend alike, but as an up and coming model, you couldn’t really complain about all the work you were getting. And Bam- he was turning out to be just so considerate and thoughtful and fun, which you didn’t expect from a guy who throws himself into shrubs for a living. Still caught up in your thoughts, you put the car into park, walking into the fancy candle-lit restaurant he told you to meet him at that evening, not to be confused with the other five fancy candle-lit restaurants you had been to in the past month. Everyone in there looked like they had a reason for being in there, all dressed up in their suits and black dresses. You felt kind of out of place as you looked around, letting out a sigh of relief as your eyes caught Bam’s on the other side of the lobby. Squeezing past a few crowds of people, you stood by his side like a house pet waiting for attention. “Oh, hey.” He glanced up at you from his flip phone. You leaned in, giving him a peck on the cheek. Moving to stand beside him, you fiddled with your new shiny nails, courtesy of Bam, glancing at the way the light glinted off of the dark purple acrylic, “Did they call our table yet?” He shook his head nonchalantly, “Nah, but we’ll be up soon.”

“Table for uh..Mr and Ms. Margera?” The pretty blonde materie-di smiled at the two of you as you approached the oak stand, glancing down at her list. It was a slight mixup, they probably get tons of married couples in here, but you thought to say something anyways, “We’re not-“ Bam got there first, his hand around your waist pulling you a little closer to him, “Oh, it’s fine- that’s us.”

☆彡

Bam laughed when you mentioned the David’s Bridal thing like he had no idea what was going on, “Wow. That’s just…crazy!” The table was one of those small, uncomfortable round ones and the two of you were seated so close to each other that your knees bumped and you could see the thin blue ring of his iris by candlelight as it caught a glint. A waistcoat clad waiter walked by with an expensive looking dark bottle held proudly in hand, placing two stemmed glasses on the white table cloth, “Can I offer the newlyweds a drink?” Usually you would never turn down free drinks, but the waiter was already pouring the bubbly liquid as you turned to Bam with confusion, speaking hushed so only he would hear you, “We’re not- why would they think…?” His expression mirrored yours as he looked back at you, his leg brushing against yours as he turned toward you, “Did you say something, like- we were married?”

After the waiter left you inched your leg back and brought the glass to your lips, the bubbly liquid sliding down your dry throat down to the pit in your stomach, “No- no! God…I think I’m going crazy.” Plastering a fake smile on your face, you played it off as a joke, but you were being more honest than you would like to admit. “Well, whatever.” Bam chuckled and shrugged it off, returning to comfortable small talk, “What about you? What’s ‘goin on with you lately?” It’s not like he didn’t know- when he wasn’t in LA, you were on the phone till the early hours of the morning most nights. Your manager mentioned something to you about the dark circles under your eyes, but it’s not like you could tell Bam no. “Well,” You started excitedly, “I recently landed this new movie role!”

Bam cracked a grin, somewhere between being excited and disbelieving, “Really?” Reaching for a roll from the basket of bread on the table, you said as offhandedly as you could without cracking up, “It’s based on one of those bondage erotica books- you know? Leather, chains…” God, if you had a camera. The look on Bam’s face was priceless, nearly spitting out his drink as he stared at you, wide eyed. Not able to resist any more, you broke into a snicker, “I’m kidding!” He breathed a sigh of relief, the warmth of his face radiating onto yours as emotion still bubbled inside of him. “Well, I’m working on a movie myself.” Clearing his throat, he countered, “It’s called Haggard, and I actually landed a pretty major role!” Well, he also directed and produced it, but it’s not like you needed to know that. Plus, you looked so cute when your eyes lit up at the news, and Bam just loved seeing you smile in that lipstick he bought you, “Oh wow! What’s it about?”

Grinning at your excitement, he continued, ”Well, it’s a real story about a buddy’a mine’s troubles in love.” You nodded and smiled along and god, did that do things to Bam’s ego. While he spent the rest of the dinner telling you all about how well production was going and how he even got that band the two of you saw together to fly out all the way from Finland to get some footage with them, his mind was elsewhere

☆彡

“Whady’a mean, you don't know?” Bam grumbled into his phone, kicking his feet up on the rickety hotel room coffee table that rocked under his Adio sneakers that hadn’t even bothered to take off, “You’re the one who’s sposed’t be in on this shit!” On the other end of the line, Johnny groaned, the grating sounds of a party in the background, “Listen, just cause I’ve ‘gone all Hollywood’ doesn't mean I know everybody!” Yeah, good excuse, Knoxville. The yellowing lamp that hung from the ceiling flickered as Bam thrummed his black painted fingernails against the arm of the chair he slumped in, his brow furrowing. Johnny muttered something about how he really had to go before hanging up.

Some help he was. Bam’s fingers danced across his computer keyboard, a cigarette hanging from his teeth as the blue light glowed on his face. What he was doing was for a good cause, really. He wasn’t weird for looking up all the producers he could find to see if you had a male co-star- he just didn’t want some red-carpet-bait, fake-tanned, bleach-toothed hunk of show biz man meat getting between him and his girl.

★彡

Two weeks into production and the director said they ‘wanted to take things in another direction’, which is just Hollywood speak for ‘fuck off’. They didn’t even have the dignity to tell you when you came in on Monday- nooo, they had to tell you over the phone while you were eating your breakfast. You couldn’t even bring yourself to finish your bowl of Wheaties after you got the news. Sniffling, you punched in Bam’s number to your flip phone. He answered almost immediately.

“I-I..they fired me!” Was all you could get out before launching into mostly unintelligible bubbling. “They- They what?” The sudden dryness of Bam’s mouth was almost audible. Honestly, he never meant to get you fired, he just wanted to be a good boyfriend and watch out for you. Guilt was a twenty pound weight in his stomach. Hell, put a gun to his head and he’d never tell you about the restless night he spent in that hotel room, making phone calls all over Hollywood with nothing but a bottle of Jack for company.

So yeah, he felt bad. Bad enough to promise to take the first flight out to LA and be there as long as you needed. The guilt gnawed a hole in his stomach the whole flight there, and Bam felt even worse when he got there and you opened the door, looking up at him with those puffy, red eyes through your pretty eyelashes. He really was a heartless asshole. Wrapping his arms around you, Bam pulled you into his chest, not even bothering to close the door as he rubbed the back of your head with an imperceptibly trembling hand, whispering soft reassurances to you. Walking in, you didn’t even notice when Bam grabbed that magazine off of your kitchen table.

☆彡

For that weekend, you were basically superglued to his side, which really sounded like some stunt he would probably do once you thought about it. You shared every waking moment, from him gently rubbing little circles onto your back while you were drifting off to sleep, to warm steamy showers and the feeling of Bam’s fingernails on your scalp as he scrubbed in your strawberry scented shampoo, or having all your meals prepared for you by your loving boyfriend like he was your personal chef. You felt like a princess, and he was your Prince Charming, soothing every trace of worry or sadness away.

But it’s not like his pampering was completely unselfish. Sure, that pang of shame was a great motivator, but so was want, and this situation, everything considered, was really quite in his favor. Bam just loved having this helpless little thing following him around that depended on and needed him for everything. So maybe he turned the thermostat down a few degrees so you’d snuggle a little closer to him in bed, or maybe he took his sweet time in the shower with you because he liked feeling your wet, naked body against his. It didn’t make him a bad person, it made him a good boyfriend.

He still felt like a good boyfriend when he had you lying against his chest, nestled in your soft pink bed sheets as he flipped through that David’s Bridal catalog. Bam pointed to a woman on the shiny page wearing a strapless little satin number with a long veil, “You’d look amazing in this one.” If you were of sound mind you’d make some sort of sarcastic joke at his comment, but you weren’t. “Really?” You looked up at him with big, tear-wet doe eyes and he grinned, “Of course! Only the best for my girl. I bet we’d be the next Nick and Jessica.” You nodded. That thought, images of fluffy white cake and church bells permitted your mind for a while after.

Bam was thinking about what color the roses would be- purple, obviously, the same purple-pink from that one Razorblade Romance vinyl colorway he paid too much for. He has enough connections so he could get basically anyone you wanted to play at the reception. God, he was fucked. He was supposed to be taking care of you, his emotional wreck of a girlfriend, and all he could think of was the feeling of a lace garter belt in his teeth.

☆彡

And then, he was gone. Monday rolled around and Bam had to go back to Westchester- something about that movie he was telling you about. You were sure he told you this ahead of time, so maybe you were too busy with your groveling to pay attention. Somehow, in the night, he had slipped out without your knowledge, leaving your bed feeling significantly colder when you woke up to the morning light filtering into your room through your silk and lace curtains. The only trace of his presence was found after a good bit of snooping around in your pajamas- a bouquet of flowers on your kitchen table.

They were this pretty purple-pink color you’d never seen in any flower shop, each petal like butter under your touch. A shiny black ribbon around the thick middle tied two slips of paper to the thick green stems. After further examination, you found that one was a plane ticket. The other was a slip of paper reading simply, ‘Call me.’ So you did.

“So, remember that movie I was telling you about?” Bam explained, talking like a kid in a candy shop from wherever he was, “Well, I got just the role for you! All you gotta do is fly out for filming and do a few scenes for us- a week, max.” Honestly, the idea sounded like it came straight from heaven. Trying to hide how hard you were smiling, you at least pretended to need to know more before jumping on, not wanting to see too eager, “What’ll I be doing?” If Bam was a dog, his tail would be wagging. “All your scenes’ll be with me, of course. Little flirting, little kissing- nothin’ too bad. It’d be fun!”

★彡

What you signed on for only really hit you once you showed up on set, if you could call it that. If you didn’t know better, you would think they were just filming in somebody’s house. Sure, they had big, expensive looking cameras and some of those foldy directors chairs you’ve always wanted to sit in, but that’s about where it ended. If you were being honest, you were kind of expecting more from your millionaire boyfriend’s big movie, but you were in no place to complain given the miracle of how you got the job. You wandered around the set like a deer in the headlights, looking for a director, hell even a producer that could tell you where you were supposed to be until you heard a voice call for you, “Oh, Y/N!” A woman excitedly gestured you over to the makeshift makeup table, set up on a kitchen table and you sat down. “Brandon has been talking about you nonstop! I’m so happy I can finally meet you!”

You blinked a few times, “Who?” Studying her face for any recognizable features, her expression echoed the same look of confusion as yours, expecting you to have put two and two together. “Bam. Brandon- my son.” Oh, she’s April! Mentally slapping yourself, she cracked a smile, readying some products while you started to question why your boyfriend's mom was doing your makeup.

You couldn’t deny though, she did one hell of a job. “Hey!” You walked up to Bam right before they were planning to shoot a scene with him, leaning in close and tapping him on the shoulder, your voice a whisper, “Is the makeup lady your mom…?” He just shrugged from where he sat, leaning back “Nah, my mom’s the makeup lady. Why?” Something in you made you decide not to press the issue further, so you just smiled and chuckled, “Oh, nothing! Don’t worry about it.”

☆彡

What Bam told you before the camera’s started rolling echoed in your head: Don’t look at the cameras. Keep your eyes closed. Follow my lead. He talked to you like you were stupid and usually a guy doing something like would be a total turn off, but you couldn’t really be mad at him when he was kissing you like that.

In the midst of one of those hot, passionate, pulling away to gasp for breath kisses, Bam murmured against your lips, “Mmm…wanna do this forever.” You didn’t think too much of it, pulling away slightly. It was a miracle none of your purple lipstick rubbed off onto his skin as you moved to suck at the pale skin of his neck, your fingers nimbly working at the buttons of his shirt. Even though you’d never gone through the scene it still felt rehearsed- button two, three, Bam’s hands on your ass as he pulled you in closer, nearly on his lap as he hiked the back of your skirt up, a grin on his lips. Leaning down, you nibbled a little at his exposed flesh, and just as things were starting to get good,

“Cut!”

[justplainwhump]

Prep Protocol

In the hands of his former colleagues at the facility, Tyler's day is getting even worse.

[Way over his head | Masterpost]

Content / warning: BBU setting, facility whump, multiple whumpers, whumper turned whumpee (ig?), interrogation, shock collar, strapped to a table, threat of noncon, noncon kiss, implied future noncon, intimate whumper, creepy whumper. Yeah this is just me throwing you little bits, but hey, it's Tyler.

Tyler only noticed the plastic wrap around his wrist, when Handler Grimm ran his fingers over it, and Tyler cringed from a sudden, stinging pain. 

A piece of cling wrap peeked out under the leather strap that fixated his arm to the table. The skin underneath was red and slightly swollen, sensitive to touch.

Grimm chuckled.

Tyler felt like all air had been sucked from his lungs.

Under the plastic, thin black bars contrasted against the red.

"Mh. Yeah," Grimm said cheerfully. "002243. That's going to be you, Parker. 002244, your girlfriend. We've got both your admission files ready. Signatures and all. Just a little bit of pre-work we need to do with you." He patted Tyler's wrist. "You'll beg us to get on the Drip, 243, but you'll have to work for that mercy."

243. Just five more than 238. Despair tilted over into hysteric amusement. He could've laughed out. He really hadn't been cut out for that job, had he now?

"Smiling, Parker? Wonder what that's about." Grimm clicked his tongue. "But you know what I wonder about more? I bet you do know." He leaned in on his chair, almost casual, if his hand hadn't been playing with the remote to the shock collar. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?" Tyler all but giggled. As if this job allowed any of them a private life. "Who? 238? You know she actually could've been, in another-"

White pain surged through him, swallowed him for what felt like an eternity.

His muscles were screaming, everywhere, his whole body on fire and crushed under the weight of the world at the same time.

"-fucking idiot," Grimm's voice took shape in the whiteness, came in waves with the pain. "Tara McKenzie. Where is she?" 

"G-gone," Tyler said hoarsely. His voice was cracking strangely in his own ears. Had he screamed? He didn't remember. Had 238's voice felt the same to her, after he'd shocked her?

"Gone where?"

"Don't know. She hates me," Tyler croaked, and couldn't even tell, why he added, "Everyone hates handlers."

Grimm leaned in over him, eyes squinted as he looked deeply into Tyler's eyes. "Is he still high?", he asked someone else in the room, not even bothering to shock Tyler again. "What did you give him?"

"Sedated him to get him here", someone said. "Should have worn off by now."

"Well. Not enough. Can't work with him like this. At least not for an interrogation." Grimm sighed. "Let's switch to preparation protocol instead. Soften him up. Gonna help us one way or another."

Tyler swallowed. He didn't know what preparation protocol was, he realized. He'd only ever come in after the Drip. All he knew was, he'd lost already. Whatever they were going to do, he had no reason to give up Tara. He wouldn't.

Next to him, Grimm patted his shoulder. "There's really no reason for relief right now." He nodded towards the one way mirror. "There's a bunch of people here, who take what you did very personal. You've sabotaged the company, Parker. You may have heard those urban legends about maintenance pets? That's what happens to the idiot sort of handlers who fail at their work. Snitches, though? Whole different cup of tea." Grimm reached out, and Tyler could only flinch before the handlers warm hand rested on his bare stomach, stroking his skin, wandering up to his chest. Tyler's heart raced, all of a sudden. "Snitches with a body like yours, Parker? Intimate knowledge of full Romantic training specifications?" Grimm's voice dropped to a whisper. "You know what you're going to be. And prep protocol? Means to get your body acquainted with being used for one thing only. Had some of your colleagues come in, just for that. It's more fun, when it's personal. And you know, Parker, your secrets about Tara will sit very loose once you've understood that the mercy of the Drip is your only way out."

Grimm's breath was hot on Tyler's skin, suddenly, and then the other man's lips grazed along his ear. "You're going to love this, soon enough. But as long as you hate it, remember - you can end it." He pressed a kiss on Tyler's neck and Tyler's whole body stiffened under the touch. "I'm going to my office, follow up on that mess you've thrown us into, Parker, but I will enjoy knowing you in Handler Thompson's capable hands."

Tyler's breath caught.

"Hey T." Carly stepped in at his side, a hard grin on her face. "Love the look."

Grimm retreated, chuckling without any humor. "Let me know when he's ready to talk. Have fun. You can book this as overtime."

Carly reached out and grabbed a handful of Tyler's hair, jerked his head up to make him meet her gaze. "Will do, Sir," she said to Grimm, and then, pulling Tyler even closer, she whispered into his ear, "Going to make this last a long, long while." 

[i-eat-worlds]

A Late Night Discovery

This is a crossover with @pigeonwhumps ‘s story Immortal Cannon Fodder, who Phoenix and Aaron belong to. Set during Joseph’s time working in Hero Alliance London’s medbay.

cw: medical whump, depictions of wounds, discussions of abuse; primarily denial of medical care and fear of punishment, hospital setting, author’s questionable knowledge of British English

Joseph sighs as he finishes organizing the last shelf of supplies. His shift has been pretty slow, and he’d spent most of the time doing housekeeping. They’d gotten a shipment of supplies, and since he had nothing better to do, he ended up restocking the supply rooms. That was how he’d ended up in the fifteen hundred hallway supply room with twenty minutes left in his shift.

If Joseph is being honest, he doesn’t know why the fifteen hundred hallway even has a supply closet. The old patient rooms had been converted into office space, but the supply closet still needed to be stocked, for some reason. When he’d done inventory, most of the stuff had only ever been touched to move it somewhere else. So, he is very surprised when another person walks in.

They’re wearing a battered HAL uniform, minus a mask, arm wrapped protectively around their waist and panting heavily. It’s obvious that they’re injured and in pain. His medic mode kicks in as he steps out from behind the shelf and moves closer. “Hey, are you okay?”

The hero jolts when they see him, scampering away into a corner of the room. Joseph would’ve sworn he’d seen them before, but he couldn’t quite place where. He squats down in front of them, keeping his expression neutral. “Are you injured? I’m a medic, I can help.”

The words seem to make them more nervous. “I’m sorry,” they blabber, “I didn’t mean to intrude, please.”

Joseph sighs. This is going to be complicated. “I’m not going to hurt you. You look like you need some help, that’s all. Do you want to go to the medbay?”

This helps even less. “No, no, I wouldn’t do that.” They shake their head vigorously. “I don’t-I don’t wanna waste.”

So no medbay. At least not yet, though it’s an odd response to the question. He can see the long, bloody gash on their side from the other side of the closet, though. They need help, sooner rather than later. “Can I take a look?” He offers instead.

The hero hesitates before nodding yes. They seem to be in a state of petrified silence, eyes following Joseph as he opens up one of the brand-new boxes of gloves he’d just placed on the shelves and pulls a pair on, then kneels down next to them. “I’m Joseph, by the way. Do you have a name?”

“Phoenix,” they say quietly.

So that’s where he knows them from. The name is all it takes for him to finally recognize them. They’re the poor kid who came in a couple of weeks ago with their mouth stitched shut, the one who apologized continuously for just existing. He’s pretty sure they’re on one of the teams that Aaron does medical for. “I’m gonna pull your hand away so I can look, yeah?”

Phoenix nods, letting Joseph carefully move their hand away from the wound. “Sorry if this hurts,” he says as he inspects it, trying not to poke or prod too much.

It’s not as bad as he’d thought it would be, especially considering Phoenix's healing abilities. It’s about six inches long, but he can’t see any lobules of fat sticking out, so it probably won’t need stitches. The bleeding isn’t horrible, and he doubts Phoenix will notice by the morning. Still, he’d like to clean it out, get something on it, and maybe get them some antibiotics.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asks as he tears open a package of gauze and presses it into the wound.

Phoenix barely inches at the pain. “No, sir. I’m not.”

“Alright,” he says, keeping pressure as he speaks. “I’m going to need to clean this out and bandage it up, and I’d like to do that somewhere a little nicer than a storage room floor.” Phoenix is looking up at him with the same fear filled eyes he’d seen a few weeks before. “Can you walk to the medbay, or do I need to get some help?”

Their eyes go wide at that. “I don’t need the medbay.” He’s never seen somebody shake their head so much. “I’m immortal, I’ll be okay. We can do it here.” There's a couple seconds of silence, then Phoenix speaks again. “I’ve been to the medbay too many times recently. Abbie says I can’t go anymore, or else-or else I’ll get punished.” They speak very quietly.

So that’s what’s going on. Aaron had warned him about Abbie when he first arrived, and now he knows why. She’s an abusive asshole. “We don’t have to tell anyone,” Joseph says. “I can’t tell anybody anything without your permission, and the medbay is pretty empty right now.”

Phoenix hesitates before answering. “I’ll go. I’m sorry for disagreeing.”

“It’s okay,” He says, using one hand to keep pressure while he unpackages a roll of bandages. “I’m going to wrap these around you, okay?” Phoenix nods, repositioning themself so that it’s easier. “Does anyone else know that Abbie would punish you for going down to the medbay?”

“Aaron, and Kai,” They say, voice shaky as they speak. “Please don’t report it. I’m getting a transfer. It’s just for a little bit longer.”

“I won’t,” he says, and he means it. He will talk to Aaron about maybe expediting that process though. “Let’s get you up.”

He helps them to stand, then wraps their arm around his waist-Phoenix is too short for his shoulders-and guides them out the door.

The halls are all pretty much empty, and most of the staff is used to seeing bleeding, injured heroes around, and they probably wouldn’t have batted an eye at Joseph helping Phoenix down the hallway anyway. As they get closer to the medbay, things get busier. He can feel Phoenix leaning into him, and he can hear the way their breath hitches with every step. “We’re nearly there,” he comforts, “Just a little bit longer.”

Finally, they arrive in the heart of the medbay. The room is pretty calm, some nurses bustling about, a couple gathered in the break room. Tori, the charge nurse, is sitting at her desk, busily typing away. She looks up when she hears him walk in “I thought you’d left…”Her voice trails o when she sees Phoenix leaning against him, bandages wrapped around their abdomen. “Treatment six is open.”

“Thank you, Tori,” he says as he walks through the nurses station to get to the room. “Can you page Dr. Thomas?”

“No problem,” she says, already reaching for the phone.

Joseph thanks her before pulling the curtain around treatment six closed and getting to work. “Can you hop up on the table while I get some things ready?”

Phoenix listens, paper crinkling as they pull themself up onto the exam table and carefully lay down. “I’m sorry for making you work late.” They swallow nervously, watching as Joseph replaces his soiled gloves with fresh ones.

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind,” he says, grabbing the blood pressure cuff from the basket on the wall. As if he, or really any decent human being, would’ve left them bleeding in a storage room because their shift was over. “I’m gonna take some vitals, and then I’ll treat your wound. Aaron might pop in soon, is that okay?”

They nod, but their eyebrows furrow like they’re confused. It’s quick and painless; first temperature, then blood oxygen, heart rate and respirations, and finally blood pressure. He’s typing it in their chart when Aaron walks in.

“Good evening, Joseph,” he says as he rubs some sanitizing gel on his hands. “How are you doing, Phoenix?”

“I got hit, I’m sorry, sir,” they say with a hint of shame in their voice.

“It’s not deep. It’ll be okay.”

“We’ll get it taken care of,” Aaron says, then turns to Joseph. “Obs?”

“Pretty much normal,” he reports, “Pulse and bp are elevated but that’s not surprising.”

Aaron nods, and he’s about to ask another question but Phoenix starts first. “I tried to deal with it myself, sir. Mr. Joseph caught me. It’s my fault, I know, but please, please, please don’t tell Abbie.” The words fall out of their mouth in a panicked string. They sound like they’re pleading for their life. Joseph worries that it’s not far off from the truth.

“I won’t do that, Phoenix, I promise.” Aaron is seething right now, and Joseph can tell, even though he’s got his doctor face on. “I’m going to take a look at your wound now. It might hurt a little bit, but I’m not going to cause more pain than I need to, alright.”

Joseph hands him the scissors, and he quickly cuts the bandage away. “Oh yeah, that’s not too bad at all.” Arron sounds pleasantly surprised. “You feel okay with Joseph closing it? I need to go get you some antibiotics.”

“Yes,” Phoenix says, though Joseph can see them shift towards Aaron. They look less nervous when he’s in the room.

“It’s okay if you aren’t. Nobody will be angry.” Aaron assures them.

Their bottom lip starts to tremble a little bit. “Please stay,” they whisper, desperate. “I-I’m sorry. I know it’s stupid because it's not that bad and I’m gonna be fine, but please stay.” They sniffle, trying to keep the tears in. “It’s okay, I can stay,” Aaron says, squeezing their shoulder. “How about I hold your hand while Joseph takes care of your wound. Would that be good?”

They nod tearfully. “Thank you. ’m sorry for causing trouble.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not your fault.” Aaron moves over to Phoenix’s uninjured so Joseph can get to work. He takes their hand, smiling comfortingly.

Joseph steps up to their side. “I’m going to have to clean it out first, and after that, I’ll use some strips of silk tape to keep it closed,” he explains.

Phoenix watches in what looks concerningly like awe as treats their wound. Joseph apologizes in advance before he flushes it out, and he can see on Aaron's face how tight their grip is during that part. The flushing doesn’t knock too many clots loose, and it doesn’t take him very long to get the bleeding back under control so he can close it. It’s not deep enough to need stitches, which makes Phoenix very happy, and the process of taping it closed is almost painless. The look on their face when Joseph says that he’s done makes it seem like they were expecting something a lot worse. After he’s done with his notes, Aaron reminds him that it’s about an hour or so past his shift change and that he should probably go home. After he leaves, he presumes that Phoenix gets the “please seek help from medical staff when you are injured” speech. He’s given that one a few times, but never in a situation like theirs.

When he showers that night, he scrubs himself extra hard, eager to remove the icky feeling that hearing them beg caused. Because they weren’t allowed to get medical treatment. They were afraid that she’d do who knows what to them, because they got medical treatment, and it makes his blood boil. Abbie is a pathetic excuse for a team leader, heck, she’s a pathetic excuse for a human being. He promises himself that if he ever gets the chance, he’ll make her regret every single thing she’s done to them. Every. Single. Thing.

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober: Day 23

"I'm doing this for you" / Stormy Night

Yuu was having a wonderful dream about lying in a meadow.

It was warm, the sun beaming down on them pleasantly as they dozed.

The breeze, in contrast, was cool. It danced lightly on the apples of their cheeks.

Yuu tilted their head to the side, rubbing their face in Grim's luxuriously soft fur. He smelled like Yuu's lavender soap, and nuzzled Yuu back sleepily.

Suddenly, the sun behind Yuu's eyelids was gone. Their eyes slid open to see a swarm of dark clouds had suddenly overtaken the sky.

Before they could scrutinize the sudden change in weather, a terrifying bolt of lightning crashed down onto the meadow.

--

Yuu awoke with a start.

They were frozen in place, a light sweat forming on their skin. Their limbs felt numbish, and it took a few moments for them to regain enough feeling to notice Grim was waking up, too.

The disorientation had blurred their vision, and their eyes had a tough time adjusting to the darkness.

The darkness blinked, and Yuu nearly threw up in fear.

It wasn't the suddeness of bring ripped out of their dream. Someone was standing over them, blocking out the moonlight from the windows.

They tried to run through their list of all of the people that could be standing ominously over their bed at what Yuu estimated to be well past midnight, but they knew their was only really one option.

"Malleus?" they croaked out.

"Hello," he replied, sounding far more awake than them.

"Hey," they said, because he didn't respond.

"Ngeh," said Grim, stretching himself awake. "Tsunotaro? What are you doing here?"

"Thank you for asking. I simply wished to speak with you," he replied.

"...huh?" The words didn't quite make sense to Yuu.

"This late?" asked Grim.

"Why, of course," said Malleus. "But not to worry. We can talk somewhere else- you needn't say anything."

Yuu's brow furrowed, but they could faintly make out Malleus reaching down to them, and in an instant, the world changed.

They were holding Grim in the crook of their arm as Malleus held Yuu in his, throw blanket loosely wrapped around their shoulders. They realized they were staring at the layout of Malleus's room.

Yuu blinked harshly. Malleus had the lights on his room.

It was surprisingly messy, given how clinically orderly he usually kept it. Malleus had once explained to Yuu that, though he appreciated that Sebek had arranged it so everything in his room had a place, he honestly preferred it when his items were strewn about without rhyme or reason.

Despite this explanation, though, Yuu couldn't help but be startled at the mess. Who knew such a neat and well-groomed person filled his desk with piles of office tools, textbooks, papers, and what looked like knitting implements?

Malleus placed Yuu on his bed (pushing off a mound of pillows in the process) and climbed in with the pair, despite apparently still being in his school uniform.

"Uhhh..." said Yuu.

"Hey! What are you doin', dragon boy?" exclaimed Grim, standing on Yuu's chest indignantly.

"Nothing," he said, coiling his body around Yuu. "Now, you may rest with the knowledge that you are safe."

A moment went by.

"What is this," said Yuu flatly.

"Why, nothing," replied Malleus lightly. "Go to sleep. I will keep watch."

Yuu glared exhaustively into the darkness. They lifted up their arm and started feeling up Malleus's chest, slapping around in the dark for what they were looking for.

"Hmm?" Malleus made a noise of confusion.

Yuu pulled his chest closer to their ear, and took a listen at his heart.

"Did you have a nightmare?" mumbled Yuu.

"W- I am doing this for you," he insisted. "My intent is pure."

"Mmm-hmm," they groaned. Malleus had already had this dream a few times, where Yuu died or was otherwise gone to him forever.

The disorientation of sleep to wakefulness disoriented Malleus as well, and the fear injected straight into his veins caused him to confuse dream for reality. The only cure was to see Yuu, and know they were alive.

"Get under the covers," grumbled Yuu. "You're cold."

Malleus did as he was told, popping under his comforter and wrapping his arms around Yuu again.

They shivered. His hands were naturally cold, but they pulled him in closer anyway, hoping their own heat trapped under the comforter would warm him up, and also calm him down.

"Thank you," he whispered, and Yuu nodded, though they realized he wouldn't see that.

[seth-whumps]

hiii me again!!

okay here is a thought that has been bouncing around in my head like a tv logo on a black screen

again, feel free to modify if its not accurate/doesnt make sense BUT

so even though morri has their limits when it comes to cold weather, i'd imagine theyre still a bit more resistant to it than your typical human, especially one that was in cryosleep for 5 years

so i propose that he and morri are on a mission in the dead of winter and theyre just pushing forward because, yknow, it has to get done, and morri is so focused on the task at hand that they don't realize that their partner is halfway hypothermic until jj makes it known somehow (i'll leave that up to you)

i love your writing so much im so excited to read anything you write ｡(^▽^)ゞ

okay so because the other one is pure fluff I made this one far more whump and angst. poor morri just gets all the bad shit huh

anyway!!! here u go bug!!!

--

The best part about being fully robotic is the intimate understanding Morrigan gets with everyday machines. The toaster isn't going to work when it's dirty, and Morri finds that reasonable. The microwave doesn't like tinfoil, and that boundary should be respected.

And cars, especially old ones, do not like being cold.

A sentiment Morrigan deeply shares.

"I know," they murmur soothingly to the engine of their pickup. They inch closer to the hood. "You just need to start. It'll be warmer then."

It's a while before they find the problem. Morrigan is no mechanic. All they have is an understanding of how things work; a knowledge of progression from problem to solution. They futz with the engine, snuggling as close to the car as they can to get away from the snow caring their boots and hoot and hair.

Finally, something shifts. "Try it now," they yell over the wind.

JJ turns the key from inside the ratty pickup.

Several, heartbreaking seconds later, he lets go. "No dice," he shouts.

Morrigan sighs. Their breath would be visible in the air, if they could see anything to begin with. Back to trial and error.

They lean over the engine and study it thoroughly. Coolant, oil, power steering, all where they need to be. Everything between is complete and utter jargon. But if they don't fix this, JJ's going to freeze to death.

Cold is the problem. Getting the car started is the solution. There is no other way to keep JJ alive.

Humans are fragile. Morrigan despises it.

"Take a break, Mor, you're bluer than your eyes!"

"Can't," they yell back. "The pickup won't stop us from freezing if it's dead."

"Five minutes!"

They ignore him, focusing instead on a section of pipes, or tubes, maybe cords, from beneath a bigger piece of plastic. Something seems out of place here.

Morrigan closes their eyes for just a second. Just enough to reach for a manual, or any piece of information they might have downloaded in the past.

"--Morri, Mor, hey, there you are, you need to come inside the car right now."

"Jace...?"

It's suddenly much, much harder to see. They can't differentiate between the snow and the light warnings across their vision. Their ears are ringing.

"Yeah, it's me. C'mon."

The balance system shrieks as they're suddenly on their side, lifted from the ground. JJ deposits them unceremoniously inside the cab of the pickup, and climbs in after, slamming the door.

Without the howling of the wind, the ringing in their ears gets far louder.

"Morrigan, you can't do this, you can't work until there's nothing left. You're gonna get yourself killed."

"Can't die," they say matter-of-factly. Not like you. "Just get replaced."

JJ's hands still from where they were trying to rub warmth back into their fingers. He sighs, and squeezes. "I don't care, 'kay? Now focus on warming up. You feel like ice."

They internally click off the cooling system, forcing the inner components to carry their heat a little further through the body. Normally this would be dangerous, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

And if Jace Vela Journey is being serious, it's desperate times indeed.

Something heavy is placed on their shoulders and they flinch, slightly, at the new weight. "Here. You need it more than I do."

JJ looks far colder without his thick wool letterman on, the tank top beneath bare in the black interior.

"Hey, no," Morrigan tries to protest, but their jaw is suddenly clattering too much to get the words out. He's human, he'll die without it, he can't--

"Give me your hands," JJ says.

They can't move. Their joints have locked, clicking like ice. He takes their hands anyway, blowing hot breath on them, massaging it in.

Morrigan tries to tell him he's going to freeze to death. His blood will turn to ice. His skin will go white and dead, his body will shiver uncontrollably and then go horribly still, his eyes will close for the last time.

It's a logical progression from problem to solution.

Morrigan tries again to speak, but all that comes out is a jumble of noise.

"Hey," JJ says soothingly. "The storm will pass. It'll be okay. Just a long night."

They try to shake their head, and it jerks uncontrollably instead, a popping in their joint. Their body is too cold to function.

"Relax." JJ pulls them against him, and rubs a hand across their shoulder. "It'll be alright. I'll warm you up."

That's not what matters, Morrigan would scream. But nothing comes out.

Nothing but a strangled whimper.

It's going to be long, long night indeed.

--

and then the storm passes and they're warm and happy ANYWAY morri is so fun to write. i love their mental pathways. and jj apparently is just incredibly huggable. i think i want to hug him

thank you for the ask bug!!! i hope this is satisfactory?

[breannasfluff]

Delirious Fantasy

Whump Rating: 3/5

“Why’d you leave me?”

Warriors throws a frantic glance at the others, but Hyrule just shakes his head. They’ve done everything they can. The captain turns back to Wild and carefully smooths back his hair. “Shh, it’s okay. No one left, we’re still here.”

“No. No, you left.”

“Wild, it’s Wars. Look at me.” He cups the kid’s face, but his eyes skate past his, lost to the haze of fever and infection. “We’re here. I promise.”

Warriors dips a rag in the bowl of water at his side and wrings it out before wiping the sweat from the champion’s forehead.

“Lost you,” Wild whispers to the air. “Lose everyone. Ledge’s right; living’s shit.”

Warriors squints but turns back to wet the cloth again. “Well Cook, I’m afraid you are stuck with us.”

He giggles and bats away the cloth. His arm shakes. “That’s right. Ghosts. I always get the ghosts. Do you…visit each other? Must be lonely, being ghosts.” His eyes catch on Warriors and sharpen. “Are you lonely?”

He doesn’t let his face betray how the question cuts. “You need to rest, Wild.”

“I’m lonely.” His eyes slip away and dim, focus gone. “Friends, family; it doesn’t matter. Everyone dies. I just get the ghosts.”

“Hyrule!” The captain’s voice is harsh when he calls, but memories of the battlefield cloud his instincts. The healer, gaunt and overdrawn, still comes over. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

Hyrule pulls back the blanket and lifts the bandages. The wound weeps pus and rotting flesh; infection too far gone for their meager supplies and location. He meets Warriors’ eyes and slowly shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t…I don’t have any more magic to give.”

It’s true, but the captain resents it anyway.

“Hey…ghost. Ghosts.” They turn their attention back to Wild. “When I’m a ghost, will you be there?”

“You aren’t going to die,” Hyrule says, firmer than anyone believes.

Wild ignores this or doesn’t process the words. “I don’t want to be alone again.”

The captain takes Wild’s hand, lifting it to press a gentle kiss to the back. “You won’t be alone,” he whispers.

“Good…good.” His eyes are hazing over, slipping further into the fever. “It’s nice to have…family.”

Hyrule doesn’t comment on the tears on Warriors’ cheeks, and he doesn’t mention how the healer sobs. Wild is the priority right now. Whatever happens, they won’t leave him alone.

~

The kid gets worse, not better. Warriors lifts the bandage and gags at the smell. “Hyrule, this is bad. What do we do?”

Silence. He turns to look at the healer and frowns. Hyrule is slumped over by the fire. He was trying to make a healing potion, never mind that they didn’t have the ingredients.

“Hyrule?” It takes a few shakes of his shoulder to get the traveler to blink at him. His eyes are puffy. “Hey, I know you’re tired, but we need your help.”

“I don’t…was just resting my eyes.” He turns slowly back to the potion, which is going nowhere. “Wild?”

“It’s doing worse. A lot worse. I don’t…it’s rotting.” Wounds like this kill. But they can't lose Wild. They will switch, or find the others. Something. Anything. This couldn’t be the end.

The traveler drags himself over. Shadows hollow his cheeks and his limbs tremble slightly. He’s pushed himself too far. Yet even with this knowledge, Warriors asks for more. Hyrule looks at the wound and frowns, then pulls the bandage off all the way. “Let’s let it breathe.”

“Can you heal it any more?”

He holds a hand over the skin and pink sparks sizzle and die. “I’m out.”

“Still?”

“If I draw anymore, I’ll pull from my lifeforce. It’s not regenerating fast enough; not in these conditions.”

The captain nods. This can’t be a choice between the two of them. He won’t trade one life for another. Even if that’s what he’s done during the war; over and over. How many times did he decide for the greater good?

And now…the greater good is that Hyrule, with his healing, needs to live. Wild is bright and energetic; their crazy cook. But in the grand scheme; he’s expendable. Warriors is expendable. He’d give anything to trade places, but there’s nothing to be done. Just move forward with the terrible hand they’ve been dealt.

~

Wild’s chatting to the air when Warriors pulls his head off his arms. Hyrule is asleep rather than watching over the champion; it’s not his fault; they are both tired.

“Mipha! You wouldn’t believe how much Sidon’s grown! Or maybe you would, given the size of your dad. Revali, you’d be proud of how the rito revere your skills. I mean, you’re still an ass, but I think you’d like it.”

The captain recognizes the names of the champions, but there’s no one there, of course. Wild’s too far gone to fever to recognize his surroundings.

“Oh, I need to tell you about the group I met! Oh, Urbosa, their leader reminds me of you. I think you’d get along. And Daruk! Wind would love you. I…I had a great time with them. It was nice to be part of—a family again, you know?”

Warriors scoots closer and lays a hand on Wild’s shoulder. He doesn’t notice, just chats to the empty air.

“We went through so much together. And I saved the captain in the end. I mean sure, I would have loved to stay with them, but I don’t matter, you know? He does. They both do.”

Despite knowing it’s pointless, Warriors gives the champion’s shoulder a shake. “Wild. Wild, hey.”

No response to his surroundings. “I’d do it again. Just like Zelda. I’m expendable. I should have died so many times. So, if I can do one good thing with my life?” His voice trails off to a raspy whisper. “I’ll save them every time.”

“Wild! Hey, listen to me, you hear? You’re good just as you are! You shouldn’t give yourself up for me!” Warriors is crying, but he continues to shake the limp hero. “I’m just a stupid guy with too much pride. Please, Wild…please!”

The champion giggles, too high and stuttering. It breaks down into a cough and the putrid skin weeps harder with the motion.

“Please…kid, I can’t lose you.” Warriors hold’s the limp hand closest to him, bowing over his knees. “What’s the point of being a hero if I can’t save you?”

Wild doesn’t answer, just stares at the ghosts only he can see.