#febuwhump day seventeen

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: Day Seventeen

Prompt - hostage situation (#febuwhump)

TW: tied up, ropes, helpless, pirates, intimate Whumper, explosion, fighting, violence, mass killing implied

*~*~*~*~*

The sea was calm. The weather fair, the morning was yawning awake, blue skies rising with the sun, the dark blues disappearing beyond the horizon. It was a cycle of change that lay before his eyes, the fresh dew cast a mist on the water… and yet something, on the wind perhaps, was unsettling Locke as he maintained his chartered course. Something unexpected was turning with the tide, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

His first mate approached him, eyes on the horizon as they sailed at half-speed. “Admiral,” first mate said in greeting, the lilt of a question hanging off the last syllable.

“Do you feel the shift in the dew, first mate?”

First mate followed Locke’s line of sight to the lazily rising sun. “No, Admiral. However, that is not my station.”

“What is your station, mate?”

“To ensure you’re ship shape, Admiral,” said First Mate with a cheeky grin. “I trust your instincts; I would sail into hell if you ordered me too and recruit the best dead sailors of the underworld to navigate us to the living one again.”

Admiral laughed, a smile appearing on his face at Mate’s words.

“And what do your instincts say today, Admiral?” Mate asked.

“That we need to fly at full speed and reach the next port before this ill-begotten wind is at our backs.”

“Sir,” said first mate with a nod. First mate walked promptly down the steps of the ship onto the poop deck and let out an unmerciful commanding shout that could wake the dead. “Make-Ready Men!”

There was a ruckus below deck, a few curses and sudden thumps from the crew waking to the sound of First mate’s bellows.

“Heave the sails to full speed!”

Admiral laughed again when First mate turned to look at him over their shoulder, dark eyes bright with mischief. Then First mate’s eyes widened as they stared passed Locke to something behind him. Locke turned too.

A black ship twice the size of Admiral’s was on them, which had not been there a mere moment before. “Admiral!”

First mate yelled and Admiral heard sudden panicked footsteps run towards him as a chord of rope enveloped him, binding his arms to his sides with one unmerciful pull and lifting him from his own ship. Admiral gasped as the rope closed tighter and tighter around him the more he struggled. His feet left the deck of his ship, his eyes on First Mate who was standing where Locke was not a moment ago, reaching up desperately trying to catch Locke before he was completely out of reach.

First mate’s fingers brushed Locke’s ankle devastatingly close before Locke was hoisted up like one of his sails away from his ship and impossibly high above it like God himself was pulling Locke to the heavens.

Were it not for the chants of “heave! Heave! Heave!” Locke would have thought he was dead. If not for the riotous laughter as Locke was hoisted higher only tightened a knot of anxiety in his gut until he was above the other vessel, black planks below him and a man in a white shirt with red hair grinning up at him deviously.

Locke swallowed as he gazed down at the ship. No uniforms, no colours of their allegiance and the black finish of the deck… Locke had only heard rumours of this monster that haunted the seven seas.

Locke was lowered precariously to the deck of the ship, his legs like jelly under him when they hit the ground. The red-haired man laughed when Locke’s knees buckled and he fell to the deck, unable to catch himself.

“We went fishing lads, yet it seems we caught ourselves a landlubber,” the red-haired man proclaimed. More jeering laughter followed as the red-haired man spread his arms to his adoring crowd, turning his back slightly to Admiral. Admiral grit his teeth as he got a leg under him and pushed himself up.

He didn’t make it to one knee with a sword at his throat. His eyes widened at the glinting metal, the same black as the ship – a metal Locke had never set his eyes on before. The red-haired man’s eyes narrowed into a sharper point than the blade.

“I wouldn’t get brave now, fishbait.”

“Let go of me!” Locke demanded hotly. “Perhaps we can write this off as a misunderstanding.”

“Oh,” the red-haired man hummed, turning his body back to Admiral. “I don’t like threats, especially not ones made aboard my own ship, fishbait.”

“What a coincidence,” said Admiral tightly. “I don’t like being hoisted from my own. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

The ropes tightened harshly around Admiral, stealing the breath from his lungs as the red-haired man stepped in, the captain of this ship no doubt… why was his name eluding Locke right now? He should know the name!

His smile was wicked and reckless. “Aye. Mayhaps we can.”

“Captain!” One of the pirate’s crew called. Captain, so Admiral was right. The red-haired man lifted his head and the pirate continued. “They’re preparing for a fight.”

Captain smiled down at Admiral. “Your men are loyal, Admiral,” Captain said, slightly impressed. Admiral frowned at him as someone grabbed Admiral’s arms and wrestled them behind him, before tying them off behind his back. Admiral pulled at the ropes, but they were so tight he could feel his pulse beating below the ropes.

“We can part peacefully, Captain,” said Admiral diplomatically. “Release me and let me return to my ship and my crew. We have no quarrel with you.”

The red-haired man grinned. Someone handed him the loose rope that was attached to Locke which Captain wrapped tightly around his hand and used it to pull Locke to his feet. Locke’s eyes widened as the Captain gave another harsh tug and yanked Locke closer, stumbling into Captain’s chest.

“Who said there must be a quarrel?” Captain said with a smile as he watched the realisation flood Locke’s face. Then Captain gave his order: “strike their colours, lads!”

Admiral lurched forward, panic seizing his limbs as he let out a sharp: “no!”

“Hush, now, Admiral, and be a good little hostage. I’ll get you accustomed to the mast, shall I?” Admiral fought him the entire way, but the Captain pulled him along anyway, looking over his shoulder to chat idly with him. "I must say, Admiral, it is a good day to see Kings men fight with loyalty for their captain. You'd be surprised how often men readily give up their captain for their lives."

"We can trade, Captain, please, there need not be blood!"

The red-haired man laughed, throwing his head back and mouth open wide staring at the sky with a hearty chuckle.

"Perhaps we are alike, Captain, you and I. We are sharks," said the pirate, yanking Admiral forward with a hand in his shirt and with a twist of his hips he slammed Admiral back against the central mast, knocking the breath from his lungs. "We both smell the blood in the water."

Captain smiled as he handed the rope to someone behind Admiral. Admiral felt the ropes tighten around him, locking his arms even tighter to his sides until there was no leverage at all for him to move. He felt the wood against his hands that were trapped uselessly behind him, and he wanted to curse and scream at the grinning pirate.

Locke froze as the captain placed a hand on the mast and leaned in, smiling at the Admiral, barely an inch between their noses. The pirate didn't smell bad, he smelled like sweet rum and salt water, but Locke scrunched his nose up all the same.

"What is your name, Admiral?” Captain asked with a dashing smile. “Just so I can properly threaten your life to your men."

"I'll tell you once you walk the plank, Captain," Locke snarled, baring his teeth at the pirate. Captain smiled and shrugged.

"Fine,” Captain said as he leaned away from Locke, the glimmer of something mischievous in his eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to wrangle it out of that spiffing first mate of yours instead.”

Admiral jerked forward, but he didn’t get very far, the ropes holding him back to the mast. “Don’t touch them!” Admiral barked.

“Sorry, Admiral,” said Captain with a forced sigh, pulling his revolver from his belt and checking to see if the gunpowder was loaded before drawing the hammer back to the full cocked position. “Loot to plunder, sailors to threaten, I have a busy schedule. Sit tight gorgeous, I’ll be back.”

Captain snapped the into place and offered Admiral a wide smile and a wink before he disappeared. “Captain! Captain wait!”

Admiral screamed after him, but over the sounds of swords clashing and gunpowder his screams just joined the sea of noise. Captain struggled in the ropes, trying to find any leverage to squeeze under or shrug over but it was no use. The rope dug so tight into Locke’s diaphragm that he could barely breathe. He knew there was going to be a ring of bruises there after he got free.

These men… Captain’s men weren’t ordinary pirates, they had an easiness to them, a regiment that reminded Admiral of his own ship’s crews and ranks. Ordinary pirates are usually not worth their salt, and yet… something in the back to Admiral’s mind told him that he knew — or should know — the Captain that currently kept him captive.

The fighting lasted until the sun was above the horizon, shimmering on the waters as the smoke cleared from between the two ships.

Another pirate came to Admiral and cut the ropes tying him to the mast. Before Admiral could ask what they were doing, the pirate yanked him forward, grabbed him by the crook of his elbow and pushed him towards the gangplank between both ships.

“Now then!” Captain said, his mirthful voice carrying over the ships with relaxed ease. “We have your captain, sailors. Your beloved Admiral Locke,” said Captain, sending a flash of his teeth to Locke. Admiral searched the poop deck for his first mate and found them in the arms of two of Captain’s men, blood streaming down their face from their forehead and nose. A bruise crowning on his cheek, his officer jacket tore.

Captain turned to Locke then, still aboard Captain’s ship. Admiral glared down at him. “The choice is yours, Admiral. Your men fought for you, will you fight for your men?”

Admiral frowned. “What?”

“I offer you the choice— would you fight—”

“Yes!” Admiral yelled, taking a step forward but he was yanked back. His heart pounding in his ears.

“Two streams of loyalty,” Captain mused. His boots hitting Locke’s deck towards first mate. Every step resounded in Admiral’s heart thudding in his chest.

“Hey! Get away from them!” Locke growled, struggles renewed as he tried his damned hardest to get to Captain and shove him away from First mate. “Captain! Captain please!”

Captain ran a hand through First Mate’s hair and yanked their head up to face Locke aboard Captain’s ship. Captain smiled, his eyes sharp.

“I offer you the choice, Admiral,” said Captain again. “Your ship and your crew, or First mate.”

Admiral blinked, something horrid settling into his gut as First Mate struggled in the pirates’ hold. The pirates wrestled First mate back into submission, Captain never taking his eyes from Locke.

“What?” Admiral breathed, too quiet for Captain to hear, but it was as if Captain heard, because he continued his torturous ultimatum with a grin.

“Your ship. Your men, your crew, your rank as Admiral, your flag, your country, your uniform,” said Captain, turning to face First mate and grabbing First mate’s chin between his fingers. “Or your first mate.”

“Admiral!” One of the sailors cried. Admiral’s dragged his eyes away from Captain to his navigator, struggling against a pirate. “That would be treason! You can’t!”

“That is my offer,” said Captain nonchalantly, capturing Locke’s attention again. “Treason and love? Or service and duty.”

“Go to hell,” First mate rasped. Captain shook his head and clicked his fingers. One the pirates holding First mate brought a cloth forward and wrestled it between their teeth. Captain waved his finger in front of First mate’s face and booped their nose. “Good little hostages don’t speak, First mate.”

First mate glared at Captain as the gag cut into their cheeks, mumbling incoherent curses at Captain behind it.

Meanwhile Locke was rooted to the spot, stunned at the awful choice that stood in front of them. It wasn’t the choice was difficult, Locke had already decided, the decision was made long ago, but… the ramifications of voicing it seemed too horrible to think.

First mate caught his conflicted eyes and shook their head softly. Admiral’s heart lurched in his chest because they knew, the pair of them knew what way the situation was going to unfold. The guilt before the decision was threatening to overwhelm them both and Locke hadn’t even said a word yet!

Captain noticed too, looking up at Locke. “Will you leave us in suspense, Admiral? Are we but fishes on your hook? Or are you waiting for the next bell to sound, hmm? Tick tock goes the tide, and with it comes the weather.”

Admiral felt all eyes turn on him, the weight of them threatening to drown him out of water.

“Admiral,” Captain hummed and yanked First Mate’s head up by the hair. First mate let out a muffled protest, fighting against him. “Come on, we don’t have all day.”

“First mate,” Admiral whispered.

Captain paused. Then he turned, eyes bright like a cats. “What was that, Admiral?”

Locke cleared his throat and avoided the eyes of his crew. “I choose treason. I choose my first mate.”

“For shame!” His crew cried but Locke didn’t care. His gaze was fixed on First Mate who was shaking like a leaf. Captain released First mate’s hair and clapped his hands together.

“Wonderful!” Captain said. “Please, bring First Mate aboard the Fallen Marauder, lads.”

Admiral stilled.

The Fallen Marauder, there’s no way that Locke was standing on the Fallen Marauder. Aside from the fact that it was a fiction, a fairytale, Admiral should be on his ship with his crew.

“Wait, what? I thought you would let us go.”

Captain grinned, “oh Admiral… how naïve.”

First mate was struggling against the pirates as they dragged them across the gangplank to the Captain’s ship. Admiral turned to First mate, but he was turned again, forced to face forward.

“Wait, Captain! What are you doing?” Admiral demanded as he saw a barrel of gunpowder being scattered over the deck.

“You chose, Admiral,” said Captain, walking across the gangplank after his men and came to stand beside Admiral. “You chose first mate, didn’t you?”

Admiral’s eyes were wide with fear. “Don’t. Don’t do this there are good men on that ship!”

“Good men you abandoned,” said Captain softly. “A ship without a captain is doomed.”

“They can make another captain!” Admiral cried as the Captain’s men pulled the gangplank away from the ship. “Please!”

“What do you care for a King’s ship? You have no country now, no loyalties to this endeavour. Now you are one of us, Admiral…” said Captain, then his head dipped, a conspiratorial smile gracing his face. “Or should I say, more accurately, Locke?”

Locke’s eyes went wide. That… Captain wasn’t wrong but Locke, he didn’t… he— his eyes searched the waters as his ship slipped further and further away from him, his men and crew wailing and crying and screaming.

Captain raised an arm. “Captain please,” Locke begged.

Captain dropped his arm. A cannonball fired and Locke stood frozen as he watched his ship go up in smoke. He sucked in a gasp as the air was ripped from his chest in shock. The planks bent and snapped and flew over the sea in a two metre radius of the ship.

“Welcome aboard the Fallen Marauder,” said Captain with a deep bow, dipping low. He tilted his head up as he introduced himself to the shaking Adm – former admiral. “My name is Captain Marlowe.”

[fanfictasia]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hunter & Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Omega & Wrecker (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) Characters: Clone Trooper Hunter (Star Wars), Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Clone Trooper Wrecker (Star Wars), CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo (minor) Additional Tags: Omega Needs a Hug (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Light Angst, POV Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Minor canon divergence, Family, Febuwhump, Febuwhump 2024, Prompt: Hostage Situation

Summary:

In which Omega's brothers tend to her injuries after Bane captured her.

Read on:

https://www.wattpad.com/1423212779-the-bad-batch-one-shot-collection-febuwhump-day

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14328206/1/Febuwhump-Day-Seventeen-Hostage-Situation

[scratchandplaster]

FEBUWHUMP DAY 21 - Lightning strike

CW: parental Whumper, conditioned Whumpee, hypnosis, betrayal

Previous | [Masterlist] | Next

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The storm raging outside had been no surprise. Otis helped to upgrade the tents beforehand, so the aftermath would be predictable enough to not resow any doubts. In barely half a week, everyone who dared to saw Reuben's efforts to settle in as a smooth success.

His "other one" was still writhing aimlessly.

Nothing more than a few clicks and a hopeless fight against the sluggish Wi-Fi were necessary, after nearly two years in the dark, Shepard was awarded with the address of Luke's shelter. 427 Parkway Drive - the brick front was virtually smiling at him, a half turn away from the international house of pre-diabetes and Red 40. Birdie would get an aneurysm if she every caught her children in there.

A shy knock at the door, nearly inaudibly through the gusts of wind and its rumble, ripped Shepard from his thoughts. Ben slipped through and latched it tightly shut.

Perfect timing, as if appointed. The laptop screen was preventively closed down to a bright slit.

"Hey, Dad," he carefully draped his raincoat over a rack, "I brought the kids over, they are a bit restless." Over to their guardians, as it should be. Handling even two children felt like a Herculean task to Shepard, five would go beyond any reasonable cat herding.

"Well done, sweetheart." He grabbed a spare blanket from the couch to wrap around Ben's wet self. Little droplets fell from the short curls he hopefully planned to grow out again. All bundled up, Ben was pulled in closer for a hug: "We can have a sleepover too."

"Yeah, well, I'm not stepping out there again!" He, too, felt nervous about the storm and winced at every flash of lightning shining through the windows.

"Me neither," his dad huffed skeptically, "Let's hope this shed doesn't turn into a houseboat overnight!"

Nature continued to let its fury whip through the fields, twisting and turning every loose object to its pleasure. Cradling his son and arranging him so sit comfortably on his knees was Shepard's first priority, the second quickly followed suit.

"Do you know how lightning comes to be?" he spoke and let his voice offset the wild howling behind the glass, "Far up in the clouds, thousands and thousands of little raindrops grate against each other. Imagine the tension between them, the electric current jumping from every water bead to the other, over and over and over and over, never stopping, never resting. But the tension doesn't fade. It builds up by a tenfold, over and over and over, until it has no choice but to - release."

Exhaling deep on the last word, or rather command, Ben once again found himself relaxing. Any escape from the storm was welcome.

Shepard's restless scientific speech was finally interrupted by another harsh flash that pulled his son out of the comfort surrounding them. A loud boom quickly followed.

"What do you think, Ben: is it close above or already drifting further away from us? Check this for me, please."

Ben, trying his best to stay calm and secure, began to count the seconds between lighting and thunder. This skill had been a lot more important when they used to live in the old camper: just Shepard, Luke and he.

A flash.

"One...two...three-"

Thunder rumbled.

Waiting for the next one didn't take long. Shepard kept himself busy by warming his son's freezing hands with his own.

"One...two...three...four..."

Ben lulled his brain into mindlessness at his own free will, dragging himself up and down the states of consciousness without Shepard even needing to lift a finger. Every new thunderclap brought him back up, though the lingering relaxation continued to twist into itself with every new count-up.

"...sixteen...seventeen..." The tiny thoughts got swallowed halfway between his lips and ears as Ben sunk further into Shepard's embrace.

Another round, and then another. Just as nature above, Ben stared to let go of all tension that sparked up inside his gray matter.

"...twenty-two...twenty-three..." At last, the telltale soft voice, slack face and distant gaze surrounding his son made Shepard reach out for the laptop and interrupt the peaceful counting.

"Believe it or not, I found something really interesting. Be a gem and help me for a second, starshine."

Oh. Ben could always help his dad out, it was his special talent. He sat up straight, surely this hot new project was nothing more than a breed of zucchini he wanted to cultivate or a plan to cobble a different beehive blueprint together.

Shepard, cautious and at his limit, had to be play it safe. One mistake and Lukas would slip from his grasp once again; an unforgivable error.

"I need someone to greenlight the info I've collected."

Instantly, as Ben recognized the house on the screen, his expression turned from calm to startled. Brow furrowed in confusion, he began to twist uncomfortably out of the blanket, verifying everything Shepard had to know.

"Thank you, Reuben." His father's apologetic smile didn't help a bit. Ben was shocked, more at himself than the situation he was stuck in.

"I never-"

Thunder rolled through the fields, but Ben couldn't care less. Looking away in panic, he struggled to push the gentle presence in his mind away, to resist the urge to agree with every single of Dad's words. Shepard, for one, didn't appreciate the sudden antipathy. A hand sneaked to the small of Ben's neck.

He had to ignore the soothing gestures, for Luke's sake. Ben had kept his mouth shut, he knew that he did! He was so relieved that Shepard didn't even ask once, so how was this possible? 

Should he lie to his father? They both knew he was horrible at it.

"I-I don't understand!" A single finger under his chin made Ben's face turn around to witness his helplessness mirrored in honey-brown eyes. They were studying him intently.

"I don't want you to understand, Ben," Shepard said gently, only the murmur of rain withstanding his words, "I want you to follow."

The world was pulled out from under Ben like a rug.

An all too loved force spread through his body at rapid pace, forcing his pupils to blow wide. Like a deer in the headlights, only the shock let his last thought hang by a threat of resistance.

"Don't fight it, you're going to give yourself a headache again. Just listen and follow."

Eventually, Ben's heavy eyelids fluttered until they were simply too heavy to do so anymore. Weak against any command, he collapsed into his father, arms hanging numb at the sides.

Hours of persuasive assurance were now ingrained as absolute truth into the most delicate part of his mind, the one that wailed for fatherly attention. It listened without protest. In return, Shepard would always take care of it, finally making a pledge in earnest. 

There was lightning at the end of the valley.

This time, Shepard counted for his son, pressing his mind deeper into docility. Ben was safe, loved and a traitor; gone completely as he slipped down the shortcut which Shepard had whittled into the twirls of his cerebral cortex. 

The chances to twist away from him again were just as lost. The storm had moved on.

"Secrets will only eat you up, it's better to share them. I absolve you from my and Luke's complicated arguments. I swear I will never make you do something like this again," Shepard assured and carefully stroked along his son's back, allowing the fatigue to catch on, "It's an emergency, you surely agree. We need Luke, just as he needs us."

Acceptance popped up in his son's face: he was an open book you could rip newly written pages out of and blacken to your whim. Reuben would've never survived out there, nothing to be ashamed of.

Shepard warily carried him to the cot and turned the heater on high. Electricity was the office's main perk. One day, Ben's mind would explode because of all his contradictory feelings. For now, it was kept safe in capable hands.

Shepard needed to pack his essentials, yet before setting out he made sure no sting of guilt would bother Reuben in the morning.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

[whumpinthepot]

@febuwhump 2023

Day seventeen: Silent Tears

[febuwhump]

Hi! I did a goof yesterday for day one and posted my fic on ao3 without adding it to the collection. Am I still able to complete it successfully if I don't get all of them onto the collection?

firstly, you can retroactively add fics at any point. like, just go back into editing and add it.

secondly, the collection is up until 5th of march so anyone can do that.

thirdly, the collection is for any and all works, even if you only did one or four or seventeen and not the full twenty-nine.

and fourthly, finally, you do not have to add things to the collection to complete febuwhump. it's a nice extra thing to do, but if you never posted them at all, but still did them, you would have completed.

[fastcardotmp3]

She didn’t trust them until Nancy got mad over Robin insinuating she didn’t understand the impact of NINA, got well and truly in Robin’s face about they used my best friend as bait to understand the toothy fuckers better and you think I don’t get it? She didn’t trust them until Nancy. End of sentence.  » Ronance & Stobin // Rated T // Apocalypse AU // 2.4k » Febuwhump #10: Truth Serum & "Please don't" » Febuwhump Masterlist

read on ao3 // preview under the cut

The monsters came when Robin was eleven. 

The earthquake opened up crevices in the ground, jagged and dangerous things, and then three months later, the monsters came, and then in the chaos so did NINA. 

They pushed those of them already at the bottom of the ladder further down it in the name of protection. They put up fences and created curfews and took charge of the law with the fist of the military and Robin was eleven when it started but she learned how to fight fast. 

Her parents were some of the first to push back, to see their protectors for what they were and call them by their proper name: fascists, Robbie, born out of the power vacuum. They want us to rely on them so they can control us, but if we want to survive this we can’t let them, understand? 

Robin was eleven when the monsters came, and she learned how to fill a Molotov cocktail with young, uncalloused hands, learned how to rough them up with the handle of a throwing ax launched again and again at the trunk of a tree until she could hit the same spot every time. 

She was eleven and then she was twelve and fifteen and she was a freedom fighter because her parents never let her forget what it was like before. Never stopped finding her books to read and music to listen to and stories, so many stories to bury herself in. They stoked the fire in her gut to push back and they gave her hope for a future where it wasn’t like this and she believed them. 

Robin believed them, and that was maybe her downfall, the believing. 

She met Steve Harrington when she was seventeen, a boy raised in the barracks where they taught him how to control, how to lead, how to follow orders. She met him during the same week he decided to get out of that place and she met him while she was trying to get in. Cause some chaos. 

They both learned how to fight young, fight hard, fight tooth and nail without much strategy but a lot of vigor, and it got them locked up underground for three days straight. Broken fingers and something they claimed to be truth serum, Steve didn’t have any information to give up yet, but Robin did. 

Robin had plenty and she kept it to herself, kept it safe, kept it hidden, escaping with that stuff still running through her veins and a broken boy hanging off her broken shoulders and so much pride to show her parents what she’d survived only to find that they hadn’t. 

They hadn’t.

[jinxedruby]

Febuwhump Day Seventeen: Hostage Situation

Featuring Time, Warriors, and Wind. This is the conclusion to Wind getting kidnapped (day four: obedience and day thirteen: you weren't supposed to get hurt).

Well, this sure is long. Fun fact: I wrote this by hand and wrote so hard that my fingers were tingling by the time I finished haha

Heads up for some graphic injury and several minor character deaths (they're all bad guys and none are very graphic).

AO3

First part | <- Previous part | Next part ->

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Time stood beside Warriors, staring out at the river beyond the harbor. Water lapped at the numerous boats and ships moored at the docks, the fresh smell of the river filling Time’s nose. Sky stepped up beside him, peering out toward where the river stretched nearly to the horizon, only the slightest strip of land visible on the other side.

“Wow,” he said quietly. “Are we sure this isn’t an ocean?”

“Doesn’t smell like it,” Legend replied from where everyone else stood behind Time and the others.

“I didn’t know rivers could get this big,” Hyrule murmured.

“Which is why we need to find the sailor as soon as possible,” Warriors stated, turning to address the group. “There are a lot of ships. We should split up so we can cover more ground.”

Everyone paid the captain rapt attention as he split the group into pairs. Normally, that sort of job fell to Time, but his fingertips tingled and the roof of his mouth buzzed, millions of thoughts drumming against the inside of his skull. He could hardly focus on a coherent train of thought aside from save him, save him. He felt immensely grateful that Warriors could focus and strategize. He’d have to thank the captain once all of this was over and Wind was safe.

“Old man, you with me?” A tap on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts. Warriors stood in front of him, gazing at him with a carefully neutral expression. When Time nodded, Warriors continued, “You and I will search the middle few docks here.” He turned to point them out and Time nodded again.

“What about the watchman?” Four asked as the pairs began to split off. “Won’t he notice us poking around the ships?”

“If this is anything like my era, the watchmen are there to make sure no one shoves off in the middle of the night,” Warriors replied. “Just don’t do anything loud and they shouldn’t bother us.”

Four nodded before heading off toward the docks with Twilight. Warriors turned to Time again.

“Ready?”

Time nodded sharply, gaze hardening as he looked out over the ships. He set off toward them, Warriors beside him. Time had to consciously remind himself not to run, despite the angst and impatience prickling under his skin. They passed by one or two errant crew members but weren’t given a second glance. Time had remained out of his armor and Warriors had removed his spaulder and scarf in order to keep a low profile. They’d also left behind their shields as Warriors worried that the moonlight reflecting off of them would draw too much attention. With only their weapons strapped to them, they could pass off as generic guards hired onto ships.

The dock creaked beneath them as they stepped onto the wood, their footsteps joining in with the rhythm of the water flowing and pushing against the ships. Several of the boats were small enough that they could simply peer over the edge and see no one aboard. The other larger ones required boarding and therefore stealth. As Time slipped past a crew member watching the deck, he remembered sneaking through the Gerudo and pirate fortresses. These men were far less observant than the Gerudo, making sneaking onto and off of the ships unseen that much easier. The cover of night certainly helped as well. He and Warriors methodically checked every ship along the dock as quickly as they could while still being thorough. With every ship they checked and no sign of Wind, Time grew more anxious. When they searched the last ship with still nothing after an hour had passed, he felt close to exploding. Warriors squeezed his shoulder reassuringly as they walked back up the dock.

“There are a lot of ships, old man,” he murmured.

That hardly made Time feel better. He clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to control his breathing. When they began down the next dock, he blurted out what had been on his mind since Wind was kidnapped.

“They thought I was his father.”

Warriors half-turned to him, brow pinched.

“In… in the moment, I…” Time pursed his lips, digging his nails into his palms.

Warriors rested a heavy hand on Time’s shoulder. “We’ll find him.”

Time let out a slow breath and nodded. The second dock took just as long to search and proved just as fruitless. Another hour gone, daylight creeping ever closer. Third dock. Nothing. Time pounded his fist against the side of the last boat on the dock. Warriors shot him a concerned glance, but he looked almost as close to snapping as Time felt. When they began the trek to the next dock, Time glanced at the ones further away to try and get a glimpse of the others. He thought he saw a blond head over the edge of one of the ships, but it was hard to tell. In any case, he could see no indication that the others had found anything. He and Warriors started down the fourth dock and Time felt close to simply screaming for Wind and hoping to get a response. He clenched his jaw to prevent himself from doing that and spooking the traffickers into hiding even better. When only three ships remained at the end of the dock, Time’s heart sank. Two ships and a boat. He could see from where he stood that the boat sat empty. That left two ships. Cogs, he thought he remembered the captain calling them.

Warriors pointed to himself then to the ship on the right, just as he’d done at the ends of the last three docks. Steeling himself, Time headed for the cog on the left. A shadowy figure moved about on the deck and Time ducked down, hugging the side of the ship and moving toward the gangway.

“You sure we shouldn’t grab another one while we’re here? We paid that customs officer off.”

Time went still at a voice from the cog, heart thudding in his ears.

“I’m sure.”

Time’s eye widened, blood freezing. That voice. Evenin’, gentlemen, he could hear that voice drawl.

“If the kid’s father survived, he’ll be making a big fuss. ‘Sides, that officer will only look the other way for so much. He hears about kids going missing, he might decide to grow a conscience.”

Time’s hands shook. This was it. This- this- Warriors. He needed to tell Warriors. After several tries and with monumental effort, he stepped away from the cog, slinking across the dock to the ship Warriors had gone to search.

“Oh, shit- Hey! We got a problem!”

Time’s head snapped around at the shout, fearing he’d been caught. But the figures aboard the cog weren’t looking at him, they were running toward the center of the ship, vanishing out of sight behind the sides. Boots pounded on what sounded like stairs. Several exchanges passed back and forth, muffled below deck. Then Time heard the words ‘kid’s gone.’ His chest tightened, eye widening. Quickly, he turned back to the ship Warriors was on.

“Captain!” he hissed as loudly as he dared. Warriors appeared over the side of the ship after a few moments, eyes round. Time pointed to the cog and he heard Warriors suck in a breath. The captain raced toward the gangway with soft steps, hurrying down it and joining Time to head to the cog. The voices from below deck raised, Time catching words like ‘don’t know’ and ‘here somewhere.’ Did Wind escape after all? Time glanced around, noticed the captain doing the same, but he didn’t catch sight of the fluffy blond head or blue tunic. Time reached the gangway first, creeping up it with Warriors just behind him. He stayed low, cautiously poking his head over the side of the ship when he was close enough. Moonlight spilled across an empty deck, warm torchlight emanating from a staircase in the center, leading below. He carefully stepped onto the deck, heard the soft thud of Warriors landing behind him. As they moved toward the stairs, the conversation below deck became clearer.

“-tching the deck the whole night, I swear, he couldn’t have gotten past.”

“Which means, like I said, that he must be down here somewhere,” the man that first approached Time and Wind said. “Stop panicking and start searching. It’s a small space, he doesn’t have that many options. Go watch the stairs to make sure he doesn’t slip past.”

Hurried footsteps came toward the stairs and Warriors and Time quickly moved around to the back of them so they wouldn’t be easily spotted. A sharp thwack like someone kicked something sounded, followed by a chuckle.

“Resourceful little brat, aren’t you?” the first man called.

Footsteps thudded on the stairs, the head of a different man appearing below Time and Warriors. Time carefully withdrew his gilded sword from its sheath on his lower back, silently stepping around the side of the stairs, remaining just out of the man’s peripherals. The man jogged up the stairs and turned around with a huff, agitatedly scratching the top of his head. His eyes darted toward where Time crouched and he froze, going bug-eyed. He opened his mouth to yell but Time moved faster. He whipped his sword about, slamming the flat of it against the side of the man’s head. Warriors was there before Time could blink, catching the man as he crumpled before he could hit the deck and alert the other traffickers.

None of that mattered though, as the second man that had followed the first up saw everything.

Before Time or Warriors could move, the man put his fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle. Warriors cursed and drew his blade as footsteps pounded from below them. The whistler took a step back down the stairs, yanking a knife from within his coat. Three more men appeared behind him. Then they all rushed up the stairs.

Time blocked the first blow with his sword, returning it with a strike of his own. The tip of the blade nicked the man in the arm, who grunted, stumbling back down a step. Another took his place, slashing at Time. Time automatically lifted his right arm to block before remembering he didn’t have his shield. He caught the blade on his forearm, clenching his teeth as it sliced through his brown undershirt and into his skin. He resisted the urge to step back, parrying the next attack.

Warriors yelped and Time glanced at him out of the corner of his eye to see the captain fall to one knee. The man Time knocked out had already woken back up and sunk a dagger into Warriors’ calf. The moment the captain went down, the men on the stairs surged forward. Time jerked forward to block a blow aimed for the captain’s neck while Warriors twisted around to fend off the man behind him. In moving, Time left an opening for the men to slip past him up the stairs. He dodged a swing, stepped so he stood directly beside Warriors, turning to face the traffickers. They circled like sharks, jumping back when Time slashed at them. He tried to find a moment to switch to the biggoron sword, but the attackers gave him no respite. They traded strike after strike, forcing Time to go on the defensive as he tried to remain as a wall between them and Warriors so the captain could recover.

The deck lurched beneath him and he staggered back into Warriors. The other men lost their footing at the unexpected motion as well, the fight halting momentarily as everyone focused on regaining their balance. A loud clatter sounded behind him.

“What are you doing?!” one man shouted.

“They’ve got company!”

Time risked a glance over his shoulder to see a different man, one that must have snuck around the other four, dropping a long pole onto the deck. The gangway lay on the dock, presumably having fallen from the cog when the man shoved away from the dock. The ropes keeping the ship in place were cut clean through. Two figures sprinted down the dock and Time recognized them to be Sky and Hyrule, the two that had been searching docks closest to him and Warriors. By the time they reached the end, the cog had already drifted too far away and Sky had to grab Hyrule to keep him from running right off the dock, the traveler not stopping fast enough.

Time didn’t get a chance to see what they did next, whipping back around to defend against the men. One lunged forward and Time ducked under the swing. He shoved off one foot, driving his shoulder into the man’s gut and knocking him back down the stairs. The man tumbled with a series of thuds and yelps as the others dove at Time. He blocked one attack which left him unable to dodge the other, knife slashing across his shoulder. He forced the first attacker away and stepped backwards. His back hit something warm and solid. He stiffened, turning, only to find Warriors fending off both the man that had stabbed him and the one responsible for undocking the ship. He turned back just in time to intercept an overhead swing with his sword, riposting and leaving a deep gash in the man’s chest. One knife clanged against his sword, another deflected off his arm and leaving another deep cut. He gritted his teeth, trying and failing to find a moment to grab his biggoron sword. Between Warriors at his back, the four men surrounding his front and right, and the stairs to his left, he had very little room to maneuver.

One man made a clumsy swing, overextending. Time knocked the knife aside, throwing the man off balance. Then he followed up by running his sword through the man’s gut. The man’s eyes bulged before Time ripped his sword free and he collapsed. The remaining three hesitated. In a flash, Time swapped the gilded sword for the biggoron sword. He swept the massive blade out in front of him in a half circle. The first man in its path failed to dodge in time, receiving a devastating slash along his middle. The others leapt back with a cry as he fell, his blood pooling beneath him and mingling with the other man’s. Time pushed his advantage, stepping forward and swiping the claymore in front of him again, forcing the men further back. A sharp yell from behind him spoke of Warriors’ success and a thrill of adrenaline rushed through Time as he realized they could win this.

“Let’s everyone calm down!” a bellow carried across the deck. A yelp accompanied it that made Time’s blood run cold. He glanced back toward the stairs he’d moved several feet away from and his heart stopped.

The man that had first approached them stood at the top of the stairs with a smug grin. His fingers twisted into the sun-bleached blond locks of Wind, a knife pressed to the sailor’s throat. Wind writhed in his grip until the blade pressed against his skin hard enough to draw blood, a mixture of anger and fear etched into his face. Blood roared in Time’s ears as he watched, eye stretched wide, hands shaking.

“You two are going to put down your weapons,” the man said casually. He yanked Wind’s head back so more of the sailor’s neck was exposed, tilted the blade more directly against his throat. “Alright?”

“You won’t kill him,” Warriors spat. Time’s gaze darted over to see Warriors staring down the man with utter loathing, knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. “He’s merchandise.”

The man cocked his head to one side and flashed a grin at the captain. “You’re right.” Then in one swift movement, he pulled the knife away from Wind’s neck and plunged it into the sailor’s arm, dragging the blade along toward his elbow. Wind yelped, high-pitched and sharp, as Warriors and Time both shouted. Heat rushed into Time’s face as he watched blood soak into Wind’s sleeve. The man flicked the knife, blood droplets scattering from the blade, before returning it to rest against the cut, drawing a small gasp from the sailor. “Nothing a potion can’t fix.”

Time could barely see straight. Pure rage boiled in his chest and throat, flooding his head. Unconsciously, he took a step toward the man and Wind, but stopped as the man shoved the point of the blade into the gash again. Wind gave a strangled shout, digging his nails into the man’s arm in an attempt to free himself, but to no avail.

“I’ll repeat myself as many times as it takes,” the man said, smile dark. “Drop your weapons.”

Half a beat passed and the man stabbed the knife deep into Wind’s arm. He twisted the weapon and Wind screamed, the sound piercing Time’s very soul. Time tore his hands away from the hilt of his sword, the blade clattering to the ground at the same time as Warriors’. The man’s grin widened and Time’s blood screeched through his veins with a hatred stronger than any he’d ever felt before. His skin burned despite the cool air pulling past him as the cog drifted farther and farther down the river. He was so focused on watching the tears roll from Wind’s eyes that he didn’t see the shadow racing toward them across the water until the last moment.

The oncoming boat rammed directly into the cog. The impact sent everyone flying with shouts. A couple men unlucky enough to be near the edge sailed right over it, plunging into the river with distant splashes. Time tumbled across the deck, colliding with another body. He ripped himself away as pandemonium erupted around him. More men came from below deck, shouting about a breach in the hull. The man he’d crashed into attacked, launching himself into Time. They toppled back, Time sent a punch into the man’s jaw. His shoulders hit something hard. He recognized it as the side of the ship. The man wrestled his way on top of Time, aiming a blow at his face. Time let it hit, instead reaching to plant his hands on the man’s middle. Then he shoved, curling and kicking the man up and over his head. The man fell over the side of the ship with a yell. Time sprang to his feet before even hearing the splash, head reeling slightly from the hit. He glanced around for his sword, discovered Legend and Wild on the deck, coming from the boat they’d crashed into the cog with.

A holler from his right alerted him to a man running up in his blind spot. The man slashed, Time ducked under the swing. He dove forward, catching the man off guard, and shoved him over the side and into the river. He turned back, remembered the gilded sword, yanked it from its sheath. He heard a grunt and spun to his left to see two men pinning Warriors to the deck. All three were unarmed and the captain kicked at them as one fisted a hand in his hair and slammed his head back into the deck. Time darted up to them. He stabbed one through the back, the other noticing the fatal blow and leaping aside. Legend appeared behind the man and smashed the hilt of his sword into the man’s temple. Warriors stumbled to his feet, Time reaching out to steady him.

“I’m- I’m good,” Warriors panted as he regained his footing. His injured leg gave beneath him but he managed to catch himself before falling. “Get the sailor!”

Time nodded and darted away, head swiveling as he looked around for Wind. He vaguely became aware of water burbling underfoot, but he couldn’t care about that. Wild fired arrows from across the deck but switched to his sword when a man got too close. Legend leapt back into the fray with a cry, tempered sword gleaming in the moonlight. Then he spotted Wind, the sailor clutching a knife in his good hand and fending off a trafficker. Time took off toward him. He made it two steps before a body collided with him, bringing him to the ground. The impact knocked his sword from his grasp, sending it skittering across the deck. He twisted, managing to knock the pair of hands away before they could wrap around his neck. He punched man in the gut then shoved, pushing him over and sending them rolling so Time was on top. He grabbed the man’s head and slammed it against the deck. Then he did it again, and again, until the man fell still. He scrambled to his feet, gaze darting to where he last saw Wind. He located Wind just as the sailor sank the knife into a man’s gut, sending him down. Wind slumped forward with a gasp, staggering slightly. He didn’t see the first man approach from behind.

A red haze flooded Time’s vision. Before he knew what happened, he sprinted across the deck, careened into the man, and brought him down. The man’s shout cut off with a gag as Time grabbed his throat, pressing all his weight down into his hands. He’d kill him, he’d kill him, for everything he’d done to Wind, to his son. Everything the man would’ve done, everything he would’ve allowed to happen, everything, everything-

Something popped under his hands then all at once someone grabbed his shoulders, trying to pull him back, shouts filling his ears.

“-dead, he’s dead, Link, please!”

Time blinked and his grip loosened. Warriors yanked him back with all his strength and pulled him back off the body. Neither expecting the sudden motion, they fell to the deck in a tangled heap, Warriors ending up half beneath Time. Legend appeared above Time, grabbing his hand, pulling him up. He said something that Time didn’t register, Time glancing back almost numbly to make sure he hadn’t hurt Warriors. Then he caught sight of Wind. The sailor staggered toward him, arm drenched in blood, bits of flesh jutting out of the wound and through the hole in his sleeve. A cry tore itself from Time’s throat and he wrenched his hand out of Legend’s grip, lunging for Wind. Wind’s expression crumpled just before Time collided with him. He gathered the sailor into his arms, shaking as he clutched the back of Wind’s head and held him tight against his chest. Wind’s body hitched with a sob, arms coming up to hug Time in a death grip. Time rocked back and forth, arms shaking as he stroked Wind’s hair, tucking the sailor’s head beneath his chin. Wind was here, he was safe, and Time felt quite certain in that moment that he would never let him go ever again. Then Warriors appeared at their side, squeezing Time’s shoulder saying they had to go, ‘I’m sorry, we have to move, now.’ Time stared at him for a long moment before sound came crashing back properly into his ears. He’d hardly noticed its absence until it returned. Water roared below deck, rushing in through whatever breach the ram caused and filling the cog.

“The ship’s got a raft!” Wild yelled. Time looked up to see the champion standing at the back of the ship, one leg up on the ledge. “We can take it to shore, but we have to go now!”

Warriors shook Time’s shoulder. “Come on, Link, we have to move.”

Time nodded jerkily, unsteadily getting to his feet and keeping his hold on Wind. The sailor made no comment on being carried, hiccupping and burrowing deeper into Time’s shirt. Time, Warriors, and Legend hurried to join Wild. Warriors stooped to grab Time’s gilded sword as they passed it while Legend darted away to grab the biggoron sword where it had slid across the deck. Once they approached, Wild turned and jumped off the back of the ship. Time’s heart fluttered with panic before he reached the side and saw Wild standing on a dinghy lashed to the back of the cog. Time secured his hold on Wind before jumping the short distance down. Wild had already begun attempting to untie the dinghy by the time he landed. The champion cursed, fumbling with the knot as the cog let out a loud groan, tipping slowly to one side. Time stumbled and quickly sat down, taking one hand off of Wind and bracing it against the thwart to steady them.

Just as Wild gave up and reached for his sword, Legend jumped forward, deftly undoing the knot. The dinghy plunged and Time’s stomach fell away. The boat slammed into the water with a splash, water jetting up the sides and raining down on the heroes. Legend snatched oars from beneath the thwarts. He sat at the dinghy’s bow, stuck the oars in the water, and rowed. Two powerful strokes had them gliding across the water away from the cog. Another loud groan reverberated across the water. Time looked back just as it rolled belly-up. The boat Legend and Wild had rammed into it got pushed beneath it, sinking below the surface. The river slowly swallowed the cog, bringing the bodies of the traffickers into its embrace.

Wind shivered in Time’s arms. Time looked down at him, suddenly aware of something warm and wet seeping into the front of his shirt. He gently pulled Wind back to see the sailor’s arm curled between them, blood soaking into both of their clothes.

“Potion,” Time said, voice raspy. His head snapped up to look at the others frantically. “Potion, he needs a potion!”

Wild and Warriors both reached into their pouches, withdrawing bottles.

“Drink yours, Captain, you’re hurt,” Wild said, holding his out to Time. Warriors didn’t argue but he didn’t drink either, watching as Time grabbed the bottle. Time pulled the cork out with tingling fingers, holding it to Wind’s lips. Wind lifted his good hand to it and tilted it back, gulping it down. The others all watched, making sure he drank it all. As he did, the flow of blood from his arm stemmed, the wound closing. He finished it with a gasp, sitting up a bit straighter in Time’s lap as he did.

“Alright, Sailor?” Warriors asked softly. Wind nodded a bit unsteadily, sinking sideways into Time and resting his head on the old man’s chest.

“Captain, drink,” Wild gently reminded him. Warriors watched Wind for a moment longer before knocking back the potion and sighing with relief. Since the dinghy moved along at a steady pace, Time wrapped his other arm back around Wind, enveloping the sailor in warmth. Wind wound his arm around Time’s waist, pulling himself closer.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Time’s heart squeezed. The exhaustion of the battle, the pain of the cuts in his arm, the stress, the panic, the rage, everything came crashing down all at once. A wave of dizziness struck him, chest and extremities tingling. He exhaled through his nose and rested his cheek on Wind’s hair. He held Wind close, feeling the sailor’s little torso expanding and contracting with each breath. He closed his eye and held Wind just a little tighter.

[across-violet-skies]

Febuwhump day 11: immortality

Whumpee: Wild

Whump Rating: 3/10

TWs: mentions/introspection surrounding death, very subtle suggestion of wanting to die

Out of all the Links in the Chain, Hyrule, Legend, and Wild were the most knowledgeable about death. Hyrule, because of his dolls that saved him from dying. Legend, because of everyone he had lost and all he had been through. And Wild, because he had died and been brought back to life by the Shrine of Resurrection.

Both Hyrule and Wild had faced their own deaths. By now, everyone was familiar with the traveler’s dolls and the way they worked. What they didn’t know was that Hyrule wasn’t the only Link with a failsafe. It hadn’t been revealed to the Chain yet, but Wild had a gift left to him by one of the Champions’ spirits.

Mipha’s Grace.

Mipha’s Grace worked similarly to Hyrule’s dolls, activating upon death to heal the damage. But there was one distinct difference. One day, Hyrule would run out of dolls. He would take his final breath someday, hopefully not anytime soon, but he would die.

Wild?

He would not.

It was a subtle magic that pulsed beneath his skin, the power of revival. But Mipha’s Grace was more than that. It wasn’t something Wild noticed right away, but as time went on, it became increasingly obvious.

He wasn’t aging.

Or, perhaps he was aging incredibly slowly, but still. It was odd to watch as everyone around him grew older while he stayed the same. Wild saw how the children he met on his adventure– Koko and Cottla from Kakariko Village, the five sisters from Rito Village, Finley from Zora’s Domain, all of them– all matured, aging the way they were supposed to. Riju, the Gerudo chief, grew into her role. Sidon, the Zora prince, did as well. The Rito elder, Kaneli, retired and Teba took over as the village’s elder.

Wild didn’t change. His hair grew out more, but that was all. But he was still young, and he should’ve continued to grow at least a little more… but it was like his body was in stasis. The power Mipha left him was so strong that it stopped him from aging, even while the ability was idle.

Wild would be impressed if the knowledge didn’t leave him with a deep-rooted sense of dread. It didn’t take a genius to connect the dots– he couldn’t die. He would never grow old, because he simply could not. He would remain forever seventeen (physically, at least). Wild knew that he would outlive every single person that he met. He would have to live with the pain of being surrounded by death for eternity.

So when Wild met the other heroes, it was sort of bittersweet for the Champion. On one hand, he was thankful to meet them and get the chance to fight alongside those who preceded him. But on the other hand… Wild knew they would all die someday, and he would be the last one standing. The only thing that kept him from losing himself over it was the fact that these heroes came from different times. Technically, their lifespans should never overlap, so of course all of them would die before Wild. They were all dead before he was even born!

Still, that information didn’t make it much better. Wild feared that he would be forced to live through their deaths if this adventure didn’t go smoothly. They’ve had some close calls, and it broke Wild inside every time. Hell, Hyrule had died in front of him! He came back, of course, with the reveal of his dolls, but Wild had been more than a little distraught over the whole affair. The traveler had apologized profusely, but in the end, it didn’t do much to soothe him.

Nobody knew the real reason Wild was so easily upset when it came to death– they all had their hunches, of course, from reminders of the people he’d lost to his own death, but none of them knew the gritty details. Wild didn't like to talk about it, after all.

It was quickly forgotten as time went on and their adventure continued. Eventually, Wild's ability would be made known, but details were kept secret. The Chain knew Wild could come back from death, and that was it. They didn't need to know more.

Wild knew he had been sentenced to an eternity. There was a reason no hero came after him– Wild would remain as the holder of the Hero’s Spirit until the end of time. There would be no more heroes. It was only Wild, his adventures spanning multiple centuries; multiple millennia, even.

Just… forever. Or at least as long as forever lasted. Wild would be there, with his seventeen-year-old body that refused to age, cursed to outlive everyone he loved. He would live on throughout the coming eras of Hyrule, watching as the lands he knew so well changed, for better or for worse.

Immortality was no blessing. Mipha’s Grace– and this was by no fault of the late Zora Princess– was no grace. It was a curse; a jinx; a hex. Breaking such fundamental laws of life meant one could not truly live, but merely exist in a world that moves on without you.

Undoubtably, Wild had been met with a terrible fate.

–> support me on ao3!

[lady-astras]

Solitary Confinement - Febuwhump Day 2

Face your fears, was what Gem had written, her flowy handwriting shaky and barely legible - the last thing she’d left before having gone no-contact with everybody. Etho had been quietly petrified, then, because what could hurt The GeminiSlay so badly? But now looking at it…

Twenty-four hours, that’s all he had to do. The slip of paper vanished into smoke in his hand, leaving no trace. Just one day in this room? He could do it.

The heavy metal door clanged shut and a deep, resounding voice said, “Face your fears.”

Etho didn’t fear the dark.

This wasn’t so bad, he’d spent more time alone in the wilderness. The start of season nine, trying to prove his self-worth wasn’t even that bad. So what was this room trying to tell him?

Well, it was a small room. Once the door had closed, stealing the sliver of sunlight with it, he couldn’t see a single thing. He checked what time it was but found that his communicator had been taken.

That was when the first hint of panic wormed its way in. No contact with the outside world.

Twenty-four hours left.

~~

Humming songs to himself and coming up with new base ideas only sustained you so far. It wasn’t like he could write it down or type it up anyway. But again, it wasn't so bad. Maybe he’d take a nap.

Twenty-three hours left.

~~

He couldn’t sleep. Well, if his judgement of time passing was right, it was only around 1:00 PM - four hours since he’d been chucked in here. Normally, taking a nap right now, or before now, would be out of the question.

Staring at the wall wasn’t so entertaining, though.

Twenty hours left.

~~

It was too dark. It wasn’t even like a moonless night sky with no torches lighting up the surrounding area, because then the pinpricks of starlight could be grounding. No, here it was so dark that the seams of the walls blended into each other. Rather like falling into the void, when you were far enough that you couldn’t see the end islands any more and your elytra had failed you.

Etho was curled into a corner just to keep some semblance of sanity - being able to tell where the floor was, and where two of the walls were, was like those little white specks in the sky for him. 

Maybe he could try counting to pass the time. One, two, three, four, five…

Sixteen hours left.

~~

The higher the numbers ticked up, the more nervous he got. How long was he going to be here? At a rate of maybe one number per second, he’d gotten to one thousand. Doing the maths that was… sixteen minutes? Seventeen, almost? No, no, that couldn’t be right. No way. Oh, it was… well… 

Time was so slow, too slow.

He’d given up a while ago.

Fourteen hours left.

~~

Void, Etho had to be the most pathetic sentient being ever, didn’t he?

His tears weren’t even justified. If it were BDubs in here, the little mossy man would have found a way to entertain himself, maybe crack jokes to the dark air around him, make whoever was listening laugh. But here he was, still curled next to the wall, silent tears dripping into his black cloth mask. The dark was cold, pressing him further into the corner, hard to breathe, think, function. It was leering at him, telling him to face the dark and lonely, grow up and be a real man.

The room was so impossibly big, and yet it was too tiny altogether.

An audible sob wrenched from him, he clutched his soft white hair almost desperately, to feel something, anything, other than this dark SILENCE.

This was going to be the rest of his day, week, year, life. It wasn’t going to end, because that’s how things always ended. Dark, silent, loneliness.

He wanted to scream, cry, beg for mercy, and escape.

Maybe he should take his mask off. It might be easier to breathe. His tears dripped down his face even more, landing on the corners of his lips, so he could taste the salt, that pathetic salt.

He gasped for air.

Nine hours left.

~~

Were those voices in his head? Or were his ears processing them? Were they his, or was someone coming for him? Had it been time yet?

No, they were just his pitiful whimpers for escape.

He was so tired…

Five hours left.

~~

There was a click. Etho looked up, blinking his bleary eyes. He had nothing left to cry, but everything hurt. He’d been sitting still for too long. The room was flooded with bright light from the open door, that metal door.

Everything was too bright. It hurt, it hurt, make it stop, MAKE IT STOP-

“ETHO!” A familiar voice shouted, footsteps sounding on the black concrete floor. They were too loud, he covered his ears. Slowly, slowly, he lifted his head to adjust to the light.

BDubs was knelt next to him, wavering uncertainly - not sure whether to put his arm around Etho or leave it be in case it’d scare him.

Etho made his decision for him, tentatively grasping his hand and tugging him closer into a hug. BDubs obliged, pulling his taller friend in a full embrace, murmuring quiet nothings. It helped to hear a familiar voice, a soothing drone on. He looked up at his friend’s face, twisted into a gentle smile.

Between his senseless murmurings, he could pick up, “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, I’m here for you.”

That’s when it clicked.

The start of season nine hadn’t been that bad because he could talk to anyone at any time. They were all at the push of a button, any time of day because at least one person - cough, Xisuma - was always awake (those insomniac types). 

There wasn’t much time he’d ever spend alone, and it scared him to be unsure whether anyone was even there for him.

So he leaned into BDubs’ warm touch and sighed contentedly.

[thiawen]

Febuwhump Day 11

Prompt: Time Loop

Fandom: Star Trek AOS or TOS

Warning: Injury

@febuwhump

A blink. A flash. And Jim Kirk once more found himself under the hot spray of his shower. There were certainly worse places.

His legs gave out beneath him and he crumpled to the floor. He lay gasping there as his blood swirled down the drain.

He had been so close. He knew what to do now.

A time loop.

He had been trying to break it for seventeen loops now. He had tried everything it seemed. But now he had finally found the source and he knew exactly what to do.

There was an enemy on the Enterprise.

Jim had to stop them. But there was a problem with that. His injuries were cumulative, following him through the loops. Jim was the only one on the ship looping. He had already confirmed that. He had managed to beat the saboteur previously, though he had been grievously injured, but had run out of time.

His injuries are serious. On top of the ones he’d already had…

He won’t survive another loop.

He needs the medbay. Sooner rather than later. His crew will have to finish his work. Jim trusts them. He knows they can do it. Especially if he can get Spock to meld with him and get all the memories from his mind. They’ll know exactly what to do.

If he loops again, especially mid surgery…

His crew won’t fail him. Spock won’t fail.

[bookshelf-full-of-bruises]

A Flame Extinguished

FebuWhump Day 1: Helpless

Robbie faces one of his greatest failures. Trigger Warnings for minor whump, up to and including death of said minor by burning at the stake. This one’s heavy, so proceed with caution

As flames spire towards the smoke stained heavens and screams pierce the air, Robert Gardner can only assume that he has finally found for himself that ashen plane which mortals call Hell. No matter how he struggles, a wall of arms holds him steady to watch his worst nightmares spring to life before his eyes. His own voice is drowned out in the cries for vengeance. For justice.

Atop a pyre, the young Paragon of Prophecy pleads for mercy from an unyielding mob as fire climbs its ladder of straw and wood. He is seventeen. Still just a boy, with baby fat softening his terrified features. Piercing blue eyes scan over so many angry faces, hoping to find his sister or mother amongst the scores.

Finding himself disappointed, Daniel turns that terror towards his mentor. He begs. He pleads for help from a man who is helpless to do anything but observe. He sobs and cries and screams as the bleeding sunset meets its end, and the shadows of night descend upon his execution.

In the end, Robbie find himself doing the very thing he was meant to do in the first place. He watches. He watches as the flames of hatred consume the child he had taken under his wing so many moons ago. As his failure comes to bear in such a brutal way that he finds himself choking on it, he still claws and strains against fate with every breath. Smoke and desolation cloud his lungs as screams climb higher, and the ashes begin to smell of flesh.

It is not until silence descends that he is released.

The very second he is able to, he is sprinting into the tower of flames, scorching his palms as he pulls the now motionless body from its boiling tomb. He drags the boy he had come to think of as his son from the ashes, and cradles him close. His tears clump the ashes of his ragged clothes, now reduced to dust.

“Cowards!” He screams, voice raw with pain and horror as he picks his head up to level the gathered people with a distraught glare. “He was but a boy! And all he did was to warn you!”

Just as before, his cries are met with the indifference of those too willfully ignorant to see the truth in anything other than that which resembles their own. Father Bailin, disdain written clearly across his face, steps forward to speak.

For a moment, beyond the roar of the fire still consuming the wood of the pire, there is utter silence.

“Leave this place, Robert. We know you cannot be killed. But let this be a warning to you. If you return, you will burn as well. And as with this,” his voice dips with contempt as he nods towards the burnt corpse of Daniel Caughlin, “sorcerous filth, we will not cut you down until you have stopped screaming.”

It takes everything in Robbie’s being not to rip the priest apart with his bare hands now that he is not being held back by half the village. But they both know he won’t. They both know he has something more important to do.

Without another word, he stands, cradling his boy close, and walks into the night. It is a long trek to the lake where the willow keeps watch, but he will make it. And as the morning sun rises over a freshly mounded grave, he will take a moment to look into her placid waters and wonder how to carry himself into tomorrow

[lilac-gold]

OMORI AI-less Whumptober 2023

Contents Page:

DAY ONE: Sick Summary: Aubrey falls ill, unable to leave her room. Her mother doesn’t care, and certainly won’t let her friends come visit.

DAY TWO: Overworked Summary: Hero uses studying to cope with Mari's death. Unfortunately, staying up all night studying can lead to passing out at the most inconvenient of times.

DAY THREE: Isolation Summary: Unlike Hero and Sunny, Aubrey didn’t isolate herself. Her friends and family did so for her.

DAY FOUR: Hiding an injury Summary: Mari’s supposed to be perfect, not go running for help. Hero’s got enough of her worries on his plate without her bad knee too.

DAY FIVE: Held at gunpoint Summary: Someone’s got a gun at Hero and Kel’s school. Kel should be concerned for himself, but all he can think about is his brother.

DAY SIX: Mind control Summary: Under Bossman, Hero is a puppet. He has no say in what his body does, and no way to resist when it starts to hurt his little siblings.

DAY SEVEN: Flatline Summary: Basil hears his grandmother die. The sound of her flatlining sticks with him for hours afterwards.

DAY EIGHT: Panic Attacks Summary: Aubrey deals with things using anger. She can control that, but the panic rushing through her is a different matter entirely.

DAY NINE: Presumed dead Summary: In Black Space, he gets constantly ripped apart, and Omori doesn't seem to care. When he returns to Headspace, Basil learns that his friends ended up giving up on him completely.

DAY TEN: Collar Summary: Molly always treats him like he's less than human. Still, Omori really could've done without the constant reminder around his neck.

DAY ELEVEN: Paralysed Summary: Upon a mountain, freezing to death, Spaceboy can't move a muscle. He's beginning to dislike the numbness.

DAY TWELVE: Sacrifice Summary: The Recycultists have never been a threat, not really. Things change when Basil ends up in one of their rituals.

DAY THIRTEEN: Drowning (ALT Prompt) Summary: He's not a strong swimmer, and hasn't been since he was little. Still, Sunny jumps in after Basil, and wonders if he meant for this to happen.

DAY FOURTEEN: Grief (ALT Prompt) Summary: Unlike Mari, Hero leaves a note. Kel finds it just minutes too late.

DAY FIFTEEN: Transformation Summary: Spaceboy tries to fight the anger that threatens to overcome him every single time. It never works, and hearing that tape again is the last straw.

DAY SIXTEEN: Hospital Summary: Mari is familiar with hospitals, especially this one. One place she's never visited before, however, is its roof.

DAY SEVENTEEN: Hypothermia Summary: Maybe climbing a huge, snowy mountain in only her too-large nightgown and with no shoes wasn't the best idea. Aubrey's certainly starting to feel the chill.

DAY EIGHTEEN: Warm soup Summary: Sunny hasn't eaten Hero's food in years. Now, starving as he is, it tastes even better than ever.

DAY NINETEEN: "Why wasn't I enough?" Summary: Locked in the walls, Rococo's starting to go insane. He still doesn't understand what he did wrong.

DAY TWENTY: Stockholm syndrome Summary: Hero, touch-starved and grieving, craves even the tiniest scrap of love. Finding it in Sweetheart was inevitable, really.

DAY TWENTY-ONE: Near-death experience Summary: After Humphrey, his friends seem fine. Omori knows better.

DAY TWENTY-TWO: Punishment Summary: The guilty must be punished. Sunny can tell no-one, so the only one left to inflict punishment is him.

DAY TWENTY-THREE: Forced to watch Summary: When Kel is about to be strapped down to the dissection table, Hero begs to switch places. Kel hears every broken cry that follows as his older brother watches him get cut open.

DAY TWENTY-FOUR: Failed escape Summary: Hero tries to escape the basement. The man who took him films his punishment. (Inspired by @charismabee's 'found footage' one-shot in our Hero-centric Febuwhump earlier this year)

DAY TWENTY-FIVE: "Why didn't you save me?" Summary:  If Basil had been there even a minute earlier, he could have helped. Instead, he made everything infinitely worse.

DAY TWENTY-SIX: Curse Summary: Biscuit used to be able to talk. Now, the only person who understands him is his sister.

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN: Immortal whumpee Summary: Mari was supposed to be dead. However, looking at herself in the mirror, she sure didn’t look like it.

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT: Oxygen deprivation Summary: On a mission through the stars, something goes horribly wrong. Before he knows it, Spaceboy is struggling to navigate the way back as his lungs run out of air.

DAY TWENTY-NINE: "The easy way or the hard way?" Summary: Mikhael’s cocky attitude and overall lameness lands him in a bit of trouble when he gets on the wrong side of a group of delinquents at Closeby High. He only hopes the Hooligans come to his assistance soon.

DAY THIRTY: Mind games Summary: Rococo owes Sweetheart his everything, and he knows she loves him… Even if what she says sometimes doesn’t completely align with that.

DAY THIRTY-ONE: Crying Summary: Kel hasn’t let himself cry in years. After seeing Basil’s body in the bathroom, it’s all he seems able to do.

And so, the time arrives! I will be posting each of the above one-shots to AO3 under "Whumptober 2023", as well as here on Tumblr in a series of posts. I will add links to each day once completed, as well as a 'previous' and 'next' to each day on Tumblr. I hope that you stick around and enjoy this month, because it's going to get whumpy!

(In addition to this, I will be doing a collaborative work with @charismabee centred around every alternative prompt for this event. Each day will be set in a different Omori AU that we've created. She is also doing her own version of Whumptober alone, so check her out if you'd like to see more! <3)

[spicywhumper]

@febuwhump 2024: day 15. "who did this to you" + @femslash-february bingo (dark edition) + whump bingo - whipped

series: untitled // rating: teen and up audiences // word count: 1,590

cw: mentioned child abuse/death, blood, mild description of injure, implied attempted SA

Stanlow is a small town, more a village than a town, perhaps with too many mouths to feed, a consequence of its location.

People like Nadine are the typical child: alone and has to fend for herself so can keep herself safe and alive, without parents or siblings or any family member at all. She was the youngest of her family, too sick and thin, they left her with the first adult-like figure they found in Stanlow. Then they left without looking back (sometimes she wonders if they ever think about her).. She’s not bitter about it at all, what you’re talking about?

Being a nobody, even one a little bit under someone’s wing,, she works all day to make sure she can pay to have a place to sleep, that she doesn’t have to sell her body hidden behind thin walls to feed herself. It also means that, by instinct, she doesn’t pay attention to commotions in town. Every other day there’s a starving child tied up to the pole at the main plaza, every other day their back is whipped free of skin. Every other week, one or two die from infection, and in the winter, even more die frozen overnight.

There are too many orphan little ones, Stanlow being the only town in the middle of the forest before they reach the larger cities surrounding the capital. Most of these children are foreigners, nameless and forgotten. Nadines painfully aware that she didnt become one of them for sheer luck.

At seventeen, she’s old enough to marry – she doesn’t have a father to pay for it (she thinks that`s good, to be honest, . At seventeen, she’s more than desensitized to the cruelty of the townspeople towards children. She’s lucky Ravyn had seen something on her, fed and housed her until she found a job as a servant at the major’s house.

So, she ignores the shouts even if deep down, each shout is a knife cutting into her heart and suffocating her. She knows she could be there.

Once, she stole a piece of bread, when Ravyn was sick. Lucky her the bread maker has a soft spot for the Ravyn. She ignores the commotion, goes on with her day. The major’s oldest son comes to visit sometimes, he ruffles her hair and gives her baked goods. At first she had been worried about what he could want from her. Soon enough, she noticed he does the same thing to all younger servants, she was relieved to see that the young man just liked to give treats to kids. That type of man is a rarity.

She carefully puts her gifts on her bag, finishes her day and goes ‘home’. The inn is small, kept by one of Ravyn’s cousins – which means even if she still has to pay, she gets a discount solely for being Ravyn’s favorite stray. She enters the room and frowns. Wasn’t Ilya supposed to be back by now?

The annoying definitely-not-human brat that Ravyn nor the innkeeper liked but they didn’t stop her from keeping her around. Nobody seemed to like Ilya, actually. She shown up months ago and still never got a job, always rejected. Something about “the devil’s eye”, whatever they meant by that.

Shit, shit, shit, she drops her bag and jumps down the staircase. The reason she tries to keep Ilya always coming back to her is because without coins, without food. They met when Ilya was running from having stolen a bread – and not from the bread maker that Nadine could apologize for.

It’s snowing slightly, the town’s silent and empty, workers had their long, long day. She comes to a stop skidding at the plaza. They always keep the whipped child tied to the pole overnight, then throw them at the edge of the forest as the sun rises.

It’s never a pretty sight, she threw up the first times she saw a half-naked girl, barely her current age, with cuts so deep on her back that she swore she saw bones.

The figure’s shivering, but silent. A look at her face and she confirms it’s Ilya, and half of her face is black and blue and bloodied. As fast as she can, she unties the knots. Her friend’s deadweight. Deadly thin or not, she’s pretty heavy as Nadine throws her over her shoulder not unlike the way she carries sacks of flour when she has shifts at the nice bread maker.

The innkeeper only rolls his eyes: “I’ll get Ravyn for you.” She didn’t intend to bother the old healer, but all of the townsfolk knows the damage the public whippings cause.

She takes Ilya upstairs, her shoulders, back and lungs hurting by the time she can put her on the bed, stomach down. Her breathing’s too shallow, her body’s too cold. At least Nadine thinks it’s good that she’s not consicous to feel the pain of a ruined back.

She paces and paces until there’s knock on the door, Ravyn has a bucket of snow on a hand and her bag of healing supplies on her other hand.

“What happened?” She asks as she enters the room.

“I’m not sure. I heard commotion earlier, didn’t investigate for obvious reasons. Then I came here, she wa supposed to be here, I found her tied to the pole.”

“Alright,” Ravyn nods. “I’m heling because she’s your friend. She has to have done something to deserve it.” Nadine doesn’t think starving children deserve to be whippe for stealing something to eat, but she doesn’t say anything. Ravyn is the closes to a honestly soft-hearted person she knows she won’t drive her awy by disagreeing with her opinions on thieves.

Ravyn picks an ointment from her bag, it doesn’t smell good, but none of them does anyways. Clean bandages and washclothes.

“Bring me clean, warm water,” the innkeeper brings in a few mintes, probably he put it to boil before going after Ravyn.

She cleans the wounds, Nadine tries to not gag. Most of the skin on her back is mangled of straight up have been ripped off by the whip. Some hits touched her face, her shoulders. The water quickly becomes murcky with dried blood and whatever else oozes from the open wound. A second bucket replaces it. Ravyn isn’t gentle, she’s halfway cleaning when the probing wake up the girl.

“Hey, hey, shh,” Nadine grabs her hand and she’s shocked with how much clarity s in Ilya’s eyes when the girl focuses on her. “We’re cleaning you. You’ll be fine.”

Ilya only nods, she’s frowning but makes almost no noise. She just watches Nadine as she starts to talk nad talk and talk about her day as a servant. Then detail what she planned for their night (she pretends her cheeks aren’t flushed, that Ravyn didn’t chuckle – Ravyn has been teasing about her and her friend for weeks now.)

As it usually happens, Ilya hangs on her every word, as if Ravyn isn’t rubbing off torn skin and dried blood. She only reacts to what the healer’s doing when she oepns the ointment, making a face at the scent.

Sometimes Nadine forgets how sensitive her nose actually is. However, she doesn’t protest as the green-ish brown is spread over her back. Ravyn covers gently with the bandages and then a layer of snow. Nadine thought she wouldn’t need it, but as soon as Ilya woke, her body temperature started to rise in a constant.

“I’l stay over night,” Ravyn tells them. “The first night is usually when ou have a change to make it.”

Nadine scowls at her, do you really need to tell her she might die anyways? Ilya only nods, not seeming distressed by it. As soon as the older owman goes away, she asks:

“How are you so calm over this?”

“I knew it was coming?”

“Who did this to you?”

“I didn’t ask for names.”

“What did you do?”

“Nadine…” “They public whip thieves. You know I’m here, you know I feed you and let you stay with me.”

Ilya flushes: “I just… wanted to, uh… give you something nice.”

“I- what?”

“I-I wanted to give you something nice, for helping me. So I stole a bracelet.”

“Brace- Krauss? You tried to steal from Krauss?”

“I heard he, uh, thieves kinda get away with it.”

“It doesn’t mean you wuold!” Ilya turns her face, with her clean from blood and the shaved head she keeps, now Nadine could see the brse on the back of her neck. “Ilya?” “I guess I know why thieves get away with it.”

“What? Oh. Oh. Fuck- I-”

“I ran into a soldier, jewelry in hand with Krauss following me, he connected the dots and took me to the plaza,” she sighs. “Whipping is better.”

“I- are you sure?”

“Yes, Nadine, I’m sure.”

She blinks a few times, hating that tone of voice. Too sure, too “I know what I’m talking about”. It doesn’t fit Ilya not knowing what Krauss did to thieves until he almost did the same.

“Did it… happen before?”

“I never stole anything but food before.”

“You know what I asked.”

“Do I need to answer?”

“That’s answer enough.”

“Hm,” minutes passes, she thinks Ilya is falling asleep until she asks softly: “Do you hate me now?”

“I’ve met you stealing.”

“No, for- do you?”

“No, I still like you. I’ll always like you. And if you’re still interested in whatever we’re going… I still want to go there with you. Alright?”

“Alright.”

[jupiterleaps]

Complete Febuwhump Masterlist

Complete series list on AO3 here; individual fic links under the cut.

Day One: Helpless

our share of night cw: sexual assault, medical examination, kidnapping, attempted murder

Day Two: Solitary Confinement

the first of many cw: imprisonment, torture, ptsd, anxiety attacks

Day Three: "Bite down on this."

texture cw: food texture issues, ableism, bullying (sort of)

Day Four: Obedience

consolation, cw: kinky stuff, some d/s & roleplaying

Day Five: Rope Burns

here a mist, and there a mist, cw: aftermath of rape

Day Six: "You lied to me."

like a flipped switch, cw: child abuse

Day Seven: Suffering in Silence

many happy returns, cw: offscreen canonical minor character death

Day Eight: "Why won't it stop?"

the sound of drums

Day Nine: Immortality (alternate prompt) (Fic based on the 'Bees' prompt to come later, because I ran out of time)

once more, with feeling

Day Ten: Killing in Self-Defense

first, do no harm

Day Eleven: Time Loop

second verse same as the first, cw: child abuse

Day Twelve: Semi-Conscious

the bubble, cw: aftermath of rape, ptsd

Day Thirteen: "You weren't supposed to get hurt."

17 Scenes on a Pull-out Couch, cw: aftermath of rape, canonical minor character death, ptsd, anxiety, flashbacks, dissociation

Day Fourteen: Blood-stained Tiles

and dandy

Day Fifteen: "Who did this to you?"

an easy answer, cw: torture

Day Sixteen: Came Back Wrong

In Which Ianto Rescues a Helpless Victim

Day Seventeen: Hostage Situation

Unethical Hostage Maneuvers for Fun and Profit

Day Eighteen: Too Weak to Move

live and learn and lie in bed

Day Nineteen "Please don't."

knowing, cw: past canonical minor character death, pregnancy

Day Twenty: Truth Serum

In Vino Veritas

Day Twenty-One: Unresponsive

Third Wheeling, cw: aftermath of rape, ptsd, dissociation

Day Twenty-Two: "You weren't meant to be there."

A Very Torchwood Welcome

Day Twenty-Three: Human Weapon (alternate prompt)

trudging along, cw: aftermath of rape, ptsd, panic attack/anxiety

Day Twenty-Four: "I'm doing this because I care about you."

Interlude: I'm Doing This Because I Care About You, cw: aftermath of rape, trauma

Day Twenty-Five: CPR (alternate prompt)

unfinished business

Day Twenty-Six: "Help them."

priorities

Day Twenty-Seven: Left for Dead

Left for Dead, Right for an Unpleasant Stroll

Day Twenty-Eight: "No...not like this."

the fork in the road, cw: torture

Day Twenty-Nine: Not Allowed to Die

promises you can't keep still count, cw: pregnancy

[fastcardotmp3]

"You did die,” Robin clutches at Chrissy's arms around her tight, “you died and I watched and then I watched again and I watched again and again and it never stopped, you just kept breaking apart in front of me and I was never supposed to have seen that, we didn't even know each other when we were seventeen—” A sharp stabbing, the drip of blood, the startled inhale through Chrissy's own lungs at the emptiness of her lap and the slashes in her arms as though from talons appearing out of thin air. » Chronance // Rated M // Non-Linear Narrative // 2.1k » podfic & cover art by the illustrious @n0connections » Febuwhump #5: Time Loop & Semi-Conscious » Febuwhump Masterlist

read (and listen) on ao3 // preview under the cut

The world is warm around her and Chrissy Cunningham can't open her eyes. 

“Do you ever feel like you're losing your mind?”

“Only every day of my life.” 

She can't drag them open but the soft of fabric against her skin doesn't match the cut of breeze she knows is present here in these woods on this day in March. 

To be where she is and feel what she's feeling doesn't make sense, but then again nothing does on this day. 

She sees a clock embedded in a tree, hears the gong as she walks home from school. She hugs her father when he tells her to be home by eleven and she kisses a pretty girl behind the bleachers before the basketball game. 

Her father tells her to be home by eleven and she kisses Jason Carver behind the bleachers before the basketball game. 

The rumble of Eddie's van rings in her ears, but she can't open her eyes all the way. A dark vignette creeps into her vision, blocking out the details in the corners and making it difficult to focus and she waits until Eddie's back is turned as he opens his door to make eye contact with blue eyes and freckles perched on Max Mayfield's porch across the way. 

She watches Eddie's hands unlock the door to his trailer. 

She doesn't say goodbye to her mother. She's meant to be home by eleven and she kissed Nancy Wheeler behind the bleachers before the basketball game. 

“How long does it take? The Special K?” 

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks her. She can't open her eyes all of the way. His voice sounds different. “You're not supposed to be here.” 

“Do you ever feel like you're losing your mind?” 

“Only every day of my life,” he smiles. The chill of March wind never hits.

[apollo-likes-writing]

Febuwhump Masterlist!

This year I've taken part in Febuwhump 2024. Below are the ones I'm doing/have done!

Status: Ongoing/Finished

Day one: Helpless - Superman (DC) - COMPLETED

Day two: Solitary Confinement - John Price (COD) - COMPLETED

Day three: "Bite down on this." - Jason Todd (DC) - COMPLETED

Day four: Obedience - Obi-wan Kenobi (Star Wars) - COMPLETED

Day five: Rope Burns - COMPLETED

Day six: "You lied to me." - Din Djarin and Grogu - COMPLETED

Day seven: Suffering in Silence - IN PROGRESS

Day eight: "Why won't it stop?" - NOT STARTED

Day nine: Found footage. (substitution for "Bees" prompt) - NOT STARTED

Day ten: Killing in self defense - NOT STARTED

Day eleven: Last man standing (substituted from "Time Loop") - NOT STARTED

Day twelve: Semi-conscious - NOT STARTED

Day thirteen: "You weren't supposed to get hurt." - NOT STARTED

Day fourteen: Blood-stained tiles - NOT STARTED

Day fifteen: "Who did this to you?" - NOT STARTED

Day sixteen: Came back wrong - NOT STARTED

Day seventeen: Hostage situation - NOT STARTED

Day eighteen: Too weak to move - NOT STARTED

Day nineteen: "Please don't." - NOT STARTED

Day twenty: Truth serum - NOT STARTED

Day twenty-one: Unresponsive - NOT STARTED

Day twenty-two: "You weren't meant to be there." - NOT STARTED

Day twenty-three: Presumed dead - NOT STARTED

Day twenty-four: "I'm doing this because I care about you." - NOT STARTED

Day twenty-five: Waterboarding - NOT STARTED

Day twenty-six: "Help them." - NOT STARTED

Day twenty-seven: Left for dead - NOT STARTED

Day twenty-eight: "No... Not like this." - NOT STARTED

Day twenty-nine: Not allowed to die - NOT STARTED