#febuwhump day twenty-five

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: day twenty-five

Prompt — waterboarding ( @febuwhump prompts)

PLEASE BE WARNED THAT THIS SNIPPET IS VERY GRAPHIC, VERY TRIGGERING FOR CHOKING, SUFFOCATING AND GENERALLY VERY DARK!

TW: waterboarding (VERY DETAILED) interrogation, team Whump, leader whumpee, interrogator Whumper, nonchalant torturer, traumatic event, suffocating, choking, gagging, vomiting, spewing, dissociation

PLEASE AGAIN READ THE TAGS MIND THE WARNINGS

Henchmen led Whumper down into the basement where they held the Hero team. Whumper followed, hands in the pockets of their black combats, eyes skimming the cold stone walls as they waited for Henchmen to open the door.

“Supervillain said they refuse to talk,” said Henchmen to Whumper, looking back over their shoulder at them and frowning. “Said you’re the best interrogator in the city.”

“Yeah?” Whumper asked, tilting their head, tone bored. “High praise from Supervillain.”

“You don’t look like a good interrogator.”

Whumper let out a small hmph of a laugh which Henchmen went pale at. “I— I mean, it’s just— you’re young. You look younger than me.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” said Whumper with a shrug, half lidded eyes on Henchmen and the door. “I get paid hourly, so if you want Supervillain to pay me more, which I would appreciate—”

Henchmen shook their head and turned their attention back to the lock. “Right sorry.”

Whumper leaned their back against the wall and repressed a sigh. They weren’t a very patient person, which probably came with the job description but how many times had they had this same conversation with other employers.

The lock finally clicked and Whumper pushed off the wall, grabbing the door as they passed Henchmen. They met Henchmen’s eyes, looking up at them with the same blank expression they usually wore.

“Listen, henchmen, it gets pretty bleak when I’m interrogating. You sure you can stomach it?”

Henchmen nodded, though their face expressed their hesitance. “Supervillain said I had to accompany you.”

Whumper blinked, then glanced back at the stairs up to Supervillain’s house before sighing.

“Fine. If you want to impress him so damn much.”

Henchmen blushed, flustered. “I— I—”

Whumper was already walking down the stairs to the Hero team, ignored Henchmen’s embarrassment.

“You coming or what, sycophant?”

“Uh, yes!” Henchmen said and closed the door after them.

Whumper stood at the gate of the powered cell, frowning at the Hero team inside. Their eyes passed over each of them, Whumper knew some of them from the news. Especially the tallest one, Leader. One look at them and Whumper knew they wouldn’t talk if Whumper broke every bone in their body. The rest of them… well, Whumper had more faith in their own talents than the other member’s resilience.

Whumper’s eyes landed on a familiar face sitting furthest from the door, their lips twitching as they met Rogue’s eyes from across the room. Henchmen was getting to work opening the gate when Rogue spoke.

“Whumper?” Rogue asked, their voice a mix of confusion and fear. The rattle of chains as Rogue shifted forwards in the dimly lit cell, squinting.

“Hey, Rogue. Funny meeting like this, huh? How have you been?”

“Good,” said Rogue in that same guarded tone.

“Rogue?” Leader asked. “Who is this?”

“An old friend,” said Rogue, swallowing, their eyes going back to Whumper as Henchmen opened the gate and Whumper stepped through. “We grew up in the same neighbourhood.”

“Mmm,” Whumper hummed fondly. “In the Grouts of the city, eh, Rogue? How’s your mum?”

“She’s good.”

Whumper smiled. “Good, good. Tell her I say hi. She’s a lovely woman.”

“I will.”

“Good to see you, I hope you know this is all just business,” Whumper said gesturing to the cell and themselves with their hand.

“You don’t have to hurt us.”

Whumper’s smile melted from their face, eyebrows raising. “Oh? Your team are all loose lips, huh? You’ll just tell me about Superhero and his secret weapon?”

Rogue went quiet, so did the rest of the cell. A humourless smile crept onto Whumper’s face. “Yeah… I didn’t think this job would be that easy.”

“What do you want?” Leader asked. Whumper flicked their gaze to Leader who was on his knees, hands cuffed to a ring in the wall behind him like the rest of the Hero team. Yikes, what kind of sicko was Supervillain to have metal rings embedded in stone? Whumper supposed it didn’t matter.

“I want to get paid,” said Whumper, stretching their arms above their head. “Ugh, then I want to go home and watch TV. That sound good to you, heroes?”

“I think he meant… like what do you want with them,” said Henchmen quietly to Whumper. Whumper frowned and made a verbal “huh!” in exclamation.

“I just told them,” said Whumper. “Supervillain wants information on Superhero’s secret weapon, I’m here to get that information and get paid.”

Leader curled his lip back into a snarl. “Good luck with that.”

Whumper shrugged. “Thank you, Leader. However I am a professional, I don’t need luck. I’m trained to get stoic people chatty.”

“You really think Supervillain hasn’t tried? Torturing us, depriving us of food and water? Leaving us down here to starve and then when that didn’t work going back to torturing us? We’re built to endure,” said Leader with a mirthless smirk. “We don’t break.”

Whumper nodded. “Okay. We can do this the hard way then.”

Whumper turned to henchmen and asked them to grab a cloth and a hose to attach to the tap. “Oh, and a chair, please, henchmen.”

Henchmen left the room, their footsteps ascending was the only sound permeating the cell. Whumper walked over to the girl sitting directly opposite Leader. The only person on the Hero team that Whumper didn’t recognise. Maybe a new recruit? Leader lurched forward, but Whumper just cocked an eyebrow at Leader.

“What’s your name?” Whumper asked her. “This isn’t the interrogation yet, don’t worry. You don’t have to tell me. Just trying to diffuse the tension.”

Whumper looked at Rogue who kept their eyes trained on Whumper. “How long have ye been down here?”

“A while,” Rogue told them with a huff.

Whumper nodded. “Supervillain really starve all of you?”

“Yeah,” said Rogue, a little sheepishly.

“Nothing you’re not used to,” said Whumper with a little laugh. Rogue joined in, although a bit awkwardly. Whumper’s eyes scanned the other people in the room who looked a bit dazed at the flyaway comment. Then they reclined their head against the wall. “Oh. Sorry. You never told them.”

“It’s okay,” said Rogue with a shrug. “They were bound to find out eventually.”

Whumper nodded again. Then let out a sigh. “You don’t want to tell me Superhero’s plan, do you? Save you all some suffering.”

Rogue laughed. “Not a chance.”

“Well, god loves a trier.”

The door to the basement creaked open and Henchmen came down the stairs and left all the things Whumper asked for at the front of the cell, near the gate. “Ah. Wonderful. Thank you henchmen.”

Whumper stood in front of the team of heroes and cleared their throat while Henchmen attached the hose to the leaky tap.

“Okay. For my first trick, I need a volunteer. Leader?” Whumper asked with a smile. Leader scoffed but nodded. “Sure.”

“Excellent.”

Henchmen freed Leader from the wall, the cuffs staying on and led Leader over to chair that Whumper stood at.

“Sit down,” said Whumper. Leader obliged them, and Whumper grabbed Leader’s arms and brought them up over the back of the chair. It was all very gentle, very professional, as if Whumper wasn’t trying to hurt Leader. It sent warning bells off in Leader’s head, but all he could do was follow along with what Whumper was doing.

Henchmen handed Whumper another pair of handcuffs and Whumper thanked them. Whumper attached one of the cuffs to Leader’s cuff chain, and the other to the chair so Leader couldn’t move his hands away.

“Henchmen will you get the legs?”

“Of course.”

Before long Leader’s ankles were cuffed to the chair as well and Leader couldn’t get up from the seat.

“Alright, people. Last chance.”

“Do you worst.”

Whumper smiled. Then they tipped Leader’s chair back. Leader let out a soft oomph as the chair fell back the rest of the way until Leader was facing the ceiling, Whumper and Henchmen standing above him.

The last thing Leader saw was a towel coming down over his head. Leader would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared of what happened next. None of Supervillain’s men had taken his sight, or tied him to a chair just to force him awkwardly onto the ground. The top of his head was the only thing on the ground, that and his arms that were pinned beneath Leader’s weight on the chair, his legs in the air.

Another towel added to the initial one on top of Leader’s head, then another and Leader could feel his heart in his throat when he heard tape being ripped. The towels were wrapped in a single layer of duct tape over Leader’s eyes and another layer below his chin.

Leader swallowed, his hands balling into fists behind him that was already causing pins and needles in his arms.

There was a moment of silence: the atmosphere balanced on a precarious edge of fear and tension. Whumper nodded at henchmen to turn on the tap and picked up the hose.

“Any takers?” Whumper asked again. They weren’t usually this nice to the people they were torturing, but Rogue was an old friend. “No? Okay. Sorry Leader.”

That was all the warning Leader got before he was inhaling water. It was slow, trickling into his nose and Leader realised with a sickening beat that Whumper was water boarding him.

Leader held his breath on instinct, shaking his head, his arms trapped uselessly behind him. His legs were kicking at the cuffs that kept them locked to the chair.

“Leader?!” One of their team asked, voice shrill. Leader couldn’t tell who, and his lungs were aching with how much he was struggling to get the towels off his face, turning away from the hose that was relentless.

“Leader!”

“Wait! Stop! Stop!”

Whumper stared impassively at all the team members, eyes half-lidded, one hand in their pocket as they regarded them all as if they were all just waiting in line for a coffee.

“You can stop this,” said Whumper matter-of-factly.

One of the members beside Rogue spoke up: “Leader wouldn’t want us to.”

Whumper dropped their head, a sardonic expression crossing their features. “Are you serious? Do you really think Leader is thinking about his ideals right now?”

Leader gasped, unable to hold his breath anymore and he started gagging on the air, gurgling water and retching, his body spasming and limbs pulling at the restraints. Whumper didn’t even blink at the change.

“The instinct when being water boarded,” Whumper began, “is to hold your breath. Which Leader here just learned is a bad idea because eventually your lungs want air.”

“Whumper,” Rogue said in warning, yanking at the chains holding them back.

Whumper’s impassive eyes met Rogue’s. “Leader’s body needs air, except he was inhaling water which triggers his gag reflex and is effectively scorching his throat as we speak.”

“Stop it!” One of the members cried. “Stop narrating your torture!”

Whumper shrugged. “Fine. We can sit in silence if you prefer.”

Whumper did just that. They fell silent and so did everyone else. Leader was choking, convulsing, fighting, gasping, all very wetly, the water pooling around Leader’s head as his body tensed. Leader pushed against the chair, his body going stiff as he tried to tilt the chair back up to stop the easy onslaught of pain.

His brain was screaming at him, his body fighting and not understanding that he should stop trying to breathe but his mind wouldn’t let him stop panicking enough to let him hold his breath.

Leader threw his body weight into his legs forward and to his shock the chair went upright. Then Whumper caught the chair and Leader gasped in sweet sweet air, gasping, gasping, not getting enough air and started choking and spluttering on it.

“You had enough Leader?” Whumper asked, their voice matching their face that was a cold, emotionless thing.

Leader was still breathing in air, trying to get his heartbeat under control, drunk on oxygen.

“Leader?” One of the team asked.

“No… don’t—” Leader rasped, then descended into a coughing fit. “Don’t tell them anything.”

“Oh,” said Whumper, letting the chair fall backwards again. “Sounds like you got a bad cough there Leader. You need some water?”

“No! Wait!” Leader protested.

Whumper let the hose fall over Leader’s face again, and Leader held his breath again like an idiot. Whumper stared down at Leader’s chest, wired so tight, trying not to let drowning bother him.

Whumper looked back at the other members of the team. “This is the easiest way to get answers from people, in my professional opinion. Plus it’s not disgusting, no lasting damage on Leader or you guys, except you know, trauma and psychological damage, but you know what I mean.”

Four horrified expressions looked at Whumper. Whumper glanced back to Henchmen who stood at the tap, their jaw tight.

Whumper knew it was a professional, practical reason why they didn’t really react to inflicting pain on people, but at times like this, when even Supervillain’s right hand was uncomfortable with Whumper’s methods… that made them feel inhuman. Wrong.

Whumper’s eyes found Rogue’s that were burning into them from across the cell. Strangely, they were the only eyes that Whumper really cared about. So funny how the past can creep up on you.

Well, a job is a job at the end of the day, Whumper might as well do one that they’re good at. The people in this room were Heroes because it was their talent. Whumper’s talent was pressure point and pain, and knowing just how far to go to get someone to snap.

Leader gasped below Whumper, bringing their attention back to the writhing worm on a hook below them. “Ah. There we go. The inhale. Human anatomy fucks you everytime, huh, Leader?”

“You’re a sadistic bastard!” One of the team members screamed.

Whumper frowned. “I don’t enjoy this. It’s just a job. Same as you Heroes, and your Superhero. Ask yourself this, if Leader was in your position and you were in his, would he protect you or would he protect Superhero?”

“You’re a bastard!”

Leader wheezed, trying to push himself up again, but Whumper had placed a foot on the chair by Leader’s head. “Ah, ah, ah. Leader. You’re not breathing again until someone starts talking.”

Leader convulsed erratically under the water, trying to lift his head up to try and get some air in his lungs. He craned his neck up, but the air attacked his senses and Leader gasped and fell back again. The hose mercilessly flowed over his nose again.

Whumper looked up suddenly. “Hey, do any of you know if Leader has asthma? Cause if so you need to decide faster, this is not a good thing to do to people who are asthmatic.”

“And it’s a good thing for normal people?” One of them asked and Whumper scoffed.

“Semantics,” they said.

“We have to tell them,” said Rogue quietly.

“What?!”

“We can’t Rogue.”

“Listen,” Rogue said, their voice edging on desperate. “I know Whumper, okay?! They’re not going to stop until they get what they want. They can sit here all day and torture Leader and not feel a thing.”

“Rogue’s right,” said Whumper with a sigh. “I get paid by the hour, so really this whole debate back and forth is good for me. Financially I mean. Take your time. Leader, do you mind if they take their time?”

Leader gurgled and choked and spluttered.

Whumper smiled at the team. “See? He’s fine. Take your time.”

“Oh shut up, Whumper,” said the quiet girl. Whumper looked at her, the new one that sat opposite Leader and wouldn’t offer her name. When she looked at Whumper now her eyes burned with a sizzling hatred.

Whumper smiled at her, recognising that level of hatred as their own. Whumper remembers being where she was, powerless to stop bad things from happening to the people they loved.

It felt full circle, that moment, and it ignited something within Whumper that was a little feral, and broken, and wrong. Whumper’s eyes flashed at her, whose glare was unbroken and burning a hole through Whumper’s head, or it would if it could.

Below them, Leader was still spluttering and choking and gagging and wrenching and writhing but Whumper’s attention was fixed on the new girl now.

“Huh. You’re chatty now? Wanna share your name?”

“No,” she said. “I want you to die.”

“Thats a little forward, considering we’ve just met,” said Whumper, glancing at Rogue, whose wide eyes were fixed squarely on the girl. “They always like this, Rogue? Little rude for a Hero.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I don’t give a fuck what you think of me.”

Whumper hummed to themselves. They moved the hose away from Leader’s head and smiled wanly at the sounds of Leader gasping and coughing on air again.

“Still with us, Leader?” Whumper asked, not taking their eyes off of the angry girl.

“Go… go ffu—urself,” Leader wheezed between laboured breaths.

“Waterboarding is special, huh, Leader? You need breaks in between or it’s not as effective.”

“You—”

Whumper pressed the hose back to Leader and Leader immediately started coughing. Whumper smiled at the girl whose jaw tightened at Whumper’s blasé style of interrogation.

Whumper took the hose off of Leader again, to more coughing and spluttering.

“How’s the cough, Leader?”

“Ff—” Leader didn’t even get a syllable out before Whumper pressed the hose down on his nose again.

“Leader!” One of the other teammates exclaimed, but Whumper had their gaze trained on the girl. Watching her muscles tightening.

Whumper smirked.

Oh they just found the weak link. Maybe they had a special relationship with Leader.

Whumper told Henchmen to turn the tap off and dropped the hose to the floor. Things just got interesting.

“You can put Leader upright,” said Whumper to Henchmen as they walked to the angry girl. Whumper crouched down in front of her. She glared up at Whumper.

“Whumper,” said Rogue in warning. Whumper smiled down at the girl and said: “Rogue, if you try and dissuade me again I will have Henchmen gag you.”

The girl’s eyes flicked briefly to Leader who was pushed to an upright position. Leader spewed some water from his lungs onto the floor in front of him, head lolling forward and groaning.

“What’s your name, little Hero?” Whumper asked.

“Little Hero,” she replied, eyes hard as she stared at Whumper.

Whumper grinned. “Funny.”

Whumper got to their feet and walked over to Leader, purposefully. They ripped the towels from Leader’s head and grabbed one, coiling it meticulously into a shape resembling coiled rope. Then Whumper shoved it between Leader’s teeth, thankful that the towel was long enough to tie it behind Leader’s head and double knot it.

Leader groaned behind the gag.

“Okay,” said Whumper. “Because you all seem like good guys, I’m giving you a bonus last chance to tell me what I want to know before I really traumatise you all.”

Leader wasn’t even really there behind the eyes anymore, just trying to focus on breathing, on surviving. He wasn’t even pulling at the cuffs anymore.

“How can he answer?!” Rogue demanded hotly. “You just gagged Leader!”

Whumper’s smile seemed to suck all the coldness from the room. “I’m not asking him questions, Rogue. I’m asking all of you. Now then. We go again.”

This time, Whumper left the chair upright and just yanked Leader’s head back. Then Whumper grabbed the hose and grinned at everyone.

He stuck it on Leader’s nose. After a few seconds it was as if Leader was being electrocuted, his body convulsing violently against the chair to the cries of his teammates.

“Stop!”

“Stop it!”

“WHUMPER!” Rogue screamed, all of them struggling and pulling on their restraints. Whumper didn’t react. They didn’t even look at any of them.

“Stop please!” One of them cried wetly, oh yeah. Good. Tears meant they were almost there. On the verge of telling Whumper what they wanted to hear.

Leader’s hands and ankles were bleeding from how hard he was pulling and straining at the cuffs. Whumper had to commend the team, they don’t think they could withstand seeing someone they love and trust being tortured like this.

“THE WEAPON IS A PERSON!” Whumper pulled the hose away immediately, head swivelling to the confessor. Whumper grinned when they saw it was the little Hero. Oh, Whumper knew she would snap first.

Whumper smiled sweetly while Leader coughed and vomited water from his lungs pathetically. Whumper pulled the gag from Leader’s mouth and more water pooled out, Leader’s throat expanding and vomiting water onto the ground. Well, Whumper wouldn’t be a good interrogator if they let their leverage die.

“Who?” Whumper asked softly.

The entire team was shivering, chests heaving, emotion running heavy through them, as if they were all getting water boarded. Hero’s wide eyes were on Leader who had appeared to go unconscious. Whumper didn’t care.

“Who?” They asked again, more firm this time.

“Let him go.”

“Tell me who or I’ll slit his throat right now, Hero.”

Hero pursed her lips at Whumper, eyes burning.

“Oh,” Whumper said, glancing between Hero and Leader. “Oh… you’re not in love with him, are you? No. That wasn’t loving forlorn glances that was… that was guilt, wasn’t it?”

“Whumper please—” Rogue begged but Whumper held up a hand that effectively silenced them. Hero sniffed, eyes glued on Leader in the chair.

Whumper smiled. “Oh Supervillain is gonna laugh when he realises he had Superhero’s secret weapon locked in the basement this whole time.”

“Henchmen, will you be a dear and check Leader’s pulse for me?”

There was a few seconds of silence, the team waiting with bated breath that turned into a collective sigh when Henchmen said: “still alive.”

“Wonderful,” said Whumper. “We need to bring him upstairs with us—”

“No!” Hero yelled, struggling against her own restraints. “Leave him alone! It’s me you want, take me,” she pleaded, tears streaming freely down her face.

“To make sure he’s okay,” said Whumper pointedly. “When waterboarding goes wrong sometimes people get hypothermia, so we have to be careful. But don’t worry, Hero. You’re coming too.”

[fanfictasia]

Febuwhump Day 25

Alt. Experimentation

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from The Chosen Twins

Aniya Skywalker

Well, it sure was considerate of Plagueis to drug us before he started this time. Except not really, because I’m still conscious, even if everything feels a bit distant and hazed over. Mostly, I think that’s because he’s intentionally trying to dampen our Force abilities, and I don’t have a good feeling about why.

All I do know is that I can still feel Anakin, even if I’m too exhausted to try looking across the room to see him right now. And I sense a sudden flare of blinding pain from him. I’m not surprised, either, when he lashes out with the Force despite being… well, that’s why he did it, isn’t it?

I need to clear this from mind, somehow, and fast, before he keeps hurting Anakin. Because he is. I can feel it. I don’t even know what he’s doing. And yes, I know this is just another one of his experiments, but Sidious warned us that it might be… dangerous. He told us that he thought this might go badly, and I…

I have to help my brother. I don’t understand what’s happening, but I can feel the pain aching through my own body, and its steadily growing sharper. And even the Force itself is screaming in protest. That, I think, is what hurts most of all. I’ve always known better than to lash out at Plagueis, but this once, I don’t even care. “What are you doing to him?” I yell. He doesn’t even answer me, of course. He doesn’t see us as people. We’re just his special, little lab rats.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Febuwhump - Day 1

Pairing: Dean x reader

Prompt: Helpless

Warnings: language, kidnapped

________

You were a damn good hunter. An amazing hunter. The number of times you’d been in bad situations was countless. But it was so rare to be…helpless. It made your skin crawl, sent shivers down your spine. 

There was something about being trapped with no hope for escape on your own that made you want to scream.

Demons didn’t scare you but twenty of them? Twenty high-ranking demons where no less than five had their black eyes on you at any given time? 

You had no choice but to sit on the hard cold concrete and pray Dean could come up with some way to save you. 

“Your little boyfriend wants to talk to you,” said the head demon, strolling in the room with an annoyingly stupid smirk. You narrowed your eyes, catching the phone when he tossed it over.

“Dean?” you asked, a breath being let out on the other end.

“Are you okay? Where are you?” he asked, the demon slowly stalking over and staring down at you.

“I’m fine. I-I don’t know where,” you said, the demon crouching down now, much too close for your liking.

“Can you get out?” he asked quietly.

“No.” 

“Shit,” he mumbled, noise in the background. “He wants us to do something for him. He says he’ll give you back if we do but you know he’s probably lying. There’s no chance of you making a break for it?”

“There’s too many,” you said, looking at your lap so you wouldn’t have to face the demon. “What do you-”

“It doesn’t matter. Just do what they say unless you think you can make it out but not unless you’re sure. Y/N…the things he said they’d do…hell wasn’t even that bad.”

“Find me then,” you said, jerking back when the demon stole the phone away. He grinned, holding it up to his ear.

“I take it we have a deal?” he asked. “Perfect. You know what I want. Contact me when you have it.”

You glared as he stood up, cocking his head at you.

“He sounds pissed but at least he’s not a complete idiot. Now be good and stay put. We wouldn’t want to find out what happens when you piss me off.”

With that he left, leaving you stuck in a room with twenty demons, every single one of them poised to rip you apart if you so much as moved wrong.

“Please hurry, Dean.”

_______

[bilightningwhumper]

Belonging to Nightmares

-A "12 Dancing Princesses" inspired story-

Rating:

Mature (with some Explicit scenes throughout)

Summary:

Thirty years ago, the wife of the king's favored scientist passed away, taking their unborn child with her. Twenty-five years ago, twelve girls were made and born to the scientist, both in honor and the image of his beloved wife. Nearby, another girl was born, but she was unimportant, unworthy of note by any other than her adoptive parents in celebration of the grand miracle. Now, in the present day, our story starts five days after the scientist's death. Only one daughter, Minna, the one their father kept closest, does not grieve him. Neither does she grieve the loss of freedom taken from her sisters and her. She barely grieves in any way. After all, she does not feel. Not like her friends and sisters do. But she does love, she thinks. And that love is what keeps her going. And so, her fate is sealed. She is the protector of her family. Hidden away in the dark walls of the castle, Kyrie fights to change her fate. After her family's slaughter, she is now a concubine for the king. A king who is unpredictable, ever-changing in what she and others can do to please him. But please him she must, so she can find a way to be with Minna again. Or die trying. All main characters 18+ unless I specify otherwise (ie, certain flashbacks).

MCs:

Minna Palore- Clone 3 of 12, autistic and semi-verbal through echolalia/reading (communicates mainly by writing/visuals) Kyrie Erinsky- Minna's best friend turned girlfriend/lover, adhd and hyperverbal

Basic Premise:

-Medieval with some modern/steampunk-esk twist; partially dystopian or post-apocalyptic in quality -F/F romance -MCs are female whumpees with various whumpers and various caretakers

Types of whump/general warnings:

-lab+medical whump -possessive+manipulation whump -familial whump -discrimination+ableism -nsfwhump (in moderation) -explicit lesbian smut/nsfw content (consensual) I do not condone Rape/Noncon irl. This is purely a way to vent and cope. Take care of yourselves!

(* for mature/18+ posts)

Character List (and mini lore dump)

MC Portraits for "Belonging to Nightmares"

Calendar for the story

Character List for "Belonging to Nightmares" prequel- "The First Ones"

Main Work:

(alternating PoVs; Minna first, Kyrie second, repeat)

Meet Minna

Meet Kyrie [tbd]

Minna- The First Two Years [tbd]

Kyrie- The First Two Years*

Meet the Sisters [tbd]

Flashbacks before Separation (chronological order; generally not spoilers)

Masterlists for bits and bobs:

Flashbacks set during "The First Two Years" (chronological order; mostly semi-spoilers)

Excerpts/Drabbles for The Main Story (chronological order, subject to change; generally spoilers)

Writing Events using these MCs:

Febuwhump 2025 [Planned daily postings 6pm EST]

Feveruary 2025 [Planned daily postings 6:30pm EST and 6:45pm EST]

Femslash February (using hollie47's prompts) 2025 [Planned daily postings 7pm EST]

Femme February 2025 [Planned daily postings 7:30pm EST]

Related answered asks:

Writeblr Library- Browsing: What's something your character is looking for? Will they ever find it? (answered with Minna)

Writeblr Bakery- Cake: How does your character celebrate? Could be for holidays, special events, or general celebration when they are excited/happy? (answered with both MCs)

Writeblr Gym- Stretches: What is your character's final goal? What are they reaching for? (answered with Kyrie)

ask game for teasing wips/upcoming projects- 🌪️Sum up a WIP with a few fic tropes/Ao3 tags

Mystery Question- Snowflake: What's something that your character is sensitive about? (answered with both MCs, as well as Sydney, Cyrus, and Dianna)

WIP ask game- about "The First Ones/The Old Ones" (the prequel story)

WIP ask game- about "Belonging to Nightmares"

Weather ask game- Snow: Who is your coldest / most stoic character and how do they express themselves (if at all)? (answered about Tanis)

Let me know if you want to be on the taglist, but no pressure, as always.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Febuwhump Day 1 Part 5

Touch-Starved – Crosshair - Fed up with Crosshair's dismissal of her help after a nearly disastrous escape, Doc finally snaps.

Warnings: Maybe light arachnophobia? Cursing, yelling, brief mention of injection

WC: 2,622

If not for the delicate sensors flashing across the overlay of my visor, I would have lost the others miles back, legs burning as I sprinted through the dense underbrush of the ancient forest. Fun. Yeah. I swear, next time a commanding officer called a mission either ‘fun’ or ‘simple’ or ‘easy’ I was going to strap the 70Ib medpack to their shoulders and let them see for themselves how fun it was to go racing through overgrown foliage so thick you could only hope it wasn’t concealing the massive trunk of one of those towering trees while being chased by dozens of ten-legged, very hostile carnivorous insects taller than Wrecker.

‘Scout the area for future outpost locations.’ ‘No known Separatist forces in that area, so should be an easy hike for you guys… have fun.’ That pompous old man better hope I didn’t stumble across him in a deserted hallway…

“Doc, eyes up!” Hunter’s voice barked over the com. I didn’t hesitate, body instantly responding by jerking both pistols toward the dark canopy. Those massive beasts blended in perfectly with the mess of bark and leaves, but my visor emphasized their movement and synced with sensors in the armor stretching down my arms and hands to guide my aim. From this distance, however, the handful of bolts that struck it from my rapid barrage of shots was only just enough to dissuade it from charging, sending the thing retreating to whatever web or hollow hid beyond that impenetrable layer of plant life to lick it’s wounds.  

Hunter and Wrecker were holding back the brunt of the assault behind us while Tech had raced ahead to ready the ship. Echo was somewhere near me, the ceaseless sound of his pistol the only thing granting me any certainty that I hadn’t strayed, and Crosshair laid in perfect stillness somewhere up ahead, blue bolts appearing like magic the instant one of those creatures got too close.

“There appears to be another wave incoming from the north. I suggest you hurry.” I briefly muted my com to release a violent string of curses on painfully quick, panted gasps even as I strained to force myself to move faster, hands training from one creature to the next at the relentless alerts chiming from my targeting system. In barely the span of a single heartbeat, I noted the glint of metal beneath one of those alerts, and my chest seized.

“Crosshair! Five o’clock!” The words tore from me in a panic. He was well beyond the range of my pistols; too far for any of us to do more than watch as he rolled hazardously over the branch he’d perched atop in an instinctual rush to avoid the sudden charge of the spider-like beast. The ancient tree shuddered beneath the assault, the terrible creaking of its moss-covered limb screaming over even the chaos of battle raging all around me.

“Crosshair!” Hunter’s voice boomed over the intercom just as the wood shattered. Even as he began to fall, Crosshair leveled the elegant barrel of his rifle at the creature and, with a single flash of light, sent it tumbling limp to the forest floor below. The instant he pulled the trigger, his hand darted out behind him, and I could only guess toward the desperation with which his fingers clawed into the sleek, moss-covered bark for any whisper of purchase. “There’s a vine twenty feet below you!”

The sniper barely glanced down before angling that lithe body against the massive trunk for whatever traction it might offer, rifle clasped carefully in one hand. The renewed frenzy driving me forward numbed the fire burning through abused muscle, diverting without a second thought from the path to the Marauder to sprint toward Crosshair, eyes locked on his rapid descent. I barely noticed the thin vine until his free hand snatch it midair, lower body arching forward like a pendulum for the half-second it held his weight. His mic just picked up the tiny hitch of his breath, and the rest of the forest went suddenly mute beneath it, beneath the fear in that flutter of air breaking over clenched teeth. Hand still locked around that traitorous vine, he began to fall.

Barely a dozen strides separated me from the base of the tree when his body suddenly snapped to a halt arm jerking above his head. I’d only just made out the loop of green caught around his wrist before his hand slipped free he crashed the final handful of meters to the ground.

Pistols already thrown into my holsters, I snatched the scanner from the side of my pack and slammed to my knees beside him. Before even coming to a full stop, my fingers darted out and slipped under his bucket to find the rapid dance of his pulse hammering just beneath his jaw as my other hand began the scan. Ignoring the listless flail of his arm trying to push me away, I maintained that position for just a few fleeting seconds, monitoring the rhythm while reading over the flashing text scrolling over my screen, trusting the others to cover us.

“‘M fine – get the kriff off me!” He snapped, movements gaining more strength as he finally wrenched my hand away. Beyond a sprained wrist and some bruising that would bring all manner of unsettling colors to his back, his armor seemed to save him from the worst of it. Ignoring the sharp words, I forced my arm beneath his shoulders and, with a surge of power fueled more by adrenaline than strength, hauled him up against me. He staggered beside me for barely a single stride before pushing away and racing forward on his own.

He said nothing as we ran, but I noted with painful clarity the way his right hand tucked slightly against his chest. Even if the damage was relatively minor, the pain was clearly severe enough to still even an attempt to use it. Cringing at the fresh hurt that surely tore through the limb with each stride, I tried to force my attention back to the encroaching wildlife, but the wave of fire from the others was finally beginning to allow us some breathing room.

“I want everyone strapped in now! Tech: we’re thirty seconds out.” Hunter ordered barely seconds before the top fin of the Marauder came into view. Nearly the instant my feet touched that ramp, we began to hover, and I had just enough time to throw myself into a crash seat, followed almost immediately by the others, before we were rocketing through the trees.

The quiet beneath five sets of heavy breathing offered frightfully little comfort, attention already turning to Crosshair. He glared blindly through the flooring beneath his feet, hand carefully limp inches above his thigh, jaw tensing beneath absent attempts to shift his fingers. As soon as the worst of the turbulence eased, I quickly freed myself from the mesh harness and trotted toward him.

“Try not to move it. Let me-” I started, already reaching for the swelling limb, but he quickly pulled away from me.

“I didn’t ask for your help!” He snarled, “You want to get all touchy-feely with the others, fine! But stay the kriff away from me!” For a brief moment, I was too shocked to reply, barely noting the grimace weighing heavily over Wrecker’s face, nor the annoyance in Echo’s glare as the man stalked quickly from the cabin.

“I’ll talk to him.” Hunter offered wearily, but that only fueled my rage.

“Don’t you dare.” The quiet threat in my words instantly drew his attention. Eyes shifting between me and the retreating form of his brother, his brow slowly raised in something between sympathy and skepticism. I merely narrowed my eyes before throwing my pack down and starting quickly after the sharp-tongued sniper. As soon as Crosshair saw me storm into the bunk room after him, that glare hardened into something dangerous, lips twisting into a snarl.

“No! You’re going to shut that karking mouth and listen to me!” I barked in the split second before he could unleash whatever retort boiled over his tongue.

“Or what? You’ll make me?” He challenged, shoulders rolling back as his head tipped forward, looking at me with those sharp eyes.

“Oh, grow up!” I spat, stalking forward until barely an inch lay between us. “You want to act all better-off-alone? Fine! You want to insult me and push me away? Kriffing go for it! But you have exactly three options right now!” Despite the fleeting space, I brought a hand up to count off, “Keep up this damn tough-guy osik, and I put you on med-leave until that wrist heals on its own.” I held up a second finger, “You walk into medbay and take a very painful bacta injection between your scaphoid and trapezium carpal bones.” My voice lowered only slightly into a growl as I raised the third, “Or sit your shebs on that karking cot, and let me do my job.”

He offered no retort to that, fury burning in those brilliant eyes as he stared me down, but I didn’t move, unflinching beneath the intensity of his rage. How long did he stand there, mind working for some alternative; any excuse to ignore me, to prove me wrong, before, finally, his teeth clicked from the way his jaw ground, gaze sliding reluctantly to the wall just behind me. Shoulders painfully taut, he sat heavily on the bed beside us. I’d apologize to Hunter later, but his was the easiest to access at that moment.

I didn’t try to catch his gaze as I kneeled before him, once more reaching for his hand. I just caught the way his lips pulled into a slight grimace at that first contact, muscles tensing beneath the instinctual drive to pull away; to flee, but he forced himself still. Without a word, I pulled the vambrace from his forearm before carefully beginning to ease the glove free. I could feel the slight twitch steal through his arm, but, again, he fought it.

Already, the joint looked painfully inflamed. I didn’t bother requesting he focus on his breathing or offer quiet conversation to distract him as my thumbs swept lightly in tandem along his palm both to trail over each bone in search of any hidden soreness as well as to begin pushing the swelling out of the angry tissue. I could feel his gaze carefully trained on me, eyes following my every movement with a violent distrust that robbed me of my earlier rage.

Pointedly ignoring the heat burring into me from his glare, I merely focused on my own movements, softly testing the sensitivity of the apex of the sprain and surrounding tissue to map out what I had to work with. Touch dragging back to the tips of those long fingers, I carded my fingers around each digit in turn. With a meticulous calm, I dragged the heel of my palm up his, swept the pad of my thumbs along the lines of tendons and over the ridges of bone until some whisper of that tension began to ease.

I was careful not to risk looking at him fully, but managed to catch a brief glimpse of him as my touch roamed delicately over his wrist before working into the lean muscles of his forearm. That rage was beginning to fall away, something so near to fascination just touching those eyes that left me holding my breath. This wouldn’t fix the sprain; not really, but the simple act of pushing the swelling from the injured tissue would greatly help with the pain and quicken its healing. In conjunction with the bacta patches stashed in one of the pouches lashed to my waist, I was hopeful that he would be nearly back to normal before reaching Kamino.

As I began dragging long, leisurely movements from the tips of fingers carefully supported against mine, up his palm, touch growing delicate over the swelling mound around his wrist, before firmly sweeping up the length of his forearm, he finally began to lose himself, eyes drooping as his head gradually sank lower toward his chest with each laxed breath.

I felt my movements slowing, reluctant to let him go for fear of never being allowed this moment of stillness with him again. Selfishly, I found myself returning to already blissfully limp muscles, working over each joint just once more, granting myself endless excuses to warrant a half dozen final adjustments before, with a slow, reluctant breath, reaching for the kit at my waist.

Only a whisper of that tension returned to him, eyes following me almost lazily before quieting upon seeing the basic madpack, and I tried to justify that quiet in the gentleness of my movements as I carefully secured the bactapatch against his wrist with meticulously applied bandages. I didn’t pull away from him once I’d finished, hesitating a moment before finally letting my eyes find his. That stillness lingered for a long while as he passively took in the gratitude burning through me, the silent plea screaming beneath my certainty that, the instant either of us moved or spoke or simply remembered the existence of a reality beyond this room, this moment of trust would vanish.

My arm seemed to move on its own, carefully resting his bandaged hand atop his thigh before just beginning to reach for his other one, palm held open in a quiet invitation as I let just the faintest glimmer of hope touch my gaze. He glanced briefly to my open hand, mind slowly returning to some level of awareness, and I felt that cold flush of defeat wash through me as his eyes shifted pointedly away, brows just tensing before his jaw clicked shut.

Without a word, he quickly pushed himself to his feet and stalked passed me. My hands sank back to my thighs, body deflating beneath the blanket rejection as the unapologetic hiss of the door closed behind him, leaving me too aware of the isolation that left me in. Fighting back the threat of guilt and regret at the harshness of my earlier words, I resigned myself to continued dismissal from the final member of this squad I was still trying to embrace as mine and thoughtlessly reached for the discarded wrappers around me from the used medkit.

Just as I’d begun calling some bit of motion back into my limbs, ready to finally force myself to my feet, the door opened once more. Expecting a kind word of sympathy from Echo or quiet reassurance from Hunter, I didn’t bother turning to look, unwilling to let them see the lingering hint of sadness I hadn’t yet managed to force back. The shock that tore through me when Crosshair dropped heavily back onto the cot, pinched glare turned pointedly to the far end of the room as he nearly thrust his other hand toward me left me staggering, lips just parted in a tiny gasp.

If he heard the way my breath caught as I let out a long, barely controlled sigh before reaching almost reverently for the offered limb, he made no show of it. I couldn’t begin to force back the smile, the lightness that burst through me as I gently eased the gear from his arm, overcome in that flood of relief. I knew this didn’t mean he truly trusted me, nor even that he more than tolerated my presence, but it was a start, and, as the smooth motion of my hands working over his gradually lulled him back into that blissed calm, I let myself finally begin to feel some hope that, just maybe, I could find my place here.

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[autobot2001]

A Visit from Hannibal

Rating: E Warning: None Pairing: None Description: Jamie is sick with strep throat. Hannibal brings her soup.

Day 1: @feveruary: "How did you end up like this?" @febuwhump: Vocal cords @fluffyfebruary: At first sigh @fluffbruary: dark

Ao3 or under the cut.

Will Graham waits for Jamie to walk into his office like she does every morning. They’ve gotten into the routine of havcing offee together before tackling whatever they need to solve a murder case. He waits ten minutes before questioning where Jamie is. He calls her, but Jamie doesn’t answer. This worries the man. Will sends a text, relieved Jamie answers quickly until he reads it. Jamie: I’m not coming to work. Will: Heck, you have twenty-five vacation days. Jamie: Yeah, well. I was going to work today. Will: Why? Did a doctor advise you to stay home? Will wonders what Jamie could be sick with to result in her having to stay home? Will: What is it? Jamie: Strep throat. Will: That explains it. We can assume someone came to work when they shouldn’t have. At least you’re being responsible. Jamie: It’s bad. I’ve lost my voice. Can you tell Jack I’m not coming in today? Will: Sure.

Will informs Jack that Jamie won’t be coming in today and explains why. He then calls Hannibal. “Hello, Will,” Hannibal says. “What’s with the early phone call?” “I just found out Jamie is sick, and I’m hoping you’re not too busy today and can check on her,” Will explains. “I’m unable to until late afternoon.” Will tells Hannibal what Jamie has. Hannibal agrees to check on Jamie. The man is relieved not to have a busy schedule today.

Hannibal was still at home when Will called. He started preparing ingredients for a soup. He’d have to wait until he returned home to cook the chicken and make the soup. Hannibal went to his office after refrigerating the remaining ingredients.

A few hours pass. Using the spare key Jamie gave him, Hannibal enters Jamie’s house. He sets the pot of soup he carries on the kitchen counter and goes upstairs to Jamie’s room.

Hannibal walks into Jamie’s dark bedroom. He leaves the door open enough to provide light to see Jamie asleep in her bed. At first sight, she doesn’t look sick, but he knows she wouldn’t lie. He feels her forehead for a fever. Knowing it’s possible with strep. She has a mild fever. Hannibal thinks. He doesn’t want to wake Jamie but believes she hasn’t eaten all day. “Jamie? You need to wake up.” Hannibal says while gently shaking her shoulder. Jamie groans and shoves his hand away. Hannibal sighs and tries to wake Jamie until she wakes up. “Finally,” Hannibal says. “I made soup. I know you haven’t eaten all day. “Come on, or I’ll carry you,” Hannibal says. Jamie gets out of bed. Hannibal towers over her, “Go on. I want to get your thermometer.” Hannibal goes into the bathroom while Jamie goes downstairs.

Hannibal sees Jamie sitting at the table. He takes her temperature before getting her soup. “101°, a mild fever,” he says as he cleans the thermometer. “Some soup will help with your throat. How did you end up like this, anyway?” “Obviously, someone with strep went to work,” Jamie says, though it hurts to talk. Hannibal can hear how hoarse her voice is. “I see. At least you’re responsible enough to know to stay home.” Hannibal takes two bowls from the cabinet and fills them with soup. He then takes two spoons and sets the items on the table. “Eat, it’ll help.” The two eat in silence. Hannibal has already decided to check on Jamie as much as possible while she’s sick.

[em-writes-stuff]

"who did this to you?"

day 15 of @febuwhump

hero and villain

540 words

warnings: implied abuse

part two here

~

Villain lands one last blow to Hero’s chest and she collapses to the ground, hands coming up to protect her face. She whimpers and tenses up, waiting for him to hit her again. After nearly ten seconds of waiting for a hit, she peers through the gap between her arms and shifts slightly. 

“What are you waiting for?” She asks, hoping her voice wasn’t making her sound as weak as she felt. 

Villain’s head tilts, “I’ve won. I’m not going to hurt you more than needed.” 

Hero blinks in surprise and wraps her arms around her legs. She pulls her legs close to her chest and rests her chin on her knees. 

Villain sits down in front of her and takes a deep breath. “Are you alright?” 

“What?” 

“You’re slow today. It’s barely been five minutes and I’ve beaten you. Normally you’re good for at least ten.” he says. “Don’t even blame school because I know you’re out for spring break.” 

Slowly, he inches closer to her and cranes his neck to look at her. She pulls away uncomfortably and pulls her shirt down to cover her stomach.  

“What are you looking at?” she asks accusingly. 

Villain pulls her hand away from her shirt and reveals her bruised torso. 

“What happened?” he asks, lifting the shirt up more. 

She swats his hand away and pulls the shirt down. “None of your business.” 

His face softens and he backs away from her, imitating her position. He rests his chin on his knees and laces his fingers together in front of his legs. Hero stays quiet, waiting for him to say something. 

“Who did that to you?” he asks. 

She scoffs and lifts her head. “It’s almost like I was just fighting someone.” 

“Those are a few days old.” he retorts. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but don’t act like I’m not right to be worried.” 

“Why do you care?” she asks, pulling her legs closer against herself. 

“Because you’re a kid trying to save the world. And if I can’t help you see that Superhero is using you…the least I can do is stop him from killing you.” 

“Again with this thing with Superhero?” she snaps. “Last time I checked, he had the support of the city. And all you have is yourself.” she looks away from him and adds under her breath, “And I’m twenty.” 

Villain bites the inside of his cheek and takes a deep breath. “You’re not the only person he’s taken in. And it never ends well. Ever wonder how he’s still alive after this long? It’s because he sends his soldiers out instead.” 

Hero shakes her head, “No that’s not true. He and I have fought together-” 

“When he knows he can win.” Villain interrupts. 

Hero stands up and shakes her head, “I won’t turn on him. He’s given me too much.” 

She walks away, then under her breath, barely loud enough for Villain to hear, “Training is supposed to push you. I wouldn’t gain anything from it if he went easy on me.” 

Villain lets her leave, knowing that he won’t be able to change her mind if he pushes her too hard. Maybe one day, she’ll realize and maybe…she won’t.  

[writersmorgue]

Febuwhump Day 21 - Unresponsive

TWs in tags || read on Ao3 || wc: 1332

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

Time-activated quirks are rare. Izuku knows, he’s studied many. He was fascinated by the logistics the first time he read about one in the news. The quirk usually being transferred by some physical touch or substance from the user- slowly dissolving into the victim like a pill. 

Pro hero Buzzkill has a quirk that gives its victim a bee sting-like welt every four and a half minutes. The vigilante Combo Breaker has a quirk that breaks one of its victim's fingers every two minutes. 

And apparently, the villain he’d been fighting on patrol also shared this unique quirk factor. 

The debrief had said the guy was quirkless, but one look at the shoes on his feet told Izuku otherwise. 

Now, four hours and twenty-five minutes later, he’s lying on the floor of his kitchen unable to move. 

His nose is pressed at an uncomfortable angle, mere inches from where his coffee mug was smashed to pieces when he dropped it. 

He’d felt this odd pain in the base of his spine when he got off of patrol, and after his post-shift nap, it had only been higher up on his back and twice as intense. 

Apparently, when it got to his head, he was due to lose all motor functions. Great!

The good news is that Katsuki should be home any minute, and he can pull Izuku out of this cold, black coffee puddle. Maybe he’ll even put him back in bed if he’s feeling generous. 

He’s not sure how long he waits. His eyelids have drooped close, though he couldn’t open them if he wanted. He spends a while trying to determine if he’s breathing or not, but his whole body is so uncomfortably numb that he gives up. 

Soon enough, the door opens and Katsuki’s gym shoes are kicked off into their cubby. 

“‘M home.” He grumbles, probably not expecting an answer because Izuku is usually still napping when Katsuki gets back from his morning gym run. 

Izuku isn’t sure what Katsuki notices first, maybe his socked feet lying on the ground, or the bits of red, blue, and yellow ceramic that probably skidded across the room. 

“Deku? Did you fuckin’ fall?” His husband scoffs, rounding the corner to see Izuku sprawled on the floor, “Oi, get up dumbass.” 

Izuku mentally winces, not prepared for the absolute earful Katsuki is going to give him later. 

Katsuki walks closer, nudging the broken pieces of mug away, “Izuku?” 

Ah, he’s anxious. 

Izuku might’ve predicted this issue if he had thought a little harder. He’s not in any real danger, so there’s no need to worry-

“Izuku?!”

But he doesn’t know that. 

“No come on,” Katsuki mumbles out loud, trying to reason logically like Izuku knows he does when he’s scared, “he hit his head and passed out- no, there’s no blood. He was tired? Maybe he wanted to sleep on the floor…”

Katsuki comes up behind him and drops to his knees, rolling Izuku over. 

Light flashes in front of his eyes, but he’s powerless to blink at the sudden flash. Katsuki curses when his head flops back and smacks the tile. Stars fly across the black of his eyelids. 

“Izuku, wake up.” Katsuki presses his fingers under Izuku’s jaw and curses. 

There’s no way this quirk stopped his heartbeat- right?!

Katsuki pries one of his eyelids open. The cool air burns but he doesn’t flinch. 

His pupil must not react either, because before he knows it Katsuki is tugging him into his arms with a frantic whimper and launching himself across their living room. 

Katsuki places a leg in between Izuku’s own and wraps one of his arms under Izuku’s shoulders so he can use the other to propel them into the sky. 

The wind whistles by Izuku’s ears as Katsuki wastes no time getting them to what he can only assume is the hospital a few blocks away. 

The strain his arm must feel right now can only be extremely painful but Katsuki makes no sign of it. 

Izuku can feel them descending, just as Katsuki’s grip on him begins to slip. Katsuki stumbles a bit on the ground, lurching forward but being sure to keep Izuku’s body in his solid grip. 

“HEY!” He shouts as soon as they step through the sliding doors of the emergency bay, “I NEED A DOCTOR NOW!”

“Sir please don’t-”

“Pro hero Dynamight!” Another nurse interrupts the first, rushing towards them, “What are his vitals?”

Izuku feels himself get flipped onto a gurney, lying face up on the cold, thin fabric. He can feel everything down to his hair follicles itching to form goosebumps. 

He hears the nurse gasp as soon as his hair falls out of his face. 

I might be wearing pajamas, but I’m still the number one hero, he figures. I’d recognize All Might in his pajamas.

“Is that-”

“Someone who needs a fucking doctor?!” Katsuki growls, “YES.” 

The nurse barks a few orders at her coworkers and, from what Izuku can tell, sprints with him down the hallway. 

“Vitals?”

“No.”

The cart shudders when she briefly trips, “N-No? What do you mean-”

“I mean he wasn’t fucking responsive. I came home and he was on the fucking floor. No pulse, no breathing, no pupil dilation.” Katsuki’s voice moves to his other side, and there’s more movement before Izuku is lifted over to a different bed. 

The nurse hooks a machine up to him to start pumping his chest while she darts around him, checking various other vitals. 

“Shit.” She whispers to herself, pressing her warm hands into his wrist harder. 

Someone slams open the door, running to Izuku’s side. His hearing blurs while they yell orders at each other, pricking Izuku with various needles. 

“C’mon.” A new, higher-pitched male voice grunts in his ear as what he can assume is a shot of adrenaline is pumped into his fresh IV. 

“You said you found him like this?” Another female voice asks, farther in the corner of the room where he figures Katsuki is watching. 

“He passed out, there’s no obvious trauma. I have no fucking idea why.” Katsuki grunts, voice warbling. “He was on patrol a few hours ago but there was nothing in the report that would warrant this.”

“It’s not looking…” She pauses, “It’s not ideal, but we can’t rule out the possibility of it being a quirk.”

“Nothing is rousing him. We can keep the compressions going, but his body isn’t showing postmortem symptoms. I think, truly, if he comes back it will be regardless of what we do.”

Katsuki sighs, “I’m going to call his mom. Take the machine off him, she shouldn’t see him like this.”

Izuku’s head jostles as they remove the machine, his chest already feeling the ache and forming bruises. 

The nurse clamps a heart rate monitor onto his finger and leaves his side, rolling whatever monstrosity of a contraption they had waiting for him on a cart out of the room. 

It’s completely silent for a few minutes, not even the usual steady beep of his heart that he associates with the hospital to keep him company. 

The door swings open and footsteps move towards his side. 

He knows it’s Katsuki as soon as their hands touch. 

His husband’s warm hands cup his own, rubbing circles into his skin. 

“If you die on a random ass fucking Thursday morning when you’re not even working I’ll make sure they send you to whatever hell exists for idiots like you.” 

Izuku laughs inwardly, enjoying Katsuki’s touch. 

“Shitty prank. You broke your favorite mug.”

Ah damn, he forgot about that. 

Katsuki’s hair tickles his forearm as the man presumably leans down, pressing his lips to Izuku’s inner wrist, “If you leave me I’ll never forgive you.” He stretches a hand over Izuku’s stomach, resting it on his soft sleep shirt. “I love you, I don’t tell you nearly enough.”

“Come back to me, Izuku.”

And Izuku wishes more than anything that he knew how.

[whumpy-writings]

Obedience

Febuwhump 2024 Day 4

The Dhampir Files Masterlist

CW: Abusive parents (whumpees are adults), referenced lab whump, whipping, carewhumper, lady whumper, conditioned whumpee

Cal sat on the ground, Renn resting his head on his lap as he slept. It had been a couple weeks since the sun experiment. They had been allowed to heal, but Cal was under no illusions that that was the last experiment their parents would conduct.

The waiting was the worst part. He didn't know what the next horror would be, or when it would happen. All he and Renn could do was wait. Renn whimpered in his sleep.

"You're okay, I've got you," Cal whispered as he stroked his brother's hair. Renn hadn't had nightmares in years. But now it seemed like he had them every time he closed his eyes.

The door at the top of the stairs creaked open and Cal tensed. But the footsteps down the stairs sounded different. Uneven. A man appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He had brown hair and was dressed in simple clothes. He crossed the room with a pronounced limp. This was the first person Cal had seen besides Renn and their parents since he was thrown into this hell-hole.

The man moved to the tables and shuffled things around, like he was looking for something. Cal squinted. It almost looked like. . .

"Miles?" A surge of relief went through Cal as his human half-brother turned to look at him. "Miles! Oh my gods, it's you. Hurry, let us out of here."

Miles flinched. "I can't do that," he said. Cal swallowed down his frustration.

"Why not? They're not here right now. There must be an extra key somewhere."

Miles approached the cage with his eyes on the floor. When he stood outside the door, Cal caught sight of the collar, which sat atop a mess of scars from bites. He hadn't had those before. He hadn't had the limp either.

"I'm sorry," Miles whispered. "I'm not allowed to."

"Miles, please, you can come with us. They're torturing me and Renn, I don't know how much longer we can survive this."

"I can't."

"Why the fuck-"

"Miles! I told you not to talk to them!" Cal whipped his head up to see Mother striding toward them, her face furious. Miles went pale. He spun around and fell to his knees, bowing to the floor with his hands on either side of his head.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I'm sorry, it won't happen again." Miles was shaking. Mother stood in front of him with her arms crossed. She shot Cal a glare.

"He hasn't disobeyed in months," she said. "And now I'll have to punish him. This is your fault, Callum." Renn stirred from Cal's lap.

"What's going on? Miles?" Renn's voice was thick with sleep.

"I was just about to discipline him," Mother said. "He was explicitly told that he was not to speak to you two, and he did anyway."

Miles shoulders hitched and Cal realized he was crying. "Please ma'am, please I'll be good please I don't need a punishment."

"That's not for you to decide, human." Mother grabbed Miles's hair and hauled him to his feet.

"Let him go!" Renn yelled. "Don't hurt him!" He grabbed onto the bars. "Please, don't hurt him."

Mother ignored him. "Take off your shirt, hands against the wall."

Miles sobbed as he undressed. Cal gasped. His back was criss-crossed in scars. There were dozens of them. He definitely hadn't had those when Cal and Renn left.

"How many lashes do you deserve, Miles?"

Mother crossed to a bench and picked up a whip.

"No! Please Mother, don't hurt him, it was my fault." Cal's eyes burned with tears. Fuck, he hadn't wanted to get Miles hurt.

"T-ten ma'am," Miles said. "Ten for my disobedience. His hands were pressed against the wall, his back bared. Tears rolled down his face and he was shaking.

"Only ten?" Mother said. She cracked the whip and Miles jumped. "You disobeyed a direct order. You'll get twenty-five lashes. And then you will clean up whatever blood gets on the floor. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am," Miles whispered.

"Good."

She got behind him with the whip. Renn buried his face in Cal's shoulder. Cal wrapped his arm around him. The whip cracked through the air and Miles cried out. Cal hugged Renn even tighter and put his hands over his brother's ears to try to dampen the sound.

The lashes were hard and fast and soon enough Miles's knees gave out. He knelt on the ground, sobbing as lash after lash bit through his ruined back. It seemed to go on forever.

Finally, the lashes stopped. Miles collapsed to the ground with a sob. "I'm sorry ma'am, I'm sorry, thank you for teaching me to be good." Disgust rose in Cal's throat. Miles was thanking her for torture.

Mother knelt down next to Miles and smoothed his sweaty hair back from his forehead. "There's my good boy. You won't make the same mistake again, will you?" Miles shook his head.

"No, never."

"Good."

Mother met eyes with Cal. "I hope this was a lesson for you too. You are not to talk to him. I would hate for him to be tempted and have to be punished again." Miles whimpered. "He's just a human, after all. His body isn't as strong as mine or yours." She turned back to Miles. "Now clean up this mess. Once you're finished I'll bandage the wounds."

"Yes ma'am." Miles scrambled to his feet and set about cleaning up the blood that splattered the floor. Mother pulled out a chair and sat down just outside the cage.

"Miles is a good boy, usually. Of course, at the beginning he was very disobedient. He tried to escape too, you know. Right after you two left. Isn't that right, Miles?"

"Yes ma'am," Miles said from where he scrubbed at the floor. "It was very stupid of me."

"That's right, it was very stupid, wasn't it?" She smiled icily as she looked at Cal and Renn. "You know he can't see very well, so he didn't get far. We broke his leg when we caught him. We couldn't risk him running again, you see. Then it was just a matter of training. He became the perfect human within six months."

"You tortured him," Cal said flatly.

"No," Mother corrected. "We trained him. There is a difference. He needed to learn which behaviors were acceptable and which were not. We used a combination of negative and positive feedback to help him learn his place. And he's happy now that he understands that we're in charge. Isn't that right, Miles?" Miles knelt down next to her, the floor spotless behind him.

"Yes ma'am, I'm very happy now. I live to serve you."

"You're so sweet," Mother said with a smile. She placed her hand on Miles's head, like he was a favored dog. Cal felt ill. They had broken Miles. His spirit, his personality, was gone. He was a shell of the person he used to be. Obedient because that was the only choice he had. They were going to do the same thing to him and Renn. It might take longer, but one day he would be the one kneeling next to Mother in submission. Cal shuddered.

Taglist: @dragonqueenslayer6 @whumpsday

[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.

[n3on-graveston3s-calling]

Are You There? Are You Coming Home?

Word Count: 1,382 Rating: Teen Characters: Bartholomew Kuma, Monkey D. Luffy, Portgas D. Ace, Straw Hat Pirates, Kizaru | Borsalino, Silvers Rayleigh Warnings: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury Blood, Anxiety, Trauma, Hurt No Comfort, Tragedy, Angst, Major Character Death, Sabaody Archipelago Arc, Marineford Arc Spoilers Author's Notes: Decided to finally take part in a whump event. @febuwhump ; get ready for a month of pain, y'all. I got plans. For Febuwhump 2024 Day 1: Helpless

Please note: This contains spoilers for the end of the Sabaody Arc & for Marineford.

I'm sorry, Ace. I really do love you.

You can also find this on my Archive.

“Oh, Ace, are you there? Are you coming home?”

Once, when he and Ace were younger, they got lost in the woods. This hadn’t been longer than a month after Ace had arrived, when he was still learning the rules of the house and the lay of the land. He hadn’t listened to Luffy, had led them in a circle until that circle veered off the path. They were helpless, lost in the dark of the forest as the sun began to sink below the horizon. Lost, helpless, clinging to one another while Ace tried to be brave and strong but he was shaking just as much as Luffy was, until Dadan found them an hour after sundown.

Turns out, they were only twenty five feet from the opening of the forest. They weren’t that helpless.

Helpless.

It’s a strange feeling to experience, helplessness. Normally, you are the one who is taking care of everything, who is coming to the aid of everyone. But suddenly, and without warning, you are the one who is helpless.

The ground was spongy beneath Luffy’s feet. It’s like moss; he’d mentioned that when they first made port at this Archipelago. How had things gone from bad to worse in hours? It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Why were there so many Kumas? How was that possible? It wasn’t in his Devil Fruit, he wasn’t supposed to be able to make multiples of himself. Had someone cloned him?

Zoro.

Zoro. He croaked out some semblance of his name, as if calling out would do any good, would bring him back from whatever it was that Kuma had done to him. Was he dead? Did Kuma kill his best friend, his other half, his partner, his first mate? The concept stole the breath from his lungs, bringing forth a rage he didn’t think was possible. But his body was weak; injured, he could feel his ribs creaking with each breath he drew in. “HEY! WHAT DID HE DO TO ZORO?” Luffy yelled at the scar-faced kid who kept calling the Admiral his Uncle.

( Uncle? What a weird family, but who is he to judge? He just wants to get this done with, so he can get the ship coated, and get to Ace. Where is Ace? He needs to find Ace. He needs to find his big brother because his big brother needs him. Why was his Vivre Card so damaged? Was he injured? Was he alone? Was he helpless, too, in this moment? He needs to find Ace. He promised Dadan that they’d return together one day. He can’t break that promise to their mother. )

“They say anyone Kuma touches with his paws goes flying for three days and nights. But no one knows if that’s true. Only Kuma himself…” the rest of what was said simply went in one ear, out the other, as Luffy’s attention turned towards the rest of his crew scattered about. Old Man Rayleigh had been keeping the Admiral distracted, which was good, but Zoro… Zoro was gone?

“RUN, YOU GUYS!” Luffy screamed, throat raw from the force of his cry. Franky started to run, he could see him, but stopped because Nami wasn't following. Why wasn’t Nami following?! Brook- Brook was talking. Wait, no, no, no! “Brook!” He cried as Kuma tapped the newest member of the crew. Brook vanished into thin air.

He needed to move. Why didn’t he move? His legs weren’t answering his brain. His crew was vanishing before his eyes and he couldn't save them. Why couldn’t he move?! Move, damn it! Body! Listen! Move! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE-

“RUN, SANJI! PLEASE!” He tried to warn his beloved cook, only for Usopp to stand up, to try to attack. Before he could even scream- he’s gone. Usopp was gone, and then Sanji, and oh, Gods, this was happening. This wasn’t a nightmare. They’re gone, his crew was gone. “How do I…?” How do I move? How do I fight someone who, with one touch, can make me vanish, too? How do I save my crew when half of them have already vanished? How do I become the King of the Pirates if I can’t even protect the ones I love most?

Gear Two did nothing. Nothing except expend more energy that he didn’t have, he realized too late. He was flung back, wheezing with each breath as blood filled his lungs, as he struggled to cough it up. Franky was next, vanishing from sight; he heard Robin scream for him beside his own garbled screech. That’s right; Robin and Franky had gotten close. Were they lovers?

For a brief moment, Luffy wonders what it’s like to have someone love you in that way.

Until Nami screamed, breaking his thoughts. “NAMI!”

“HELP-” she’s gone.

She’s gone, and his arm was outstretched as if to grab her, to pull her into the safety of his arms. Kuma had hit him away again like an annoying gnat. He rose, turned, but it was too late as Chopper was suddenly gone. “ROBIN, RUN!” He cried helplessly, tears welling as he watched Kuma reach out, as Robin met his gaze.

She wasn’t afraid.

She was gone.

( He remembers once, when Dadan had left and hadn’t told him that she was leaving to get a few things from town. He woke to an empty house, to silence, and it feels a lot like this. This sudden dread of being alone. Of not knowing what’s happening, of what to expect next, because nothing is making sense anymore. )

His breath caught in his chest, a cry rose from his lips but only spilled out in the form of a warbling sound that’s more apt for an animal rather than a person. His fingers drug through his hair, tugged on dark, curly strands hard enough that they separated, snapping away from his skull, dragging forth sparks of pain that did nothing but agitate him further. He wheezed, blood mixing with mucus, as he leaned forward. His forehead met the ground once, twice, thrice; nails scratched at the freshly revealed dirt, breaking off with the grooves that he dug. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t save any of them!” He wheezed as tears rolled freely down his cheeks, streaked through dirt and grime and blood.

His crew was gone, because of him. Because he wasn’t able to intervene. They tried to save him, and in response, he couldn’t save any of them. What sort of shit captain was he? That man, the Admiral, was speaking but it sounded like a hundred mosquitoes buzzing within his ears. He rose up onto his knees-

“We will never meet each other again. Farewell.”

That was the last time Monkey D. Luffy saw Bartholomew Kuma. Or, the real Kuma, that is.

When he was helpless to save his crew.

“Hello? This is Dadan, are you there? Are you coming home?”

The same way he is helpless, now. Marineford is in a full out brawl, and he is trying to get to Ace, but people keep getting in his way, and they won’t fucking move, and he feels like he can’t draw enough oxygen in. “ACE!” He screams, hoping that his voice will reach his brother. “I’M COMING!” He is coming for him.

He can’t be helpless again. Not again, even as his lungs burn with the effort to breath, as his ribs ache with each expanse, as his muscles feel close to tearing as they stretch like rubber to launch him through the crowd of pirates and marines, of guns and blades and oh, god.

He can hear Ivankov yelling at what would be Kuma behind him.

He can see the platform. He can see Ace, kneeling on the platform. Ace, who is beaten and bloodied and is he crying? He can’t tell, but his big brother is right there and he can see him.

He still feels helpless, twenty feet from the platform. Like they’re back in that forest, alone, and scared, and crying for Dadan to save them. To find them. To help them.

He feels even more helpless as he kneels with a body slumped against him, with warm blood coating his front, his legs, his arms.

Monkey D. Luffy was helpless.

“Sorry, Dadan. We’re not coming home.”

[jinxedruby]

Febuwhump Day Twenty-Five: Last man standing

Featuring Wild and Legend. It may be March now, but I'm still planning to finish this up. I've only got a couple days left, after all.

Doing an alternate for this one. This is the continuation of day twenty-four: "I'm doing this because I care about you" (the one where Legend is sick and Four has to hide them)

AO3

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

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

“This is some storm,” Twilight called over the pummeling rain, the hood of his wolf pelt pulled over his head.

“At least the lightning’s just in the clouds,” Wild replied, tugging his own hood further over his face in an attempt to keep the rain out of his eyes. He could hardly hear the sound of his boots squishing through the mud over the torrent of water pouring down from the sky. He stepped into a deep puddle, the muddy water engulfing his entire foot. His boots weren’t exactly watertight, but the rain had long since soaked through all of his clothes.

“Hopefully the others found a town or some better shelter,” Twilight said. “This weather won’t be doing the veteran any favors.”

Wild nodded with a frown. Legend had fallen ill right before a gate took them to a new era in the middle of the woods. They had waited to do their usual scouting but when it became clear he wasn’t getting any better, they decided to leave him and Four at camp while the others looked around. Wild and Twilight had found a great many trees and not much else.

When the edges of camp began poking through the trees ahead, Wild’s heart sank. He quickened his steps, heartrate increasing with his tread. Twilight hurried alongside him, boots splashing through puddles and mud. They rounded a tree and the group’s makeshift camp came fully into view. Bags that anyone left behind were scattered about, some torn open with their contents spilling out onto the grass, soaking in the rain. Legend and Four were nowhere to be seen.

Twilight immediately shifted into a wolf as Wild ran ahead. Wild’s head turned back and forth on a swivel, heart pounding as he searched for any sign of the veteran and smith. Mud streaked across trampled grass, the green blades tamped down into the earth. No obvious trail led out of camp, the only thing apparent being that several people or monsters had tromped through.

Wild cupped his hands around his mouth. “Veteran!” he yelled, turning to watch for any sign. “Smithy?” Twilight padded through camp with his snout to the ground as Wild called for the missing heroes again. After several more attempts that yielded no results, Wild lowered his hands, heart clenching.

Twilight barked and Wild jerked around to look at him. The wolf pawed at the ground near one of the open bags, nostrils flaring, ears perked. Wild’s eyes widened and he jogged over to him. Twilight huffed then darted off into the woods, Wild following close behind. The wolf kept his nose to the ground as he moved, trailing back and forth between the trees. Wild’s breaths quickened the farther they ran, the sound of his breathing amplified oddly in his hood. He kept his eyes peeled, gaze darting through the trees for any sign of Four or Legend.

Twilight veered off to the left at one point, Wild slipping in the mud at the abrupt change in the direction. The wolf headed straight for a fallen tree, navigating around the exposed roots then pausing near the trunk. By the time Wild caught up, Twilight had reverted back to his human form, mouth pressed in a thin line.

“There’s blood,” he said before Wild could ask. “Human blood. One of theirs.”

Wild felt cold. “Is… can- can you track them?”

Twilight nodded before shifting into a wolf once more. He took off at a much faster pace than before. Wild ran after him, soles slapping against mud and splashing through puddles. Whatever trail Twilight followed wove back and forth randomly, jerking between trees and around bushes. They ran until Wild’s breath began to come in gasps. He slowed, trying to regain some stamina. Ahead of him, Twilight’s fur bristled along his spine. His ear flicked then he whipped around, lips pulled back in a snarl. Wild slowed to a stop, hand drifting toward his sword. Twilight barked and leapt toward him. Wild yelped and ducked, the wolf sailing past him. Something screeched behind him and he whirled around to see Twilight had collided with a lizalfos that had snuck up behind Wild, jaws locked around its throat. The monster’s screech cut off with a gurgle. Wild wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, running forward in case Twilight needed help.

A force slammed into him from the side, knocking him to the ground. He grunted as his back hit the mud. Something flashed in the corner of his vision and he threw a hand out, catching the monster’s wrist just before it could drive its knife into him. The bokoblin atop him screeched, grabbing his hair with its free hand and shoving his head into the ground. His hood fell off at some point during the struggle, fat raindrops splattering against his face and into his eyes, momentarily blinding him. He heard Twilight bark ferociously before cutting off with a sharp yelp. Wild took a breath then planted a hand on the bokoblin’s stomach and curled. His knees dug into the bokoblin, tilting it before he threw it off of him, sending it over his head. He moved to sit up. The bokoblin snagged him by the hood and yanked him backwards. Wild gritted his teeth, trying to find purchase in the slick mud as the bokoblin dragged him. Then the ground tilted down and his legs went over his head.

He fell into an uncontrolled tumble. He collided with the bokoblin and they fell in a mass of flailing arms and legs, crashing down the hill. Something sharp sank deep into Wild’s calf and a high-pitched shout leapt from his throat. The bokoblin hit the bottom first. Momentum carried Wild onto and over it, rolling several more times before finally coming to a stop. He pushed himself up on his elbows with a gasp, spitting mud and grass from his mouth. He looked to the side to see the bokoblin picking itself up and he struggled to his hands and knees. Pain burst in his calf, sending him pitching to that side with a yelp through clenched teeth. He risked a glance back at his leg to see the bokoblin’s knife embedded deep in his right calf just below his knee, nearly up to the handle. Warm blood flowed around it, soaking into his pant leg. The bokoblin growled and his head snapped up to see it stumbling toward him. He reached back for his sword, the action making him lose his balance and fall onto his side. He wrestled it from its scabbard, swinging it out before him just as the bokoblin reached him. It couldn’t jump back fast enough, the blade carving through its middle, nearly cutting it in two. The monster gurgled as black blood flooded from the wound and trickled from its mouth. It staggered to the side, curled around the wound. Then it collapsed into a motionless heap.

Wild huffed, dropping his sword. He rolled onto his back before carefully sitting up, wincing as hot needles coursed through his leg. Rain continued to pound around him, running down his face and dripping from his hair. He suddenly went stiff. The hot blood flowing down his leg and mixing with the cold, gritty rainwater sent an involuntary shiver through him.

And now… everyone is dead.

You can’t die!

Wild squeezed his eyes shut until he saw stars before opening them again. This isn’t the same, he told himself, forcing his hands to move and reach into his pouch for first aid. This isn’t the same, everyone is fine. Except he didn’t know that, did he? For all he knew, Legend and Four could be-

He bit his lip, hard, furrowing his brow and ripping his mind away from the past. It’s not the same. Even if he could practically hear Zelda’s raspy voice, even if he could almost see the red beam aimed at his forehead, even if he could nearly feel the weight of his failure crushing him. His fingers closed around a cool glass bottle. Before he could withdraw it, footsteps carried through the rain to his ears. His shoulders tensed and he twisted around, reaching for his sword where it lay beside him. Then he froze, eyes wide.

Legend stood several paces behind him, swaying dangerously, sword lifted in both hands and wavering. His face appeared ashen and pale, lips parted as he breathed in short pants, eyes blown wide open. Mud and grass clung to his tunic and skin, a streak marring his cheek and forehead. Wild figured he must have fallen down the hill as well.

“Veteran!” Wild called, doing his best to turn around without agitating his wound. “Are you o-“

“St-stay back!” Legend gasped, staggering back a few steps, clumsily swinging his sword. “They tol… he… you lied- he- he lied to… I did’n…” His gaze grew unfocused and he tilted too far one way, stumbling and collapsing onto his side.

Wild turned onto his hands and the ball of his left foot, ignoring the waves of fire fanning through his wound. He awkwardly crawled on hands and one foot over to Legend, wary of the sword still held in the veteran’s hands. Legend blinked, eyes drifting around. His eye sockets appeared sunken in contrast to the stark white of the rest of his face, lips chapped and pale. Then his gaze snapped to Wild and his expression twisted. He wrenched his sword up, pointing it at Wild even as he remained on his side. Wild stopped short, pulling back slightly then hissing in pain as he unconsciously tensed the muscles in his legs. He choked down the response as best as he could, slowly lifting one hand to placate Legend while keeping the other on the ground to support himself.

“Vet, hey,” he panted, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. “It’s me, it’s the champion.”

Legend blinked, sword lowering a hair. Then a particularly big drop of rain fell from the trees above them and splattered against his nose. He tensed again, knuckles white around his sword, the tip of the blade shaking violently. “It wasn’t me!”

“I- I know,” Wild tried, keeping his hand raised, palm out toward Legend. “I know you didn’t, just-“

“Did’n… did’n you recognize ‘im?” Legend panted, water trailing down his face. His eyes appeared bloodshot and Wild realized not all of the liquid was rain. “Why’d you… why’d you kill… left… left me…” His gaze grew distant again, expression relaxing slightly. His sword dropped slowly, rain pinging of the blade.

“Veteran,” Wild tried again, wanting to move closer but not daring to. When Legend didn’t respond he said, “Link. Link, look at me.” Legend’s gaze sharpened slightly, eyes settling around Wild’s face. He squinted like it was blurry, fear molding into his features.

“I didn’t do it,” he said, almost a whimper.

“I know,” Wild said. “I know and wherever- wherever you are right now, you’re not- it’s- it’s over. Okay? It’s over, Link.”

Legend stared at him for a long moment, the corners of his mouth twitching downwards, lower lip quivering slightly. His brow knitted and his gaze slowly drifted away from Wild. His sword lowered further. “Everyone’s gone.”

Wild’s gut twisted at the words. Everyone is dead, Zelda’s voice whispered in the back of his mind. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, hand lowering.

“I wasn’t fast enough,” Legend murmured, words nearly lost in the rain. “Could’n… could’n save him.”

“We can’t save everyone,” Wild whispered. He wasn’t even sure Legend could hear him.

Legend’s sword dropped the rest of the way to the ground. All of the fight left him in an instant as he let out a sigh, sagging against the ground, rain pattering against him. He blinked slowly, then looked up at Wild again.

“Champion?” he murmured.

Wild let out a breath, giving him a weak smile.

Legend planted his hands on the ground. He tried for a few moments to push himself up, arms shaking violently but eventually gave up. “Where’s… Smithy?”

“I don’t know,” Wild responded, moving closer to Legend now that the veteran wasn’t hostile. “Me and the rancher were looking for him.”

Legend’s brow furrowed as Wild reached him, gently checking the veteran over for injuries. “Wh… what happ’ned?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Wild murmured, coaxing Legend onto his back. As he did, he leaned too far forward and his calf muscle tensed. Hot pain burned through his leg and he stifled his yelp between his teeth. Legend looked up at the sound but didn’t seem to process what it was, gaze drifting away a moment later. After assuring himself that Legend wasn’t injured aside from his illness, Wild sat back slowly, wincing as the movement boiled in his calf. Legend mumbled something as Wild reached into his pouch for his elixir, but he couldn’t understand what the veteran said. Wild pulled the cork out, reached for the knife in his leg, then hesitated. He took several deep breaths, readying the bottle against his lips. He wrapped his hand around the handle of the knife, suppressing his flinch. Then he yanked the knife out. He couldn’t keep himself from shouting as pain roared through his leg. He sucked in a short gasp, closed his lips over the mouth of the bottle and downed the elixir in one gulp. Black specks danced in his vision as he gasped, too shallow to get much air in. The pain in his leg slowly ebbed away along with the adrenaline, leaving him exhausted. He turned his leg to the side, tugging at the edges of the hole in his pants to get a look at the injury. The elixir hadn’t been enough to heal it completely, but it still reduced the deep stab wound to a shallow puncture in his flesh. A dull ache bloomed fiercely when he tensed the muscle, but not nearly as bad as before.

A hand grasped at his arm, fingers weakly wrapping around his wrist. He looked to see Legend watching him with a hazy gaze, mouth drawn in worry.

“H… hurt?” Legend croaked.

“I’m okay now,” Wild said, picking up Legend’s hand and squeezing it.

Legend blinked. Then frowned. “Sm… Smithy? Wh…”

“Rancher’s looking for him.” Wild bit his lip as he said it, casting a glance behind him up the hill. He hadn’t seen how many monsters were up there before falling, but it sounded like Twilight had been fighting at least a couple. He remembered the sharp yelp of the wolf before he fell and he clenched his jaw, hoping Twilight hadn’t been hurt. He turned back to Legend to see the veteran’s eyes sliding closed, lips moving as he murmured something Wild couldn’t hear. “We need to get you back to camp and out of the rain.”

Legend’s eyes fluttered open again at Wild’s voice, a glaze having settled over his eyes. Wild got to one knee, tested putting weight on his right leg. It certainly didn’t feel good, but he could manage through it. He released Legend’s hand and hobbled a couple steps away from him to grab his sword. He slipped it back into its sheath then picked up Legend’s blade as well.

“Hey,” he said, dropping to one knee and shaking Legend’s shoulder. Legend mumbled incoherently, eyelids flickering. “C’mon, we gotta go, Vet.”

Legend didn’t give much of a response. Wild gently threaded an arm under Legend’s back and lifted the veteran up into a sitting position. He sheathed Legend’s sword to free both his hands then crouched beside him, wrapping an arm around Legend’s back and draping one of the veteran’s arms over his shoulders. He tried to stand but Legend groaned, face whitening even further, eyes squeezing shut.

“Deep breaths, Vet,” Wild said, pausing in his attempts to get up. Legend kept his eyes shut, breathing shallowly through his mouth. Once a hint of a flush returned to his cheeks, Wild tried standing again, much more slowly. Legend turned his face into Wild’s shoulder with another groan, doing very little to help Wild. The champion eventually managed to bring them to their feet, calf throbbing as Legend sagged against him. He remained still for a few moments, allowing Legend to adjust to the new position. Rain continued pelting them from above. One hit Legend’s ear and it flicked, scattering the water. A small smile tugged at Wild’s lips. Legend eventually lifted his head from Wild’s shoulder, blinking water from his lashes as he looked around them unsteadily. Wild took a step forward and Legend clumsily followed along, boots dragging through the mud. But he remained upright and the two slowly began making their way toward camp.

Legend’s head tilted back and he looked up at the sky through the trees. His expression pinched. “It’s raining.”

Wild’s grip tightened around Legend, mouth set in a line. Zelda’s voice still rasped at the edge of his awareness. He suspected Legend heard something of his own.

“Yeah,” Wild agreed. “It’s raining.”

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Day 24 ALT 5: cpr

another for Day 24 of Febuwhump.

using Alt 5

@febuwhump

I said I was giving Elijah a break, it seems I lied.

opps I slipped and killed him, but it's fine someone knows CPR.

Familiar Faces - set Season 3 x 15 of the vampire dairies

----

‘Well’ he thought as he found himself at the bar, alone. ‘at least there was no spilt blood.’

He had arrived with both Klaus and Kol after they had both insisted and Finn had turned them down. ‘A boy’s night.’

It had been centuries and for one night he wanted to forget the tensions that had grown between Klaus and himself.

However it didn't last long as Klaus had left to follow Caroline, once again ignoring Elijah’s past protest over it, Klaus had developed an amazing ability to completely deafen himself every time Elijah argued against his interest in Caroline.

He wasn’t even sure why he was so against it, for Tyler who Klaus had already ruined his life, for Caroline who had been hurt by one of his brothers before, or because he knew klaus and-  

Elijah took another drink as his mind reminded him of Aurora, what he had done and how Klaus would take that news.

He sighed as he noticed Kol refusing to take the hint that his charming personality wasn’t wanted, it wasn’t until he recognised the people Kol followed to the corner that he realised something was wrong.

This was meant to be a night out with his brothers, one where they agreed not to kill anyone, he could ignore his concern over whatever his first mother and Finn were up to and forget that the white oak may not be as extinct as they had hoped.

He was just about to stand and follow Kol when a sharp familiar pain stabbed him in his chest, his hand moving automatically to his chest, he couldn't stop himself as he slipped from the stool.

He knew this feeling, he realised, ‘but how was he being daggered?’ He wondered before everything went back.

He didn’t feel the floor as he hit it or hear the shouts that followed.

—

Meredith wasn’t sure what she expected when she got to the front of the crowd, other than a call for a doctor, she was almost thankful for it as it had given Alaric a cover to leave with the vampire, however as the sight greeted changed her mind; Elijah Gilbert flat on the floor eyes wide open as he stared at the ceiling.

She wasted no time as she threw herself onto the floor beside him, for a brief moment she thought it was another episode, something she was only faintly aware of but some part of her knew it was more.

The wide open eyes, the fixed stare, the stillness.

It was clear he wasn’t breathing and as she started to check his airways she discovered why.

Her fingers pressed to his neck, she held her breath and hoped.

She leant over, pressing her ear to his chest.

Nothing.

No heartbeat. As she let her training take over, placing him in the correct position and opening his shirt with a quick tear ignoring the flying buttons and entwining her hand over the centre of his chest.

As she started on compression she tried to not wonder what would cause a teenager’s heart to suddenly stop.

One, two, three, four,

She ignored the slight cracks under her hands, six, seven, eight, nine,

The boy was someone this whole plan tonight was meant to protect

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

The shout for a doctor had come just seconds after they had stabbed the vampire, enough time for him to fall.

Nineteen, twenty, twenty one, twenty two, twenty three

The dagger in the vampires heart and Elijah’s stopping around the same time

Twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine.

She had a horrible feeling it wasn’t a coincidence.

Two, three, four, five-

—-

He’d deal with Caroline later Klaus thought ignoring the twinging ache in his chest.

Arriving to find his younger brother limp in his one time body’s arms wasn’t great but easily dealt with, the human hit the wall with a satisfying crack and Klaus had half a mind to stab Stefan with the dagger but he decided as he threw him over his shoulder that having him watch as Klaus killed his brother was a better plan.

—

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen-

It was the fourth set she was halfway through when Meredith almost choked on her relief as Elijah woke suddenly coughing, the heartbeat under her hand beating steadily as if he hadn’t been absent moments before.

“What happened?” he wheezed between coughs, eyeing at her with confusion.

She hesitated and he quickly narrowed his eyes to look at her with suspicion.

“Take me to them before someone dies.” he told her before she could reply.

[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)

[whumpinthepot]

@febuwhump 2023

Alt prompt 9

Day twenty five: Natural disaster

—

Tiny whumpee is running through short grass trying to make it back to the house when they are picked up by bird. At first they have no idea whats going on, only that their feet are swept up from under them and they’re descending into the sky. Its when they feel the birds talons dig deep into their shoulders that the fear truly strikes them. They’re about to be devoured alive, and even if they managed to wiggle free now the fall would surely kill them. They struggle for their dagger and just pray that they can get away when the bird lands with them…

[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