#febuwhump no 21

[fletcherwilbury]

@febuwhump Day 21: Unresponsive

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

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Febuwhump - Day 21

Pairing: Beau x reader

Prompt: Unresponsive

Warnings: language, severe head injury

_______

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

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

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

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

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

She had to.

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

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

_______

[kabie-whump]

♡ Febuwhump Day 21: Unresponsive ♡

@febuwhump

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

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

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

It's been a month.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence. No sign that Whumpee even heard them.

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

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

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

"Whumpee, please. Say something."

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

A lot of damage can be done in a month.

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

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[serickswrites]

Meant to Be

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

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

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

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

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

And it had all gone to shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump Day 21: Unresponsive

Content warning: whipping

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whumpee only responded with a sob.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kybercrystals94]

The Fact Remains

Read here on Ao3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 21 | Prompt 21: Unresponsive

Rated: G | Words: 641 | Summary: After Wrecker is injured on a mission, the brothers wait for him to wake up.

“He is taking longer than expected to wake up.”

“He will. We have to be patient.”

“The medic said…”

Hunter stands up, nearly knocking the chair he’d been sitting in over backwards. “He will wake up.”

“I am not giving up on him,” Tech says, voice low. “I was simply stating his recovery rate suggests…”

“Not now, Tech,” Hunter growls. “I don’t want to hear about the numbers, or the research, or the odds. I just–”

Tech stares at him, waiting for Hunter to finish.

Hunter swallows, shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” Tech traces the edges of his data pad with his fingers, nervously. “I am fearful for Wrecker as well.”

Hunter sinks back down into his seat, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees.

Tech asks, “Have you spoken to Crosshair?”

“I’ve tried,” Hunter says. “He…needs more time.”

“That is understandable. It must have been very difficult keeping Wrecker stable until proper help arrived,” Tech says. “It is hard not to imagine what one might have done more efficiently to ensure a more favorable outcome…even if one knows they did everything to the best of their resources and abilities.”

Hunter glances up, catching a pained grimace flash across his brother’s face. Tech spoke from experience, he knew. Tech was never one to pass up an opportunity to offer his aid. He might appear cold and calculated at times, but he had an empathy that often led him to life or death situations on the battlefield. He rarely spoke of the uncertainties involved, always appearing self-assured by nature. But Hunter suspected he had battled this demon more times than he’d ever admit to.

“You should talk to him,” Hunter says.

Tech meets Hunter’s eye for a moment, a flicker of confusion. “I am notoriously deficient in offering emotional support,” he says with a humorless smirk.

“Crosshair doesn’t need ‘emotional support’,” Hunter argues, “He needs to know he did it right.”

Tech frowns deeply at his datapad. “That is not something one can easily be convinced of,” he murmurs.

“Maybe,” Hunter says, “but it might give some weight to the argument in his favor.”

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“I thought I might find you here,” Tech says, stepping into the nearly empty firing range.

Crosshair looks up from polishing his scope. “Is Wrecker…?”

“Still unconscious, but stable,” Tech responds promptly to the unfinished question.

Crosshair scoffs, a sneer. “Then why are you here?”

“You performed your role exceptionally in stabilizing Wrecker on the field,” Tech says.

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

Tech shrugs. “Hunter thought it might.”

Crosshair returns to polishing his scope. “I know I did everything right,” he growls snidely. “Doesn’t change that it didn’t work.”

“I would argue that Wrecker is still alive,” Tech says, “and therefore, it must’ve been successful.”

“You can tell Hunter your little reassurances don’t mean anything unless Wrecker makes it out of this,” Crosshair says, tossing aside the polishing rag and beginning the process of reattaching the scope to his rifle.

“I told him as much already.”

“Then why’d you come down here and waste your breath?”

Tech levels Crosshair with a hard look. “I came down here as a favor to Hunter’s wellbeing, not yours. I know that you cannot be swayed from anything you’ve already set your mind to. If you’ve decided that you did not save Wrecker’s life, then I am not here to convince you otherwise.”

Crosshair stares back, gaze cold.

“That being said,” Tech continues, his voice softening as he stands, “the fact remains that you did save our brother's life, regardless of your opinion. And for that, Hunter and I are grateful. Do with that as you will.”

Tech moves to walk away, but a hand catches his arm. “Comm when Wrecker wakes up,” Crosshair mutters.

“Of course,” Tech says, and takes his leave.

END

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[uniquevoidflowers]

Summary:

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

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

_________________________________________

Or Wind's Grandma dies.

Febuwhump 2024, Day 21: unresponsive

[comfort-questing]

21. unresponsive

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[keldrakey]

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

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

[skyward-floored]

Febuwhump day 21 - shackled

I’m gonna be honest with ya the shackling is not the focus lol

This one is a little different than the others have been! It’s actually a scrapped idea for the main fic, and is more of an au now because this is not how Cloud and Gloam actually meet. But I kept the little bit of it I wrote around, and decided to repurpose the idea for this.

So it’s basically an au where the Yiga’s plan actually worked in the first place, so instead of all the heroes bouncing around like time-traveling ping-pong balls, they’re all pulled to botw’s time first thing. Which leads to... a lot more stress.

Courage of ages explanation

————————————————————

Link awoke in a dark room.

He blinked his eyes open, but his view barely changed, dim shadows everywhere he looked. The ground was cold and hard beneath him, and when he reached for his pouch, he found that he didn’t have anything with him except the clothes on his back.

Could this be a dream?

His heart rate picked up a little at the thought, and he sat up, his head spinning as he tried to get his bearings. His forehead felt oddly sticky too, and he raised a hand to touch it, but his arm didn’t go as far as he wanted, a metallic clank accompanying the movement.

His arm was shackled to the wall.

Link swallowed, his stomach churning unpleasantly as he realized this wasn’t a dream. It was too real for that, even among all of the realistic dreams he’d had before. But if it wasn’t... Where was this? Nowhere on Skyloft was this dark, and the Surface... was this the Surface? It must be, there was nowhere else he could be. The ancient cistern maybe? Somewhere in the desert?

Well wait, where had he been before here?

Link searched his memory, but all he could come up with was going to bed for the night, Zelda giving him a slightly worried frown when he’d coughed a bit. He’d reassured her he was fine, and then kissed her...

Zelda...

He tried to take in a deep breath, but his breath rasped in his throat, and he coughed, wincing at the gunk he heard rattling around inside of him. Wonderful. He must be on the Surface; the air down here was too thick, and it was aggravating the cold he’d already had.

He closed his eyes as his head throbbed, and couldn’t help the small groan that escaped him. This wasn’t good. He had no clue what was going on, aside from the fact that he’d been chained up and put in a dark room by someone (something?) and his cold was getting worse. Wonderful.

And then a noise suddenly rang through the cell, a soft growl that made the hair on his neck stand up.

He wasn’t alone.

He squinted through the darkness, and realized one of the nearby shadows wasn’t merely a shadow at all, but rather a creature, intelligent eyes staring at him in silence.

Link startled, but then looked a little closer, trying to figure out what exactly it was. It appeared to be a large, furry animal, snout muzzled and leg chained. It stared at him as he looked at it, exhausted blue eyes trailing across his face and pausing at the blood no doubt staining his forehead.

It whined, and Link stared at it, scooting a bit closer as his head throbbed.

Something told him this animal wasn’t a threat, despite its large size and multiple scary features. Some deep-rooted instinct was urging him to trust it, and so he scooted even closer, both steadily watching each other.

He slowly reached a hand out, and the beast gently bumped its head against his palm.

“You’re trapped too huh buddy?” he rasped, running a careful hand along it’s fur before gently scratching his ears, “looks like it’s just you and me. Wonder what they want with us.”

The beast whined again, and Link rubbed his fur, hoping he’d enjoy being petted in the same way remlits did. It seemed to work, the beast gently butting his hand again, and Link almost smiled to himself.

“Wish I could get that off of you,” he said after a few minutes of silence. “Having something like that around your face can’t be comfortable.”

The beast huffed, and nuzzled his hand as best as he could, almost like he was saying not to feel bad about it. Link chuckled, then broke into coughs, his throat aching as he breathed harshly into his arm.

The animal whined and shuffled closer to him, resting his head on his lap and looking up at him with what seemed like worry.

“I-I’m okay, I’m okay...” Link rasped, trying to breath and not agitate his throat. “The air down here it’s just... a lot.”

The beast in his lap studied him for several moments, then let out a soft huff, pressing his forehead against Link’s arm.

“Thanks buddy,” Link murmured, running his hand through his fur.

The motion soothed them both, and the animal’s thick fur helped warm Link, chasing away the chill that had settled into his bones, and making him sleepy instead. He knew he should probably stay awake, figure out a plan or something, but the beast’s fur was soft and warm, and his eyes drooped against his will.

Link curled up a bit further, the animal settled comfortably against his chest, and the two of them dozed off.

(...)

Link awoke to an angry growl.

He startled, brain even fuzzier then before, and quickly wiped the sleep out of his eyes as he sat up. The beast he’d been curled up with was crouched protectively over him, a low growl escaping its throat.

There was light in the room now, coming from a torch. It was held by a person in a strange red bodysuit, and three more of them were approaching him and the beast, weapons glinting at their sides.

Link sat up and scooted backwards, looking at the soldiers as his heart thudded.

“Who are you?” he croaked, throat unpleasantly sore. “What do you want with us? Did you put me in here?”

The strange soldiers didn’t reply aside from chuckling, and they both suddenly leapt forwards, grabbing the beast and manhandling him towards the door.

He was snarling angrily as his chain was yanked, but the creature couldn’t do anything to the people pulling him away, only struggle madly as he was dragged. Link strained at the chain his wrist was in, but it didn’t stretch nearly long enough to stop the soldiers from dragging his cell mate out the door.

“Leave him alone, let him go!” Link shouted, then broke down into coughs as he shouted.

The soldiers only laughed and pulled the beast further away, still struggling and growling angrily through the muzzle. Link managed to raise his head through his coughs, and met the beast’s eyes as he was dragged away, an intense worry directed towards him bright in his eyes.

And then he was gone.

(...)

It took Link hours to fall back asleep.

Which normally would be so concerning Zelda would’ve taken his temperature, but the reason for it this time was pure worry for the strange beast that had been his cell mate.

What was he? Why had he been imprisoned with him? Why did his captors even imprison them both anyways? Where had they taken him?

Was he just a food source?

The options kept his mind racing for hours. And when he finally did fall asleep it was in small restless increments, after which he would jolt awake, his right hand itching and mind churning with dreams he couldn’t remember.

And his cough only seemed to get worse.

He’d finally managed to fall asleep a bit more deeply when a loud clank woke him back up, some dormant reflex of his urging him awake. Link looked blearily up at where the sound had originated, then blinked, staring at what was going on. The strangely dressed soldiers had returned, the same who’d taken his companion, but they had no blue eyed beast held between them.

No, they were instead dragging a hylian along the floor, one who was struggling viciously against the men who were manhandling him inside.

And also wearing a tunic surprisingly similar to Link’s knight uniform.

The soldiers unlocked the cell and near flung the hylian in, one of them quickly crouching down and chaining him with the same line they’d used on the beast.

Link didn’t shout, knowing it would only make himself cough, but he did level the soldiers with a glare. They ignored him, and when the hylian leapt at the soldier who’d chained him again, the biggest of the group kicked him squarely in the chest, throwing him backwards with a grunt.

They stalked away, laughter echoing behind them, and the room went silent.

“Hey,” Link called softly once they were gone, trying to stop his voice from wheezing too much. The other hylian hadn’t yet moved from where he’d been kicked, but at Link’s words he grunted and slowly raised his head. “Are you okay?”

The hylian blinked at him, something odd shining in his eyes as he slid himself up into a sitting position. He sat up with a slight jerk, then clutched at his side, hissing at the movement that was obviously faster then he’d meant to make.

His darkish-blond hair hung in his face, looking unkempt and dirty, and there was blood smeared on his cheek, still leaking slowly from a cut dangerously close to his eye. He stared at Link for several moments before replying to his question.

“I’m... I’m okay,” he answered finally, and concern sparked in his eyes as he looked over Link. “I wonder if I should be asking you that.”

Link blinked at him.

“I’m fine,” he rasped quietly, confused at the man’s seeming familiarity with him. “Who... who are you? Do you kn-know—”

Link broke into a coughing fit, unable to stop himself, and before he knew it the other man was rubbing his back and telling him to breathe. His head felt fuzzy as he tried to catch his breath, and a chill shuddered up his spine, making him shiver.

But when he finally caught his breath, the man gave him a worried smile, and patted him on the arm.

“My name is Link,” he said gently. “And we’ve... well, we already met.”

Link stared at the other Link in disbelief, and the man chuckled a little, then winced.

“You uh... remember the wolf that was in here a few hours ago?” he asked, and Link hesitantly nodded, supposing that a wolf must be the large beast that had been keeping him warm. “Well, I’m... him. The wolf.”

“How is that possible?” Link said in a dumbfounded rasp.

“It’s a long story,” the other Link sighed. Something equally sad and angry flashed in his gaze, but it only lasted a few seconds. “And a bit much to explain right this second. Who are you?”

Despite how awful he felt, Link couldn’t help but smirk.

“Link.”

The other Link raised both eyebrows in surprise. “Your name is Link too?”

“Yep.”

The other Link let out a hearty laugh, amusement making his eyes twinkle. “What are the odds? I don’t suppose you’ve ever fought a fellow named Ganon, have you? Or been turned into a wolf?”

Link shook his head. “I never fought anyone named... Ganon. And I didn’t even know what a wolf was until you showed up.”

Other Link’s face turned more serious then, and he rubbed at his side, looking thoughtful.

“Hm. I don��t suppose... have you seen anyone else in here? A guy a little younger than me, blue tunic, blonde hair?” he asked, and Link shook his head. Other Link sighed in relief, and leaned his head against the wall. “Thank Ordona. He must have gotten away.”

“Pardon me for asking, but who?” Link asked, and Other Link’s face softened.

“Another Link. This is his world, I’ve been traveling with him. We were ambushed, totally and completely overwhelmed, but if he’s not in here with us then that’s a good sign. He must’ve gotten away,” he said with a smile. “We’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Link coughed again, and Other Link’s face darkened.

“Well... maybe not nothing. You okay?”

“Fine,” Link croaked, blinking tiredly. He felt sore and exhausted despite only waking up a little while ago, and his head still felt fuzzy with sleep. Other Link placed a tentative hand on his forehead, and Link was silent as he hummed worriedly.

“You feel pretty warm,” he murmured, and Link shook him off.

“Doesn’t matter. I need to get out of here, Zelda... I can’t remember what happened and I don’t know if she’s okay—”

“Okay, whoa, hold your horses bud,” Other Link said, holding a hand up. His eyes were wide, but something knowing shone in them. “Your name is Link, you know a Zelda, and you were put in here with me? That’s too much of a coincidence. Have you ever heard of a fancy trinket called the Master Sword?”

Link blinked at him. “I forged it.”

Other Link blinked back. “You— Wow. Well that would explain a few things then.”

“Explain what?” Link said, starting to get annoyed. All of this Link talk was just making his head hurt even more. “What does this have to do with a-any—“

He broke down into a coughing fit again, one that went on longer than any of the previous. A hand rested on his shoulder, and Link probably would’ve flinched if he hadn’t been coughing so hard his lungs felt like they were on fire. The hand started to rub, and Link continued to cough, the sounds rough and quite honestly gross sounding, not to mention painful.

But he did eventually stop, and didn’t resist when the other Link pulled his head over to rest on his shoulder.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to keep secrets,” Other Link said gently. “I just... wow. Did you really forge it?”

“Reforged really,” Link rasped. “But I still don’t know what that has to do with anything.”

Other Link sighed, and looked around the darkened room, Link just barely able to see the blue in them. “It has to do with everything. And since I don’t think we can escape at the moment, I’ll try to explain.”

He smiled, and Link suddenly noticed how similar they looked, even apart from their clothing. Other Link’s eyes nearly matched his own blues, and their hair was close to the same color, even styled similarly.

They could’ve been brothers.

“I’m a Hero of Courage,” Other Link said, holding out his palm. “Just like you.”

And a soft light shone from both of their hands, three familiar triangle sending warmth through their spirits.

[popcorn-plots]

Febuwhump day 21: Unresponsive.

Title: his hidden sorrows

Words: 566

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit .

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

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

Not after losing everything he loved.

Ao3

[arecaceae175]

Febuwhump Day 21: Shackled (Twilight)

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

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

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

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

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

Small mercies, Twilight thought. 

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

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

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

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

[theshiaxartist]

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

Wanna help me make a Jak and Daxter Tarot deck?

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

[serickswrites]

Heavy Burden

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[scullysexual]

21.02

Febuwhump Day 21: "It's okay, I was already awake." Bittersweet prompts. On the run. AO3. @today-in-fic

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

It’s the same old dream you always have. So old it shouldn’t affect you anymore. Someone is taken from you- Samantha or Scully; it always switches between the two but you can usually expect either one. Tonight, however, is different. Tonight it’s William who is gone from your- the child, your son, who you only got to meet once before he was taken from you.

The nightmare has rattled you, or so you assume. A hand is shaking you, a voice calling out your name. You awake to find Scully standing above you, concern across her face. You groan internally at having disturbed her. You’ve both gotten good at dealing with the bad dreams that you can go a whole night without waking the other. Sometimes though, sometimes it spills out and the other is awakened anyway.

“I woke you?” you ask sitting up. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I was already awake.” Her hand squeezes your shoulder and when she realises you’re okay she wanders back over to the chair by the window.

You ignore the urge to tell her to stay away from the windows, she knows this already of course, telling her would risk another argument and you didn’t feel like one tonight. Instead you ask, “Why are you awake?”

“Today is his birthday,” she says not looking at you. “He’ll be two.”

Your stomach churns. You know who she’s talking about. Neither of you spoke of William, not anymore, your blood still boils at her decision, you still resent her for it. Or did you resent her not discussing it with you first? Finding out this fact from Skinner and not even Scully herself. Even now your mood turns sour at the memory, fist clenching as your glare at her back unbeknownst to her. And then you’re hit with the guilt for feeling that way. Talking about William is too complicated.

“Is he walking?” she continues. “Is he talking?”

The image comes to you unasked. You see a happy William waddling towards two faceless strangers, calling them Mama and Dada. It’s gone as quickly as it came and you are left clenching the sheets, an emptiness inside you. You don’t want to talk about this tonight, you don’t want to hear this anymore.

“Come away from the window and come to bed. We need to leave early tomorrow.” You lie down and turn away.

Scully scoffs but that is all; arguments about that died long ago, now the two of you just brood in silence, resenting each other for your situation.

When she is settled you wrap your arms around her, spooning her. She doesn’t push you away. The act has become customary, almost a formality, trying to keep something the same as everything else changes around you. It was familiar but there was no comfort in it, not anymore.

What happened to you, you wonder. When did you start hating the person you love?

That was a question you had no business answering tonight. Instead you press your lips against the back of Scully’s neck and push thoughts of William away from you.

[fanfictasia]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hunter & Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) Characters: Clone Trooper Hunter (Star Wars), Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Clone Trooper Tech (Star Wars) (minor), Clone Trooper Wrecker (Star Wars) (minor) Additional Tags: Missing Scene, Canon Compliant, Omega Needs a Hug (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Panic Attacks, Family, Depression, Febuwhump, Febuwhump 2024, Prompt: Unresponsive

Summary:

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

Read on:

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

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