#febuwhumpalt9

[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…

[repeatcubed]

Febuwhump Alt 9 - In Another Life

TW: Kidnapping, death, blood, guns

Jace and Mia had met at a game store. They happened to stand next to one another, eyeing a new board game. It started a conversation. They grew up about an hour from one another, worked quiet jobs, loved games.

They met up on Thursday nights. Jace introduced Mia to a show, it became their little tradition. A new game most weeks, sometimes continuing a previous one if they hadn’t been able to finish it. Watch a few episodes of the show, listen to music, cook dinner and maybe dessert. They traded apartments every other week. Mia had a cat named Sizzle, but he wasn’t too fond of Jace.

After a few months, they became official. Mia met Jace’s family, but had no one in particular to introduce him to. Not long after, he moved into her apartment. She had a bit more space, and was worried about a move causing too much stress on Sizzle.

Jace had just gotten a promotion at work. Mia had saved enough money to go back to school. Everything was perfect.

But that wasn’t what really happened, was it?

Mia was vaguely aware of someone screaming. Another person shouted, boots clacked along a concrete floor. Something heavy slammed across her cheek.

The screams stopped, interrupted by a shout of pain, then sobs. It wasn’t until the tears fell and the pain subsided from agonizing to a burn that she realized it was all coming from her.

The vision in her right eye had gone dark, stinging from blood dribbling down from her temple. The other stayed forward, gaze trained on one spot. She couldn’t look away.

He had been alive only seconds ago. But now?

Jace sat before her, his head slouched back against the bars of the concrete pole. Just like Mia, his wrists were tied behind it with a thick, scratchy rope. His neck received the same treatment.

But she wasn’t focused on that. What her eyes stayed fixed on was the red dot, lined almost perfectly at the center of his forehead. Blood poured out, like the tap of a keg, spilling right down his face and staining his clothes crimson.

They had only known each other for four days. Thrown into the backseat of the same car, tied and blindfolded and gagged. Tossed into the same cell, given the same threat.

“Money’s due. Either it gets sent to us, or you die.”

Simple. Easy. But impossible to accomplish. They couldn’t pay back the debt, if they could the situation never would have happened.

Jace had a mountain of student loans, overdue rent, car payments, the works. He was raised in the slums, lived in the slums, and assumed he would die there too.

Mia had inherited her debt from her parents. Irresponsible, craving more out of life. They died in a car crash, thanks to her father’s drunk driving. She was 24, barely able to afford her own rent, let alone pay back something she never asked for.

And now?

Now, she was crying over the life she never got to have. Over the life of the man across from her, that she barely knew about. Over her cat, just hoping a neighbor heard her scratching at the door and stopped in to help.

“Please, please, please.” There wasn’t even a clear goal. Don’t kill me, make it painless, give me more time. What was it that she really wanted?

Who knew?

Her cries stopped as she barrel pressed to her temple. She closed her eyes.

And she took a final breath.

[the-great-lightwood-bane]

Choices and Self-Sacrificial Tendences

Malec | Rated general | tw canon-typical violence, blood, demonic possession | febuwhump alt prompt 9: friendly fire

Summary: Magnus strode toward Alec, magic crackling at his fingertips, eyes a demonic black as though the pupil had swallowed up the iris, the whites of his eyes.

Or, Magnus is possessed. Alec doesn't want to hurt him.

@febuwhump

Read it on AO3 or below the cut.

Magnus strode toward Alec, magic crackling at his fingertips, eyes a demonic black as though the pupil had swallowed up the iris, the whites of his eyes.

Some might have said that Magnus’s real eyes, those gorgeous golden slit-pupiled eyes, were demonic. Alec knew better, of course; they were no more demonic than Magnus himself was — that is to say, not at all, despite their provenance.

These black eyes, on the other hand, were eerie. Frightening. Not Magnus, which made sense, since the demon currently inhabiting Alec’s husband’s body was very much not Magnus.

Alec didn’t know how the demon had managed to get inside of Magnus, past all his wards. They’d been in the park, outside of Magnus’s heavily-protected apartment, but Magnus certainly had heavy wards on his own body. It didn’t really matter how — or rather, it would only matter if they made it out of this, if there was any chance of it happening again. How it happened was a matter for later.

Now, Alec ducked to avoid the fireball the demon in Magnus threw at him, ducking behind a tree for a moment before stepping out again, a feint at Magnus though Alec would never actually hurt him, dodging the next fireball. He couldn’t keep this up forever, but fortunately the demon had only gained part of Magnus’s skills and abilities, and Alec could keep on defending himself a bit longer.

How long, though? And he would eventually get tired; he could already feel exhaustion creeping up on him, and the demon was making sure that he didn’t get a chance to call for backup. He wasn’t even sure if he would call for backup, if he could — they might hurt Magnus, and Alec couldn’t let that happen.

For a moment, Alec was distracted, and that was enough for a blast of Magnus’s magic to slam into him, knocking him back against the tree he’d so recently ducked behind. His ribs screamed in pain, but he forced himself to roll to the side to avoid the demon’s next attack.

“It’s not you, Magnus,” Alec managed to pant out, forcing his injured body to dodge away from the next attack, because he knew that his husband would be beating himself up for hurting Alec — if, that is, he was awake in there. “It’s not your fault.”

“He can hear you, you know,” the demon replied, Magnus’s lovely voice twisted into something wrong. “He’s trying to fight me, but I’m stronger. You’ll be dead before he manages to beat me, unless you work up the courage to kill the both of us — he’s begging you to kill us, you know. Pleading.”

“It’s okay, Magnus,” Alec said, ignoring the demon’s words, scrambling backward as best he could with his aching ribs as the demon in Magnus’s body advanced toward him. “I forgive you, not that there’s anything to forgive.” He thought of the seraph blade still sheathed in his belt, going unused because he would never hurt Magnus. He couldn’t kill Magnus.

The demon laughed, and Alec hated the way it sounded wrong, because it was Magnus’s laugh from Magnus’s lips but it was the demon who was doing the laughing. “No matter what you say, he’ll blame himself. He’ll be heartbroken once you’re dead. That’s what Asmodeus wants, you know. That’s why I’m here — to show Asmodeus’ son that love makes him weak.”

Alec blanched, horrified, because it all made sense now — Asmodeus would have been able to get past Magnus’s wards, could easily have sent the demon to possess him. And Alec knew, or at least he hoped, that Magnus wouldn’t go to Edom — but Asmodeus and the demon were right that it would leave Magnus heartbroken if Alec died at Magnus’s hands. Alec knew what it felt like to wake up from possession with blood on your hands, though for him it had been Jocelyn’s blood. How much worse if it had been Magnus’s?

The demon was still coming toward him, throwing fireballs almost lazily, black eyes glinting in the afternoon sunlight. The light caught on Magnus’s glittery eyeshadow, too, and the gleaming buttons of his coat. Another fireball missed Alec by inches, but the demon didn’t seem to be trying all that hard to hit him; they were drawing it out intentionally, because they were certain that they would win. “You know what,” the demon said almost thoughtfully, “I think I’ll make him rip out your heart. How do you think it’ll feel for him, holding his precious lover’s heart in his hands?”

The seraph blade in Alec’s belt bumped against his broken ribs as he moved to the side again, trying to avoid another fireball. (Really, could the demon do nothing but throw fireballs and occasionally toss Alec around? Magnus was much more creative.) Still, there was no way that Alec would ever hurt Magnus; he would rather die—

But, Alec realized suddenly, which one would Magnus prefer?

Alec knew that if he stabbed Magnus in the leg with his seraph blade, it would force the demon out of Magnus’s body, hopefully long enough for Alec to kill it. And Alec knew that if their positions were reversed — if Alec was the one who was being forced to kill Magnus — he would much rather have Magnus stab him than kill Magnus.

It was Alec’s instinct to give his life for Magnus, because that was what he’d always been ready to do — to protect his siblings, to protect innocents. He’d long believed that his life had little value, aside from the good he could do for others. Magnus had been the one to teach him that no, his life was worth something, and it would hurt those who loved him if Alec gave his life away. Your self-sacrificial tendencies are admirable, Alexander, but please remember that I — well, all of us, really — need you, Magnus had told him once.

That instinct to sacrifice himself wasn’t the right choice here. Letting the demon inside of Magnus kill him would hurt Magnus far, far more than if Alec stabbed him.

The demon was in front of Alec, now, black eyes glaring down at him. Alec’s ribs were burning, but he ignored them in favour of reaching for his seraph blade. He drew it even as it activated, burning white, and the demon’s black eyes widened, but Alec was faster and he swung the blade into Magnus’s leg.

A scream — Alec knew it was the demon screaming, but it sounded like Magnus — and black smoke was issuing from Magnus’s mouth, pouring out of him. Alec thrust the seraph blade into the mass of darkness, and the demon seemed to collapse in on itself, nothing more than ichor and ashes.

Magnus slumped to the ground, and Alec dropped the seraph blade to catch him.

[thethistlegirl]

One.

Two.

Jesse’s brain tried to process whether Suit was the type to count down and then shoot, or shoot on the count of three itself. He couldn’t quite remember what the kid had done at the firing range last time.

He was just going to have to hope for the best.

Three.

Jesse went boneless in the robber’s grip at the same moment an impossibly loud gunshot cracked through the store.

A robbery-turned-hostage situation means Jesse has to ask Suit to do something he wasn't ready for, and may not ever really recover from.

For @febuwhump alt prompt "Friendly Fire"

[callaeidae3]

Febuwhump Day 28: "You have to let me go" + Alt 9: Gunpoint

'Just look after Yuuki.'

@febuwhump

[you-go-kaboom-i-go-kaboom]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29298804

Hi hello, day five is late but here. I’m gonna try and catch up if I can!

[tiamat-zx]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: The Mighty Nein & Nott | Veth Brenatto Characters: Nott | Veth Brenatto, Yasha (Critical Role), The Mighty Nein Additional Tags: Febuwhump, Febuwhump 2022, Won't Regain Consciousness, Episode: c02e030 The Journey Home, Aftermath of Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Guilt, Nott | Veth Brenatto Needs a Hug, Mighty Nein as Family, Self-Doubt, Realization, Friendly Fire Series: Part 13 of Adam’s Febuwhump 2022 Works Summary:

The things one can accomplish in twenty-four hours. It can be quite overwhelming to think about. It’s so much to process for Nott. -- @febuwhump 2022 Day 13: Won't Regain Consciousness BONUS PROMPT ALT 9: Friendly Fire

Just a quick 1,000 word fic about the long rest following the Sour Nest battles. Poor Yasha still not waking up. And poor Nott feeling overwhelmed about it all. I also wrote this just for Nott to think long and hard about the time she shot Beau with the Bolt Blaster... and not realizing at the time that Beau was legit terrified, especially when they literally lost Molly a day or two before, and Nott was too excited to process it. Thus why I also included the "Friendly Fire" prompt.

Anyway, feel free to leave comments. Hope you like this one.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Not So Friendly Fire

Febuwhump 2022: Alt 9. Friendly Fire (for Day #17)

Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag

Word Count: 1344

TW: Reader death, gun violence, blood, guilt

Thank you to @loverhymeswith for beta reading and all your wonderful comments!

@febuwhump, @lacontroller1991, @fairchildflag, @heresathreebee, @babblydrabbly, @reysorigins

Colonel Rick Flag was used to losing people under his command, especially since he took over Task Force X. After all, it wasn’t referred to as “the suicide squad” for nothing. However, this time was different. You weren’t just another one of the prisoners assigned to his team. You were a comrade in arms, a fellow soldier, a friend, and, Rick often hoped, maybe something more. So, when you were captured during a mission, he had very nearly lost his mind. He had struggled to reach you as you fell under the attack of five of the enemy soldiers, but the distance and chaos between you was too great. By the time he managed to reach your last position, you had vanished without a trace.

Now, two weeks later, he had finally tracked down where you were being held. Waller had initially denied Rick’s request for an extraction mission, citing lack of resources and funding, but once he had called in every favor he had, she finally allowed him to take Harkness for a stealth rescue attempt. Not that the Aussie would have been Rick’s first choice for a covert mission, but he knew the man had a soft spot for you as well, so he had reluctantly agreed.

Sneaking onto the fortified compound hadn’t been as difficult as either man expected. They had gotten very lucky, and most of the guards were away at the moment. However, that didn’t mean it was a walk in the park either.

As soon as they cracked open the door to the main building, the two of them found themselves under heavy attack. Bullets whizzed by their heads and one managed to graze Harkness’s shoulder. As the adrenaline coursed through his veins, Rick felt himself shift back into soldier mode. He fired again and again, barely looking at his targets as he took them out one by one, the only thought in his mind was getting to you.

Finally, it seemed like there were no more assailants. Everything had grown still and quiet. Until suddenly, a lone straggler in a large jacket and baseball hat pulled down low quickly stumbled into the room, heading straight for Rick. Without hesitation, he fired off another shot and the person collapsed to the ground.

Stepping over the body, Rick ducked into the fortified rooms that lined the back of the building. He didn’t see any signs of you until he reached the room at the very end of the hall. Inside he spied your favorite jacket, ripped and bloody, lying in a crumpled heap in the corner of the room. There was also a small puddle of blood that had pooled underneath a set of chains attached to the wall. It was still fresh which meant that wherever you were now, you hadn’t been gone long.

Harkness approached Rick as he examined your jacket. He muttered, “Oi! Boss, we gotta get outta here. Backup’s probably already on its way.”

Rick took one more look around the room and nodded. They had missed their chance and now there was no telling where you were.

Moving quickly, he and Harkness reentered the main room and were headed towards the front door when Rick heard something. As no more than a whisper, he could have sworn he heard his name. But after a second, he just shook his head and chalked it up to wishful thinking. However, as his hand rested on the door handle, he heard it again this time a little louder, “Rick.”

He would know that voice anywhere. Turning around, he scanned the bodies that littered the floor. As his eyes landed on the spot where he had dropped the last assailant, only a bloody trail leading into the next room remained. Following it, Rick gasped as he rounded the corner to see the person he had previously shot sitting propped against the wall, hand desperately trying to stop the blood flowing from their side. Now that the baseball cap had fallen off their head, Rick could clearly see the face of the person who had been hidden beneath it and there was no mistaking their identity.

You smiled up weakly at him, blood trickling out of the corner of your mouth, “Hey…. you came.”

Rick instantly dropped to his knees beside you, face horror-stricken as his hands hovered over your wound, unsure of what to do. “Oh my god. Darlin’, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…I didn’t….I…”

You scoffed playfully. “I always knew you were a shit shot, Flag. But, hell, what kind of kill shot do you call this?” You wince as a tremor of pain shot through you, “Well, I guess it’s still doing its job.”

Rick began assessing your damage, his fingers lightly trailing over your skin. He saw in addition to his bullet lodged in your gut, you had other wounds scattered across you. Your wrists were bloody and raw, assumedly from where you had been held by the chains he had seen in the other room. Dark bruises were strewn across your face and your throat with a particularly nasty one on your left cheekbone. There were large shadowy bags under your eyes, and you looked much thinner than you had before being captured. But despite everything, a bright smile still shone on your bloodstained lips.

Harkness rounded the corner to see what had happened to his commander. His face blanched as he took in your injured form. “Ah, hell,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hey, Boomer. Good to see you. Thanks for coming to save me,” you said with complete sincerity.

“’ Course, love. We weren’t gonna leave you trapped here,” he said flashing you a forced smile before he turned and looked pleadingly at Rick. In a hushed whisper, he asked, “What do we do? This looks bad, mate. I-I don’t know if we can fix this.”

“You can’t.” Both men’s eyes dart to your face. “It’s okay, there’s nothing more you can do for me. But you need to go. Now. The rest of the men should be returning at any moment, and you have to be out of here before they do.”

“You’re coming with us, darlin’. I’m not leaving you here. We’re gonna get you some help and then you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

Reaching up, you ran a hand gently down Rick’s face, leaving a sticky trail of blood in its wake. “Rick, we both know that’s a lie. So, stop trying to fool yourself and get going before it’s too late.”

“You will not die on me, do you hear? That is a direct order from your commanding officer!”

You smiled sadly at him. “I’m sorry, sir…But I’m afraid, just this once, I’m gonna have to disobey your command.”

Rick bowed his head to hide the tears forming in his eyes, but you lifted his chin until he was once again meeting your gaze. “Listen to me. It’s alright. I needed out and I didn’t care how. These last few days… when I managed to escape my cell, I knew I wasn’t ever making it out alive. I knew they would stop me before I made it halfway… But I preferred death over the hell they were putting me through….I knew this was always how it was going to end………But at least this way………I got to see you…………one last time…….”

Your hand dropped from his face as you took a large, shuddering breath. “Rick……”

He could see how much you were struggling to hold on, to stay with him. Brushing your hair out of your face, he softly shushed you. Then in a shaky voice, he quietly murmured, “It’s okay, darlin’. Close your eyes. Everything will be better soon; you’ll be at peace.”

And as Rick Flag watched your eyes flicker slowly shut for the last time, he prayed that wherever it was you ended up, that he was right. And that, somehow, someway, you could forgive him for what he had done, even though he would never be able to forgive himself.

[clotpolesonly]

FEBUWHUMP - ALT NINE

gunpoint