#tw pinned down

[witch-hazels-musings]

reel me in 

warning: angst -> comfort | fighter!reader and character are sparring but when reader gets pinned to the ground, they recall a traumatic event (non-specific, but hints at a near-death experience from past fight), and start to panic - the characters calm them down and bring them comfort (tw: pinned to the ground, feeling of being trapped, anxiety and difficulties breathing, sparring leads to panic)

character x gn reader | request | anthology 

includes: childe, kaeya

Childe

“Is that all you’ve got?” You cried out through heaving breaths. Every muscle in your body was screaming from the onslaught of blows, but it made you feel alive. Fighting Childe was like wrestling the sun - and you were obsessed. 

Childe straightened, turning back toward you with a grin so wide you knew your taunt would get him going. The way his eyes flashed in the sunlight, the shimmer of sweat on his shoulders, biceps made your heart flutter. It was so exciting - the heat of battle - no wonder Childe loved sparring so much. 

“You want more?” He beamed, stalking toward you, slowly, meticulously, his eyes trained on you as if you were prey in the woods. “Then don’t hold back. Let me see it all!” He roared as he dashed your way. His water-blade crashing against your two daggers. Sending a shockwave through your arms. It hit your chest with so much force that you pushed against him, sliding on the dirt to reposition and get a better angle but he was ready with another swipe. You barely ducked out the way in time. 

The match was heated, invigorating. The two of you lost yourselves in the midst of it all. Egging the other on, laughing at the thrill, pushing until something was certain to break. You just didn’t expect it to be like this ... didn’t expect it to be you. 

With expert skill, you dodged away from his swing. Twisting your foot and leg leg so you could roll over his back and slip into the tiny opening he left, but when you landed on the other side of him, his leg swiped yours and you fell, hard, onto the dirt. The force knocked the wind out of you. A rock punched against your shoulder making your arm go numb for just a moment, but long enough that he could take full control. 

His hands grabbed your wrists so you couldn’t swing at him. Faster than you could comprehend, he had you pinned. Disarmed with your hands under your arching back, he held you captive. 

Shaking your head didn’t relieve the fog, struggling only made it worse. The sweat on your brow stung your eyes until you could barely make out his figure. Then, it all came flooding back. 

“Now that was fun,” Childe panted above you, his hair clinging to his forehead, his cheek, but you could hardly see his familiar, comforting face. The past was crashing into you, and you couldn't’ breath. 

“G --- et off ---” 

“Don’t tell me you can’t overtake me. Hah, you’re better than that --” Childe teased but you weren’t having fun anymore. Panic started to set in, your heart was beating erratically, out of rhythm and control. You shook your head, thrashed just like you did once before - yet nothing changed, just like ...  “... and we were just getting sta-” 

“G-GET OFF!” You screamed. The words came out strangled, fearful. Childe let you go and you scrambled out from under him. Your nails digging through the dirt in a frantic escape. “get off. get off ...” You groaned, crawling free from him until there was enough distance for you to catch your breath. 

“Woah, are you alr-” Childe’s words caught in his throat when you turned to sit on the ground, arms coiled around your legs, hands shaking as they hid your face from him. “Hey --” he called to you. Calmly, softly, but you didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. In your mind it was still happening, and you needed it to stop. 

Everything was turned to maximum. Every sound, every smell, every sense in you stung. Your mind was on fire and you couldn’t calm it down. Something touched the fingers digging into your leg so you violently swatted it off until your hand came to a stop and your itching eyes found the reason. 

Childe was kneeling in front of you, his expression twisted to one you’d never seen before. His common smile was turned into a deep frown, brows furrowed and eyes were searching you intently. His jaw clenched, the hand holding yours looked pale. 

Still shaking, you wiped your eyes and he slowly came back into focus. This wasn’t your past, you weren’t about to die alone, beaten, bloodied - you were safe. You were safe. 

In an instant, you twisted your hand to grip his wrist and held on so tightly that his arm began to shake.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, head shaking to return to your senses. The noise was starting to fade; you took a few more breaths to bring it back to normal. 

“You went somewhere else on me ...” 

“I know -- I’m sorry,” you apologized, swallowing to wet your dry throat. “I’m alright now.” 

“What’s the matter?” 

“Nothing, I promise. It’s ... it’s nothing,” you pressed your fingers to your forehead and shook again, mostly to work out your nerves, but the action didn’t convince him you were okay. 

The dirt around you crunched, grinded against itself as he moved toward you. When you glanced at him under your salty fingers, you noticed he was blocking you with his long legs. One at either side as if to be a human shield. 

You sighed, and tried to get him to ease off, “I’m really okay -” 

“A warrior must be ready to face any challenge,” he began, cutting you off as if you never said them, “In victories or in failures, the outcome is irrelevant - what matters,” he said as he tugged your arm and pushed against the hand blocking you from his sight. You moved them only enough so you could see his eyes, and he could see yours, “what matters is learning from the experience. You are here to fight again. You survived - no matter what it took to do so.” 

Childe’s gaze was intense, his words pierced your heart making it difficult to breathe again but he was right. You survived. You were here and that’s what matters. 

Your lips trembled, so you adjusted your grip on his wrist and held tightly.

“I survived,” you whispered. 

“You survived.” 

“I survived,” you repeated and covered your face while Childe shielded you from the rest of the world. 

-- 

Day’s later you shared with him what had happened and he listened without judgement. You noticed how he incorporated some new moves into his training with you - ones to avoid the mistakes of your past and then, without prompting, on a warm summer night, he told you of his own and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone. 

--

Kaeya 

“Pick it up!” you shouted to the knights as they ran through their drills. By this point they shouldn’t be so sloppy, but it seemed your expectations for them were too high. 

Groaning, you turned the other way and began to clean up the training grounds. Practice swords, spears, and other equipment were left on the dirt and even though you weren’t the only one tasked with training the new recruits, you knew your partner wouldn’t be much help. 

“How’s it going, teacher?” Kaeya’s silvery voice slipped through your annoyance like water passes through a fisherman's net. Unfortunately for him, you weren’t in the mood to hear it. 

“Fine. Here,” you said and handed him the pile you’d managed to pick up while he was standing in the shade, “Take these back to the racks for me.” 

“My, what a cold temper you have,” he teased. Even though you couldn’t see it, you knew he held a smirk on his lips. “And here I was coming over to congratulate you on all your hard work.” 

“Ha,” you huffed. You were starting to wonder if Jean was mad at you. Why else would she ask you to work with this ... this ... slacker. He may be pretty, and you, stupidly, had a crush on him, but why was he always so ... aggravating. “If you’re not going to help me, at least don’t stand by sidelines watching. It creeps me out.” 

Kaeya picked up the pace so he could match your strides. It was easy for him with his long legs and all. “I thought you loved when my eyes were on you?” 

Luckily you were already so irritated. If you weren’t you probably would have been more affected by his comment, “Nope. Not me.” 

“Really?” 

“Mmhm. Ugh,” stopping suddenly, you shouted toward the recruits to come back but when you glanced back at Kaeya, he was just standing there, smiling. “Are you going to help me with the demonstration or not?” 

“Why of course,” he beamed and you wanted to punch him. 

“Good. Grab us some swords and meet me in the circle.” He gave you a playful confirmation before walking off toward the racks. 

Why couldn’t you have fallen for someone else? You asked yourself as you headed toward the panting new knights to explain the next portion of their training. It wasn’t the first time you had them spar with each other, but this time you were going to be demonstrating several moves they needed to learn in order to stay alive. As much fun as being an aggressor is, if you didn’t learn how to block or dodge oncoming attacks - well, the research institute was working on some new mechanical prosthetics if they needed it.

Once Kaeya returned, you had him demonstrate several jabs so you could show them how to avoid. After that, you had them mimic you as you moved out f the way of Kaeya’s swings. It was almost like a dance, the two of you, and it was starting to draw an unnecessary crowd. 

“Shall we show them in real time?” Kaeya inquired with a smile, “They are unlikely to fight slow moving assailants after all.” 

You weren’t really planning on doing that, but he was right, so you relented. “Alright, but don’t throw out anything fancy.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he hummed, getting into his stance. 

“Alright - watch us closely and count how many times I use the moves we just showed you. Got it?” The knights nodded so you got into position. “Let’s go.” 

Lunging forward, you made the first contact and Kaeya deflected it easily. He reacted faster than you planned with a counter swing that you had to narrowly block with the edge of your wooden sword. The noise rang out across the training ground drawing an audible gasp from the crowd. 

The two of you started simple but eventually lost yourself in the spar. Kaeya moved like a skater on ice and you danced along with him. The feeling of the wind rushing past your face as you dipped under his swings, when you swirled past him to get the advantage. It was a blast, and reminded you why you fell for him so hard. 

Kaeya might be a slacker, but his swordplay was flawless. 

You wanted to bring it back to focus but Kaeya was distracted and before you knew it, your guard was too far down to catch his next move. Like a flash of lightning, he was in front of you one second and behind you the next. Your weapon swung up to block a blow to your chest but you were off balance and fell backward as he had intended. Before you could taken in a breath, Kaeya was gripping your arm and twisting it behind your back while his play sword rested against your neck and his cheek pushed against the side of your head. 

“Got you,” he declared and pulled you closer to him. You were captured, and it distorted your reality. 

It was like you fell into a deep pool. Your body went cold, your mind triggered every alarm it could as you wiggled against him to get free but he was having too much fun to notice that you were clearly not. 

“Kae--” 

“We certainly put on a show,” his voice drifted past you but you could hardly hear him. Waves crashed against your senses, deafening the world around you. It felt impossible to catch your breath, even when you gripped your shirt and pushed against Kaeya’s arm. Something hit your foot so you stumbled forward only to be reeled back in. “Leaving so soon?” He asked and you panicked. 

“L-let me go - let me go - let! go!” Fear and violence overcame you until you were finally free from his grip. The edges of your vision were so dark that all you could see was the building in front of you, the confused expression on his face as you turned to face him, the bobbing blobs in the distance as you tried to call it for the day. You opened your mouth but nothing came out. All you could feel was a sense of dread and your nails biting into the flesh of your palm. 

Kaeya dropped his weapon. You watched him turn to the crowd but couldn’t hear what he was saying. You just stood there, lost, back in that place you never wanted to visit again. 

A cold hand grabbed your balled up fist and, like magic, you were in Kaeya’s office with no recollection of how you got there. 

Someone called your name. Who was it? 

Touch, the sensation of skin against your cheeks. Hands - someone's hands. Whose hands? WHOSE HANDS!? 

You flailed your arms to push them away but they didn’t leave until you could hear the voice of Kaeya calling your name. 

“... do you hear me?!” he shouted, and you did. You did. “You’re okay! - it’s me. It’s me.” 

“... Kae...?” 

Kaeya’s head dipped forward when you recognized him. “There you are.” His tone was tense. When he looked at you again it was like he had aged since you last saw him. He shook his head and moved his thumbs under your eyes. 

“What happened?” you asked, confused and disoriented. One minute you were out on the training field and another you were in his office. Did you black out?

“I was hoping you could tell me.” 

“I don’t -- I don’t know ...” looking down, you tried to assess what was happening. Your body felt worn, exhausted. Your fingers were curled in and stiff but they weren’t like that originally. Right? Why was there sweat running down your spine? Confusion was soon replaced by worry but Kaeya was there to catch you. “Kaeya - I don’t remember --” 

“It’s alright,” he reassured you by grabbing your hands and holding them steady. You could tell he was contemplating what to do. You’d known Kaeya for so long. He was always so confident, so playful but right now he seemed afraid to even touch you. “It’s alright,” he said again and took a step closer, but not too close. He sighed and then explained what happened. Perhaps he hoped it would make you feel more in control or, perhaps, it would give you the knowledge you needed to understand why you vanished in front of his eyes. 

He was right. As he explained the sparring match and what happened moments before you panicked, you knew exactly why it had happened. 

In training, you are taught how to protect yourself and your fellow knight. You know the dangers of the job but you can never fully grasp the severity of it until you’re there - face to face with life and death. This was your hidden scar. One you didn’t intend to let others see. 

It took a while, but you slowly started to share what had happened. Kaeya listened without questions, without jokes. He just listened, and when you were done he didn’t give you pity or tell you it was in the past. He simply offered his hand and vowed to leave it open for you whenever you needed it. 

“You’ve always been around to lend me a hand. It’s due I return the favor. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here with you to carry on,” he affirmed and though he couldn’t heal the space left in your chest, his words made it a little lighter. 

“Thank you, Kaeya,” you replied, squeezing his hand like he was yours. “I guess this means you’re stuck with me?” It was meant to be a joke to lighten the mood, to bring back his teasing but it seemed to backfire. 

“Well that’s an odd way of proposing to me.” 

“I wasn’t proposing --” 

“You weren’t?”

“No ...” 

“Ah, a shame then,” he lamented and let go of your hand to walk toward the door. You followed him, watching how he leaned against the closed door with a sorrowful expression on his face. 

“W-wait, did you want ... me too?” 

“We will never know now will we?” He threw up his arms into a deflated shrug but made sure to keep a sharp eye on you and your slowly rising embarrassment. “Best not keep them waiting, teacher,” he smirked before walking out of his office and leaving you, once again, flustered. 

--

[linkhappyface]

day 5 i know im so behind

bug and champpp content lets goooo

lemme know if the tws need to change or smth

[mybeautifulbeautifuleternal]

It was to the sound of good natured teasing that you awoke to. When you finally opened your eyes, you saw that Anakin and Ahsoka had teamed up against Obi-Wan, like usual, and were ribbing him about…something. They were taking too fast for you to catch every word, your hearing going in and out on you. You allowed your eyes to close again, turning your head to hear them better.

Taking a deep breath in, the scent of freshly fallen rain and newly made mud invaded your nostrils. Releasing your breath, you sought back the actions that would have led you to where you were now. From the brief moments your eyes were open, it looked like you were placed within Obi-Wan’s tent.

The brief flash of pain was a perfect accompaniment to the flashback sounds of marching droids that had overtaken your company.

You must have let out a cry because the teasing silenced itself above you, being replaced quickly by the feel of hands gripping yours. You squeezed tight to the one in your right hand for it was metal and you knew Anakin’s work would hold up to your strength more than Obi-WAN’s fleshly one would. Ahsoka had thrown herself, softly and carefully, over your hips. Her head was gently lowered onto your chest and her hands cradled your ribs.

The care they were taking with you let you know, more than anything else, that your injuries were bad. For the most part, the four of you were up and on your feet the minute you were conscious, doing your best to run and hide from the medics — Kix and Helix especially had it out for the four of you. You being held down and not being helped up to run said everything you needed to know.

“Bad?” You attempted to ask but the words croaked in your throat, which was dry and cracked from dehydration. Obi-Wan let go of your hand only to carefully lift your head up, letting Ahsoka raise a cup to your lips. The sweet relief of water was a welcome relief to a problem you didn’t know you had.

Clearing your throat, you tried again. “Bad?”

“The clankers got you good,” Ahsoka was quiet, staring at you with her big eyes. You swore the blue of them were brighter whenever she needed your cooperation. They were shining now.

You simply nodded your head, reaching out again to hold Obi-Wan’s hand. You knew recovery was going to be difficult and painful, but you’d do it. Anything to keep that particular shade of sadness off their faces. It was painful to see and you didn’t care for it, especially since you were the cause of it.

@whumpuary

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Augusnippets Day 21

Path of Whumperless Whump Prompt; "Delirium" (mentioned) + Alt. "Drugging"

Day 21 of @augusnippets August 2024 Whump writing challenge! (Augusnippets Masterlist)

Characters;

- POV/Caretaker: Gawain - The Green Knight

- Lancelot - The Weeping Monk

(Character Masterlist)

(Ao3 Link)

Wordcount; 815

TWs; unconsentual first aid, drugged, pinned down broken ribs, severe injuries (referenced), gravely injured (referenced), near death (referenced), choking, oxygen deprivation, asphyxiation, carewhumper, forced to hurt (In order to help), delirium/aggression/stubbornness from pain

"Let. Me. Help you!"

Gawain breathed hard, glaring down at the Fey he had rather unceremoniously pinned beneath him.

"...No!" Lancelot spat up at him, lips stained with blood, clawing at the arms that held him down, snarling like a wild animal with wide eyes near feral from pain and what Gawain guessed was at least a degree of fever-induced-delirium.

In Gawain's hand, a wineskin of poppy milk- a powerful pain reliver and sedative he had brewed earlier from the crimson blooms in the neighbouring fields. Despite severe injuries in dire need of treatment Lancelot was blatantly refusing aid of any kind with threats to flee if Gawain tried to help, resulting in Gawain having to pin his unthinking arse to the ground lest he bleed out on the damned moors somewhere.

"Do you expect me to just sit here and watch you die?"

Lancelot didn't answer, his teeth bared, mouth parted in a silent snarl. Is that not for the best? his eyes seemed to say, no matter that he did not voice it aloud Gawain heard it as loud as a shout.

"Because I won't."

Lancelot refused to reply, though Gawain wasn't entirely sure whether it was intentional or by design now.

"You give me no choice." Gawain warned. Lancelot looked away with a bitter expression, as if aware what was about to happen.

Gawain sighed heavily, steeling himself to the task, then grabbed Lancelot's jaw in an attempt to force the medication down his throat.

Pain sliced through Gawain's finger as Lancelot bit him in response, hard.

"Ah you son-of-a-- Stop!" Gawain growled, swallowing down every insult known to Fey whilst scrabbling to free his finger, cradling his hand away from the fucking animal. Gawain glared back at the triumphant smirk Lancelot had the utter audacity to give him now.

The moment he drew near again did Lancelot shut his mouth and refuse to open it.

"Arawn give me strength, Lancelo-- oof!" Gawain grunted in pain as Lancelot swung at him. Lancelot's injured arm collided with his chest with a suprising amount of force, enough to half wind him.

Oh that's it...

Having finally had enough of the ungrateful sod's antics, Gawain clamped a hand over Lancelot's nose, cutting off his air.

In his head he began to count, Lancelot's steel grey eyes widened in near immediate terror.

Ten seconds.

When Lancelot seemed to realise what Gawain was doing he clawed at Gawain's arm hard enough to draw blood, his back arched and his hips bucked as he writhed and raged against Gawain's hold.

Thirty seconds.

"Open your Gods-damned mouth!" Gawain yelled, but if Lancelot could have responded he was long past hearing him, completely lost to blind panic, thrashing violently. Leaning on him with his elbow, Gawain tried to force his mouth open, Lancelot bared his bloodied teeth at him, refusing to give in, fighting like his very life depended on it.

One minute.

Lancelot's struggles were growing weaker. Gawain's arm ached fiercely and sweat dripped down his brow.

Gawain continued to count, preparing to let go, those claws in his forearm barely soft touches now, Lancelot's eyes started to flutter shut...

...and at the last moment Lancelot gasped a breath.

Gawain immediately rammed the wineskin between Lancelot's bloody teeth, releasing his nose and gripping his head still. Lancelot made no move to fight him, exhausted.

"That's it, good."

Gawain saw the immediate flash of defiance in Lancelot's eyes even as he tried to soothe him. Thinking quickly, he held his mouth shut even before Lancelot had chance to spit out the Poppy milk. The murderous glare he got in response told Gawain well enough he'd been correct in the assumption he'd try.

Gawain released him the moment Lancelot swallowed, staggering back from on top of him. The entire interaction had knocked him suddenly sick, he swallowed back bile, dragging in a breath, closing his eyes against the nausea.

Lancelot didn't waste a second. Gawain heard him move immediately, his eyes flew open to see the Ashman leaned up, teeth gritted in pain, making as if to flee--

"For fuck's sake Lancelot, Don't!"

Gawain wasn't expecting Lancelot to actually listen, yet he'd halted all the same; collapsing back down to the ground and clutching at his injured side with an agonised groan in his throat like he was only just holding back a scream.

Gawain raked a hand through his hair without even thinking of the blood it was coated with. He watched and waited now for the drug to take affect- he knew it wouldn't take long, and sure enough, within a minute Lancelot's panting had slowed. Within five, Gawain watched the pain as it slipped from his angular face, his body beginning to relax. Within ten, and he'd slumped unconscious entirely.

Gawain watched the look of desperate relief that flooded Lancelot's eyes before he closed them.

"Finally." Gawain breathed.

I like how this one paralls yesterdays prompt of Gawain helping Lancelot tend to injuries- these snippets both written from very different stages in their relationship though! It wasn't actually done intentionally, but it works better than I hoped it would.

This is one of only two prompts that I just couldn't get under the 800 mark no matter how hard I tried. It was originally written for Day 11 but I needed way more time to edit it as it was like. 1000 words, whoops... So I wrote something else for that day and saved it until I had whittled it down some and could vaguely get away with pairing it with today's "Delirium" prompt...

As always thanks for reading, onto the next!

[riseandfallofsecunit]

“Ratthi, I really need you to get this shrapnel out of my knee joint.”

[bitchliteraria1906]

I don't know if this is a hot take or not, because I haven't interacted with the Omori fandom enough, but I don’t think Kel would forgive Sunny and Basil that easily. I'm not even sure if he'd be the first one to forgive them.

The way I see Kel, he's a very loyal, community-oriented person. He's extroverted, comes from the biggest (and apparently closest) family in the main cast, was the one who made Sunny go out again, and is just overall the glue that holds everyone together and someone who is used to community and friendship and needs these things to feel good.

Mari's death literally took that from him in multiple ways. One friend is dead, the remaining friend group fell apart due to everyone coping so differently, Hero isolated himself and stopped talking to him in the process.

He was the first one to have a birthday after the event, and he spent that birthday completely alone.

I just don't see him taking the revelation that all of this happened because of Sunny and Basil lightly.

There's also the fact that Kel knows how it feels like to have an older sibling who you don't always see eye to eye with, but still love a lot. He has that in Hero just like Sunny did with Mari. This could make him sympathetic towards Sunny and his guilt and grief, but it could also make him more horrified with the whole situation:

"Basil suggested hanging her? And you were okay with it?!"

I can definitely see him trying to face the whole thing with a "What would I do if that was me?" mentality, and coming to the conclusion that Sunny is too cold, because if he was in Sunny's shoes, if he had accidentaly killed Hero, he would never feel okay with lying about it the same way for years.

Ironically, this thought process could also make him more sympathetic towards Basil. Kel is, again, very relationship and community oriented, so maybe he could come to the conclusion that in Basil's shoes, he would also have done anything to protect a friend. He'd still be angry at the lie, though.

Idk, just a thought.

[forged-in-kaoss]

The arrows represent the days I spent alone since the night of that storm. The number of times I mourned for my beloved friends that I suddenly lost. Now do you understand how I feel?

[lacquerheadd]

Next time you're bleedin' to death, just think: Dr. Zed!

[lunlumo]

pls baa back

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 5: Debris, Pinned down

Wind and Four <3 ...and some unplanned characters. This changed a bit from that one wip I posted!

Warnings: the title stuff, broken bones, and a teeny mention of blood.

Read it on ao3

————————————————————

“Anybody over here?!” Four shouted, squinting through the smoke and dust blowing through the air.

Nobody answered him, and Four kept walking through the huge piles of rubble, the tight knot of worry in his chest only growing.

The Links had been hunting down a group of monsters who’d reportedly been stealing and stockpiling bombs, for what, nobody knew. They’d traced them to an old patch of ruins, and engaged, taking out a large chunk of the group without much difficulty. But when the monsters realized they were rapidly being exterminated, they’d decided blowing them all up was the best way to stop them.

That had led to a mad dash to get out of the ruins as they’d exploded around them, but the Links had been separated while escaping, and hadn’t realized until the dust had settled.

They’d quickly split up to look for their missing members, and Four had been poking through these particular ruins for what felt like forever. His worry was growing with every minute that passed where he didn’t find anyone, and he looked nervously at a few larger piles of debris. He’d gone by several really large piles, so big that if anyone was under them he would have no idea they were there, and he’d debated trying to move them more then once.

But what good would it do? If anyone is under them, there’s no way they’d even be...

Four’s eyes suddenly caught on a distant scrap of color, and his heart jumped at the familiar shade of blue. He bolted to it, nearly tripping in the debris field between, and bent down to pick up the torn patch of cloth.

It smelled faintly of the ocean.

“Sailor?!” Four called, but heard no reply, and he continued to search around a particularly large pile of debris, listening intently for any sign of life.

He continued to call the sailor’s name, using both Wind and Link, but he had no luck until he turned a corner into a more closed-off area.

And saw a shock of blonde hair, coated in dust that shone in the sunlight.

“Wind,” Four breathed, and bolted to his side, trying not to panic at the huge pile of rocks the sailor was under. He reached down to put a hand on his only visible arm, and gave it a light shake. “Wind, can you hear me?”

A groan came from Wind, and his eyelids slowly flickered open, face twisted in pain. His expression was twisted in confusion as he looked around, and his one free hand clenched at the dirt as he obviously tried to move without thinking. Then his face went white as he bit back a cry, and Four felt his worry triple.

“Sailor, easy, stay still,” Four soothed, heart in his throat, and Wind looked blearily up at him.

“...Smithy?” the sailor whispered, letting out a cough. “Is that... you?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s me,” Four replied, looking again at the large rocks covering most of Wind’s body. “Are you okay? How... how badly are you hurt?”

Wind was silent a long time, and looked to be thinking rather hard about the question.

“...I can’t move my legs,” he said quietly, voice taut with pain and barely-hidden fear. “A-at all. They’re stuck under everything, and... my arm is pretty busted up too.”

“Is there any part of you not incapacitated?” Four tried to tease, and Wind let out a laugh, though it broke into a pained cough a moment later.

“This arm, I guess,” he said tiredly, and Four swallowed, and began to feel around the stones, trying to figure out which ones, if any, were loose. But everything seemed solid and stuck, and Four looked helplessly at the rubble. There was no way he was strong enough to move any of it.

Then he squared his shoulders, and began pulling at the rocks that seemed the least load-bearing. Wind wasn’t going to get free if he just sat here, and hopefully his power bracelets would be enough to unpin him.

Wind stayed mostly silent as Four worked, sometimes letting out a quiet cough. At some point he began to hum, a quiet, rolling tune, and Four could tell it was to distract himself from the pain by the way it occasionally hitched. He hummed along once he figured it out, and tried not to despair at the absolutely tiny pile of rocks he’d managed to move.

He wasn’t making any progress.

“...Smithy?”

Four looked over at Wind, who had paused in his humming, and for some reason seemed paler then before. “Yeah, Wind?”

“I... I don’t think you can get me out by yourself,” he whispered, and Four shook his head and went back to scrabbling at the tiny, looser rocks. “You’re gonna, ha-ave to find someone… else to help.”

“I’m not going to leave you here,” Four replied sharply. He wouldn’t even entertain the possibility. Leaving Wind to go get help might have been what his logical side was telling him to do, but his emotions were horrified he was even considering it.

What if I leave, and I’m too late, and he’s all alone when he...

Four felt a touch on his leg, and looked over to see Wind giving him a pleading look, his single uncovered arm clutching at him.

“Four. I’ll be okay until you get back,” he said, a faint smile on his lips. “You gotta…”

He coughed again, and Four reluctantly paused in his digging, crouching down and taking Wind’s hand in his.

“Look, Wind, I don’t… I don’t know how much longer you have,” Four admitted quietly, and Wind let out a thick chuckle.

“Long enough for y-you to get help,” Wind promised, a drop of blood falling from his lip. He met Four’s eyes, and the Smithy was struck by how much trust he saw in them. I’ll be… okay, Four. Sailors’re tough. Go.”

Four leaned back on his heels, and looked at Wind again, studying the dust in his hair, the pained twist to his expression. Wind actually resembled himself quite a bit he realized, their hair nearly the same color, faces a similar shape. Their noses were even remarkably close, and as Four looked into his eyes, he suddenly felt like an idiot.

“Oh sweet Nayru, why on earth did I not think of this sooner,” he gasped, and quickly reached around to grab for his sword. “I have a solution Wind, I might not have to get anyone else after all.”

“...how?” the sailor asked in confusion, and Four held up his sword.

“Watch.”

Rainbow light shone brightly from the blade, and Four saw Wind squint against it as he split apart, the dust in his hair lighting up with bright colors. It quickly faded, and Vio dropped next to Wind, immediately setting in on studying the situation.

Red sat next to him, nervously holding Wind’s hand, and Green and Blue waited, one more patient then the other, for Vio to finish thinking.

Wind stared between all of them, blinking like he couldn’t believe his eyes, but his shocked faded soon enough, replaced by a look of dawning understanding.

“Oh. Four. I get it...” he snickered to himself, then his breath caught on a laugh and he winced.

Red squeezed his hand again, and Wind shakily squeezed back.

“Okay. I believe we can do it,” Vio said finally, standing up. “If two of us wear the bracelets, and are helped by a third, we can lift the rocks while whoever is left pulls Wind out. I think we have just enough strength between us.”

“Well then let’s go!” Blue said, cracking his knuckles. “Red’s gonna be the one to pull him out, right? Makes sense for him to do the easy job, he’s noodle-armed.”

“I am not noodle-armed!” Red cried, and Wind let out a faint giggle.

“You’re strong in other ways Red,” Green said patiently. “And actually, I was going to suggest Blue pull him out.”

“What? Why?!”

“Because you can easily pull him out while the rest of us move the rocks, and if you end up needing to be quick, you’ll do it even if it’ll hurt him,” Green said, meeting his eyes. “Now let’s go, Wind’s not getting any better.”

Blue grumbled, but agreed, and Vio and Green each put on a power bracelet. Red stood next to them while Blue crouched beside Wind, and the three of them began pulling the largest rock upward.

Wind’s breathing got shakier as they pushed, the rock shifting slightly. Small pebbles bounced, and dust billowed up into the shaft of sunlight as they lifted, slowly, carefully, straining as they pulled the huge stones.

Blue stayed as close as he could to Wind, waiting for the space to widen enough to pull him out. The sailor’s eyes were squeezed shut, lips trembling as they pulled, and Blue shifted uncomfortably as he saw a tear fall down his cheek.

See? Red would have been better, he grumbled to himself.

“Get ready Blue!” Green grunted, sweat beading on his forehead, and he, Red, and Vio all gave a concentrated push, lifting the stones up just enough to create a space above Wind.

Blue moved quickly, grabbing Wind under the armpits and pulling him out without jostling him too much. It didn’t seem to matter though, since Wind cried out the moment he tugged him, but Blue ignored the noise, and kept pulling until the sailor was all the way free and a good distance away from the rocks.

“He’s clear!” he shouted, and the other three parts of himself attempted to put the rocks down as slowly as possible, so nothing would collapse on top of them all. Something grabbed at Blue’s hand, and he realized Wind was clutching at it, breathing heavily as tears trickled down his face.

Blue looked away, and squeezed back.

The others dropped to Wind’s side a few moments later, and Green immediately began fishing in his pouch for something. Red’s face was pale, and Vio remained silent, studying the sailor as he breathed shakily.

His other arm was definitely broken, that much was obvious. Something seemed a little off about the way his lower chest looked, and his legs remained limp, Vio swallowing as he looked at them. He wasn’t sure if the others realized exactly what was wrong, but he wasn’t planning on telling them unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Here,” Green said, and pulled a fairy from his pouch. “This... this should do it.”

I hope.

Vio nodded, and Green opened the bottle, the glow of the released fairy making the tear tracks on Wind’s face glitter. The little creature made a beeline for Wind the moment she saw him, and chimed in distress, then swirled around him in tight circles, concentrating near his legs and spine like Vio had suspected.

Wind exhaled heavily as she finished, and the fairy chimed again, bobbing gently by his cheek, then flitted away into the sunlight.

“Wind. Can you move your legs?” Vio asked, and Wind scrunched his face up in concentration.

He managed to lift them both a little ways, and all of them sighed in relief.

The fairy had done her job.

“Think she didn’t get my arm all the way though,” Wind said with a wince, but he was noticeably less pale then he had been, and was already trying to sit up. “Guess she had to focus on my legs.”

“That would make sense,” Green said with a smile, and helped him sit up. Wind clung to him a little tightly as he assisted him, trembling slightly, and after he was upright, Red leaned over and hugged him.

Wind let out a shaky breath, his eyes glittering, and the others drew near and hugged him as well, even Blue and Vio.

“Thanks,” the sailor said into Red’s shoulder, voice smaller then normal. “Thank you Four, th-that...”

“Of course, sailor,” Green replied gently.

Wind swallowed, and didn’t say anything further.

They stayed there and hugged him for a long time, Red’s shoulder damp where Wind’s face was pressed to it. None of them really wanted to move, shaken and trembly after everything, but eventually Wind pulled back and wiped his face, and the colors helped him stand.

They looked at Wind, then around at each other, and wordlessly grabbed their swords, fusing back into one. Wind watched in surprise, but only asked a few questions before going quiet again, his normal exuberance obviously dampened by pain and leftover fear.

Four put an arm around Wind to support him while they walked, and they set off to rejoin the others, the sailor humming the same rolling tune as earlier.

Four joined in, and the debris around them quietly echoed the song.

[queerflesh]

i literally just wanna suck tdick for a week straight is that so much to ask

[aceofwhump]

Buddy Daddies 1x11

[breannasfluff]

Pinned Down

Whump Rating: 4/5 TW: Mainly emotional angst, minor description of blood, being held down, panic AO3 Link

Wild won’t let them near his wing. They can’t move on with his wing dragging on the ground. Yet anytime someone tries to approach, he starts up a warning chatter and shuffles further away.

Time, as flock leader, puffs his wings and gives a strong flock call. “Wild. We just want to help. You’re going to hurt yourself further if you let it keep dragging.” He steps forward, hands up but wings out. He gives another call. Flock leader, obey.

Wild’s ears pin back to his head at the sound. Time never uses the obey signal. He trembles but manages to keep it down to a few shuffling steps as the kite gets closer.

“I’m going to pick up your wing, okay? Just so we can walk over to the clearing and get you looked at properly.” His voice is low and soothing as he approaches.

Wild starts up his chatter again but doesn’t bolt.

“I need to touch your wing to get it off the ground. I’ll do my best not to move it too much, but you are going to get an infection like this.”

The magpie’s chatter kicks up in warning as Time reaches out. He pauses, refluffs his wings, and repeats flock leader, obey. Wild is still edging, ready to bolt. Obey! Submit, hatchling!

Legend flinches and he’s not even the target. Asking for submission is frowned upon in avian society. The call is too instinctual to easily ignore. From a stranger, yes. From a flock leader, no.

Wild wails, but stays put as Time carefully wraps his hands around the dragging wing. Despite how the kite keeps his wings up, showing dominance and flock leadership, the tips tremble and shudder. For a bird who cares deeply for his flock and their happiness, the command hurts him as much as it does Wild.

Time lifts, dipping one wing around to support the secondaries of the dragging wing. Keeping an eye on the bone, he gives a sharp nod. “Over to the clearing. Warriors, lead the way. Twilight, get the others.”

The group scatters and Wild takes a stumbling step, chittering as his broken wing moves. Hyrule gives a calming coo on instinct, but it doesn’t seem to permeate.

Each step away from the battlefield is agonizing and Time has to repeat his obey call twice more to stop Wild from bolting. Finally, they are situated in the middle of a large clearing. Sparse pine trees provide cover, but the ground is mostly dirt. They have the space needed to splint his wing.

“Sit down, Wild.” Time lowers the broken wing in time with the magpie, then lets go and steps back.

Wild crouches and immediately starts up his warning chatter. The other wing flutters and fluffs, trying to compensate.

Warriors—loner that he is—pulls Time into a hug. The kite clings to the captain and he wraps him up in his wings. They are all going to need to show the old man attention and love after a display like that, but Wild comes first.

Four shoves a green potion in Hyrule’s hands and he downs it, standing steadier. His magic alone isn’t enough to heal a broken bone; speeding the healing will over tighten the muscles needed for flight, but he can help.

Legend lets go as Hyrule moves forward. Flockmate, flockmate, here to help, the hearler trills. Safe, care for you, protect. When that doesn’t work, he tilts into a maternal call. Chick, little chick, comfort and help!

Wild chatters at him, unswayed.

“Let me try.” Legend steps forward and lowers his wings until they brush the ground. Help help worry. Hurt flockmate! Then he adds on a descending note. I hurt because you do, it says.

Go away, go away, threat! Wild chatters back. His eyes are blown wide, but they aren’t focusing on the flock’s faces. There’s a haze to them. Whatever trauma this triggered, it’s not a pretty one.

Unfortunately, Legend has a good guess at what it is.

Hyrule tries another coo, then turns to the vet. “This isn’t working. His wing is bleeding and the longer we wait to set the bone, the worse it’s going to get. Do you think Time’s up for another order?”

Legend glances at where their leader is still shrouded in Warriors’ feathers. “I think he’ll do it if we have no choice.”

“I’m not sure we do.” The thrasher turns back to Wild. “I need to check your wing, little chick. Can I come look? I won’t touch it.” Flockmate, love you, he adds with a melodic trill.

Wild’s chattering slows and he drops into a warning hiss. It’s an improvement, so Hyrule moves forward, keeping his hands well away from the broken wing.

“How’s it look?” Legend asks.

“Not great. The bone has torn skin and some of the muscles were cut as well. He’s in a lot of pain, that’s for sure. I’m worried about the bleeding.”

“There’s not that much blood?” True, any amount of red splashed on blue feathers is worrying.

“Exactly. I think it’s bleeding under the skin. It will swell and, worst case, rupture.”

The vet swallows hard, wings shuffling at the notion. Wing injuries are hard to deal with at the best of times. This is definitely not the best.

“So, what do we do now?”

“I’m going to need to splint it in place and make sure the pooled blood is drained. Once we do that, I can use a potion or magic to heal the artery. I can push the bone and muscle a little, but not too far or they will heal stiff. We’re going to be walking for a while.”

The bowerbird brushes the inconvenience away. Wild needs their attention. Hyrule chirps at Wild, but droops when he doesn’t get an answer. He turns back to the other avians. “I’m going to need the raptors to help move his wing into place and hold it steady while I splint it.”

Stepping forward, Legend shakes his head. “He’s not going to like that.”

The healer’s eyes are agonized when they meet his. “I know.”

~

The flock huddles to one side to go over the plan before breaking apart and heading for Wild. The magpie is still in the same spot, one wing dragging limp on the ground. It looks—wrong. It is wrong.

Legend is on distraction duty as the only other flockmate who might be able to keep Wild calm. Time’s face is set, despite the puffy redness that points to recent crying. He’ll do anything to keep his flock safe, even betray their trust.

Of course, that’s the worst-case scenario. The vet can’t help the bile rising in his throat because the worst-case is likely what they will get.

“Hey, Wild. Hyrule’s going to take another look at your wing. I bet you were really scared when the net caught you.” His job is simply to talk, to provide distraction. The magpie’s eyes snapped to him immediately, despite the haze over them. He’s here—or, more likely, here and trapped in his memories at the same time. Past and present colliding in misery.

“You’re being really brave though, you know that? When I was a chick, I lost a primary jumping out of a tree and oh, you would have thought the world ended for how much I wailed.”

Hyrule huffs softly at the anecdote, carefully reaching for Wild’s wing. Legend keeps talking. If silly stories of him as a chick are what it takes, he’ll provide them.

At first, it’s working. Hyrule pushes feathers aside and uncorks a bottle of water. As soon as he pours it over the wound to clean it, though, Wild’s attention snaps to him.

There’s no warning.

Wild lunges at Hyrule and his other wing snaps out. Legend ducks and the bone whistles over his head. Hyrule squawks and backs up, but he isn’t ready for a sudden attack. The magpie snaps at the arm still reaching for his broken wing and bites. Hard.

Hyrule’s melodic voice should never be forced into that register of pain. Legend snaps at the air and chatters at Wild on instinct, because Hyrule is flock.

Wild lets go of Hyrule’s arm, but only to spin and bolt. The broken wing drags on the ground.

Through gritted teeth, Hyrule yells, “Now!”

Obey! Down! Now! Time’s flock call is so strong it nearly stops Legend before he rushes forward to help the others. Wild snarls and doesn’t follow it.

Submit! Submit submit submit!

That finally stops the magpie, but everyone else is frozen as well. Time hurriedly shifts the identifier. Hatchling submit! Obey! Down! The others start moving, but even then, Wild wavers, on the verge of breaking. Hatchling disobeys! Angry, bad, shameful to flock leader! SUBMIT! The call is half snarl, half screech.

Wild drops to the ground. Sorry sorry sorry! His wails are nothing but cries for forgiveness. Tears stream down his face. Forgive, forgive! comes in broken whimpers.

Time is crying, too. This is not how he leads his flock. But Wild is going to damage his wing irreparably if they don’t fix it. Right now, this is the only thing keeping Wild from running. Trauma bites deep, but instinct bites deeper.

Verbally held one spot, the raptors pounce on him. Time and Twilight pin him to the ground. Warriors holds down the other wing, putting a knee on the joint and pressing. It’s dangerous; the weight could snap the bone at the joint, but it’s also one of the few ways to keep Wild incapacitated.

Despite the command, he shrieks and thrashes.

“Keep his wing down! He’s going to damage it more!” Hyrule snaps.

Swallowing hard, Legend steps forward to help.

This will be finished tomorrow! With some comfort!

[xx-k1tsun3-k1d-xx]

RAWRRR went to some Eurovision week events in my city with a friend and drank cheap hard cider out of a hello kitty x splatoon cup shhhh no one tell xD

[dresden-syndrome]

18/V-1964. EESU State Security department.

"Oh, where did you learn that, kitten? Talking back to your owner? Too bad. Seems like we'll need to teach you a bit of a lesson..."

Day 5 of Whumptober

Prompt: Pinned down

Art taglist: @painful-pooch @prismpanic @generic-whumperz @suspicious-whumping-egg @onlywhump

[guardian-angle22]

911 lone star fashion -> every marjan outfit

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