#whumperless-whump-event

[kaciart]

Day 13 It's just a pebble: Avalanche / Stuck in the mountains / “Well, this wasn't how I thought the hiking trip would go.”

-

Patreon | Ko-Fi

[ghostlysoaps]

A Minor Annoyance

They’re back at base again and Ghost has been holed up in his office for the majority of the week in an attempt to get back on track with his ever-increasing backlog of paperwork. The knock on his door is therefore welcome, though surprising. He sits up straighter, wincing when several joints pop in protest, calling for them to come in.

Gaz leans himself against the doorframe. He, too, looks exhausted. Exhausted and irritated.

“I need your help wrangling Soap,” he says without preamble or an arduous attempt at small talk.

Ghost blinks at him.

“What?”

“He’s a stubborn bastard who won’t listen to reason,” Gaz shrugs. “And if it comes down to knocking him out in order to get him to rest, I’d rather have help carrying his leaden arse back to his room.”

Ghost blames sleep deprivation for the way he snorts.

“Alright,” he acquiesces, following behind the sergeant with amused wariness dogging his steps.

-

They find Soap outside surrounded by the scent of petrichor and bleary-eyed recruits. A gust of wind weaves around them, its chilling bite unmistakable where it tugs upon their hair and clothes, rustling through the pine-ridden area like an unexpected whisper. Ghost waits for Soap to send the group out on the track before he approaches, brow furrowed in response to the thickness layered over his voice. He'd sounded as if he spoke from deep in his throat, and with an air of a man pretending as if it didn’t pain him to do so. As he draws closer, Ghost allows the gravel beneath his feet to shift deliberately.

Soap jerks, swings his head around when Ghost comes to stand at his side, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes. The tip of his nose is red too, his cheeks a tad puffy, though he carries himself admirably regardless. Straight-backed and refusing to huddle into the oversized jacket he's wearing.

"Lt.? What're y'doing ‘ere?”

“I'm relieving you of your duties. Garrick can take it from here,” he replies, throwing Gaz a look that is met with surreptitious thumbs-up. He'll ask Price to look into leave for him. Soap's not the only one itching to work himself into an early grave by the looks of it.

It must be a cold day in hell, he muses, if I'm the one with the healthiest work-life balance at the moment.

“What?! Get tae and dinnae talk pish! I'm fine. I can work, Sir, I dinnae need–”

“That was an order, Sergeant. You can either leave on your own two feet or slung over my shoulder. Choice is yours.”

Soap's eyes narrow, his shoulders drawing up defensively, lips pulled back in a sneer. “You wouldn't dare.”

Which is about the worst thing he could've possibly said.

All at once Simon is twelve years old again with a defiant Tommy glaring daggers at him from across the stained rug, those fateful words a hiss through clenched teeth. Even the keen knowledge of their mother’s impending disappointment, how she'd give him a hushed dressing down in the aftermath of their scuffle, hadn't curbed his need to lunge for him. It's like the flip of a switch. Three simple words and suddenly Ghost is vibrating with the desire to prove Soap wrong. Some previously dormant code ingrained deep in his DNA flaring to life with all the speed of an oxygen fire.

Those memories carry him forward and the sudden shift in Johnny’s expression, the moment he realises he’s sealed his fate proper, sends a thrill skittering down his spine.

“Wait, Ghost, I–” is about as far as he comes before the words change into an unintelligible blend of Scottish nonsense, voice strained from having his diaphragm compressed. “Put me doon ye clarty bastard! Gaz!”

“Dream come true for you, huh?” Gaz says with a jaunty wave at their retreating backs, mirth etched into the crinkled lines around his eyes.

“I'll fuckin’ kill ye, ye clipe wopper! Lemme doon so ah can wring ‘is bleedin’ neck!” Soap barks, squirming in Ghost's grasp like a recalcitrant eel. It's a blessing that Soap's already running on fumes since, true to his callsign, it's damn near impossible to keep him securely slung over his shoulder.

By his third attempt to claw Ghost's back to shreds, Ghost sighs and pats him firmly on the rump. Soap instantly stills. Flushed to high-heavens if Ghost were to hazard a guess – not that he can see him from this angle. “Settle down, Sergeant, and I might be convinced to let you walk on your own.”

“Hate you,” Johnny wheezes.

Ghost grunts and maneuvers the door open, settling Johnny back on his feet again when it swings shut with a resounding thud. He steadies him when he wobbles on his feet and Johnny lets him with little fuss. Resigned to his fate he shuffles along after Ghost, who detours briefly to score each of them a cuppa. He ladles honey into Johnny’s mug and presses it into his freezing hands. Gets a muttered, unenthusiastic and intentionally mocking “cheers,” for it.

“You're a right cunt when you're sick.”

“Yer a right cunt all o’ the time,” Soap fires back. He's glaring mutinously into his least preferred beverage, cradled close to his chest while he watches Ghost tidy up after them. “Jus’ hate bein’ sick ‘s all. Feel proper boggin’ no matter how many times ah shower an’ my nose is both runny and stuffed as if th’ physics of tha is s'pose to make sense. Could'a powered through it.”

“That's how you end up forcefully strapped to a bed in medical suffering from pneumonia and severe dehydration.”

Johnny pauses. A small smile graces his face and Ghost hastily turns back to wiping down the counters to keep himself from being blinded.

One shouldn't stare directly into the sun after all.

“Speakin’ from experience, sir?”

Ghost doesn't answer, as if that isn't a reply in-and-of-itself, merely nudges Johnny back into moving. He gets him all the way to his door before Soap's brow creases in confusion. His mouth opens, closes, opens again while Ghost trudges inside with little fanfare, door left gaping in silent invitation. Johnny seizes it with both hands after dithering at his threshold a second longer.

He examines the impersonal space with keen interest, slurping obnoxiously at his tea as if to detract from how his hands flutter over scuffed paint and barren walls, his gaze catching over the miniscule signs someone is living there at all.

“Why'ahm I ‘ere, Ghost?” Soap asks when he's done, pinning him in place with the intensity of his stare. It's the same focus he dedicates to a particularly difficult math equation or sketching up blueprints with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. It's a heady feeling to be on the receiving end of it. Heady and terrifying.

“Figured you'd appreciate the en-suite,” Ghost says, violently stamping down on the truth until it comes out in a statement easier to digest. “And someone needs to make sure you stay in place. Bloody flight risk that you are.”

You'd look good in my clothes, in my bed, as a permanent fixture here. This is as much for me as it is for you. A taste of what I can't have.

He hopes Soap doesn't read between the lines this time – always too perceptive for Ghost's questionable sanity.

“An’ where d'ye plan on sleeping?” Johnny smiles, a mote amused and as sweet as the honey lingering on his lips.

“Floor. Or Gaz's room if he doesn't delete those pictures he took.”

Johnny’s eyes go dark as sin.

“Oh, that'll be th’ least of his worries.”

“Sleep, MacTavish. You can come up with your convoluted revenge plot later.”

“Yes sir.” He gives a lazy salute and flops down on Ghost's bed with a grunt – boots and all, the absolute heathen. Ghost watches him rearrange himself into a position more befitting a person who's suffered a recent spinal fracture when Johnny peers up at him again from under thick lashes. “Dinnae think you're exempt from those, Lt. Ah know where ye live now.”

Ghost sighs and tosses the hoodie folded over his chair at Johnny’s face, taking great pleasure in closing the bathroom door in the face of Johnny's indignant name-calling.

-

Prompts via @whumperless-whump-event and @seth-whumps

[whump-side]

Whumperless Whump Event

Day 29 - Wrong place, wrong time: One of many hostages

I hope he has paid overtime

@whumperless-whump-event

[dandylovesturtles]

Decided to write a quick little something for @whumperless-whump-event Day 4: chronic pain/"I'm used to it."

featuring, of course, Sidelined Leo!

like I said before, since it's disability pride month I'd like to do a few things for the Sidelined AU, so hopefully I will find time for more as the days go. For now, I hope you enjoy this!

-----

Leo can tell it's going to be a bad day the moment he wakes up.

The pain in his arms and legs has grown from it's constant dull thrum to a more present burn, and there's a pinch between his eyes that tells him a headache is on the way. Really, he's not surprised; the last few days have been really good. He even went out on a mission two days ago, and did a little skateboarding yesterday. It stands to reason that his body has crashed out on him.

Sometimes he feels angry and bitter about it. Today, he just feels a sort of resigned acceptance. And that means maybe it won't be such a bad day after all.

He hits the button on the side of the bed so it bends him into a reclined position, then fumbles around on his side table until his hand lands on his pill organizer. He should probably text someone to bring him water, but it feels like a pain, so he dry swallows them one by one and just resolves not to mention doing that to Dad or Raph.

Then he finally blinks the sleep out of his eyes and looks around his room and... darn it, his chair isn't here. Where'd he even leave it...

His memory is a complete blank on that one, so he sighs and clears his throat.

"Hey, Shell-man?"

There's only a second of silence before Shelldon's voice echoes from who even knows where. Donnie rigged his new room with more electronics than Leo will ever know about.

"S'up bro?"

"You know where my chair is?" he asks, like Shelldon can't track it instantly.

"You left it in the arcade, dude," comes the answer. "Want me to wheel it over?"

Yeah, no way he's getting himself to the arcade today. "Sure, thanks, Shelly."

"No problem, dude!"

Leo lets his head flop back on his pillows while he wants for his chair to be delivered. He fumbles around for his phone this time and takes a look at his reminders.

6:00 PM: Concert with Mikester

"Crap," he mutters, closing his eyes. Right, that yokai hip-hop group Mikey wanted to go see. Leo had promised he'd go with him, but he doubts he'll be able to do it now.

It's not that big a deal. Raph or Donnie will probably go with him if Mikey makes big enough puppy eyes at them. It's just, Leo had been kinda excited about it, too...

The dark buzz that heralds his anxiety flares up, and he sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slow. He doesn't want this day to turn terrible. He needs to relax and accept the things he can't change, like April always says. Even when it sucks.

There's a whir of electronics that signals the arrival of his chair. Leo waits until it parks itself next to his bed, then he swings his legs over the bed and stands up just long enough to sit down in the chair again. Even that leaves him feeling a little winded, but he doubts his arms could have handled the transfer so he doesn't bother trying.

He wheels around his room until he finds his big comfy unicorn hoodie, then drives out into the rest of the lair, making his way up the ramp to the kitchen. He can smell breakfast cooking, and hear Raph's voice.

"Morning fam," he says as he comes in, trying to keep his voice upbeat even though he already feels tired.

"Morning Leo!" Mikey echoes, turning around with a whole plate of waffles. His smile falters a little when he sees the chair and the hoodie. "Oof. Flare up?"

"Yeah," he admits, steering his chair into the empty part of the kitchen table. Mikey sets the waffle plate down, and without having to be asked Raph starts fixing some for Leo, with blueberries on top.

It took work for them both to find the line between helping and babying, but they're better at this now. Leo doesn't mind Raph helping him out this way, especially because he'd rather not make a mess of the kitchen table.

"Mikey, can you grab my fat fork?"

"It has a name," says a tired voice behind him, and Leo smirks as Donnie comes around the side and makes for the coffee machine.

"I just used it. It's the fat fork."

"It's a GeniusBuilt Secure Grip Adjustable Fork-"

"I'm not saying all that."

Donnie huffs. Mikey snickers, swinging around him to deliver the fork with the thick grip to Leo. He has another set with a loop that can secure to his hand if he needs it, but this one is fine for now.

"Here!

"Thanks Angelo."

"Did you take your meds this morning?" Raph asks.

"Yes, Mom," says Leo, rolling his eyes as he cuts off a bite of waffle.

"Really? 'Cause Raph didn't hear you ask anyone to bring you water-"

"I had some leftover Gatorade in my room," Leo lies quickly.

"Uh-huh." Raph looks at him skeptically. "Leo, you know taking pills without water hurts your throat."

"Meh meh meh, you'll hurt your throat," Leo repeats in a mocking voice. Raph reaches over like he's going to cuff Leo on the head, then seems to rethink it and steals some of his blueberries instead. "Hey!"

"You are all so noisy already," comes Splinter's voice, and he finally comes into the room to join them, wearing the robe he slept in. He looks up at Leo in his chair. "Are you in pain, Blue?"

Leo hums an affirmative. "It's not that bad, though," he adds, because it's not. Comparatively.

Now it's his dad's turn to look skeptical. "Are you sure?"

Leo grimaces. "It's... a little worse than normal," he amends. "But I can handle it."

"Mmm..." Splinter walks off to get in his own seat. "Let us know if it gets worse."

"Yeah, yeah..."

The conversation moves on to other topics, up until Leo's wheelchair beeps at him. He groans, glancing down at the battery indicator, which is firmly in the red.

"You forgot to charge it, didn't you?" asks Donnie, looking amused.

"Shut up, I've been busy!" Leo snaps back.

"If you left it on the charger when you aren't using it then this wouldn't happen."

"Alright, anyone else have any criticisms for me today?" he says, except it comes out a shade too bitter and Donnie's grin falters.

Good job, Leon, way to be a dick. He winces, focusing again on his waffles. His arm is sore from the effort of eating and he wants to crawl back in bed and stay there, which is exactly the sort of attitude he's been trying to avoid.

"...I have the backup chair in the lab if you need it," says Donnie. A peace offering.

"Thanks," says Leo, returning it.

So after breakfast, Donnie helps him swap chairs. His main one is put on the charger and he wheels himself to the living room with the backup, then calls for Raph.

"Think you can help me get comfy, big guy?" he asks.

"Of course," says Raph with a grin. "What do you want?"

It's nice that he asks now, instead of assuming.

Leo directs him to help him onto the couch, then Raph gets him his fluffy blue blanket to cover him up. Even though he took his meds, he can feel the pain radiating at his hips and knees and he guesses he's going to need more later. He sets an alarm on his phone and settles in with a Jupiter Jim flick to fall asleep to.

He's not out yet when he hears the pad of feet, then feels the couch dip as Mikey sits next to him.

"Hey Leo," he says softly, and Leo gives a hum to let him know he's still awake. "You think... you're gonna feel up for the concert tonight?"

Oh right. Shoot. It had already slipped Leo's mind, and now he feels guilty all over again.

He opens his eyes and tilts his head so he can see Mikey. "I don't think so. I'm sorry."

"You don't gotta apologize!" says Mikey quickly. "I'm sorry you're having a rough day."

"It's fine," says Leo. "I'm used to it."

"I'm still sorry," says Mikey firmly. He gets up, then comes over so he can give Leo a very awkward couch hug. "I wish you didn't have to hurt," he says, sincerely.

Leo leans into the hug. Feels the dark buzz of anxiety ebb away.

"Hey, it's alright. All you guys make it easier."

Mikey beams at that, bouncing back up. "Hey, I know," he says. "I'll get Donnie to help me set up a sweet livestream so you can see the concert from right here!"

They don't have to go to all that trouble for him. But Leo looks up at his little brother's shining smile and can't say no.

"That'd be really cool," he says, and Mikey claps his hands.

"Yes! Okay, I'll go get Dee and we'll get on it!"

He races away. Leo chuckles, curling up under his blanket.

Maybe it won't be such a bad day after all.

[asidian]

Pixie Dust

by: Asidian

Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives

Pairing: Charles/Edwin

Event: July 2024 Whumperless Whump Event: Day 16 @whumperless-whump-event

Collab art: By the incredible kaciart

Warnings: idiots in love, altered mental states, truth serum, past torture

Excerpt:

Charles kneels down by Edwin's side and gets an arm around him – levers him up to sitting. Edwin blinks, slowly, like he's some sort of owl that just got walloped upside the head with a rolled-up newspaper.

"I am not prone to naps at all," he declares, as though he suspects Charles has gone daft.

"I know," says Charles. "Funny, innit? But here you are."

Edwin blinks again. He looks down at the mushroom circle, and then up at Charles.

"Charles," he says. "You have the most remarkable eyelashes."

[cuddlepilefics]

I’m going down (you’re yelling timber)

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Hyunjin

Caregivers: Stray Kids

Prompts: Passing out / Exhaustion / “I’ve got you, let’s sit down, I’ve got you.”

@whumperless-whump-event

No one’s POV.:

With the way their schedules had been filled to the very brink lately, Hyunjin was impressed how the group was still going strong. For some reason, the members didn’t seem any more tried than they’d usually be, while he himself felt close to crumbling. His whole body ached and a persistent headache was pulsing behind his temples. Had been for the past week if he was being honest. 3racha worked even more than him, which Hyunjin knew because he repeatedly returned to an empty dorm, yet they seemed not to be too affected by it. At least that way, Hyunjin could shower right away when he came home from his dance practice with Minho and Felix and didn’t need to wait his turn.

That shower turned out quite long because Hyunjin’s tense muscles finally relaxed when the hot water hit his shoulders. He barely found the energy to wash himself down, his arms suddenly feeling like cooked spaghetti, and it was obvious that he’d be out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow. A shudder ran down Hyunjin’s back, the hot water suddenly feeling cold to him, causing goosebumps to prick at his skin. He braced himself against the tiled wall as his ears started to ring. In a daze, he turned off the water and stumbled out of the shower, clumsily wrapping himself in his towel before plopping down on the closed toilet seat.

Holding his swimming head in his hands, Hyunjin took a few panting breaths and felt shaky all over. Maybe he shouldn’t have turned the water temperature up so high because now his circulation was wonky and he didn’t trust himself to stand and get ready for bed. Oh how badly he wanted to be in his bed right now. That would take a while though because Hyunjin only found the strength to get dressed after taking deep breaths for five minutes. He had to sit down again while he brushed his teeth.

A few sips of water might help with the lingering dizziness but the kitchen was in the opposite direction of his bedroom, so Hyunjin was torn. If 3racha had been home, he would’ve asked someone to fetch him a drink but that was out of question now. In the end, he decided to go to bed without a drink. His head pounded and he had to hold back tears as he crawled into bed, unsure how exactly he was going to make it through his schedule the next day.

Lucky for him, their schedule started at the studio the following morning and while his headache hadn’t improved, he wasn’t dizzy anymore. It was also nice to not be alone at the dorm anymore and he shot Jisung a tired smile when he plopped down next to him at the dining table, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. The rapper looked half asleep still, about as exhausted as Hyunjin felt and the dancer was relieved that he wasn’t the only one feeling drained. On the other hand, Jisung had only gotten home after Hyunjin had already gone to bed, yet he was up and running at the same time.

Watching the rapper eat made Hyunjin’s stomach turn and he glanced at his coffee in distaste. He had no appetite at all but if he wanted to take something for his headache, he should have at least a small breakfast. Too exhausted to prepare himself some proper food, Hyunjin grabbed some crackers and a small box of banana milk, slowly nibbling one of the crackers. It felt wrong in his mouth, taking all his willpower to swallow. Figuring it’d be easier to just wash it down with the banana milk, the dancer took a swig and startled when it triggered his gag reflex. Hyunjin covered his mouth in a panic, the drink eventually going down but not without choking him. Watching the older double over coughing, Jisung guessed his friend had aspirated, too sleepy to pay attention to eating, and reached over to pat the other on the back.

When Hyunjin finally managed to catch his breath, he thanked Jisung weakly but excused himself to his room, claiming he’d finish his food while getting ready. In truth, he sat on the edge of his bed, trashcan planted between his knees as he painfully slowly finished his crackers. They left his mouth and throat itchy because he hadn’t dared to drink anymore but that was soon to change. There was no way he’d be able to swallow his painkillers dry, not after the crackers had dried him out like this, so eyeing the banana milk in distaste, he hurriedly popped the pills into his mouth and downed his drink like a shot. Lurching forward with a closed-mouth gag, Hyunjin forced himself to breathe deeply and shuddered. Goosebumps had spread on his arms, while he broke into a sweat. His stomach still churned when he wiped his brow with a trembling hand, dumping the milk carton into the trash. The pills were down, so… mission accomplished.

He'd be lying if he claimed they were helping at all though. There was still that pressure in his head, making it hard to think clearly but at least, his stomach had calmed down. He was lucky that their dance practice was only scheduled for the late afternoon and he’d have a couple of hours to get his bearings. Maybe once he was more awake, he’d be able to stomach something more nutritious that’d give him the energy to keep going. Hyunjin probably shouldn't be happy that his friends were similarly tired but a small part of him way. With all of them lacking energy, it was relatively quiet and sitting with his fellow dancers, Hyunjin eventually dared lean his head on Minho’s shoulder. It still ached and his neck felt too sore to support its weight. To his surprise, the older neither pushed him away or teased him for it, merely continuing to go over his lyrics.

Sitting on Hyunjin’s other side, Felix’ hand snuck up his hyung’s back and gently kneaded the tense muscles in his neck. The melting tension caused him to slump further into Minho, which startled the second oldest but he was quick to adjust his position to properly support his dongsaeng’s side. “Are you okay?”, Minho asked quietly enough only for Hyunjin to hear. The younger nodded slightly, breathing: “Tired. Head hurts.” – “Painkillers?”, Minho offered, reaching up to run his fingers through his dongsaeng’s hair. “Took some”, Hyunjin mumbled but kept his eyes closed, “Not helping much though.” He drifted up soon after that, too out of it to witness the hushed conversation between his fellow dancers.

Felix kept massaging Hyunjin’s neck and shoulders while the older was asleep, hoping to release some of the tension to ease his pain. At some point, Chan had come over to feel the boy’s forehead but couldn’t detect a fever. Giving the leader s sad smile, Minho hummed: “It’s probably exhaustion. He’s been going all out during practice every single time.” Chan sighed, that truly sounded like something Hyunjin would do. “If he wakes up, let me know, please. I’ll have him warm up and record his lines right away, so he and go home and rest after that. You and Felix will be fine teaching us the choreo without him later, right?”, the leader confirmed, earning a relieved nod from Minho. The dancer couldn’t bear watching his dongsaeng destroy himself like that anymore.

As soon as Hyunjin sat up and reached for his water bottle, Minho informed him of what they had worked out with Chan. It should’ve already been red flag that the younger just thanked him and started to warm up despite his voice still being thick with sleep. The Hyunjin they knew would’ve put up a fight, insisting that he was fine to keep working and especially refusing to be sidelined during dance practice. It seemed he was truly more exhausted than he let on. He even swayed slightly when he had to get up from the couch because he was called into the recording booth. Laughing awkwardly, he slurred something about his legs having fallen asleep from sitting so long and shakily entered the recording booth to receive instructions which segment he should start with.

Hyunjin felt truly lucky that 3racha were so patient and understanding with him because nothing seemed to be going his way. Despite warming up, his voice still came out flat and with his tongue feeling heavy at the bottom of his mouth, he had frequent slip ups in his pronunciation. Everyone was understanding and tried to reassure him but Hyunjin couldn’t stop the tears from blurring his vision, making his voice sound even more choked. The stuffy air inside the recording booth certainly wasn’t helping and with his breath coming faster, it didn’t take long for the dancer to feel lightheaded. He lasted surprisingly long till the dizziness hit with the same intensity as it had the previous night. Sweat beaded on his forehead and it felt like all the air had been used up, no matter how much he breathed, it didn’t seem to be enough.

When his vision darkened, Hyunjin shakily reached for the lyric stand, clammy hand clutching cold metal. His ears rang too badly for him to hear Chan calling out to him over the speakers but goosebumps spread on his skin when a gust of wind hit his arm from Chan pushing through the door of the recording booth. Strong arms wrapped around his middle and Hyunjin let himself slump into the Aussie’s chest. “I’ve got you, let’s sit down, I’ve got you.” That promise seemed to be enough for Hyunjin’s fuzzy mind to let go of the last remnants of consciousness, his knees buckling while Chan guided him to the floor. Changbin was by their side in an instant, elevating his dongsaeng’s leg. Cursing himself for not having picked up on the signs, despite Hyunjin acting so out of character, Minho was up off the couch and with them in no time, the tiny recording booth getting cramped. He swiped the lyrics sheets off the stand, fanning Hyunjin’s pale face while feeling his pulse.

Hyunjin’s head thumped as he slowly came to, making him grimace. “Easy”, Chan shushed when the dancer tried to sit up. Changbin carefully laid the younger’s legs down and slipped out of the booth for one, to give them some space and two, to fetch his dongsaengs some water. Carding Hyunjin’s hair back, Chan hummed: “How’re you feeling?” The dancer drew a deep breath before mumbling: “Like putty. Really sore and dizzy putty though.” – “Not surprised your limbs feel sluggish and heavy”, Minho winced sympathetically, rubbing Hyunjin’s arm, “You’ve been demanding far too much of your body lately. Do you think you can stand if we help you? It’s really stuffy in here and I doubt that’s helping with the dizziness at all.”

Hoisting Hyunjin to his feet, the two eldest supported him to the couch and made him lay down there again. Felix took a seat next to him and comfortingly played with his hair while they tried to figure out their next course of action. Sending Hyunjin back to the dorm by himself was out of the question now but there also was no point of dragging him along to their schedule and make him try to rest on an uncomfortable couch in a dance practice room with music blasting from the speakers. None of them would be able to accompany him though because they’d have to learn a new choreography today and Minho and Felix were needed as their instructors.

“Hyun-e, we don’t have a good feeling sending you home alone. Not with what just happened. It’ll be too loud to rest in the practice room but you could stay here at the studio. The couch is all yours, we’d bring you lunch and collect you after practice”, Chan mused. The mention of food made Hyunjin’s stomach turn but he didn’t dare argue. Scratching the back of his neck, the leader hummed: “The second option would be manager-nim taking you back to the dorm and keeping you company while you eat. After that your not to leave your bed for anything other than using the bathroom. Safety precaution ‘cause we don’t want to come home to you passed out on the floor.” – “Option two, please, but I dunno if I can stomach anything, hyung”, Hyunjin muttered, resting his hand on his middle, “Don’t feel like eating.” – “The two of you can pick up something light, some soup maybe, on the way back”, Chan smiled, “I trust you to try your best and if you can only handle a couple of bites at a time, you’ll just try to snack throughout the rest of the day and have really small servings, okay?” The dancer nodded weakly, thanking Chan. He was glad that he could finally rest up.

[whumperless-whump-event]

ATTENTION

This is the new blog for the Whumperless Whump Event of July! Tag me instead of @seth-whumps. Reblogs will be done from here. New information will be posted here. Thanks for coming along, y'all!

[kirbys-lover]

Late post bcs I had no signal, but here is day 3 of the whumperless whumper event!

"Like a record, baby."

Vertigo | struggling to stand | "Is the room spinning, or is it just me?"

Something was wrong with Grayson. Damian knew his brother had hit his head pretty hard on patrol, but he was still acting... weird. What was more concerning was the fact that he didn't remember hitting his head, or even coming home from patrol.

"I'm fine, Dami," he insisted, but Damian didn't believe him for a second. He was stuttering, swaying, and struggling to stand.

"I find that difficult to believe, master Dick," Alfred said, appearing seemingly from thin air. "Given that people who are 'fine' should be able to walk in a straight line."

"I can't go to the med bay. B would be pissed, seeing as this would be the third time this month," Dick said, rubbing his temples and leaning heavily on the wall.

"That is no good reason to ignore your well-being," he said. Dick stayed stubbornly silent. Alfred sighed. "At least sit down before you fall down."

Dick allowed himself to be gently guided to a chair, still unable to walk straight. His eyes began to lose focus as he sat down, and his face became pale.

"Grayson, I believe you should follow Pennyworth's orders," Damian insisted. His brother did not answer.

"Grayson?" He repeated. His brother did not stir. "Grayson, what-" he cut himself off when Dick began to convulse. Small spasms for a few seconds, before his back arched aggressively, causing him to fall off of the chair.

"Master Dick!" Alfred cried, lunging to catch him as he fell out of the chair. Damian ended up getting there first, catching Dick before he could hit his head.

Dick's back arched again, causing him to hit his head on the chair despite Damian's best efforts. He quickly moved to get the chair out of the way but found that Alfred was already on it.

"Master Damian, fetch master Bruce immediately," Alfred said, sounding like he was trying to be calm, but Damian could see right through it. Alfred was terrified.

It took a moment for the words to register. He hadn't been able to get his eyes off of his brother, who was still convulsing, foamy vomit at his lips.

The moment they did register, he took off towards the cave.

////////////

The moment he reached his father, he began shouting.

"Father, you must help Grayson!" He cried.

Bruce turned to face him. "Is he hurt again? That'll be the third time this month..."

"He is seizing!" Damian shouted.

At this, his father's face grew pale, and he needed no further explanation. He rushed out of the cave, Damian trailing behind him.

//////////

By the time they got to Grayson, his seizure had ended, but he still looked... wrong. He was panting, and while his eyes were open, they seemed to look straight through Damian.

"Grayson?" He said, kneeling down and gently shaking Dick's shoulder. He did not react.

"Damian," his father said, gesturing for him to move away from his brother.

"No!" Damian said, shaking his head defiantly.

"Damian, he needs the med bay."

"He... he will not answer me!" Damian cried.

"He's just had a seizure, Damian. He's gonna be out of it for a while, but we need to get him to the med bay so that we can figure out what happened and keep it from happening again," Bruce said.

"I believe I know what happened," Damian said as his father carefully cradled Dick in his arms. "When he returned from patrol, he said he had a head injury, but did not remember what happened."

"Dammit..." Bruce whispered, and dashed off to the med bay, Dick in his arms. Alfred followed them briskly out the door.

Damian was suddenly left alone, feeling bewildered. How had what he'd said changed the severity of the situation so drastically?

He ran after them, but when he got to the doors of the med bay, only Tim was there.

"Let me in, Drake," he spat.

"I can't do that, Damian," Tim said gently.

"Then I have no choice but to force you," he said.

"Damian, please," Tim said. "We can't help him with you underfoot. With me, Bruce, Leslie, and Alfred all trying to help him, there just isn't enough space. You do want him to be okay, don't you?"

It was a low blow, but unfortunately, Drake's logic made sense. Damian just grumbled and sat down on the floor. If Drake wasn't going to let him in, he was just going to wait right there.

And wait, he did.

//////////

An hour later, he was beginning to get... anxious. He wasn't scared. He wasn't. Damian Wayne Al Ghul did not get scared. But after Grayson's... episode... okay, maybe he was a little scared, but simply because he didn't want to lose his big brother.

Unable to bear the anxiety, he burst through the doors, determined to find out what was going on.

"Damian-" Bruce began when he saw him.

"Let him stay," Tim cut him off. Bruce sighed in resignation.

"Where is Grayson?" Damian asked, not seeing his brother. Tim gestured to the curtain behind him.

Damian wasted no time in opening the curtain, revealing his brother lying still. He didn't look half as bad as he had before, but he was still pale, and there was now a tube coming out of his head.

"What is wrong with him?" Damian asked.

"His brain was swelling. We've got it under control now, but he could've died," Bruce said solemnly.

Damian just nodded and took a seat next to his brother. He appeared to be asleep.

"Grayson?" Damian said, gently shaking his brother.

"I would advise you not to wake him. He needs rest," Alfred said.

"Mph. Too late," Dick said groggily. "Is the room spinning, or is it just me?"

Damian smirked. "I will not dignify that with an answer."

Dick chuckled. "Are you okay? I heard you were there."

"Do you... not remember?" Damian asked.

"Nope. Leslie said that's normal, though."

"Oh," Damian replied simply. "To answer your question, I am fine. You are the one who is injured."

"I know," Dick replied. "It just might've scared you, is all."

"Tt. I do not get scared, Grayson. You know this," Damian said, but his voice still shook slightly.

Dick smiled at him. "I'm sorry for scaring you, Dami."

Damian did not answer. He would never admit it, but today had scared him. At least he knew his brother would be okay.

[tabbytabbytabby]

Just A Scratch

Word Count: 883 words

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: 9-1-1

Relationship: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard

Tags: Established Relationship, Established Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Worried Tommy Kinard, POV Tommy Kinard, Tommy Kinard Takes Care of Evan "Buck" Buckley, Love Confessions, Soft Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Blood and Injury, Light Angst

Summary: When Evan gets hurt during a date, Tommy worries.

Read on AO3

For @whumperless-whump-event Day 1: “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.”

[alicewritingstories]

Whumperless Whump Event: Scattered in the Mountains

@whumperless-whump-event

Fandom: Linked Universe

[Previous] << Chapter 7 >> [Next]

Prompts for this chapter:

2: "Eyes open, ambulance is almost here." (except that there are no ambulances in the setting)

25: "I know it hurts. Breathe."

29: Wrong place, wrong time

30: "I can't stop crying, I'm sorry..."

31: "We can't just sit here and wait."

Central characters: Time, Hyrule, Legend, Warriors, Sky, and (though he doesn't know it yet) Twilight

***

Legend had been walking for an hour or so and guessed it was about noon when he finally saw a thread of smoke rising above the trees. He sighed in relief; that looked like it came from a chimney and that meant someone was living out here who might be able to at least give him some directions and a look at a map. He had no idea how Hyrule was so comfortable just wandering around the wild.

He turned and headed in the direction of the smoke, still moving carefully in case he'd misjudged and to avoid losing his footing on the rough ground. Four had already found out how badly that could go.

At that thought, he couldn't help speeding up a little more. While leaving Four and Sky to look after themselves was better than leaving Sky alone, Four wasn't exactly in a position to fight if he had to.

Soon he could see the source of the smoke: a wooden cabin nestled in a sheltered corner against a cliff. He sighed in relief and broke into a careful jog as the slope evened out a little.

As he approached, a hylian walked out of the door, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be back before long. Make yourselves comfortable!"

Then he saw Legend hurrying towards him and immediately tensed, feet moving into guard as his hand moved towards the sword hilt Legend could see poking out from behind the pelt he was wearing as a cape.

"Woah…" Legend slowed to a walk, raising his hands and ignoring the still-raw memories that Sky's delirious ramblings had brought to mind. This man was reacting to seeing an armed stranger running towards his home and family, that was all. "I'm not here to cause trouble," he called. "I need some help. At least some directions."

The man tilted his head curiously, his eyes narrowed between angular black tattoos.

Then the door opened and Warriors walked out. "Legend?" he said, then his eyes brightened as he saw Legend.

"Hey, Pretty boy," said Legend, folding his arms. "Trust you to land on your feet."

Even as he spoke, he noticed the shadows under Warriors' eyes, the spots of fevered color on his cheeks, and the blood on his sleeve. He had not landed on his feet.

"One of your friends?" asked the stranger dryly, looking over his shoulder at Warriors.

"Yes. Have you seen anything of the others, Legend?"

Legend nodded. "Sky's sick and Four is injured. How about you?"

"I found Wind, but he's the only one." Warriors gestured to the stranger. "This is Link. He knows the area and helped us."

At the name, Legend couldn't help a small double-take. Link apparently noticed and a flash of self-consciousness went across his face.

"Well, we'd best get Sky and Four back here as well so you're all in one place," he said thoughtfully, rolling his shoulders. "Then… you said you were a party of seven, Warriors?"

"Yes, that will leave Time and Hyrule unaccounted for."

Legend's heart skipped a beat and he tried to ignore it. If one member of the Chain was well-suited to being lost in a completely unfamiliar mountainside range, it was Hyrule. He'd be fine.

"Right." Link's eyes drifted up to another part of the slope. "Well, come on, Legend; let's go."

Legend nodded, but before turning away he asked, "Where's Wind? You said you'd found him."

Warriors glanced worriedly back at the door of the cabin. "He's been poisoned, but he's recovering."

That raised more questions, but there wasn't time to ask them right now, so Legend just nodded and hurried back up the slope with Link at his side.

~~~

Hyrule had calmed down as much as Time thought he was going to be able to; at least his breathing had steadied and he wasn't trying to struggle any more. Time hoped that was a good sign.

"OK, I'm going to have another try at digging you out," he said, squeezing Hyrule's hand. "Stay awake."

Hyrule swallowed hard and nodded. Though steadier, his breathing was still quick and shallow and he was horribly pale; even his lips seemed to have lost their color. Time started work on moving rocks, occasionally speaking to check that Hyrule could still respond.

Then, suddenly, something shifted. He heard a rustle of falling sand and soil and, although he didn't see any movement from the rock resting on Hyrule's back, Hyrule's scream told him all he needed to know. Time lunged back to his side and took his hand again.

"Time… it hurts…" wailed Hyrule. "It hurts…"

"I know," said Time, keeping his voice steady with an effort. "I know it hurts. Breathe. Just keep breathing."

"Am I… am I going… to die here?"

"No. I'm going to get you out. It's going to be OK."

"It hurts…" Hyrule tried to pull free, tried to wriggle out from under the rock, but fell still with a sob.

"I know," said Time, wishing there was something else he could say. He helplessly pressed Hyrule's hand between both of his. "I know."

Hyrule gulped again, tears spilling down his face. "I… I can't stop crying, I'm sorry…"

"Just breathe. You've faced apparently hopeless situations before and survived. You can survive this."

Agonizingly slowly, Hyrule managed to calm himself as Time held his hand, resting his other hand on his shoulder to remind him to stay as still as he could.

"I'm going to try again to dig you out, OK?" asked Time.

Hyrule sniffed and nodded. Time gave him a few sips of water, then went back to trying to move the rocks.

~~~

It seemed to take forever to get back to the cave where Legend had left Four and Sky. Four was sitting by the opening and as he saw them approaching he waved.

"Hey, Four," said Legend. "This is Link. Link, This is Four and that's Sky. Has he woken up at all, Four?"

Four had been looking at Link with slightly-narrowed eyes, but at the question he turned his attention back to Sky. "No, he's stirred slightly but no sign of waking."

"What happened?" asked Link, kneeling down beside Sky.

"Sickness," said Legend. "He'd been hiding it - trying to push through - but a fever hit him hard overnight."

Link nodded. "And you?" he asked, looking at Four.

"I injured my ankle falling down a hill," said Four.

Link smiled slightly. "Y'all really aren't used to this area, are you?"

"Nope," said Legend curtly, biting down any more acid remarks.

"Well -" To Legend's shock, Link simply scooped Sky into his arms - bedroll, sword and all - as easily as if he was carrying a child. "If you can help Four, we'd best be going."

"How are you -" Legend couldn't see any obvious strength-enhancing items on him, but admittedly he was wearing several layers, including gloves, so that didn't mean anything. He shrugged and helped Four back to his feet. "Link found Warriors and Wind," he told him. "Time and Hyrule are still missing, so the faster we get moving the better."

"So you should carry me," said Four with a wince. "Fine."

Legend boosted Four onto his back and followed Link back down the slope.

"So… you're all called Link as well, huh?" asked Link as they walked.

"Yeah. It's… a long story," said Legend. Time was much better at explaining this and he didn't want to attempt it if he didn't have to.

"Warriors was cagy too. I'm starting to wonder if that story's fit to hear," said Link.

Legend bristled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Four tapped him gently on the shoulder and said, "It's genuinely complicated and a bit weird and I don't think either of us is the best person to ask."

"And Warriors has two modes, one of which is 'cagy'," added Legend. It was unfortunate; Warriors had taken to the idea of the portals and their shared spirit remarkably quickly.

Link tilted his head thoughtfully. "Yeah… that's consistent. Plus it sounds like he's had a rough time since he lost the rest of you."

"What happened?" asked Four.

"He said he'd gotten separated, had stumbled on a monster camp - and I think I know the camp, it was a nasty one - and had cleared it but got wounded in the process. He found Wind shortly afterwards and they were able to camp together, but by morning the wound was infected, Wind had poisoned himself with mushrooms, and they were looking for help when they met me."

Legend couldn't help a wince. This was a hell of a thing to happen for Warriors' first portal.

Despite his best efforts to ignore the anxiety, given what had happened to all of them he shuddered to imagine what might have happened to the two still wandering the wilderness somewhere. Though they were moving as fast as they could, he could feel the time burning.

But at last they were back at Link's hut and Legend set Four down to open the door so Link didn't have to disturb Sky.

"Light Spirits, man, it's my cabin!" exclaimed Link. Startled, Legend looked past him to see Warriors sheathing a knife and moving from his protective stance in front of the bed, looking embarrassed.

"Sorry about that," he said, taking a step forward. "How's -"

"Asleep, as best I can tell," said Link, laying Sky on the floor to one side. Warriors crouched by him to take his pulse.

"Yes, this seems strong enough," he murmured, "though his breathing doesn't sound good…" He glanced up as Legend and Four limped in and shot them a relieved smile.

"If you can keep things under control here, Warriors, I think Legend and I should go and keep looking for the rest of your party," said Link.

Legend nodded agreement and helped Four to sit down on a stool, then hurried after Link.

"Any ideas?" he asked as they walked.

"Well… I don't want to worry anyone, but before anything else I'm going to check that landslide," said Link.

Legend swallowed hard and nodded.

~~~

Time scrubbed a hand over his face with a sigh, looking up at the tangled mess of rubble just waiting to crash down on the boy lying at its base. He suspected he'd cleared as much as he could. He'd freed Hyrule's other arm and splinted it to secure the broken bones and had at least made sure his head was probably going to be safe, but he was starting to realize that there was nothing else he could do alone. To get Hyrule out from under that rock, he needed someone to help him lift and brace it and someone to move Hyrule, since he wouldn't be able to move himself.

"Time? I… you can't get me out, can you?" asked Hyrule, his voice cracking.

Time knelt down beside his head again. The traveler's breathing was shallow and he was shivering despite the blanket Time had laid over him.

"I'm going to need to go and get help," he said, as calmly and clearly as he could manage.

Hyrule's eyes flickered open, wide and fearful.

"I can't get you out on my own and we can't just sit here and wait in the hope that someone will stumble by who will be able and willing to help."

Hyrule looked away. "I just… I…" His breathing was speeding up, jagged and desperate. "Not alone… Don't… leave me…"

Time winced. That was the choice. If he left to try to get help and Hyrule didn't survive, he'd die alone. But he meant what he'd said: they couldn't just sit and wait. There was nothing more he could do; if he stayed, he would be staying to watch Hyrule suffer and giving up any real hope of saving his life.

"Hyrule," he said quietly, "I'm not abandoning you. I need to go and find help to give you any chance to survive. I'll be back before nightfall."

Hyrule shivered, tears in his eyes again, his breath still too fast, too uneven.

"It's OK," said Time, stroking Hyrule's hair. "I'll be back. Just… just breathe."

Hyrule screwed his eyes closed, biting back a whimpering sob. "P-promise? Promise you… I don't… want to die alone…"

"I am not abandoning you," said Time. He laid Hyrule's sword within reach, then added the rations he had left in his bag and his water bottle. "Try to keep sipping water and eat something if you can. And…" After a moment's hesitation he took a neatly-folded handkerchief from a pocket in the lining of his bag. He never used it; it was just a little reminder of home, with the cow-head badge of Lon Lon Ranch clumsily embroidered on one corner. He remembered Malon sewing it when they were so much younger.

He gave Hyrule's hand one last squeeze and then put the handkerchief in his palm instead.

"What's this?" asked Hyrule.

"A promise I'll come back. Keep it safe for me."

Hyrule swallowed hard and nodded. Time got up and, before he could change his mind, he hurried away.

~~~

Sky felt like he was made of lead. He often struggled to wake up, but this was different. He felt like he was smothered under a nesting loftwing, held down by something soft but huge and too heavy for him to lift it.

Perhaps the easiest thing to do would be to just accept it and he started to sink back down into unconsciousness, but then he heard a muffled voice in the distance. Familiar. Worried.

He took a breath and it snagged in his chest, making him cough. A groan bled out of him. He ached.

"Sky?" The muffled, familiar voice was a little clearer and a hand took his, steadying him in the dark. "Can you hear me?"

He thought he'd garbled something out and the hand clenched around his.

"It's OK. You're safe."

The surface under him felt more solid and the weight on him a little easier. Gradually, he peeled his eyes open and was met with a vague blur mostly dominated by blue.

Zelda's loftwing?

"Bluebell?" he slurred.

There was a pause.

"How's his fever?" asked someone further away.

A hand slipped under his bangs. "His temperature feels normal."

"Yes, but you're feverish."

"Blue… Bluebell?" Sky blinked sluggishly. Hadn't he been with Legend? He remembered the portal, and Legend, and he didn't think they'd been on the Surface in his own era, but maybe… "Zelda?"

"It's OK, Sky. Get some more sleep."

But Sky was finally managing to blink the blurriness of weakness and exhaustion out of his eyes even as he remembered collapsing in the cave and a vague impression of Legend caring for him.

It was Warriors leaning over him now, he realized. The blue was his scarf.

Sky cringed.

"Sky?" asked Warriors gently.

Sky started trying to sit up, but the floor under him suddenly swirled and tilted and Warriors had to catch him.

"Hey, easy!"

"I'm OK."

"You are not OK. Take it easy. You're safe for now." Warriors eased him back down onto his bedroll. He lay still, bracing himself for the tongue-lashing he was about to get.

Soft child of peace.

Too slow.

Too weak.

"So, why did you lie to me when I asked if you were all right?"

"Give him a break, Warriors," said Four from somewhere in the distance.

"It's OK, Four," said Sky. He could at least try to fight his own battles. He blinked up at Warriors. "I didn't realize how sick I was."

Warriors frowned. Then, after a moment, he lowered his voice to a murmur and asked, "Sky… has anyone ordered you… has anyone told you… not to say so if you're struggling?"

Sky stared at him.

"If so, I think I should know," said Warriors, an odd solidity in his tone. "I've… encountered commanders with that attitude before and I will not tolerate it."

"Do you… you think…" Sky stumbled over the words, unsure what Warriors was suggesting or how to really answer the question. "I… no. No, nothing like that."

You were late and you failed to protect her.

"And the closest… wasn't from anyone you know."

"If you'd told Time you were sick…?" prompted Warriors.

Sky shrugged as best he could. "I'm sure he'd have told me to rest, but… a portal is a portal and I…" Then it struck him. "Wait, you think Time would punish me for being sick?"

Warriors smiled, some tension going out of him. "Not given that reaction," he said with a relieved sigh. "As I say, it… is something I've seen before. Cruel and unproductive, but sadly not unheard of."

Sky stared at him. He was the one he'd expected judgment from. But he was tired and the fog was starting to fade back into his brain and he couldn't work out how to ask the question that was now vaguely drifting in his mind.

"Well… in future, if you're sick don't hide it, OK?" said Warriors gently. "Maybe I don't know as much as you do about these portals, but forcing yourself on when you're too sick to continue is counterproductive in the long term. Yes, sometimes it's necessary, but as a rule any unit must move at the speed of the slowest." He gently laid a hand on Sky's shoulder. "Taking care of the sick and wounded will slow us down, yes, but it's far too important an obligation to lightly be ignored. Now get some more rest."

Sky felt ridiculous, but nodded, the fog growing deeper. "OK," he murmured. But as he closed his eyes he realized something: Warriors wouldn't have hinted something like that about Time if Time were in the room. And Four's was the only voice he'd heard. "Wars… th'others?" He wrenched his eyes open again. "Where… where are the others?"

Warriors had been drawing back, but he looked over his shoulder. "Wind is here; he's asleep. Four is here too."

"Time and Hyrule were still missing, so Legend went with the owner of this cabin to go search for them," said Four.

"His name's Link too and he's been trying to clear monsters in the area and make the roads safer," said Warriors. He smiled. "I think I may not be the newest member of this group for long."

Sky only just noticed the remark as he started trying to sit up again. "Time and Hyrule are missing?" he asked. "I can…"

Again, Warriors caught him as his head swam. "Sky, we just talked about this," he said. "You're still healing and you need to rest. If it's necessary for you to push past that, we'll tell you, but in the meantime the best thing you can do for them is to recover and regain your strength, understand?"

Sky tried to argue, but he felt like he was floating and - little though he wanted to admit it - Warriors had a point. He let himself be helped down again and dropped once more into the dark.

~~~

Time hadn't gone far from where he'd left Hyrule when he saw movement on the path ahead. With a gasp of relief, he hurried towards it, ready to draw his sword in case the two vague shapes were monsters but rushing nonetheless.

He felt his heart jump into his throat when he recognized Legend's red tunic.

"Legend!" he called, just remembering not to break into a run on the uneven ground. He would be no help to Hyrule injured.

Legend waved and rushed to greet him, his companion trailing behind.

"Time! Are you OK? Have you seen Hyrule?" he asked.

Time nodded. "I'm fine, Hyrule isn't." He turned to point to the scar in the mountainside that the landslide had left.

Legend made a horrible gasping noise.

"He's alive, but trapped and badly injured. I had to leave him to search for help."

Legend pointed to the other hylian who was hovering a couple of steps away. "This is Link. He knows the area."

"And I can help move rocks," said Link. "Is there anything else you need? I don't have any potions on me…"

"Will he be able to heal himself?" asked Legend. "Wait… he hasn't already?"

"It was too risky given the way he's trapped," said Time. "We need to pull him out and brace the rocks while we do so."

"Warriors isn't in a good state to help, but out of all of you…" mused Link.

"You've found the others?" asked Time, glancing from one to the other of them. "And what do you mean he's not in a good state?"

"It sounds like he landed right in a monster camp," said Legend. "And on top of that, Wind's poisoned himself, Four's broken his ankle, and Sky was hiding the fact that he was already sick." Even as he spoke, he was starting in the direction Time came. Time caught his shoulder.

"Link," he said, "You said you can move rocks?"

Link nodded.

"Legend, we're going to need all the help we can get. Go back and get Warriors; Link and I will work on getting Hyrule safe. He was conscious when I left; we just need to hurry."

Legend balked, but before he could argue Time beckoned to Link and started back towards where he'd left Hyrule.

"This has been on the point of coming down for a while," said Link as they ran, Time pulling out ahead. "Y'all have been really unlucky."

"Story of our lives," muttered Time. The ground was getting easier to cover and he broke into a run, leaving Link behind as he rounded the last corner and crashed to his knees beside Hyrule.

Hyrule stirred, hand reaching feebly for his sword, but Time gently caught it in his.

"It's me," he said softly. "Eyes open; help is almost here."

Hyrule's eyes flickered open and he looked up at Time, then sighed, his hand clenching for a moment. He'd laid the handkerchief by his cheek, perhaps picking up the sweet, homely smell that still clung tenaciously to it.

By now, Link had also arrived and he swore as he took in the situation.

"I think if you and I can get that one rock lifted and braced, Legend and Warriors will be able to drag him clear," said Time.

Link nodded, stepping closer. "And I see why you couldn't do anything on your own." He moved into Hyrule's field of view and crouched down to smile at him. "Hey, Kid. I'm Link."

"Me too," murmured Hyrule.

"I thought you might be."

"'m Hyrule too."

Link nodded and looked sidelong at Time as he said, "I have a lot of questions that nobody so far has been willing to answer, but let's solve this problem first."

Time nodded, then looked round at the sound of running, scrambling footsteps. Legend sprinted around the corner and stumbled to a halt, his eyes going wide. Warriors joined him a moment later.

The captain was clearly sick, unsteady on his feet and his complexion livid, but his eyes narrowed and he drew himself up, his expression going strangely blank.

"Right," he said. "Time, Link, I'll need you two to move that rock. Get ready, but do not touch it until I give the order."

Time was startled by the sudden change in manner - and unspoken transfer of authority - but it was in line with the plan he'd already made, so he glanced at Link, shrugged, and gave Hyrule's hand one last squeeze, putting the handkerchief back in his palm before he moved. Legend immediately took his place.

"Legend, don't let him move," ordered Warriors.

"What are you -" blurted Legend.

"The damage is probably already extensive, but movement will make it worse." Warriors knelt down beside Hyrule as well, by his waist, and gently removed the blanket. "Hyrule, I'm afraid this is going to be painful, but I need you to relax as much as you can, OK? Let us move you."

"OK," whispered Hyrule.

"Legend, you and I will need to drag him clear. We'll move along the line of his body and must not twist him, do you understand?"

Legend was scowling, but nodded. Though he could be hot-headed and prickly, he wasn't stupid and wasn't going to argue when Warriors clearly knew what he was doing.

"Hyrule, I'll have to take hold of your hips to brace them."

Hyrule nodded. "OK."

"Right. Link, Time, get ready. I will count 'one, two, three', then call 'lift'. At that, lift the rock. When I see it's clear of Hyrule, I will shout 'move'. Legend, at that, we move him. When it's safe to lower the rock, I'll shout 'clear'." He turned his head to look square at Legend. "Understand?"

Legend nodded. "Got it." He pulled off his belt and slipped it between Hyrule's teeth.

Warriors looked at Link. "Understand?"

"Yeah." Link braced his shoulder against the rock and planted his feet.

Finally, Warriors looked Time in the eye. "Understand?"

"Yes." Time slipped his hands under the rock as best he could.

"One. Two. Three. Lift!"

Time hauled the rock up with all his strength, trying to ignore a muffled cry from Hyrule.

"Move!"

He gasped with relief, only just managing not to let himself relax.

Hyrule let out a horrible agonized groan.

"Clear!" shouted Warriors.

Time and Link let the rock down carefully, then Time dashed back to where Hyrule now lay, Warriors and Legend beside him. Legend was trying to tip a green potion between his lips: a difficult task given that he was lying half on his front and looked like he was struggling to stay conscious, his breathing coming in desperate, shallow gasps. Warriors was bracing him so he didn't roll. Link knelt on his other side to help support him, his eyes wide and horrified as he stared at the visible kink in Hyrule's spine.

"However are we…" he started.

"He can heal himself," said Time. "He'll be OK." He tried to keep his voice as steady as possible. Hyrule's magic was astonishing, but that injury was so brutal that he suddenly had doubts. "Come on, Hyrule," he whispered as another mouthful of green potion went down. "Come on."

Hyrule took a breath and gritted his teeth, his eyes screwing shut. The familiar glow of healing magic began to creep through him, gleaming through his torn, filthy clothes. He relaxed his head into Legend's supporting hands as the glow centered on his broken spine. Time found himself holding his breath as well, his vision narrowing to that hideous twisted step in what should have been the smooth curve of his young friend's back.

"Come on," he whispered, trying to will the magic into working. Wishing he could pour just a little of his own strength into Hyrule.

Hyrule made a soft, gasping noise of effort and the glow brightened for a moment, then he yelped as his spine suddenly snapped back into line. Link recoiled with a curse and even Warriors jerked back, but Legend ran a hand through Hyrule's curls and tipped the green potion to his pursed lips again.

Hyrule didn't drink, breathing hard through his nose.

"Hyrule…" said Time, forcing the name from a tight throat. "Can you… feel your legs again?"

For a moment he wondered if Hyrule had heard him as the traveler went limp, panting. The glow faded.

"I can… I can feel them," whispered Hyrule, tears spilling from under his closed eyelids. He moved his feet feebly. "I can…"

He sighed as he finally lost consciousness.

***

Note: there will be one more chapter to wrap this up, but not as part of the event.

[whumpbug]

whumperless whump event day 6: summer is a curse @whumperless-whump-event

heat stroke / panting / “why don't we… find some shade, quick?”

see this post for character information!

caretaker: Gene

whumpee: Cassidy

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

It was the hottest day of the year, and Cassidy was starting to think that anyone trying to travel in this weather had a screw loose.

Well, maybe he had a screw loose for trying to pull a job in this weather in the first place.

He gripped the top of the door of the stagecoach he had heckled into stopping in the middle of the road. The metal burned his hand. He stepped into it, ducking down to face the man sitting in the seat, looking about ready to crap his pants.

“Ante up,” He barked. The passenger whimpered softly and reached into his shirt pocket.

Cassidy resisted the urge to swipe the sweat from his brow. A bandana was pulled up over his face to conceal his identity, and he was seconds away of saying to hell with it and yanking it off. He had no idea why Montana insisted they had to rob the stagecoach today, but who was he to argue? He just needed to get in and get out. He could cool off at the river later.

He glared down at the man and clicked his revolver, pointing it down.

“Don’t got all day,” He grumbled. The man’s hands shook as he emptied some coins into the pouch Cassidy held out. Cassidy could see a drop of sweat fall from the tip of the man’s nose.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang through the air and everyone inside the stagecoach froze.

“Silver! We gotta run, law’s comin’!” A voice called from outside. It was another of Montana’s boys, Red. 

Cassidy cursed softly under his breath as he heard distant shouts and hoofbeats. Goddamn it. He snatched away the pouch and cocked his gun.

This was just his luck. The law always managed to catch up with him at the most inconvenient times. He just hoped Delaney wasn’t with them. He wasn’t sure he had the energy to deal with that stuck-up deputy, feeling as shitty as he did.

Cassidy found his gelding, Scotch, waiting outside the stagecoach, whinnying softly. He ran at him and used the momentum to hoist himself onto the horse. Scotch anxiously hoofed at the ground. 

“Sorry boy, y’gotta run a bit more, alright? I know it ain’t fun..” Cassidy placated, clicking his teeth and tapping a heel into his mount’s side.

Scotch huffed, but was spurred into action, and soon, Cassidy was off.

Red had gotten a headstart and was already out of sight, and Cassidy thought he might make it out as well, but it seemed even Scotch was feeling the sluggishness of the heat.

The law caught up.

Gunshots rang out behind him. Warning shots. They were practically at his heels. He grunted in frustration. There was almost no chance of outrunning them this time, and he really didn’t want to be roped off the saddle.

Montana was gonna kill him.

He yanked back Scotch’s reins, causing the gelding to slow and pin his ears back in annoyance. Cassidy whispered an apology and clutched at the reins until came to a stop

The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by 3 lawmen and--

Goddamn it.

“Now Silver, tell me, why in the hell did you decide today was a good day t’pull this stunt,” Gene huffed, steering Calliope in front of Cassidy, effectively cutting him off.

“Delaney.” He mockingly tipped his hat. “Fancy seein’ you here.” Cassidy tried for a smirk, but it came out as more of a grimace.

“Enough. Get down.”

He grumbled and swung his leg to hop down from Scotch’s back. He gave the gelding a light pat, partially to comfort the animal, but also partially to steady himself. Truthfully, the quick movement caused a vicious headrush that had him seeing stars. 

He was really wishing he could shed some of his layers.

Gene was suddenly beside him, yanking his wrists behind his back, and he figured he oughta cooperate. It beat the alternative of being sent to the gallows for resisting arrest.

Soon enough, his hands were cuffed, and Scotch was being hitched to Gene’s mare. 

Gene turned to his men and told them something, but Cassidy stopped listening after a few seconds. Now, since he wasn’t moving anymore, he felt the sun beating down on him at full force. He moved to pull his bandana down to get some air, but all he could do was jerk against the cuffs uselessly.

This heat was starting to get real unbearable.

The other lawmen left, presumably to go chase Red, and Gene pulled Cassidy towards the horses.

“You can ride double with me if you behave. Act a fool, and I won’t hesitate to drag you all the way to town,” Gene grunted, heaving himself up onto Calliope. He cooed at his mare under his breath, silently apologizing for the extra weight he was about to add.

Without warning, he grabbed Cassidy under the arms and began pulling him up. Cassidy, to his credit, didn’t try to make it harder for the deputy. He simply hooked his foot into Calliope’s stirrup and settled behind Gene.

He was too goddamn burning to try and resist anything. 

He was sweating even more than before, if that was possible. When Calliope began walking forward, he found himself jolting with the movement and leaning more on Gene than he’d like to keep himself upright. 

Gene wasn’t a big talker, especially not with Cassidy, but he found himself wishing the deputy would make some kind of conversation, so he could focus on something other than the dizziness and nausea that was beginning to overtake him.

He swallowed reflexively and tried again to release the bandana around his face. 

“Quit squirming, Silver,” Gene barked, patting Calliope when she became fussy.

The truth was, Cassidy was trying not to squirm, but he couldn’t seem to find his balance. 

He practically grew up in the saddle. He started riding when he was just 11 years old, so it made no sense that every small movement the mare made seemed to send him listing to the side. His world was tilting on its axis. He felt like he was seconds away from spewing or blacking out, and he wasn’t sure which would be worse.

“D’laney,” He slurred, focusing every muscle in his body on keeping himself upright.

“What is it?” Gene grumbled, wiping some sweat from his neck with a handkerchief. Lord, this weather was miserable.

“I.. I don’t..” Cassidy swallowed again, blinking against the black spots that danced in his vision. “D’laney..”

Suddenly, Gene let out a curse as he felt Cassidy start to slip to the side. Calliope and Scotch both let out a worried huff.

Gene caught Cassidy limply by the waist, straining his arms behind him to hold the man up. He cursed again at how clammy Cassidy's skin felt, even through the layers of fabric.

“Goddamn it, Silver..” He breathed, carefully dismounting Calliope while keeping a hand on Cassidy to keep him steady on her back.

Cassidy’s eyes were half-lidded and hazy, and he was unnervingly pale. His lucidity was going, and fast. His breath was coming out in short, quick pants and sweat dripped down his jaw.

Gene made quick work of pulling him off the horse and lowering him unceremoniously to the ground. 

He squinted against the sun and scanned the area around them. “Why don’t we go find you some shade, alright? Won’t do me no good if you kick the bucket on the way to town.”

Cassidy found it odd that the deputy was being so amiable to him, but he wasn’t about to complain. Usually when he felt this run down, Montana told him to suck it up and figure it out. This was a welcome change of pace. He was too out of it to think too hard about it.

Gene half-helped-half-dragged Cassidy to a small tree off the side of the road. It did little to block the sun, but it was better than nothing. He lowered him against it and jogged back to lead the horses over as well. Scotch flicked his ears worriedly and leaned down to nose the side of his rider's head.

Cassidy was still panting hard against the heat, feeling like his entire body was pulsing with nausea and vertigo. He had heard about one of O'Malley's boys dying of heat sickness a while back, and he vaguely wondered if that was what was happening to him. He shuddered at the thought.

Gene approached once again, and before Cassidy could attempt to ask, he made quick work of yanking off the fabric around his face, before bending down to begin stripping him of his extra layers of fabric. He removed his own hat and fanned Cassidy, seeming a little more worried than he was initially leading on.

Cassidy wanted to say something, maybe make a snarky comment and the situation, but instead, his head lolled forward lazily. He could practically feel the deputy’s worried gaze boring a hole into the top of his mussed hair.

Suddenly, he felt gentle, calloused fingers grasp his wrist and press against the artery. Gene counted quietly and frowned.

His voice was now much more serious. “We need to cool you off.”

Suddenly, Cassidy was leaning back a little further against the tree with the buttons of his shirt pulled open. Gene fumbled around his bag for his waterskin, and unscrewed the top. He wet a small strip of fabric and placed it on the back of Cassidy’s neck before pressing the spout to his lips.

Cassidy drank desperately, not caring that the water dribbled down his chin. He was left breathless when the waterskin was pulled from his mouth.

“Alright, you just stay there. We’ll keep moving once you’re more.. stable. And for the love of all things holy, wear less clothes if you’re gonna pull a stunt in heat like this.”

Cassidy let his eyes flutter close, his head finally feeling a little clearer.

Gene clicked his tongue in disaproval and smoothed Cassidy's sweaty hair from his face.

"Just so you know, you're still gettin' locked up for this. I'm not that nice."

Cassidy huffed a small laugh. Yeah, it was probably deserved.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[kaciart]

Accidental Cryotherapy: Falling through a frozen lake / Hypothermia

Collab with @asidian scenes from their fic Shelter From The Cold

-

Patreon | Ko-Fi

[ghostlysoaps]

Emergency First Aid

He finds Ghost in the bathroom, needle and thread in crimson-stained hands. 

White porcelain muddled with grime and blood, smeared across the cubicle glass. A bottle of something see-through sitting on the lip of the tub – the label near illegible by the fingerprints wrapped around it. Every detail pointing towards it being a scene from some B-list horror flick. Except it can't be. Because Johnny’s nails dig into the palms of his hands and pain has no presence in dreams.

Ghost's skin is almost as pale as the cradle he sits in. Johnny can see the stark blue of his veins through the fragile skin of his wrists. A far more flattering colour on him than red, it's why he pretends he doesn’t know where his favourite henley ended up.

"Get out of my fucking room, Soap."

Johnny nods and then proceeds further into the room, careful to avoid the droplets of blood staining the tiles in a fucked-up breadcrumb trail.

Ghost levels him with an unamused glare, a non-verbal "go away," ringing louder than if he'd said it outright. 

He ignores that too.

The stitching is neither crude nor neat when he leans in for a closer look. Serviceable. Bound to scar. It might have regardless, medical ain't miracle workers, but it might, might have left a thinner mark.

"Soap?"

Ghost's eyes are brown as jasper, doe-wide, extruding exhaustion and warmth – in spite of how much effort he puts into burying that bleeding heart of his. They track Johnny’s progress warily. Glides over him when he wraps his own fingers around the bottle, fingers a good half-inch shorter than the red stains already there. Johnny knows all this despite not looking. Because they've been here before. Too often for his liking. 

He sets about cleaning the tacky trails of blood from Ghost’s skin. 

"Johnny?"

Why are his hands shaking? They're not supposed to do that he doesn't think.

"It's just a scratch, I've had worse."

His tongue unsticks from where it lies dead and heavy in his mouth. "I fuckin' know. 'M not blind."

Warm, calloused hands envelop his own. They stop him from digging deeper welts into his own skin. Massages gently until Johnny, against his will, unclenches and unfolds like a flowering bloom at the first hint of sunlight.

"This won't be what kills me–"

"Haud yer wheesht! Whit this shoddy excuse fer sutures anything's–"

"–because I've no intention of leaving you yet," Ghost– Simon continues, as if Johnny hadn't interrupted him at all. "I've clawed myself back from the edge of hell more times than I care to count." He knocks their heads together, one hand moving to thread fingers though Johnny’s hair. "It's much easier now that I have something to come back to."

Johnny takes a moment to process and sift through the wreckage those words leave behind.

"Take yer damn mask off an' say tha' to my face," he growls.

And Simon doesn't hesitate for a second. He peels the mask off, his second skin, as if it's easier than breathing. As if Johnny’s words were the decree of a higher power he's helpless to obey. Scarred skin and chapped lips and dark circles blending into greasepaint greets him – a sight no longer unfamiliar, but a privilege to behold nonetheless. 

"I-" is as far as Simon comes before Johnny is surging forward to take his bottom lip between his teeth. He kisses him like something feral and starved. As if he could crawl into Simon's mouth if he tried hard enough. Push through muscle, bone and sinew to make space for himself in the hollow of his ribcage.

He doesn't like the anger with which he devours him – the ever-present companion snarling in his chest – but he needs him to understand. Thinks that if he tries hard enough Simon might taste the words lodged firmly behind his molars. I can't stand to lose you. It scares me to the point of losing my breath. I love you. I love you. I love you. 

For all his rage, for all the fiery passion with which he lashes out, in the end it all stems from fear.

"Could've at least gone to medical, ye absolute weapon," he bites out, one hand stressing over the skin right beneath Simon's wound.

"Couldn't stand the thought of anyone touching me," Simon murmurs, catching Johnny’s wrist the moment he goes to pull away as if burnt. "'S better now. I'd have told you to fuck off proper if I didn't–" he cuts himself off, the tips of his ears going pink.

Johnny fills in the blanks, eyes falling shut for the fraction of a second.

"Dinnae deep down wan' me to be here."

Simon shrugs.

Johnny exhales, leans forward and rests his forehead to Simon's shoulder, kisses him sweetly right after.

"Let me help you."

"Please." 

He's glad to be looking at Simon now because Simon, whenever Ghost has fled his visage, is an open book. And the way he's looking at Johnny? It's as if he'd taken every soft, sweet thing Johnny feels for him and is reflecting it right back.

With another steadying breath, Johnny gets to work. Gauze and adhesive tape, as quick as he dares so as to not prolong the pain. And when he's done he brushes his lips over the white bandaging, looking up through his lashes when the simple gesture of affection causes Simon's breath to hitch. Keeps to his knees despite the ache in them.

"You come to me next time," Johnny says, a plea more so than the demand he'd hoped for.

Simon reaches for him, cups his stubbled cheek in hand, thumb rubbing in broad strokes across a near imperceptible scar there – his next words ringing with the gravity of church bells and promises spoken within. 

"Alright, Johnny."

---

Prompts via @whumperless-whump-event and @seth-whumps

[lookforanewangle]

bled in the hall, watched it all | whump july 2024 // don't go, you're half of me now No. 2 - Does your insurance cover this? Car accident / Bystander caretaker / “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.” warnings: blood and injury, brief description of injury, loss of pulse, break-ins, other tags on ao3

The front door is hanging off its hinges.

That’s the first thing Eddie notices as he looks towards the house. He’s out of his truck in an instant and sprinting up the steps before the key is out of the ignition, the engine rumbling away in the driveway. He doesn’t give a shit about the truck. He can deal with that later. The only thought in his head is Christopher, Chris, oh god, please no. He slows his stride as he slides through the broken doorway, army training returning on instinct, footsteps silent. Someone had to kick the door down, and it’s entirely possible they’re still here, which means Chris might not be safe, and—

Buck. Buck was here, too.

read on ao3

[asidian]

Lay Down Your Sword

by: Asidian

Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives

Pairing: Charles/Edwin

Event: July 2024 Whumperless Whump Event: Day 14 @whumperless-whump-event

Warnings: idiots in love, nightmares, blood and injury, hurt/comfort

Excerpt:

"Charles," says Edwin, only his voice seems to come from someplace half a universe away.

Charles doesn't say anything. Doesn't think he can just now, really. The words are all stuck in his throat good and proper.

"Charles," says Edwin again, and it's closer this time, right up next to his ear.

Charles blinks. His cheeks are wet, now he's thinking about it. They feel sort of sticky.

"Case well and truly closed," says Edwin. He sets his hand over Charles', where it's still curled around the cricket bat, white-knuckled. "You have seen to that."

[cuddlepilefics]

Stealing the breath from my lungs (give it back) - whumperless whump event

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: mainly Felix

Caregiver: mainly Minho

Prompts: Wheezing / Light-headed / “I'll count, you just breathe.”

@whumperless-whump-event

No one’s POV.:

Felix knew that performing on a festival in the middle of a downpour brought more risks than just slipping on stage. The members had just assumed that because they were dancing, they’d stay warm. They had performed in the rain before on multiple occasions and sure, someone had caught something but that happened pretty rarely. Usually, they were fine if they just dried off quickly after getting off stage. Nobody could’ve predicted the awful cold that’d make its way around the group. In hindsight, they had hung out with a bunch of other groups between performances. Changbin had spent most of his time with Wooyoung and Yeonjun, the younger two already sniffly and trying to stay out of the rain. He wasn’t too alarmed because Yeonjun having a cold was an almost constant phenomenon and although Wooyoung mentioned that the members of Ateez have been down with the sniffles, the possibility of it spreading to Stray Kids didn’t cross his mind.

Until he woke up to his nose completely blocked that is. Chan and Jisung were the next to catch it thanks to their time spent at the studio together. 3racha fared quite well actually but Hyunjin ended up laid up with a fever for two days. The dancer had only figured that out when he almost collapsed during a practice session with Minho and Felix. His fellow dancers had taken him straight home and Minho set about preparing some jook, while Felix sat with him for cuddles because he tended to get extremely emotional when he was feeling low. Hyunjin bounced back pretty quickly though and while Minho whined to Hyunjin, complaining that he had gotten him sick, the second-oldest managed quite well. Sure, he ended up sneezing his head off but never developed a fever, so while it was an annoyance, it didn’t interfere with his work.

Felix was a different story though. Having grown up with asthma, Felix was no stranger to the tightness in his chest. It had been years since he had an attack but he still had a tendency to get a bad cough whenever he caught a cold. That was exactly what happened a couple of days after they had gotten Hyunjin’s fever to break. The moment Minho woke up and heard coughing from the room next to his, he knew. He shot Chan a quick text, requesting the leader to cancel Felix’ dance practices for the week before rolling out of bed to get the younger some water. The movement caused the congestion to shift in his sinuses, turning his blocked nose into a faucet. Sniffling into the cuff of his sleeve, Minho shuffled to the kitchen. He blew his nose into a paper towel before washing his hands and pouring his dongsaeng a glass of water.

The bags under Felix’ eyes were dark, indicating he had already been up a while by the time Minho slipped into his room. The Aussie had already stacked up his pillows and tiredly collapsed back into them when the fit finally tapered off. In the quiet of the room, the wheezing was hard to miss, making Minho’s chest ache in sympathy. “How long have you been up?”, the older hummed quietly. He took a seat on the edge of Felix’ bed and handed him his drink. Taking a few sips to soothe his throat, the Aussie rasped: “I dunno. Think I slept a couple of minutes here and there but not really.” – “Why didn’t you wake me”, Minho frowned as he felt his dongsaeng’s forehead. Felix shakily set the glass onto the nightstand, muttering: “You’re sick too, hyung.” – “I’m a little sniffly, that’s all”, the older denied, “Went straight to your chest again, huh?” Felix nodded dejectedly.

“Can I get you anything?”, Minho asked softly, running his fingers through Felix messy bed hair. The younger shook his head but closed his eyes, obviously enjoying the affection. Lightly scratching the Aussie’s scalp, Minho offered: “Why don’t you take a hot shower? It doesn’t seem like you’d be able to sleep anyway and the steam might help clear your congestion to help you breathe a little easier.” – “I dunno if I got the energy for that”, Felix rasped, massaging his temples, “Got a tiny bit light-headed when I had to use the bathroom earlier.” His hyung’s eyes widened at that. He hadn’t expected it to be this bad already. Getting to his feet, Minho smiled: “I’ll run you a bath and get you when the tub is full, yeah? Then I’ll prepare a pot of tea for the both of us, so we can cuddle and try to get some rest together. Sounds like a plan?” – “Sounds like a plan”, Felix parroted sleepily, following the older with his eyes till he had disappeared down the hallway.

Felix ended up grabbing a change of clothes before staggering to the bathroom by himself. Minho seemed a lot more affected by his cold than he had let on earlier, which Felix only realized when he heard the older sneeze repeatedly, the sound muffled by the shut bathroom door. Blaming the steam for making the congestion in his sinuses shift, face buried in a handful of tissues, Minho looked up with watering eyes when the door creaked open. He quickly cleaned himself up and stepped aside, motioning to the closed toilet lid for Felix to sit down because the younger didn’t seem steady on his feet at all. Wheezing, the Aussie collapsed onto his seat and tried to get his breathing back under control.

It didn’t work out too well and Felix was thrown into another rough coughing fit, the sound increasingly breathless. Seeing that his dongsaeng struggled to catch his breath and was starting to sway a little, Minho steadily rested his hand against the other’s chest and instructed: “I’ll count, you just breathe.” Tears stung Felix eyes as he desperately clung to his fading consciousness. Minho’s voice guided him through the light-headed haze and he was slowly able to control his breathing, though his chest ached. “You’re okay”, Minho promised, trying to keep his voice steady and sound certain, despite being terrified. They all knew that Felix used to have asthma but supposedly outgrew it, still situations like this always left them afraid of another attack. “Oh baby”, Minho cooed, cupping his dongsaeng’s flushed cheeks when the tears started to spill over. Leaning forward into the other’s arms, Felix whimpered: “’m too tired for this.”

When he had finally gotten Felix settled in the tub, Minho made his way to the kitchen to make tea for them. Taking out their ginger and lemon teabags triggered another itchy flurry of sneezes and Minho bit his lips when he heard footsteps. He really should’ve stifled. “Did you catch their plague too, hyung?”, Seungmin yawned, adjusting his glasses. Nudging his wrist under his nose, Minho admitted: “Yeah, I got the sniffles too now. I’m more worried about Lixxie though. That cold went straight to his chest again and he’s having trouble breathing to the point he can’t sleep and gets lightheaded from walking to the bathroom.” Cursing under his breath, Seungmin muttered something offered to check on the Aussie, so Minho sent him to the bathroom.

“Hey Lix”, Seungmin hummed after lightly tapping the bathroom door as a warning. The dancer looked up at him with droopy eyes, so Seungmin smiled: “Minho-hyung’s making tea. Do you want me to wash your hair?” – “Did we wake you? I’m sorry, Minnie”, Felix pouted, making the vocalist’s heart clench. Though he had been woken up by the commotion, Seungmin shook his head an assured: “I was thirsty and ran into Minho-hyung in the kitchen. Wouldn’t mind joining you guys for cuddles though.” – “You really shouldn’t”, the Aussie denied, muffling a cough into his fist, “Minho-hyung and I are both sick, so we got nothing to lose cuddling each other but you and Jeonginnie have gotten away unscathed and I don’t wanna be the reason that changes.” – “Alright”, Seungmin sighed, massaging shampoo into Felix’ scalp, “I can still make sure the two of you are comfortable and medicated before I go back to bed.”

That was just what Seungmin did, bringing cough drops and the humidifier after tucking a sleepy Felix back into bed. Quietly tapping Minho’s shoulder, Seungmin pressed a pack of tissues into his hyung’s hand. He had made sure to dig the ones with lotion out of the depths of their wardrobe. They rarely ever used those but at the rate Minho was going, his nostrils would be raw and chapped by the morning. When Minho looked up at Seungmin in surprise, the younger only shot him a crooked smile before telling them goodnight and to wake him if they needed something. Having been convinced that he had functioned quite well, Minho was shocked when his dongsaeng pitied him enough to bring those tissues. To be fair, the fact that he always sneezed in multiples, especially when he had a cold, did not necessarily help his dignity.

“Should we watch a movie or try to get some sleep?”, Minho asked softly, pouring a cup of tea. Accepting the steaming cup, Felix rasped: “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep. My chest hurts.” He took a small sip and sighed with relief when it warmed his sore throat. “We’ll stay nicely propped up then, yeah?”, Minho smiled, “I can get my laptop if wanna watch something.” – “Mine’s on the desk”, Felix yawned. Minho fetched the Aussie’s laptop and climbed back into bed. He placed the laptop on his lap and smiled when Felix leaned into his side. Taking a sip of his own tea, Minho whispered: “What do you wanna watch? Something calm, yeah?” He knew how much his dongsaeng loved action movies but there was no way he’d be able to sleep if they watched action movies.”

Resting his head in Minho’s shoulder, Felix shrugged: “I don’t really care, you can pick. Mainly just want some background noise to distract me.” That was when it clicked for Minho. When the Aussie was down with the flu once, he had told him something amidst his feverish ramblings. The more he had to listen to himself wheeze, the more worked up he’d get and would have a hard time pacing himself. They should really fill the silence if Minho didn’t want to have to count the younger down repeatedly throughout the night. “Documentary?”, he asked and Felix gave a small nod. Minho picked a wildlife documentary and settled back comfortably. He slipped a hand under Felix’ sleep shirt and stroked his chest in a slow and steady pattern to help him keep his breathing calm and controlled. It helped soothe the ache in his chest some and Felix was able to relax. He might even be able to fall asleep if the drooping eyelids were anything to go by, Minho observed with a relieved chuckle. In contrary to what Felix believed, Minho was quite confident that they would not be up for the rest of the night.