#whumpuary day 7

[shywhumpauthor]

Whumpuary Day 7

Deep Breaths

manhandling | tied up | tears

Prev. || Masterlist

Cw: torture, drowning, self sacrifice for a cause, thoughts of death, restraints, noose, choking, slight asphyxiation, kinda stress position, manhandling

Cold water soaked through the neck of Whumpee’s dirty shirt, leaking down towards their torso in icy beads. They kept their jaw clenched, teeth grinding against each other to stop them from chattering. They were certain that there had once been ice in the basin, perhaps melted only moments before. No water straight from the tap came out feeling straight glacial.

Their lungs burned, but not as badly as they had anticipated, more so a warm ache than the fiery flicker of water invading their chest. Their hands were shaking, braced against the edge of the sink, fingertips just submerged in the water.

Breathe. In and out, slow, calm breaths. They suppressed the urge to open their mouth, to greedily gulp the air that seemed like such a luxury in these short moments. They knew that’s what Whumper was waiting for, however. For them to release their last possible defense, shove their head back under the depths mid-breath so their desperate claim for oxygen was filled with with water, and Whumpee knew once those first droplets made their way through their lungs, filling them, it was all over. Once that happened, the torture would only become more vigorous. Less time between each submerge, left to choke on the freezing liquid while thrashing below the surface. A merciless cycle that would only cease once they either spilled all their secrets between watery coughs or were fortunate enough to surrender consciousness, heart eventually drawn to stop between the lack of oxygen and impending hypothermia. They doubted Whumper would let that be their finale, though, they’d be resurrected and their torment would only continue, though perhaps they’d be given a bit to recover, a few days to recuperate from the physical trauma before being subject once more to the tortures. They doubted that.

Whumper had stopped asking them questions. They didn’t mind that much, they supposed the repetition of the single phrase had gotten annoying even to Whumper’s own ears. It certainly had theirs. The insistent droning, “who do you work for?” or “what do you know?” or “just tell me, Whumpee, and this can all be over,” it had gotten extremely pestering rather quickly. They supposed that could be a form of torture on its own, having to listen to Whumper’s voice repeat the same meaningless words. When would the message finally pierce through their thick skull? Whumpee wasn’t going to break. Sure, they could bend and strain and physically shatter on every possible level, but they weren’t going to break.

Halfway through their slow inhale, Whumper shoved their head down again and Whumpee quickly held their breath, cutting off the air just as their face was submerged under the water. The cold bit at their skin like needles, their fingertips digging against the metal as they fought the urge to thrash. Fighting would only exhaust them, and exhaustion would do them no good.

On and on it went. Tortured minutes dragged into hours, or so it felt. Whumper wasn’t giving them time to even think of responding anymore, barely enough to drag in a ragged breath before they were forcefully exposed to the water, which only seemed to grow colder as their lips turned a light hue of purple. It was going fine, though, well at least as fine as torture could possibly go. They hadn’t slipped, even as a heavy exhaustion began to tug at their muscles and mind, tempting them to open their mouth and let the confessions come spilling out. Of course, they pushed that thought away, burying it deep behind the layers of resentment in their mind. They weren’t going to let Whumper win this. Especially not with only a bit of water.

They kept their eyes firmly shut as their head was thrust back under the water once more, the cold stinging against their already numb cheeks. They could feel the water dripping down their back, soaking their socks, shivering with each drop. Their lungs constricted and cramped, chest now burning. They had barely been given a chance to exhale their last breath, and had only been able to take in a portion of oxygen typically needed to produce a full inhale. Their toes were already curling inside their soaked shoes, scuffing against the ground as they began to twist, jolting against their own will.

When the punch came, they had nothing left to steel themself with. Their last breath came out in a cough, a stream of bubbles breaking the surface as they gasped. Water invaded their mouth, their nose, filling their throat in a matter of seconds. They were choking, drowning, all beneath Whumper’s hand. They couldn’t think anymore. All logic, reason, gone. Couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Fuck.

They twisted, kicking their legs with a desperate attempt to hook Whumper’s knee, perhaps send them toppling and in turn, freeing themself. Their efforts were futile, struggles pathetic at the very best. It was a loosing battle, Whumper only shoved their head further towards the bottom of the basin. A second hand pressed against the back of their neck, nails digging in as it held them tightly under the water. Water burned their eyes as they opened, but that was the least of Whumpee’s concerns as the coherency of their thoughts quickly diminished.

Then they started to tire. Not the same sort of exhaustion they had been fighting off for the past day. This was heavy, dragging them down like a boulder tethered to their core. They could feel the energy seeping from them, for each droplet that fell from their soaking figure with it came a fraction of their consciousness. It was moving so fast, and they were moving so slow. A chain looped around their throat, forcing their head further down into the sink’s depths, past the stopped drain and even further below.

They’d always imagined drowning would take longer. Hours and seconds all felt the same below the surface. They tried to hold on, but the threads were slipping through their fingers, pulling away faster than they could grab them back, with it slowly unraveling their consciousness until the last fabric of reality was snatched away to the cold water.

•••

Whumpee didn’t believe they were left out for long, because when the first slivers of consciousness began to return to their mind, the first coherent feelings they became aware of was the awful burning. It felt like their chest was on fire, blood turned to boil in their veins. Water spilled from their lips, dripped from their nose, awful bouts of coughing rattling them to the core. Their head spun with disorientation, vision so blurred their eyes might as well have been closed.

“Come on, that’s it. Just breathe.”

The words were barely heard over the water stuck in Whumpee’s ears, but the gentleness of the tone took them by shock. In the passing moments, their awareness continued to expand, until they were somewhat sensible of the situation around them. They were standing, barely, pressed between Whumper and the basin to keep them upright. Their former boss’s arm wrapped around their chest, their other hand resting against Whumpee’s back, fingers digging in with a manner a bit too abrasive to be tender.

“Welcome back,” Whumper smirked, though their face was still distorted through Whumpee’s eyes, their amusement was beyond clear through their voice. “Is there anything you’d like to say?”

Their first attempt at words came out nothing but a broken wheeze as Whumpee clumsily tried to push away, but Whumper didn’t let them fall. Whumpee coughed, a final dribble of watered down saliva slipping past their lips, tinted pink with the bloody taste that still coated their mouth and throat, before they made a second attempt at speaking.

“Nn’thin to you,” Their voice sounded pitiful, like broken glass that had yet to fully shatter, teetering precariously in the window frame just waiting for the gust that would send the entire structure crashing in.

They weren’t sure what they were hoping to prove with that sentence. Were they trying to demonstrate a shred of defiance, to show Whumper that even then the power they held was only from their own point of view? Or were they trying to anger them only? Regardless, their words seemed to draw only a humorous response as Whumpee chuckled.

“I suppose that means you’re feeling well enough to continue.”

By this point, Whumpee’s heart seemed to have sunken so deep into their chest it would be impossible to go any further, but that was clearly proved wrong. A cold worse than the ice water creeped up their chest, stomach twisted into painful knots as Whumper stood them up straight. The room spun around them, edges of their vision going static as they were half led, half dragged across a small part the room, their feet nothing but deadweight beneath them as they didn’t even make an attempt to stumble along.

“Better perk up quick, Whumpee,” Whumper’s voice pulled with a smirk, giving them a light push into the guard’s waiting form, who grabbed their wrists and wrestled their arms behind their back before Whumpee could so much as stumble properly. They felt the cruel bite of metal against their wrists, as Whumper reached to grab something hanging from the ceiling, slipping it around Whumpee’s neck and fastening it tight. They let out a strangled gasp as they felt the coarse fibers of rope press against their throat, their breath only being cut as Whumper then stepped back to adjust the other end of the noose, looped through a ring in the ceiling and tied to a post against the nearest wall, pulling it to a point where Whumpee could just barely stay upright on the balls of their feet.

“I can’t say this will end well for you otherwise.”

——————————

Next

Tag list: @pickleking8 @blood-enthusiast @t0rture-me @sparrowsage @enigmawritesstuff

[autobot2001]

Not a Happy New Year Snippet

Genre: Fanfiction Fandom: Transformers Rating: T Warnings: blood, poor mental health Description: Jamie is found by a soldier and brought to the media seriously injured. Everyone can't believe what happened, but her guardians struggle the most. This is the portion that fits all the prompts for Whumpuary.

Day  1: snow Day 2: collapse Day 3: stumbling Day 4: lightheaded Day 5: “Stay please.” Day 6: exhaustion. Day 7: drugged. Day 8: “You look awful.” Day 9: Alt 8: blood loss. Day 10: can’t stay awake Day 11: blood Day 12: “You’re awake.” Day 13: barely conscious, “I’m fine.” Day 14: breakdown Day 15: Aftermath

Other promotes used; Alt 1: Stabbed, Alt 2: “let me see.” Alt 5: headache Alt 8: blood loss

A male soldier walks along the path, enjoying how quiet it is. Even with how large the military base is they like walking around the paths outside. Even in the middle of winter. Despite the paths being cleared, snow still coats the paths, but they are walkable. Someone stumbling in three feet of snow instead of walking on the path alarms the soldier. “Hey, are you ok?” He asks. Recognizing the person, the soldier becomes worried about her condition. The female feels lightheaded. Before the soldier can grab her, the female collapses in the snow. The soldier watches as the snow turns red. With no time for first aid, they rush the woman to the medbay. The female whimpers as the soldier picks her up.

“Help!” The soldier yells as they rush into the medbay waiting room. Panicking that no one is at the reception desk. They run through the doors to the rest of the medbay. “Help!” They yell again. “What’s going —” Jasmine sees who the soldier is holding and lets out a gasp, “Jolt! Ratchet!” The two mechs rush out of their offices, horrified at what they’re seeing. The soldier follows the medics to the emergency care room. Patients for this room arrive by medivac or Ratchet’s ambulance alt mode. The soldier lies the female on the medical table. He's uncertain about waiting in the room. He can’t watch the medics once he sees how critical the female is. He goes to the waiting room. I can’t believe this. Ratchet thinks. Jamie has been in the medbay before, but this time is unlike any other. She has never been brought to this room before. Once the three medics remove Jamie's clothes, they can't believe what they're seeing'; many stab wounds all over her body. “She was fragging attacked!” Jolt rages. “Get a blood transfusion going,” Ratchet orders Jasmine, “and test her blood count. The three are aware that Jamie is in hemorrhagic shock but unsure of its severity. Jasmine gets a blood bag and a syringe to draw blood. Jolt puts in a large-bore IV for rapid delivery of fluids and blood. Jolt prepares an IV bag of crystalloids. “I think we should intubate her,” Jolt advises, “airway protection for now. No positive pressure.” Jamie's injuries are the final concern. Especially the cuts on her abdomen. The three medics hope Jamie won't need surgery.

The soldier isn’t told to stay or leave as Jamie’s guardians, sister, and Optimus come to hear what happened to Jamie. The medics were surprised to see the terror twins with Crosshairs and Drift, but the twins are not asked to leave. Even though this news will infuriate Sunstreaker. As Ratchet finishes explaining the situation, Sunstreaker's anger intensifies, while Lightning, Sideswipe, and Optimus become angrier. Crosshairs and Drift remember the nightmare situation they went through, Terrified it’s happening all over. The soldier knows about the Autobots' call the nightmare situation, which brings up painful memories for Crosshairs and Drift, despite their numerous battles. The soldier watches as the medics make Crosshairs and Drift sit on the chairs close to them. “Do you know who did it?” Sunstreaker asks. “N-no, I wish I did,” the soldier tells him. Sunstreaker growls and leaves the medbay. “Great, he’s going to try to find them,” Sideswipe sighs. “The paths don’t have cameras,” Optimus points out, “Red Alert won’t be able to help us.” “Maybe the cameras by the doors can help find out who attacked Jamie?” The soldier asks. “Perhaps,” Optimus replies and leaves the medbay. “Let me see her,” Drift says, fear in his voice. “I don’t think that’s —,” Ratchet argues. “Let me see her!”The two medics nod, telling Ratchet to let Jamie’s guardians and sister see her even though they’ll hate her condition. They ask the soldier to come with them. The medics worry about the reaction they’ll see from the three worried friends.

Ratchet and Jolt make Crosshairs and Drift sit on the chairs that were already moved by the bed. Tears roll down Crosshairs and Drift’s faces. “Sit down,” Jasmine whispers to Lightning “I’m fine. Well, compared to them.” The soldier knows he’s seeing a fraction of the sadness Crosshairs and Drift deal with. Seeing their relationship with Jamie. He knows Lightning is close to Jamie, but not like Crosshairs and Drift. Despite the medics' decision not to disclose Jamie's injuries, the bag of blood is a clear indicator of the seriousness. The stitched cuts on Jamie’s arm that was lifted from under the blanket also gives clues about how badly the soldiers hurt Jamie. The soldier isn’t sure how injured Jamie is, but the blood he saw on her clothes told him she was heavily bleeding. “Should we tell them she’s not in an induced coma?” Jasmine whispers to Ratchet. “No, they’re going to struggle as it is without knowing further details about Jamie’s condition. It would be the same to wait for her to get stronger before stopping the medically induced coma. She might wake up in two days once she recovered from the blood loss. However, I'd rather not inform them right now.” “I’m going to go now and let them be with her,” the soldier tells Ratchet. “No, stay, please,” Drift says while standing up. Everyone watches him lead the soldier to where he was sitting. The soldier doesn’t understand why he’s allowed to sit here. He saved Jamie, but he never interacted with her or her guardians prior to today. He’s just another soldier in the base. So why the privilege of sitting by Jamie and in Drift’s way? Drift stands next to him. Lightning stands next to Crosshairs, who hugs her.

“What?!” Red Alert and Prowl ask. I can’t believe this is happening again. Prowl thinks. Red Alert immediately checks the security footage near the back entrance of the base. The three mechs hope they can get evidence and arrest the soldiers who attacked Jamie.

“Did you find out who attacked her?” Sunstreaker asks as the three mechs walk out of the security office. “Yes, you will not engage with them,” Optimus replies, “it’s better you and Sideswipe help Crosshairs, Drift, and Lightning.” Sunstreaker doesn’t want to let the soldiers get arrested rather than killed by him, but he worries about his three friends and Sideswipe. He heads to the medbay.

Sideswipe stands in the hallway by an ICU room. “It’s bad,” he tells Sunstreaker, “I had to step out but I can’t leave, you know?” Sunstreaker looks in the room, at the bed Jamie lies in. “Yeah, I know. They’ll need us, but it’s hard seeing her like that. This has happened twice now. I'm concerned about the possibility of this happening again and Lily becoming a target. “What the frag are they thinking? They’re just going to get arrested. Unless…. they’re trying to get Optimus to decide Jamie shouldn’t be here.” “Still, how’s that benefiting them? They’re arrested and in prison. I hope this stops. Even with how difficult her mental health is, she needs to be here. She needs them.” Sideswipe looks into the room from the window. The medics have returned to their offices. Sunstreaker goes to talk to Ratchet.

“Is there anything you can tell me?” Sunstreaker asks. “Only that she might wake up in a day or two, but she’ll be weak. You don’t want to know the extent of her injuries. I hope this stops.” “I worry Lily could be a target even if Sideswipe is right about soldiers trying to get Jamie banned from coming here. “This is a serious problem. We’ll tell Optimus after Jamie recovers. He’s already worried about her, having to arrest soldiers, and if this could happen again.”

The terror twins, Lightning and the soldi get Crosshairs and Drift to go to the cafeteria for lunch. Everyone is worried about leaving the medbay, but Ratchet will make them if they don’t leave to eat. The six hate how everyone else will know what happened. 

Everyone who found out what happened want to help their friends but know nothing will help until Jamie recovers from the attack.

“You look awful,” Crosshairs points out, worried “I’m fine,” Drift claims. Two days passed, Drift doesn’t sleep and eats very little. Crosshairs worries about Drift’s energon level. Knowing how little he’s eaten would affect a human at this point and how using their holoform uses the energon in their Cybertronian bodies. He watches Drift stumble down the hall. He follows the mech to the medbay.

Jolt and Ratchet notice Drift’s poor state. They struggle to get him into an exam room. Drift’s holoform is strong, but he’s struggling to break free from the medics’ grip. A hint for the two medics of how unwell Drift is. Jasmine doesn’t wait for orders before getting a syringe of lorazepam. The three mechs don’t question her before she injects the drug. Thankful Drift is wearing a T-shirt. The drug is fast acting, and the medics get Drift on the exam table before he’s asleep. “Mental breakdown,” Ratchet sighs, “I should have known this would happen,” he watches Crosshairs sit on the chair in the room, “don’t tell me you’re ok.” “I…,” Crosshairs doesn’t know what to say as tears roll down his face. He should talk to Rung, but I don’t think that’ll help. Ratchet believes. Jasmine watches the two mechs, hoping she won’t have to drug Crosshairs. Ratchet calms Crosshairs the best he can with the situation going on and lets him stay in the exam room with Drift. Crosshairs doesn’t wait for the three medics to leave before crying. “I just think how Jamie still feels alone even with how close the three are,” Jasmine sighs. Ratchet hugs her. Both worry about the two mechs. Hating there’s nothing he or Rung can do to help the two mechs.

Crosshairs realizes he’s been neglecting himself as he now has a terrible headache and feels dehydrated. He can’t stop worrying about Drift and hiding how he’s doing. Jasmine walks in to check on the two mechs. “You ok?” “Headache,” Crosshairs mumbles. Jasmine leaves the room, returning a few minutes later. “Here, this will help,” Jasmine says, handing Crosshairs a small cup of water and a pack with two pills, “he’ll be asleep for another hour.” “I’ll stay here. I shouldn’t use the remaining exam room.” “Ok I’ll be back in an hour.” Jasmine leaves the room. Crosshairs turns off the lights and sits on the floor by the counter. He rests his head on his arms. Tears roll down his face. We deal with her mental health and condition. Jamie has been wanting to be dead, which is causing more anxiety for Drift and I. Now this. It’s getting harder to act ok for Drift, but I have to even if he hates I do this. We both want Jamie to be happy, but it’s been feeling impossible to help her. Now we have to worry about soldiers attacking her.

Crosshairs looks at Drift, seeing his friend sleeping with the little light from the gap in the curtains. I want to say Jamie will be ok, but even if she will be from the attack, she’s not ok mentally. Crosshairs sighs.

Drift stares at the ceiling, having no memory of falling asleep. He feels what he’s lying on, realizing it’s an exam table. The mech is now confused why he was sleeping in the exam room and has no memory of Ratchet telling him he could. He opens the curtains a little before seeing Crosshairs sitting on the floor, asleep. “Crosshairs?” Drift gently shakes the sleeping mech. Crosshairs tiredly looks at him, “you ok?” “Other than a stiff neck, yes,” Crosshairs replies, rubbing his neck. Drift sighs, uncertain if he can believe Crosshairs knowing how he hides how he’s feeling, but he’d rather not argue with his friend as they worry about Jamie. Drift sits beside Crosshairs and puts his head on Crosshairs’ shoulder. Crosshairs takes Drift’s hand and the two sit quietly.

They don’t know how much time passed until they hear Drift’s stomach. “Come on, you need to eat,” Crosshairs says while standing up, “then we’ll see Jamie.” He pulls Drift up and the two leave the room. Letting Ratchet know they’ll be back before leaving.

“They will not like seeing Jamie still needs blood,” Jasmine sighs, “more evidence of how injured she is.” “We can’t tell them not to come here either,” Ratchet says, “that’ll be worse for them.” “They’ll find out about all the stab wounds and cuts,” Jolt points out. “Unfortunately, yes, but let them worry about how Jamie is in a coma and needing blood transfusions. That’s hard enough on them.” Ratchet goes to get another bag of blood.

“I can’t believe this happened,” Ratchet sighs and takes Jamie’s hand, “bad enough you struggle mentally while here rather than feeling this is an escape.” He sits on the chair by the bed, worried about Crosshairs and Drift’s mental decline as they wait for Jamie to wake up. He’s been worried about their mental health as Jamie’s worsens, but he knows how this is causing memories of the nightmare situation to resurface. Ratchet knows he could tell them Jamie will be ok, no chance of declining, but the two won’t be able to relax.

Crosshairs watches Drift struggle to eat. Worried how long before this affects Drift’s energon level and how long before he too struggles to eat. Meanwhile Drift worries Crosshairs is continuing to act like he’s ok. Worried that if Crosshairs can eat, how long before he struggles? Worried Crosshairs forced himself to eat and ends up throwing up.

The two don’t know the terror twins and Lightning watch them from the entrance to the cafeteria. “I hate we can’t help them,” Lightning says. “I don’t think they’d be doing much better if they could forget the nightmare situation,” Sunstreaker believes, “they’re with Jamie much more than we are. They know how much she’s struggling more than we do.” “They think they’re protecting us from feeling the way they feel, but I think we just feel more sadness in place of the anxiety they feel,” Sideswipe adds. The three leave before they’re spotted and go to the medbay.

The three worry about seeing the larger bag of blood on the IV pole. They know Crosshairs and Drift will not like seeing that. “You don’t think she’s bleeding internally, do you?” Sideswipe whispers. “Ratchet would have made sure she wasn’t by now,” Sunstreaker replies, “it’s not reassuring knowing the issue is blood loss from her injuries.” Lightning and Sideswipe sit on the chairs while Sunstreaker stands behind them. They notice her blood pressure is low on the monitor and it wasn’t a few hours ago. Hoping this is normal and Ratchet isn’t failing to notice internal bleeding. Lightning lifts the blanket, seeing Jamie’s wrapped abdomen and more stitched wounds. The twins also see this. “Damn, I figured it was bad looking at her arms, but this….,” Sideswipe trails off. “That’s why I’m not telling them,” the three hear Ratchet, “they have enough to worry about. They’ll find out how bad the rest of the wounds are soon. Jamie will be awake long before I can remove the stitches.” “Can I please go kill the bastards?” Sunstreaker asks. “No, we need to worry about if this will happen again or if Lily could be a target,” Ratchet replies. “This is so fragged up,” Lightning comments, continuing to look under the blanket. Sunstreaker pulls the blanket down. “It’s depressing enough seeing her arms and her guardians struggling,” he tells her. The three worry about what does Jamie’s chest look like? The thought of stab wounds close to her heart terrifies them.

Crosshairs and Drift walk into the room ten minutes later. Both mechs see the IV bag that looks bigger and has more blood than what they saw three hours ago. Both worry about how much blood Jamie lost and the wounds they can’t see. Sideswipe moves to allow Drift to sit by the bed. It’s been two days. Drift worries. Why is she still needing blood transfusions? Drift makes the mistake of looking at the monitor, seeing Jamie’s low blood pressure. This can’t be good. He worries. Something is wrong for her to get worse now.

“He saw,” Jasmine tells Ratchet as he sits behind his desk. “I was hoping he wouldn’t, but I knew the chance was slim. There’s no sudden internal bleeding. Even with thirty percent blood loss, this delay in blood pressure drop concerns me. For now, the chemical in her blood isn’t delaying recovery.” “Something isn’t right. I think when the four leave, we should do a CT scan.” Though it’s an unusual route, both medics are hoping Jamie is recovering and won’t find internal bleeding. That would delay her recovery and when she’ll wake up.

An hour passes. The three medics watch the terror twins and Lightning struggle to get both Crosshairs and Drift to leave. “They both saw, and are terrified,” Ratchet believes. “Taking Jamie to get a CT scan will add to the fear, but Jasmine is right. We better do one,” Jolt adds.

The three medics tell the friends to stay and what they’re going to do. This worries the three friends and, as Jolt said, terrifies Crosshairs and Drift. The three friends stay with Crosshairs and Drift in Ratchet’s office. Ratchet informs Rung. “I don’t know if I can help them, but I’ll be there in a second,” Rung tells Ratchet.

Optimus follows Rung into the medbay. Worried about the reason for his visit to the medbay. He hates how terrified Crosshairs and Drift are and that the twins and Lightning are more worried about Jamie. As Rung thought, telling Crosshairs and Drift the CT scan is a precaution doesn’t calm the two. Drift hugs Crosshairs, who feels him trembling.  He’s terrified and thinking Jamie will need emergency surgery. Crosshairs realizes. The medics didn’t seem concerned. He’s not overreacting after what we’ve been through and the fear we’ll lose Jamie. What do I say? The others watch, uncertain what to say. The medics could be wrong and Jamie could end up in emergency surgery. “You three don’t have to stay here,” Optimus tells the twins and Lightning, “at least wait in the waiting room.” The three understand what he’s saying and walk down the hall. Optimus looks into the office, worried about the two mechs. “I hate not knowing how to help them,” Rung sighs, “it’s not just the nightmare situation. It’s Jamie’s mental decline also affecting them. The fear they’ll lose her, but watching her fight for her life causes them to be afraid when she ends up in the medbay.” The two go into the office and close the door. Hoping to help Drift without causing more anxiety to Crosshairs.

“Nothing,” Jolt tells the other two medics, as he watches the monitor display what the machine sees. “This is good, but also concerning why this turn?” Ratchet questions, “we’ll put her on medication to raise her blood pressure. There’s no other evidence that she’s still in shock.” “We should tell them she’s doing ok,” Jasmine tells him, “even with her low blood pressure and the wait for her to wake up.”

The three medics didn’t think Optimus and Rung would be with Crosshairs and Drift. By now, Crosshairs is worried about what the three will say. Crosshairs hugs Drift as the four are told about the scan results. “.. she’ll be ok, but I don’t know when she’ll wake up,” Ratchet finishes. Ratchet figured Drift would ask to sleep in Jamie’s room. The cot would cram the room, which would make it challenging to reach Jamie. “He can handle medical emergencies,” Jolt argues, “though I think Jamie won’t decline. Show him the medication we’ve been giving her, just in case.” Her blood pressure is low, but I don’t think it’ll drop to a critical level. Drift believes. Still, I need to be by her. Crosshairs says nothing. He’ll sleep in an exam room if he has to. An exam room wouldn’t be used in the middle of the night compared to the ICU room next door. He hopes this will help Drift get some sleep. “Now, will you two please go relax?” Optimus asks Crosshairs and Drift. “Come on we’ll come back in three hours after dinner,” Crosshairs says and gets Drift to go with him “I’m not lying to them,” Ratchet says once the two are far down the hall. “I know you wouldn’t as much as you hate giving them bad news,” Optimus tells him, “I hope we can end this. Even if it’s been three years since the last time soldiers attacked her, this is fragged up.” Optimus sits by Jamie’s bed. The medics go back to their offices and Rung leaves the medbay. Hoping to check on Crosshairs and Drift.

Crosshairs and Drift return to the medbay at eight. By now Drift is exhausted. He's hesitant to sleep because he fears being awoken by an alarm alerting a medical emergency. 

Ratchet does the last check on Jamie of the night. Drift sees her blood pressure is going up. “One more infusion should be enough,” Ratchet tells him, “her levels are normal, and she doesn’t need another blood transfusion. You don’t have to worry about an emergency.” Ratchet cleans up the supplies and leaves the room. Crosshairs sits on the chair, watching Drift as he kisses Jamie and lies on the cot. Even while he’s looking at Drift’s back, Crosshairs can tell when Drift is asleep. He worries about Drift’s mental health even with the good news the two got today.  Drift is asleep in under five minutes. Crosshairs stays for a few minutes before going to an exam room to sleep. Hoping Drift will do better while they wait for Jamie to wake up.

Crosshairs wakes up, hyperventilating. The sun shines through the window. Crosshairs’ phone says it’s six in the morning. He sits on the edge of the exam table, questioning why he had a nightmare about losing Jamie even after the good news yesterday. This has him worried about Drift. He goes to Jamie’s room.

Crosshairs stands in the doorway, seeing Drift still asleep. He sees Jamie’s vitals aren’t critical. This has him more confused about the nightmare he had. I hope they’ll both do better today. Crosshairs thinks as he continues to look into the room at his friends.

“What happened?” Jasmine asks. “I…”

Jasmine leads Crosshairs into her office. “You ok?” “I don’t know why I had a terrifying nightmare,” Crosshairs tells her, “I don’t know if it’s a glimpse into the future or random. Jasmine doesn’t have to ask for details to know how his nightmare frightened him. Delayed response, as always. Jasmine suspects. Either he couldn’t continue to act ok, or the fear of losing Jamie resulted in the nightmare, even with the good news yesterday. “She’ll be ok,” Jasmine assures him. Crosshairs goes with her back to the room.

Crosshairs sits on the chair as Jasmine checks on Jamie. “Her blood pressure is normal,” Jasmine tells him, “all other vitals are normal. I think she’s done needing blood work. I’ll test her blood.” Crosshairs realizes Jasmine has a vial of blood in her hand. He didn’t see Jasmine get supplies to draw blood. Jasmine looks at Drift before leaving. Happy he’s getting some sleep.

“Everything is good,” Jasmine tells Ratchet as she hands him the paper with the blood work results, “her blood pressure is normal. Would be great if this could tell us when she’ll wake up.” “I know. Could be in the next twenty-four hours or a couple of days.” “Crosshairs had a nightmare about Jamie even after the good news yesterday. I don’t think either of them will be ok hearing it could be two days. I worry about the three of them when she wakes up.” “What a fragging disaster. So glad severe flare-ups are under control. They wouldn't be able to handle those flare-ups happening frequently like they happened the first few years after Vegeta poisoned Jamie. “I don’t think anyone could. The fear she could die.” Ratchet sees Drift still asleep and Crosshairs sitting on the chair by Jamie’s bed. At least Drift is getting good sleep. Ratchet thinks. Hopefully Crosshairs doesn’t deal with any more nightmares.

Crosshairs ends up falling asleep for three hours. With a stiff neck, he looks at Drift. He’s getting good sleep. Crosshairs thinks. After not sleeping well the past two days and I know he’s been tiring quickly with how anxious he’s been. “You have to stop sleeping like that,” he hears Ratchet before realizing the mech is standing next to him, “you want to feed her? I was waiting for you to move, but it’s already ten.” “I’ll take care of her.” Ratchet hands Crosshairs the supplies and leaves the room.

Before Crosshairs can do anything, he watches Drift move on the cot under the blanket. He waits a few minutes. Watching Drift slowly wake up. He smiles as Drift looks at him, hoping Drift will not worry that something is wrong. Crosshairs tells him what he was about to do and lets Drift feed Jamie. The two stand by the bed, hoping Jamie will wake up. Worried about after she wakes up as they look at her arms. They are certain she has wounds on her legs and abdomen and worry there are wounds on her chest. Both are afraid to see if any wounds are close to where the heart is. To see how close the soldiers were to killing her.  “Crosshairs?” Drift asks, not liking how Crosshairs is looking, “frag.” Drift stops pushing down on the syringe pump and puts it on the bed. He guides Crosshairs onto the floor. Worried about how Crosshairs seems unaware. They were close to killing her. Crosshairs thinks, remembering his nightmare. Crosshairs blinks as he looks at Drift, seeing how worried he is. Which worries him. He questions if he passed out. “Crosshairs? Are you ok?” Crosshairs hates how worried Drift is. While Drift suspects Crosshairs acting like he’s ok is backfiring on him. He leans on Drift while the mech hugs him. Drift doesn’t know what to say. This situation is hard for both of them and many others. “Shit, do I need to get a medic?” A familiar voice asks, “should I leave?” The soldier that got Jamie to the medbay stands in the doorway. “No, it’s ok. He’ll be fine.” Drift thought Crosshairs would get up by now. The soldier sits on the chair in the corner, concerned about Crosshairs.

It’s a few minutes before Crosshairs lets Drift get up to finish feeding Jamie. “She’s doing much better,” Drift tells the soldier as he cleans up the supplies, “it’s a waiting game for her to wake up. Then I don’t know. I worry about her seeing all the stitched wounds.” “Are you two ok?” The soldier asks, “I know it sounds like a stupid question.” “I can’t believe there are still soldiers who want to physically attack her,” Drift replies, “mentally is disgusting and Sunstreaker has been trying to warn the soldiers to leave Jamie and Lily alone,” Crosshairs nods to say this is how he feels, “are you ok? You found her.” “I knew she was bleeding heavily, but I didn’t think it resulted from being stabbed and cut many times. It was clear if I found her two minutes later, she would have been in more serious trouble.” The three leave the room and go to the cafeteria.

(skipping parts of the story)

“You’re awake,” Drift smiles, though Jamie is barely conscious. He knows she won’t be able to stay awake for long. He sits by the bed and takes her hand as she watches him. Another way Drift knows Jamie is barely conscious is the lack of wanting the breathing tube out, “you’ll be ok.” Jamie blinks, unable to stay awake, “go to sleep.” Drift kisses Jamie’s forehead. He sits back on the chair and watches Jamie fall asleep. He feels a hand on his shoulder. Crosshairs stands behind him, smiling. “I told you she’d be out of it,” Crosshairs says, “she’ll be ok. Come on, let’s go tell Ratchet.”

The three medics are in Ratchet’s office. They’re all happy to hear Jamie woke up. They knew she’d be back asleep. “I’m going to wait until she wakes up to remove the breathing tube,” Ratchet tells them. “I’m not looking forward to her finding out about all the wounds,” Jasmine says, looking at Crosshairs and Drift. Ratchet sighs, “you guys know why I’ve been waiting to let you two see the rest of her injuries. It’s best to see how before she’s alert. I kept her only in her underwear and bra. She can wear clothes.” The five go into the ICU room.

End of the snippet. I hope you enjoyed it. The full story will be posted here, A03, FFN & Wattpad hopefully soon.

[fletcherwilbury]

@whumpuary Day 7: Lightheaded

Warning for Illness, fever, shortness of breath, broken nose, blood, fainting, bruises, medication

[serickswrites]

Help Me

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, head injury, blood, bleeding from the mouth, unconsciousness, rescue, unclear character status

Friend kicked open to the door, knowing that this had to be the one that Caretaker and Whumpee were behind. They just had to be there. Otherwise Whumper had lied and it had all been for nothing. And it can't have all been for nothing.

Relief filled them as they saw the kneeling figure of Caretaker in the center of the room. The room was dimly lit, but Friend could see the chains around Caretaker's wrists and ankles. Perhaps Whumpee was chained to the far wall that Friend could only just make out.

"Caretaker, I'm here," Friend said as they started forward.

Caretaker turned clumsily, their arms staying forward out of sight from Friend. They tilted sideways before righting themself. "Help me," they said weakly.

"I'm here. I'm here. Help is here," Friend said reassuringly as they got closer to Caretaker. They could see dried blood just on the edge of Caretaker's eyebrow. No doubt Whumper had hit them in the head. Hard. "Let's get you out of here." They froze as they finally could see what had Caretaker kneeling.

Whumpee lay alarmingly still in Caretaker's arms. Their eyes were closed and blood covered their shirt. Blood trickled in a steady line from their mouth. "Whumpee?"

Caretaker shut their eyes as they listed sideways once more. Friend gripped their shoulder tight, keeping them upright. "Just....just a little lightheaded. Don't worry about me. Help me. Help me help them." Caretaker opened their eyes once more. Their eyes begged Friend to help.

"What happened?" Friend started to break the cuffs on Caretaker's ankles.

"Whumper. Whumper happened." Caretaker never looked up from Whumpee's face.

Friend opened their mouth to say something, but Caretaker's words had them shutting their mouth. "I wasn't strong enough," Caretaker said through tears. "I'm so sorry, Whumpee. So sorry."

Friend worked silently while they freed Caretaker. They had no words. There was nothing they could say that would make things better. They weren't sure if they had made it in time for Whumpee. They had made it in time for Caretaker. And somehow, as they listened to Caretaker's wailing, that wasn't enough.

[rpf-bat]

SHOUT AT THE DEVIL

Pairing: Taz Fagerström/Samy Elbanna

Word Count: 1,464

Summary: When a boating accident threatens to put Samy in an early grave, Taz is willing to do anything to save him.

Johnny is a witch, and he knows there might just be a way to give Taz what he wants. But, he also knows that the devil won’t grant a desperate wish like his without a steep price.

Tags: Drowning, Temporary Character Death, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Demon Summoning, Demon Deals

[whumpuary]

Whumpuary 2025!

(edit in case anyone actually reads this, i messed up and put "i'm fine" in twice for day 25 and alt prompt, so either ignore that or you can use "do it" as an additional alt prompt)

these prompts came together through community submissions and then a voting form where people voted for their favorites, here are the top 53 prompts

i want to try a slightly new format where there are still only 15 days for creation prompts but with additional community prompts/questions. those are entirely voluntary but are here to possibly inspire some community interaction and trying new things

i'm excited to see some awesome creations in january!

go here for info/rules/tagging go here for faqs

(note: number 31 is not a creation prompt and therefore not required to complete the challenge, it's just colored black so the colors add up)

text version of the prompts and rules is under the cut

(image description note: there are 31 numbered prompts, on each odd number the text color is black and on even numbers the text color is white)

Whumpuary 2025

a whump-themed multi media creation event for january

create for at least one prompt from each odd/black number to complete the challenge community prompts (even/white) numbers are voluntary

main prompts

1. sacrifice | headache | "this will hurt" 2. how did you find the whump community? 3. choice | storm | black eye 4. what are your favorite whump tropes? 5. "do you trust me" | manhandled | chills 6. share your favorite whump creations (others or yours!) 7. unfair fight | insomnia | "no one is coming" 8. what media genre do you like whump in? 9. trapped under rubble | gunpoint | out of time 10. write your own whump prompt 11. "i didn't ask for this" | blood | abandoned 12. create something in a new/less familiar medium 13. close call | sleep | choking 14. what's your favorite character dynamic? 15. handcuffed | dead | "please, stop" 16. leave a comment on a whump fic/art/creation 17. drugged | "i'm glad you're alive" | revenge 18. favorite whump medium? (movie, book, art, ...) 19. "let them go" | overworked | head injury 20. send a nice message to someone in the community 21. bruises | "who are you?" | immortality 22. take 10 minutes to work on a wip 23. backhand slap | alone | "i can't do this anymore" 24. what do you take inspiration in? 25. "i'm fine" | missing | drowsiness 26. draw/doodle something whumpy 27. stuck in a loop | twisting the knife | rescue 28. find a creator in the #whumpuary tag and send them an ask 29. kidnapped | "don't leave me" | devotion 30. make a whump meme 31. say something nice about your own work

alt prompts

hiding impaled "i'm fine" rain betrayal hair pulling darkness falling (added later, not in the image: "do it")

rules & info

-any medium is allowed (art, writing, gifs, edits, ...) -prompts are open for interpretation (but the context does have to be whumpy) -create for at least one of three prompts on creation prompt days (black/odd numbers) to complete the challenge -if you're not aiming for completionist you can do however many prompts you want any way you want -community prompts (white/even numbers) are voluntary and don't count for completionist (but can be combined with creation prompts if applicable) -use alt prompts to replace main prompts you don't like some works posted on tumblr will be reblogged if tagged correctly -#whumpuary2025 -#whumpuaryno1 (number of the prompt(s)) -#sacrifice #head injury #"i'm fine" (the prompt(s) you're using) -any trigger/content warning tags -any additional tags (fandom, oc, other used tropes, ...)

[lokiswife-dark-fox-queen]

@vbecker10 @gigglingtigger @sapphira-mydnyte

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumpuary Day 7-8

Prompt: Lightheaded

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

This was brutal. On the road, boots dragging over the pavement in the hot Georgia sun. No supplies. No game to hunt. A meager amount of water. In the tournament of survival, your group seemed to be on the losing side. You were all exhausted, sweltering, and easily agitated. 

Daryl was no exception, probably the most volatile with the exception of Sasha. He continued to refuse your attempts at making him drink, reasoning that his share go to Judith or Carl. You were quickly losing patience with his repudiation of his own wellbeing. It infuriated you that he continuously put himself last, acting as if that was the price of admission into your little apocalyptic family. 

“Daryl, you need to drink.” You stepped into his path, pressing the canteen into his chest. “Don’t argue with me. I swear, I will sit on you and pour it down your throat.”

The archer seemed to mull over your words, his eyes darting back and forth between yours. Any hope you had managed to gather during his moment of consideration was quickly shattered when he sidestepped around you with a mumbled m’fine. 

You were quick to block him again. Well, as quick as you could be with exhaustion and hunger gnawing away at you. 

“This is bullshit, Daryl!” You thrust the canteen at him once again. “You’re important too!” He smiled at your concern, not a genuine one. It was a weak attempt at reassurance. 

“M’fine.” He was gentle when he pushed away your offering. Right on cue, baby Judith began to fuss from her little carrier on Carl’s back. You spared a glance, a mere heartbeat, and he was gone when you looked back. Silent as a ghost, only the lingering sway of branches as evidence of his departure. With an inward sigh, you walked over to Rick and handed him the canteen with a nod toward his children. 

The slow but steady march had once again begun when Daryl appeared next to Rick. You were just behind the deputy, watching your archer with narrowed eyes. Something was off. His steps were sluggish, in stark contrast to the way he kept his chin raised and shoulders back. You longed for him to allow himself to be vulnerable, just once. Admit he was human like any of the rest of you. Admit he was tired or thirsty, that he needed to stop and rest. 

When Daryl staggered sideways, your hand immediately went to Rick’s shoulder; a careful movement that alerted him. He glanced back at you and followed your gaze, turning his head toward the hunter. Daryl had already found his footing, but was looking down at the pavement while shaking his head lightly. 

You hoped that someone else asking would be the catalyst to his admittance of being the opposite of fine as he automatically claimed each time you expressed your concern. Rick didn’t break stride as he walked closer to Daryl, who didn’t seem to notice at all. 

“You alright, brother?” 

Rick’s voice suddenly in such close proximity appeared to startle him, his head snapping up to reveal a dazed expression. Wide blue eyes narrowed, not in anger but confusion. He blinked quickly a few times and dropped his gaze back to the pavement. 

“Mhm.”

“We can stop. Take a break.” When Daryl didn’t answer, the other man stopped walking with a hand grasping the archer’s forearm. “Hey, let’s take a break.”

“Ain’t needin’ no break.” Daryl seethed, snatching his arm away. He stumbled but only slightly before continuing ahead. 

Rick was watching him when you came to stand at his side. “He’s not okay.”

“Yeah.” You replied inside a sigh. “He’s gonna drop, Rick. I can’t get him to drink anything.” Daryl’s gait was off. He carried himself by sheer force of will, veering left and then right without seeming to notice. “He’s punishing himself.” You said after a moment. When Rick looked at you, you were already looking back at him. “For Beth.”

A nod was shared and then the trek began again. 

Later, the sun was at its highest, the unforgiving heat taking its fury out on the lot of you. You had stripped off your t-shirt, the camisole underneath providing enough coverage that you weren’t embarrassed. Everyone who could remove something with the hope of some relief had done so as well. Except, of course, the ever stubborn, self destructive archer. 

This time, you sent Carol after him when he disappeared to hunt game and water. When she stepped back onto the road without him, you couldn’t contain the hope in your eyes. It was quickly shot down by a shake of her head. 

Goddamnit, Daryl. He didn’t appear for a while, longer than usual, worrying you sick. You were ready to have his head on a platter when he emerged from the foliage and took the lead. Fingers combed your damp hair away from your face more out of frustration than an attempt at some sort of relief. You knew you looked like a parent preparing to scold their child when you began to stomp toward the man who was currently the single source of your worry and agitation. You were almost just behind him when he staggered, a palm slapping against his forehead. This time, he wasn’t able to catch his balance and descended hard to one knee. 

“Daryl?” Annoyance forgotten, you dropped down beside him, concern intensifying into something more akin to panic as you watched him blink fast, close his eyes; rinse and repeat. “Hey, talk to me.”

“Just a lil’ lightheaded. Need a minute s’all.” He needed more than a minute, damn him. His lips were cracked, tongue dry as a bone when he attempted to wet them. 

“Let’s take a break.” Rick, crouching on Daryl’s other side, suggested in a hushed tone. 

The archer growled and gave a valiant effort toward standing, only to fall back to both knees. “Lot’a light left. Should keep movin’.” 

“No.” The deputy raised his brows, clearly not considering that option. “You’re dead on your feet. Rest. Drink.” He offered his own bottle, pushing it toward Daryl with an expression that indicated he wasn’t asking. 

You reached for the container, jutting your chin toward the rest of your comrades. Rick nodded and gently clapped a hand over Daryl’s shoulder with a squeeze. He left the two of you there, trusting your ability to get through to the archer. 

“Let’s go sit in the shade.” You left no room for argument, extending a hand toward him once you were upright. He looked at it but didn’t take it, pressing a palm to the hot pavement to force himself to his feet. When he tilted backwards, you were quick to grab his arm and prevent him from smacking his head on the unforgiving ground. “Come on.” 

Daryl allowed you to lead him to a large tree, a little ways away from everyone else. Having several concerned gazes on him would be nothing but a hindrance, and he desperately needed to rest and hydrate. You plopped down first and patted the ground next to you. Your irritation was already ebbing away, extinguishing entirely when you saw him struggling to lower to the grass without tipping over. 

“Drink.” You handed over Rick’s water and nearly sobbed when he took a sip. The archer tried to hand it back, stopped short by a shake of your head. “You haven’t had any. Catch up. Take your share.” After a moment, he lifted the bottle to his lips. The relief was almost overwhelming. “I’m not gonna bitch at you but you really need to take better care of yourself.”

He scoffed, toying with the bottle cap between his fingers. “M’fine.”

“If you say that one more time, I’m going to drown you in the first body of water we come across.” You managed to sound completely serious while brushing his sweaty hair off of his forehead. “At least try. For me?”

Daryl stared at you, lifting the bottle halfway and pausing there. “Okay.” He took another sip, already feeling a little less like a walker. “For you.”

[firapolemos05]

"As far as your family knows, you're dead. Executed as another lowly traitor. So no, there won't be anyone looking for you."

Whumpuary 2025

Day 7 "No one is coming."

Day 15 Handcuffed

Champion taglist: @thewhumpywitch , @ostensiblywhump , @scoundrelwithboba

[galaxymagitech]

I decided to do Whumpuary 2025 very last-minute. To try and increase my comfort zone, I'm going to try something new that I've seen a few other people do and ask if anyone has fic requests for any of the days! Hopefully this isn't weird, because I have no idea how these things work.

You can request a Batman fic for any of these prompts (as vague or detailed as you want), and if I can, I'll try to write it. Please keep it SFW though. (I probably won't write any romantic ships, but you can ask if you really want.)

3. choice | storm | black eye 5. "do you trust me" | manhandled | chills 7. unfair fight | insomnia | "no one is coming" 9. trapped under rubble | gunpoint | out of time 11. "i didn't ask for this" | blood | abandoned 13. close call | sleep | choking 15. handcuffed | dead | "please, stop" 17. drugged | "i'm glad you're alive" | revenge 19. "let them go" | overworked | head injury 21. bruises | "who are you?" | immortality 23. backhand slap | alone | "i can't do this anymore" 25. "i'm fine" | missing | drowsiness 27. stuck in a loop | twisting the knife | rescue 29. kidnapped | "don't leave me" | devotion

Alt Prompts: hiding, impaled, rain, betrayal, hair pulling, darkness, falling, "do it"

Obviously, don't feel obligated--this is just for fun, or if anyone really wants to see anything in particular! I plan to come up with something for these prompts anyway if no one asks.

[chaotic-orphan]

Whumpuary No.7

Unfair fight // Insomnia // “no one is coming”

This was a long one, hoi boi🫡 but she’s done…

“Hero…” Second in command said softly. Hero didn’t reply. She just kept walking after their team across the rocky terrain to the shelter that Navigator spotted a few kilometres back. “Hero.”

“What?” Hero asked. There was nothing sharp about the question. She didn’t snap. She didn’t sigh or demand an answer. It was empty. A sound that carried no meaning behind it. She was tired. She was beyond tired. She just wanted… she just…

“We’ll get them back.” Second told her. Hero didn’t reply. She just kept going. That’s all she could do. Keep walking. Keep breathing. Keep going until they somehow managed to rescue Vigilante from Supervillain.

Nobody that Supervillain took had ever been seen again, nevermind… nevermind— she buried that thought under a hatch in her mind and padlocked it down. Getting emotional wouldn’t get Vigilante back after all… no… she just put one foot in front of the other. It was easy. It was quiet. It was…

She was…

Leader, Navigator and Medic had dropped their packs and started setting up a camp, rolling out their bedding on the smooth rock. Rogue and Youngest were already gone, to fetch some wood for a fire no doubt when Hero and Second arrived.

Hero disengaged from the group and went to the cliff edge outside the shelter and settled her back against the rock of the cave. She heard the usual routine happening behind her, without her.

Then he appeared like an apparition in front of her. Translucent but full formed, a shadow of Villain with his self-satisfied smirk and gleaming eyes. Hero didn’t say anything as he approached her.

“Hello darling. You’re looking worn, drained.” Hero looked through him, literally, as he crouched down and pressed a phantom hand to Hero’s cheek. She wished she couldn’t feel it. She knew he was able to not let her feel it, but he was a sadistic fucker. “My my, have you been sleeping, pet? Your bags have bags,” he noted, pulling down her eyelid.

Hero batted his hand away, but her hand went straight through his projection and she huffed out a breath and looked away as Villain laughed.

“You know damn well why I’m not sleeping.”

Villain released her and sat in front of her instead. He tilted his handsome head to the side. “Is it Vigilante, hmm? The guilt of knowing you could have saved them but didn’t.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh shush. You know how much I enjoy our little chats, Hero,” he said, waving her insult away. “Besides,” his eyes sharpened. “We both know what else I could spend my time doing if you don’t feel like talk—“”

Hero lurched forward a hand out that went through Villain’s visage. “No! No! I— I wanna talk.”

Villain grabbed Hero’s hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. His eyes danced with a gleeful satisfaction. “So desperate, Hero. So needy. But don’t worry. I’ll stay with you. We can talk all night long.”

Hero wanted to punch him. She wanted to cry and scream and wrap her hands around his throat because she didn’t know how much longer she could take this. The taunting, the teasing, every night, once the sun set, Villain would appear to her and force her to chat with him through the night so she couldn’t sleep. The first few days it was fine. She could catch an hour before and after Villain appeared, and she was fine. But they were travelling for two weeks now, and Hero had had to start sleeping by day to the annoyance of their teammates.

The worst part was she couldn’t even tell them about Villain, or Villain promised he’d make Vigilante pay and let Hero see all of the torture for herself.

How many times had she debated telling her team? How many times has she wanted to scream about it to somebody, anybody, but Villain somehow sensed that too after the fourth day.

He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back after she challenged him. “Maybe Vigilante’s life isn’t enough of a threat, hmm? You know… Youngest in your team seems quite—”

“No!” Hero screamed, struggling against a ghost.

Villain leaned down, craning Hero’s neck all the way back but she didn’t drop eye contact with him as he hissed: “then behave.”

Dinner came and went. Hero denied any food. She felt too sick to eat. Almost woozy from the insomnia, and when she did eat it was like she was pumped of adrenaline that only led her to crashing later.

“Hero… you should really eat. You’ll turn into skin and bones if you don’t,” Villain chided with a smile.

When it came time to sleep, Hero said she’d take first watch. Leader came out and stood above her. “Hero, no.”

“Oooh,” Villain cooed from behind Hero, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. “Your boss is so forceful Hero. But tell him you insist.”

Hero shivered as the phantom hand settled on the nape of her neck. “I- I insist,” she said quietly.

Medic came out after Leader.

“Hero, get inside. We need to cover a lot of ground tomorrow and we can’t have you dozing off when the sun comes up again! We’re losing time to save Vigilante.”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Hero cried, hands flying to her hair and pulling. “I— I want to save Vigilante more than anything.”

“She’s right you know,” Villain purred, standing behind Medic. He started whispering in Medic’s ear, loud enough for Hero to hear. “She wants to save poor Vigilante more than her circadian rhythms demand.”

“Please!” Hero cried. “I— I- I need to stay awake.”

Villain’s violet eyes flashed at Hero over Medic’s shoulder. “That’s right. Good girl. You tell them.”

Hero swallowed hard. Leader frowned and looked over his shoulder to where Hero stared, almost as if in a trance. Medic found his gaze, erudite eyes coloured with concern.

Leader looked back at Hero.

“Alright.” Leader said. Hero relaxed, breathing out a sigh of relief that seemed to be the only thing holding her up. She swayed as the world spun around her and would have fallen if not for Leader catching her halfway to the ground.

“Please,” Hero said with a breath, not entirely sure she didn’t blackout for a second. “Please, trust me,” she pleaded.

Leader nodded and sat her back against the rock. “I trust you, Hero. I know losing Vigilante has been hard on you, but there’s some leftover food and you will eat some of it if you won’t sleep, do you understand?”

“I—” Hero protested. Leader spoke over her.

“Or I’ll have Rogue take watch and ask Medic to force—”

“Okay! Okay!” Hero rushed out, panic seizing her heart. Leader smiled and tucked her hair out of her face.

“Good. I’ll grab you a plate. And you will eat it all, Hero.”

Hero nodded stiffly. “Okay.”

The two disappeared back into the cave. Hero could hear Medic berating Leader as they retreated but she didn’t really care about what they said anyways. Villain walked back in front of her and plopped himself down in front of her. His eyes alight with a dangerous amusement.

“You’re so good at taking orders, Hero.” Villain purred. “So pliant and malleable like this,” he said. He propped his elbow on his knee and his head in his hand. “Oh, if only I thought of taking Vigilante sooner. Maybe the heroes wouldn’t have given us as much trouble when you’re distraught and sleep deprived.”

Hero didn’t answer. A hot tear dripped from her eye onto her cheek. Maybe that was answer enough. She was going mad, she knew. Villain was driving her mad, making her seem crazy, torturing her for his own cruel enjoyment.

“Oh Darling,” Villain cooed as Hero started to cry silently, her shoulders shaking up and down and letting out silent sobs that sounded only like gasps of breath. He moved towards her and pulled Hero into his arms, his legs on the outside of hers as he pushed her head into his shoulder. She didn’t move. “Darling, shush. Crying will waste so much of your energy.”

Hero continued to cry. “Oh you poor sweet angel. There, there. I know it’s hard,” he said, patting Hero’s back. “I know, pet. But you’re just so stubborn, hmm? This can all be over if you like.”

Hero stiffened in Villain’s arms. “W-what?” She asked wetly, mucus clogging her words.

Villain pulled Hero back and smiled down a kind smile at her, but his horrible eyes betrayed him. “Darling, have you had enough?”

Hero nodded. Villain softened. “Words, doll.”

“Y-yes,” Hero sniffed. Then she jumped a little and shook her head. “But— but I don’t! I don’t want you to hurt Vigilante, please!”

Villain crushed her into his chest again. “Oh I know you don’t. I know you’d do anything for them, wouldn’t you?”

Hero nodded against Villain’s chest. “Words,” he said.

“Yes.”

“I know, darling. So how about we make a deal?”

Hero pulled back a little and stared into the monsters violet eyes. “A- a deal?”

It was a bad idea. Even in her state she knew it was a bad idea, but what else could she do?

“Yes,” Villain said, phantom fingers wiping away Hero’s tears. “A deal. A trade. You for Vigilante.”

All warmth drained from Hero’s body. She didn’t recoil or so much as flinch, she just stared at Villain who sat drinking in every minuscule muscle twitch across her face.

“What?”

“I asked Supervillain already. He said he was fine with the trade, and would put you under my care just like Vigilante is. But I wouldn’t torture you, sweet thing. We would chat, and be like this,” he said, as he tucked a piece of Hero’s hair behind her ear. “Together. In person. You won’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll release Vigilante and you won’t have that guilt plaguing your mind either.”

Hero’s mouth went incredibly dry, like she was inhaling glass. “Will— will you l-let me… will—” Hero fretted, “I- I need to sleep.”

“As soon as you’re in my arms, darling, my real arms I’ll let you sleep, hmm? Would you like that?”

Hero nodded. Her cries turned into a sudden sob she couldn’t catch. “Pl-please… please. I- I would. Ple—”

“Shush, shush, shush. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll do the rest.”

This time, Hero recoiled. “N.. no. You can’t— my team is… my team is here and—”

“Okay,” Villain mused. “Then pick a spot you know, where you can slip away and I’ll come pick you up.”

“And let Vigilante go?” Hero asked, hope colouring every word. Villain shook his head. Hero deflated.

“Once I have you we can talk about Vigilante’s release. I don’t want any nasty surprises in case you try to ambush me with your team.”

God, Hero didn’t even think of that… she was drained. Wholly and completely, her body on autopilot and her mind switched off.

“Okay…” Hero murmured. “Okay… I can meet you by the ruins to the old church in the black valley.”

Villain nodded. “I think I know that area. Okay. I’ll be waiting.”

Hero stiffened. “I- I won’t be able to go until they’re asleep.”

Villain chuckled. A warm, hearty sound. “I know, sweet thing. It will just take me some time to get there so I’ll trust you and leave you to find your way.”

Hero sat out of Villain’s embrace, pulling her sleeve over her hand and wiping her cheeks. “O-okay.”

When Hero arrived at the old church a car was waiting for her. A silhouette of a figure she knew too well was waiting, perched against the passenger side door. Hero froze in place.

Oh god.

Oh god.

What was she doing?

This man had… he had tortured her psychologically over the last two weeks, playing dirty, fighting unfairly, depriving her of sleep just so he could pull something as horrid as this… something she would never have agreed to if she was of sound mind.

And… oh god. She hadn’t gotten used to the cold feel of his fingers and hands on her, everytime he touched her it was like a zap of electricity, or an icy shock to her system that made her gasp but seeing Villain in person now…

He looked very much real.

Strong too. Stronger than he appeared when he projected himself to her mind and even then he could overpower her.

“You know,” his velvet voice called over the short distance between them. It sounded smoother in person, like melted chocolate in her ears. Warm and soothing. Not the voice of a villain. “In your state, I could always catch you if you tried to run.”

Hero couldn’t move. Her body wouldn’t let her step closer. A cold hand settled on the small of her back and pushed her forward. “There you go, that’s a good girl. Do you still have your bow?”

Hero swallowed. Nodded. “Words, darling,” he purred. Hero trembled.

“Y-yes.”

She was so close now. She could make out some of the features on his face, his long hooked nose, his deep set eyes and his dark hair that fell a little over his eyes she could feel more than see were focused only on her.

“Good. I will need to take that off you for now, but if you behave I will give it back so you can train. Keep your skills up. Would you like that?”

Hero didn’t answer.

Five steps.

Four steps.

Three steps.

Two.

Her heart screamed at her to run, to flee, pumping adrenaline through her body to get her to escape.

But it was too late. Villain put his hand on her cheek. It was warm. Hero couldn’t suppress the flinch.

“Oh you are just an angel, aren’t you?” He whispered. Hero didn’t answer. His eyes went to the road Hero came from. She had the good sense to go around the church so he wouldn’t know which direction her team was. That wasn’t part of the deal. “And any teammates follow you?”

Hero began to shake her head, but stopped, looked at him. Words. “N-no… it’s just me… no— no one else is coming.”

Villain’s smile cut into his face, exposing his white teeth. “Excellent, Hero.”

He took her quiver and bow from her shoulders and opened the door for her to the passenger seat. Hero climbed in. Villain shut the door and walked to the boot, throwing her weapons into the trunk before he climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door.

He pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Hero bristled. “I… I won’t be any trouble, I swear,” she pleaded. “Please, I just… I just want to sleep.”

Villain smiled sympathetically at her. “I know, Hero. I just need to make sure you don’t get any ideas of escape while we drive back to base. Surely you understand?”

Hero’s bottom lip trembled. She bit it to stop from crying and nodded. Her eyelids threatened to drown her if she didn’t close her eyes soon. “Good girl. I’ll just cuff one hand, okay?”

Hero nodded again. Once she was secured and he was sure she couldn’t go anywhere, he nodded and started the engine. When they pulled off, out of the ruins and onto the main road he said: “okay, little Hero. You’ve been so good for me. And good behaviour gets rewarded.”

Hero’s eyes widened. “I can sleep now?”

“Yes darling,” Villain said with a smile in his voice. Hero settled back into her seat, resting her head against the soft, leather headrest.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Villain smiled into the darkness. “My pleasure.”

Hero was asleep before she heard the words, for the first time in two weeks, her mind, blissfully, switched off.

[val-creative]

Happy Whumpuary! Day 7 'unfair fight, insomnia, 'no one is coming'

Squid Game

For @whumpuary's Day 7 prompt "No one is coming"

Type: Fanfiction | Fandom: Squid Game (2021-) | Characters: Cho Hyun-ju, Park Gyeong-seok | Ships: Cho Hyun-ju/Gyeong-seok

Warnings & Triggers: Blood, Fear, Violence, Gun Violence, Mentions of Sickness/Injuries/Vomiting, Explicit Language.

SPOILERS FOR S2, E7.

---

It's been too long... Dae-ho should have been back by now.

Around her, debris of the pink-painted walls scatter and go airborne, as bullets fly rapidly, in and out. Her nostrils itch with the faint dust.

Hyun-ju's fingers clench tightly around her near-emptied MP5.

"What do we do!?" -- "Fuck! Oh fuck! I'm out!" -- "Me too!"

Through the hollers of Player 145 and Player 324, dodging down together, and the chimes of the PA system in the background, Hyun-ju's mind races frantically. Warm sick slicks deep in her throat.

Dae-ho...

No one is coming...

No one is coming, are they..?

The crumbly and dry gimbap, from an earlier meal, comes back up. Hyun-ju gulps loudly, bending over, pressing her face into a sleeve.

"Here, here," comes a familiar and reassuring voice. "It's alright."

Gyeong-seok slowly lowers the submachine gun in her hands, turning his own over his shoulder. He coaxes her to remain still, Gyeong-seok's fingers digging purposely into Hyun-ju's wrist.

"Take a breath. Release it. You're gonna feel dizzy for a moment."

Is... is it a pressure point? Hyun-ju does as she's told, getting lightheaded. Gyeong-seok's fingertips dig in again, then soften.

While they're still crouching, Hyun-ju fades out of the background noises. The immediate sense of danger. The failure and hopelessness building. "Are you okay, miss?" Gyeong-seok asks, focusing her in.

She shakes her head, then... nods. Truthfully, it is not as if Hyun-ju hasn't seen worse as a first class sergeant in ROTK Special Forces.

"Thank you... for whatever you did," Hyun-ju breathes, leaning in, glancing into his eyes. She half-expects him to avoid looking at and touching her again. Most people do. Most people don't know what to make of a woman like Hyun-ju, and she's accept that. But, Gyeong-seok's fingers linger like a comforting warmth before they're gone.

Gyeong-seok's lips twitch up. He stares back into her eyes fondly.

"My Na-yeon. My daughter. She has vomiting spells. This helps I'm glad it helped you, miss. You looked like you were going to be ill."

"I thought I would be," Hyun-ju admits, the surface of her cheeks hot.

More gunfire ricochets, drawing their attention as Player 324 yelps, his tracksuit blooming red. Hyun-ju and Gyeong-seok duck at the same time, one of Hyun-ju's arms wrapping protectively around him.

A ragged exhale lands to her ear. Pleasant-feeling.

"We need those magazines, now," Hyun-ju says, turning her face, the adrenaline picking up. She picks up her MP5 unholstered. Gi-hun was right... this is their last chance to end these games for good.

Hyun-ju can't allow herself to fail again... not like when it was Young-mi being failed. Battling off the heightened emotion, she sniffs.

Unexpectedly, a large and warm hand cups the side of her face.

Gazing over, her tear-filled eyes widening from his kindness, Hyun-ju watches Gyeong-seok dropping a hand. "Forgive me," he whispers. "I only meant... that you should remember you've done your best."

Please don't apologize for touching me. Acknowledging me.

Those words hover on Hyun-ju's mouth, but she says, "I need to go."

"Go then. We'll be here."

She hunches out of the blood-soaked corridor, suppressing a sob.

Please don't leave me alone.

[wheelsup-sevenup]

whumpuary 2025: day 7!

prompt: unfair fight / insomnia / “no one is coming.”

characters: natasha romanoff (marvel)

warnings: kidnapping, sleep deprivation, violence, (implied) abandonment, referenced human experimentation

Based on the regularity in which they changed the guard, and the snatches of daylight she caught when they opened the door, Natasha estimated that she’d been locked in this makeshift cell, the back room of what she assumed to be an abandoned office building, for around thirty-six hours.

If she was right, that wasn’t good.

She’d been expecting backup within the first six hours. When it didn’t come, she hadn’t worried. 

Clint had promised her that SHIELD didn’t leave their people behind. And for some reason, she’d believed him.

The first twelve hours were a breeze, if not slightly confusing. The men here didn’t seem to want anything from her; they seemed to enter her cell only to ensure that she didn’t leave. Only when she spoke to them, spit insults or derogatory questions, did they strike her, and even then she could tell they were holding back.

The twelve hours after that were worse.

Her ankle had been broken when she was captured, and she was reasonably sure it hadn’t set right. It throbbed consistently, sending low, dull spikes of pain through her entire leg. Swelling pushed against the duct tape that bound each of her limbs to the chair, and her chest ached from the cable wrapped around it. 

After thirty-six hours, Natasha didn’t know what to think.

She was having a little trouble with that, actually. No food for thirty-six hours. She’d refused the water, used every trick in her book to prevent herself from falling asleep. Now, her mind was hazy with pain and fatigue. The only thing she could reliably keep in her mind was that she wanted out, as soon as possible. 

She could do it herself, SHIELD be damned.

Natasha had yet to hear the guard in her cell speak. They had, for the most part, ignored each other, Natasha perfectly happy to be miserable without his input. He didn’t raise an eyebrow when she shifted in the chair, straining at the duct tape at her wrists. She slumped down again, making it seem like the maneuver had been unsuccessful, but in reality, she was hopeful. Thirty-six hours of sweating and constant pressure had loosened the tape considerably, and she was sure it wouldn’t take much to pull her hands out completely. It was the same with the tape at her legs, though twisting her broken ankle out of the bindings would hurt like a bitch.

She needed a distraction.

She needed to get out of here.

It was the only thought she could hold on to.

It was almost an hour of slow progress later that the door creaked open. The man in the cell with her looked up at the figure silhouetted in the doorway with surprise, then left quickly without a word.

Fantastic.

This man had a confidence to him that the others didn’t. The way he carried himself, the way the others deferred to him, made Natasha assume the man was their leader.

The door remained open at his back. Natasha blinked in the sudden flood of daylight as the man pulled up the only other chair in the room and sat facing her.

“Do you know me, Natalia?”

The voice was… vaguely familiar. He spoke with a distinctive French accent, clearly a second language yet one that lingered in his voice all the same. She knew him, but in the haze of her mind, Natasha couldn’t tell where she knew him from.

“It doesn’t matter. I know you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to get on with it.

“You made a mistake when you defected to SHIELD. They don’t care for you, you know. That much is clear by now.”

“They’re not the KGB,” Natasha retorted. “And neither are you. For a pathetically small weapons dealer, you sure make a lot of noise. It’s embarrassing.”

The insult bounced harmlessly off the man’s cool exterior. If any part of it was true, he didn’t let it show.

“Poor Natalia. No one has really cared for you at all, have they?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, feigning a confidence she wasn’t sure even existed. “When they come for me, you’ll see how much they care. You’ll feel it. Like a shot to the gut.”

Under the cover of her own brash words, she popped her thumb joint out of place. The wave of agony that swept up her arm was grounding, and nothing compared to the relief as one hand slipped free.

The man was talking again, but Natasha wasn’t listening, quietly realigning her thumb bone and easily unfastening the cord that tied her torso to the chair’s backing. With her free hand, she held the cord there.

“…but you’ll see. Poor girl. No one is coming,” he’s saying. “You’re all ours.”

Now she just needed her other hand. She was almost there, when something he was saying caught her attention. 

“…the serum will make you stronger than you’ve ever been.”

Her head snapped up against her will. No one had said anything about a serum.

She didn’t have to consider it, though, because she was free. The door was even still open.

Natasha waited until the man, pacing the room back and forth, was in front of her to surge forward, spinning and slamming the chair into him. The chair shattered, her legs ripping free of the duct tape. Though pain exploded in her leg, she felt a surge of strength as she doubled her legs up beneath her, using her uninjured foot and arm to propel herself from the ground towards the man. He turned around as she flew at him, aiming a solid knee directly to his chest.

Except.

The rush of sensation Natasha expected — the impact of her knee breaking his ribs, the flexing of his ribcage and the crumpling of his body as he hit the floor with a shout of pain — never came.

Somehow, the man absorbed the impact with barely a wince, Natasha stumbling backwards onto her already broken ankle. It buckled underneath her, and she stumbled backwards with an involuntary yelp of pain, collapsing towards the cement floor.

In the moments before she hit the concrete Natasha realized what her sleep-deprived brain had missed. The implants, bulging under the sleeve of his shirt. The yellowed whites of his eyes, the veins that protruded from the backs of his hands, tinted vaguely orange.

As she crumpled against the concrete, the information she’d missed came to her in a sickening rush. This organization was too easy to find, too seemingly simple for SHIELD to focus so much manpower on. They never would have expended so much effort on a sole arms manufacturer.

She remembered his name.

Michael Hopworth. British arms dealer turned French experimental-chemical-weapons junkie. The KGB had dealt with him more than once. Natasha had even met him, listened to him talk about defying even the achievements of Captain America or the Red Guardian.

Cybernetic implants. Enhanced strength. It all fit.

The next kick, delivered to her right shoulder, showed her the true strength the man had been holding back. Her body jerked backwards, the pain of splintering bones rushing through her body immediately. Her arm was useless, and she curled in on herself, the waves of pain setting every nerve ablaze.

Hopworth knelt next to her shaking, panting form, extricating her undamaged arm despite her weak protests. He pulled a syringe from his back pocket, and despite the fear that stabbed through her at the thought of being drugged, helpless, some part of her welcomed the relief that whatever was in the syringe would provide.

“You were probably wondering why we waited so long to do this,” he shrugged, waving the needle back and forth. “See, the serum works best when your immune system isn’t strong enough to fight it off. We planned for around twenty-four hours, but,” he laughed, “no one was rushing us. So we took our time.”

The needle entered the crook of her elbow none too gently. Natasha squeezed her eyes shut, willing this to be over.

“We aren’t giving you up just yet,” he promised, his words beginning to blur around the edges. “You’ll have a place in our organization yet, Natalia.”

tbc :)

also, i lied. this’ll be a three-parter. on the next episode, hopefully clint can find us some answers!

comments on this one in particular would be appreciated, because it looks like i’m gonna be having a stressful night and i’d love a distraction 😎

[ladylucksrogue]

Whumpuary:

Day 7: No One is Coming (Command Batch Cadets)

A training exercise goes horribly wrong.

Chapter warning: Near death, near drowning

The command batch are cadets in this, teenagers, somewhere between 12-14 (adjusted age) or so.

also posted here on A03

Their heads broke the surface one by one, gasping for air as they climbed onto the platform. The water was freezing, even through their fatigues and neoprene undersuits. The fabric was saturated after hours in the water, and the thermoregulation had all but given up. The saltwater stung their eyes, and their skin burned where their waterlogged gear had rubbed it raw.

They were still too young to be in full kit, but really, that was the point. No armor. No HUD. No heating systems. Nothing to help them. This exercise was about survival, about testing their limits and forcing them to rely on instinct, endurance, and teamwork.

Fox wiped the water from his face, blowing it from his nose as he tried to equalize the pressure in his ears. His chest heaved as he gulped air, the salt from the water leaving his lips cracked. Around him, the others were doing the same, pulling themselves together, but something felt… wrong.

He glanced at Bly first. His brother lay sprawled on the platform, breathing hard, drawing in huge gasps of air. The Trandoshan trainer was already eyeing him, a sneer curling across his scaled face. Cody and Ponds were crouched a little further away, muttering quietly to each other as they shrugged out of their gear, tense as they glanced toward the trainer.

Fox turned to check on his twin, wondering where the commentary was.  It wasn’t like him to be so quiet. Wolffe had been right behind him in the water. But Wolffe wasn’t there.

Fox’s stomach clenched as his eyes darted across the platform, counting his brothers in his head, over and over, hoping his brain was playing tricks on him. It wasn’t. Wolffe wasn’t anywhere.

“Where’s Wolffe?” Cody asked.

“He was right behind me,” Fox said, his voice cracking. His heart pounded in his chest as panic threatened. If he wasn’t there, it wasn’t good. They’d already been pushing the limits on that last stretch of tunnel.

Ponds was the first to move, pushing himself to his feet. “We’ll get him,” he said.

“The exercise is over,” the trainer snapped. “Time is up.”

Ponds froze, turning to face him. “One of us is still down there.”

“Not my concern,” the Trandoshan said coldly, disinterested as any of the longnecks. “If you can’t keep your team together, that’s on you.”

Cody stepped forward, his fists clenching. “We need to go back for him.”

The trainer’s gaze flicked over them, narrowing as he looked Cody over. “The team is here. CC-3636 failed to keep up.”

Fox couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. His twin had always been there, always. Since the moment they were decanted, the thought of him not being there wasn’t something he could comprehend.

“Fox—” Cody started, but Fox had already thrown his gear to the ground and dove back into the water. The cold hit him like a wall, stealing the breath from his lungs as he kicked hard, forcing himself downward. The salt burned his already raw eyes, but he didn’t care.

But he underestimated the air needed and had to surface, drawing deep gulps of air, trying to remember his training. Both Cody and Ponds had dropped their gear and, despite the trainer’s protests, were already diving in. Bly was nowhere to be seen, likely down in the water already.

Finally, Fox steadied his breathing, drawing in as much air as he could, and dove under the surface again.

Deeper and deeper, the pressure built in Fox’s ears as his lungs screamed for air. He saw movement ahead, Cody and Ponds, tugging at something.

His stomach dropped. Wolffe.

He was tangled in a wire net, floating limply. His skin was pale, almost gray. Fox swam harder, his lungs burning. No. No. No.

Ponds signaled Bly to surface for air. Fox reached them, clawing at the net and cutting his hands in the process. Cody gestured upward, shaking his head, he was already working on the net, cutting at it with a knife he’d apparently had on him.  He was right, cutting his hands open wasn’t bringing anything and as much as he wanted to help, he was low on air.

When Cody and Ponds finally surfaced with Wolffe between them, Bly was already there, hauling Wolffe onto the platform. Fox scrambled after them, his knees hitting the hard grating as he collapsed beside him.

“Wolffe…” Fox shouted, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. “Wake up! Please, come on…don’t do this!”

Wolffe didn’t move.  He wasn’t breathing.  His head lolled to the side.  His skin was cold to the touch.  He didn’t look real, like an imitation of him.

Bly shoved Fox back. “Move, Fox. Shaking him isn’t helping.” Fox fell back, trying to breath himself, forcing himself to.  Bly seemed to remember their training despite the panic and began compressions. Cody paced behind them, while Ponds crouched at Bly’s side.

“Get a med droid!” Ponds snapped suddenly, as he turned to the trainer. “Please, sir, he needs help!”

The trainer folded his arms, his expression unmoved. “He needs to help himself. That’s what this is about. A soldier must be self-reliant.”

“He’ll die!” Ponds’ voice cracked. “He’s going to die if we don’t—”

“Enough,” the trainer cut him off, his tone biting. “Focus on the lesson here. You’re wasting time.”

Ponds sagged slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper as he turned back to Wolffe. “Come on, please.”

The seconds dragged on, feeling like hours. Bly didn’t stop, but his jaw was clenched, his face pale as water dripped off his face, mixed with tears. He wasn’t stopping, but Fox could see the fear in his eyes.

Ponds was shaking, his lips pressed tightly together. His hands clenched and unclenched as he whispered, “Come on, Wolffe. Come on. Don’t do this…”

Cody’s pacing grew more frantic, his hands rubbing at his face. “We should’ve gotten to him sooner.” His voice broke, choked off.

Fox sat frozen, his own breaths uneven as tears blurred his vision. He couldn’t take his eyes off Wolffe, couldn’t stop the memories crashing over him.

Wolffe hogging the blankets, sprawled across the bunk as Fox had to fight for space. Wolffe’s grin when he cracked a joke at the worst possible moment, dragging Fox into trouble with him. His impulsive little ideas, climbing something to show off, poking or prodding Fox out of boredom. Hanging all over him to read over his shoulder. So irritating.

And yet.

Wolffe pressing a ration bar into Fox’s hand when he’d forgotten to eat. Wolffe helping Cody patch his gear late into the night so he wouldn’t have to do it alone. Fussing over everyone’s things unnecessarily, but making sure they were prepared. Wolffe always noticed the little things, always took care of them before anyone realized something was wrong.

Fox pressed his forehead to Wolffe’s too-still shoulder, tears slipping free. “Please…” he whispered.

Then Wolffe jerked suddenly, his body convulsing as water spilled from his mouth. Bly rolled him to the side, keeping him from choking. Water, far too much of it, splashed over Fox, soaking him as Wolffe choked and sputtered and coughed, but he didn’t care. He pulled Wolffe into his arms, holding him tightly. “Breathe. You’re okay. Just breathe.”

Wolffe’s ragged breathing slowly evened out, but then his shoulders began to shake. Tears spilled down his face as he clutched at Fox, his sobs broken and hoarse and loud. “I thought—” His voice cracked. “I thought no one was coming.”

Fox tightened his hold. “We’d never leave you. Ever.”  The idea that Wolffe had thought that in that moment was horrifying.  That he’d be left all alone.  His own tears were spilling down his face.

Cody knelt beside them, as he rested a hand on Wolffe’s shoulder. His voice choked with emotion. “He’s right. Never.”

Bly’s hands shook as he wiped at his cheeks. He nodded. “You’re safe now.”

Ponds dropped down on Wolffe’s other side, shaking as he wrapped his arm around him. “We’ve got you.”

The trainer’s voice cut through the moment. “Tears, CC-3636?” His tone was scathing. “Why am I not surprised?”

Wolffe flinched, his breath hitching as his head dipped, pressing against Fox’s shoulder to hide it.  Fox’s arms tightened around him protectively, angry that even now, after he’d nearly died, they couldn’t leave him alone, but he didn’t answer, only glared up at the trainer.

The trainer shook his head in open disgust. “Look at all of you. Crying like a bunch of children. You are soldiers.  That’s what they told me anyway.”

None of them responded. The trainer huffed and turned sharply, his voice cold as he stormed off. “There will be consequences for this.”

None of them cared.

[serickswrites]

Shot Through The Heart

Warnings: gunshot, wounds, blood, magic

“NOOOOOOOO!” Hero roared as Villain collapsed as Civilian’s gun went off. This could not be happening. They had finally, finally admitted their feelings for Villain. They couldn’t have  this all ripped away from them. 

“Oh,” Villain sighed, hands going to the bullet wound in their chest. They fell forward as blood flowed rapidly from the wound.

Hero immediately rounded on Civilian. “HOW DARE YOU!”

“It’s Villain,” Civilian squeaked, “I’m a hero.”

It took everything in Hero not to destroy Civilian right then and there. “You better run. Run far and hide well because if I find you,” Hero said darkly as they looked at Villain’s still body, blood pooling around them, “death will not be good enough.”

Civilian paled and took off running. 

With a sob, Hero dropped to the knees beside the fallen villain, blood soaking though their pant leg. “No, no, no. Please, no.”

They flipped Villain over, knowing full well that Villain was dead. Civilian had shot Villain in the heart. There was no way Villain survived. Villain’s face was still, eyes open and empty. Hero’s worst fears were confirmed. 

“I am so sorry,” Hero whispered as tears obscured their vision. “I...I...I should have told you sooner.”

Villain coughed in their arms, convulsing as coughs wracked their frame. “Villain?” Hero blinked away the tears. 

Villain blinked up at Hero as the wound in their chest knitted closed. “I,” cough, “knew.”

“How?” Hero could not believe their eyes. 

Villain waggled their eyebrows up at Hero. “Magic."

Hero leaned down and kissed Villain. “I don’t understand,” they said as they finally pulled away. 

Villain grinned. “I’m indestructible, love.”

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 7

7. (Jan 13-14) "I didn't know where else to go" / Bruises / Drugged 

cw blood/injury, betrayal, villain whumpee, hero caretaker 

"What happened?” Hero demanded as they helped Villain to the couch. Their nemesis all but collapsed onto it, breathing strained.  

“They fuckin’ ditched me,” Villain gritted out. “My team. Used me for the mission and then left me for dead.” 

Hero swallowed hard and tried to suppress their anger as they took in Villain’s black eye and the bruise forming on their jaw. They didn’t care that they were supposed to be enemies. They didn’t care that Villain was bleeding all over their nice couch or that they shouldn’t have even known where Hero lived in the first place. All they cared about was making this right. “Superhero did this to you?” 

Villain nodded weakly. They tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but the movement caused them to groan in pain and clutch at their side. “Yeah,” they said. “I’m sorry, I know you hate me but I—I didn’t know where else to go.” 

Hero sighed. “I don’t hate you. And I definitely don’t want you bleeding out in an alley somewhere, so...I’m glad you came here. Even though I’m kind of freaked out that you know where I live.” 

Villain managed to laugh at that. “What kind of nemesis would I be if I didn’t keep tabs on you?” 

“Right.” Hero rolled their eyes. “Just hang tight, okay? I’m gonna grab the first aid kit.” 

When they returned, they knelt in front of Villain and went to work cutting away the torn remains of their suit, which was soaked with blood (the halfhearted “At least buy me dinner first” went unacknowledged.) Hero drew in a shaky breath when they were able to see the extent of Villain’s injuries—bruises covered their skin along with dozens of smaller cuts and a few gashes that looked sickeningly deep. 

“Shit,” Hero muttered, nauseated at the sight. “I can’t believe Superhero would do this. I’m going to kill them.” 

“I think one of my ribs is broken.” Their voice had dropped to a whisper. “Feels like it’s stabbing my lung.” 

Hero reached up a hand to cup Villain’s cheek. It was supposed to be comforting, but their trembling fingers smeared blood on Villain’s face. “You're gonna be okay. I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” 

Villain looked down before shutting their eyes quickly and letting out a small whimper. “Fuck, that looks bad. Oh my god.” 

“Do not pass out on me,” Hero ordered. “I’m going to clean and stitch these, and you’ll be fine. Then you can rest while I hunt down Superhero and knock their teeth out.”