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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 5 months

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hi. here's a little over 5k words for the modern human au! entirely unedited, as usual! you'd think this is a full oneshot... ha... no... i actually have some warnings for this one - hospitals, panic attacks, major character injury / discussion of death / clinical description of injury.

in short, my writing comfort zone <3

The dial tone plays, and Barnaby looks down at his phone. Call ended stares back at him under Wally’s cheerful profile picture.

“He hung up on me,” Barnaby states. His lips twist and he tosses the phone onto the couch with a snarl of, “That little bastard.”

“Hey now,” Howdy says sharply, frowning at him. “That’s our friend you’re talking about.”

“Like he doesn’t deserve it! All I do is be supportive, understanding, and worry about his damn well being. And then he goes and acts like my very much well-founded concern is an attack!”

Howdy’s frown softens as he watches Barnaby pace, gesturing wildly.

“I love that RV. Maybe not as much as Wally, obviously, but it pains me that it needs to go. And it does need to go! Thing’s becoming a damn deathtrap.” Barnaby pushes his hair back and huffs. He glances at Howdy. “Right? I’m making the right call, here?”

“Of course you are,” Howdy says. “But-”

Barnaby cuts him off. “I tried to be nice about it. I tried to warm him up to the idea of retiring Home, yaknow? And what does he do instead of handling it - he revs up the tin can and runs. Home shouldn’t be started, let alone driven. It’s dangerous.”

It’s extremely dangerous. Wally is skilled at driving it, but no amount of skill will save him if it breaks in the middle of the freeway. What if the engine catches fire? What if a tire pops, or comes loose? Home is old, and wasn’t made to crumple in a crash. Barnaby doesn’t even know if the airbag still works. It’s not safe.

The thought of Wally bringing Home hurtling down the freeway at ten at night in a - quite honestly - not great mental state turns Barnaby’s stomach.

“I just wanted him to come back so we could talk about it,” Barnaby says. “I let him keep worming his way out of a serious conversation and now - now he’s -”

“Running away,” Howdy finishes. The point of his pen taps a rhythm against his notepad.

Barnaby jabs a finger at him. “Exactly. One tough, necessary decision and he turns tail. This isn’t gonna go away if he skips town! Not to mention how he isn’t giving a thought to how this might affect the rest of us.”

“Especially you.”

Barnaby throws his hands up with an indignant look. “Now not only do I have to hunt him down-”

“That would be a we scenario, Barn.”

“But we,” Barnaby concedes, “gotta try to knock some sense into that thick skull ‘a his, and drag him back home - kicking and screaming if we hafta.”

Howdy’s pen taps faster. “What if he doesn’t want to come back?”

“What if he-” Barnaby stops short and stares at him, wide eyed.

That’s not.

That wouldn’t happen, right? Wally would come back in the end. He wouldn’t decide to up and leave entirely, would he? He is in Home… all the essentials he needs are in that RV. Barnaby sits down heavily on Howdy’s threadbare couch. “What if he doesn’t want to come back.”

Wally would have to come back to clear out his studio - he’d never abandon his art. Then they’d have to go through everything inside the house and see what he wants to take, since not all of it is Barnaby’s. A lot of it is shared, so they might have to bargain on who gets what.

Then they’d all have to watch Wally get into his motorhome and drive away. Possibly for good.

Barnaby would be alone in that big house with Welcome, knowing that his closest companion is out of his life. Living somewhere else. It's sickening.

“I’m sure it won’t come to that, Barn,” Howdy says, watching him with furrowed brows and a deep frown - if Barnaby were feeling like himself, he’d crack a joke about him emulating Frank. “I can confidently say that Wally loves you more than that old RV.”

Barnaby snorts. “You sure about that?”

“Unflinchingly. Believe you me, he’s going to wallow for a day or so, and then Home will come rumbling back down your driveway like it never left.”

“I wish I could have your faith,” Barnaby mumbles. He exhales and picks up his phone. No missed calls, no messages. “Maybe if I call him and ask him to just come back, no strings attached, he will.”

“That’s the spirit! Save the talk for another day - tell you what, I’ll help you corrall him so he can’t escape the conversation. I’ll tie him to a chair and bar the door if needed!”

“Good luck with that. Kid’s slippery.” Still, Barnaby hits call again. It rings only a couple of times before a robotic automated message states the caller as unavailable. Barnaby doesn’t enjoy being upset with Wally. However, it feels like his blood is simmering, and the wall is starting to look like great target practice for his phone. He grits his teeth. “He turned off his phone.”

From the corner of his eye he sees Howdy’s eyebrows shoot up as the man turns back to his paperwork. He exhales a controlled breath and writes something down. “I have to say, I’ve never known him to be such a-”

“Pain in the neck?” Barnaby offers.

Howdy clicks his tongue. “You said it, not me.”

“Yeah, well, he’s full of surprises.” Barnaby lets out a frustrated huff. He’s half tempted to run Wally down right now, but he wouldn’t even know where to start. There’s only one freeway out of town, but it goes both ways, and it branches. Wally would have hit one of those branches by now, and who knows which he took. North, south, east, west. Deeper into the woods, or towards the city? To the coast? Somewhere else entirely?

He has to face the facts - there’s nothing to do. He just has to wait until Wally pulls his head out of his ass and realizes how stupid and insensitive he’s being. Those are two words Barnaby would never normally use to describe Wally, but after tonight? They seem fitting.

Barnaby can’t even muster up guilt for thinking such harsh things. He tried to be nice. He was patient. He’s always kept a lid on it whenever Wally frustrated him, which doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. And what does he get for caring? For being tactful and careful about a shitty situation?

Avoidance, a shove, and a cut call. Wally left Barnaby’s been left to stew in his own anger and worry. Right now, he’s inclined to lock up that worry in a tiny box in the back of his mind.

Barnaby pushes himself up with a grumbled, “I’m makin’ some coffee, want some?”

“If you’re offering then I will not decline.”

Barnaby pretends not to feel Howdy’s eyes following him to the apartment’s tiny kitchen. It’s hell to maneuver around in, and the frustration of bumping into something every five seconds only makes Barnaby’s mood worse. By the time the coffee is brewing, he’s ready to punch the cabinets. He won’t, but he wants to. He’d regret it immediately, but he stares at the chipped paint and fantasizes.

The coffee machine breaks after brewing a whopping single mug. Barnaby stares at it for a long moment, and tallies up the consequences of taking a hammer to it. In the end, he just clenches his fists for a long moment and counts to ten. He takes the mug and sets it in front of Howdy, then goes to the window to brood. Thankfully Howdy is too reabsorbed in his work to notice beyond a mumbled thanks.

For the next hour, Barnaby’s thoughts are entirely composed of Wally. Different scenarios of what might happen next, how Barnaby might handle those situations without shaking Wally for doing something so needlessly reckless, and cruel daydreams of setting Home on fire. Barnaby wants to feel bad about that. He doesn’t. That damn RV has caused two different rifts between Barnaby and Wally - and Barnaby was the one to fix both of them, because both times Wally just left.

He gets it. He really does - for a time Home was all that Wally had. It’s been with him since Wally was thirteen, and if the thought of retiring it to a dump makes Barnaby sad, he can only imagine how much it distresses Wally. Well, he can do more than make an educated guess. Wally practically told him tonight, if not with words than with actions.

Still. They’re adults - Wally is older than him, if only by a handful of months. When does Barnaby ever ask something of him? When does Barnaby ever push? Why can’t Wally see that Home is becoming a liability, and why won’t he listen? Barnaby can’t make it make sense.

Wally has always been more inclined to avoid conflict, but this is too far. Barnaby swears, when he tracks Wally down he’s going wring that scrawny little-

His phone is ringing.

Barnaby lunges for it, relief dousing his anger. He picks it up, ready to give Wally a piece of his mind and then beg him to come back-

“It’s an unknown number,” he says, shoulders slumping. Of course it’s an unknown number. Wally wouldn’t change on a dime and decide to be considerate for once. He exchanges an exasperated look with Howdy and declines. He goes to set the phone down - the number calls back.

“That’s one determined scammer,” Howdy says. He leans back in his chair and holds out a hand. “I’ll deal with ‘em.”

Barnaby is all too happy to hand it over. Let the poor sap on the other end of the line deal with a master swindler.

“Howdy-hi, how can I help?” Howdy starts with a mischievous grin thrown Barnaby’s way? He leans back in the chair and hums. “Who, may I query, is asking?”

All at once, the ease drains out of Howdy and he stops fidgeting. He sits up, already looking at Barnaby with a paled expression that has something cold slithering down Barnaby’s spine. Something is wrong.

“He’s right here.” Howdy holds out the phone. His throat works uselessly for a moment before he plainly states the obvious, “It’s for you.”

Barnaby takes it, his mouth abruptly dry. Howdy is already up and moving - grabbing his coat, his keys. “Hello?”

“Is this Barnaby Beagle?” a professional feminine voice asks, tinny through the phone.

“B. Beagle, yeah.”

The woman introduces herself as the nearest city’s hospital, and Barnaby’s heart drops through the floor. She asks him to confirm that he’s Wally Darling’s emergency contact. He confirms, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. Howdy takes his arm and gestures to his shoes by the door, spurring Barnaby into motion.

“Is he okay?” Barnaby manages to say. He puts the wrong shoe on the wrong foot and almost curses aloud as he switches it.

“Mr. Darling was involved in an automobile accident,” is all the hospital employee says. “He was brought in a few minutes ago.”

Barnaby steadies himself against the doorjamb, choking on a whispered, “Oh, god.”

Keys jingle as Howdy opens the door and pulls Barnaby through, then locks the door behind them.

“But is he okay?” Barnaby asks again as they hurry down the short hallway to the stairs.

“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information at present.”

It’s bad. It has to be bad if they won’t say anything over the phone. He must be silent for too long, because Howdy takes the phone, tells her they’ll be there soon, and hangs up. He tucks the phone into Barnaby’s pocket before opening the door to the store’s back lot.

The frigid air slaps the shock out of Barnaby, and sensation comes flooding back in. He grabs the keys out of Howdy’s hand and strides to the car with long, powerful strides that would leave anyone shorter than Howdy in the dust.

“Are you sure-”

“I’m driving,” Barnaby growls, cutting Howdy off.

Howdy makes a disapproving noise, but relents. They get in and Barnaby adjusts his seat with harsh movements, jabs the key into the ignition because Howdy’s car is a dated hunk of junk, and peels out of the parking space before Howdy even has his seatbelt all the way on.

Howdy clings to the ceiling handle as the car tears down the mostly empty street, going at least ten miles over the speed limit. Barnaby doesn’t know exactly where the hospital is, but he knows how to get to the city. They can figure it out from there. Several people honk as Barnaby brings them flying onto the freeway.

“Holy Marilyn marmalade!” Howdy screeches as they narrowly avoid side-swiping a minivan.

Barnaby ignores him and cuts off a pickup to get into the right lane for the interchange. Howdy whispers a string of something high pitched and strained and clings to the handle with both hands.

It takes him a moment to parse out the constant ramble as, “-pull over pull over pull over pull over-” Two honks and a squeal of tires as Barnaby almost causes an accident, and Howdy yells in a louder and deeper tone than Barnaby has ever heard from him, “PULL OVER!”

Barnaby clenches his jaw and cuts across the carpool lane’s double whites. It only takes a moment to reach the shoulder. Howdy leaps out of the passenger seat as soon as the car stops, marches to Barnaby’s side, and wrenches the door open.

“Out,” he snaps, breathing hard. “Barnaby, I swear to all things priceless, get out. “

Barnaby meets his steely gaze for all of a second before unbuckling and getting out. Cars whip by. Howdy huffs at him and slips into the driver’s seat, muttering about recklessness and disasters and if you would wait to try and kill us until we’re right outside the hospital, if only to save us the ambulance fee-

When Barnaby gets into the passenger seat, Howdy waits for him to buckle in with fingertips drumming on the steering wheel. He merges onto the freeway smoothly and carefully. They go slower than the speed Barnaby had them flying down the asphalt at, and it makes something deeply impatient itch in him, but it’s safer.

“I know you’re upset,” Howdy says, eyes still fixed on the road, “and I know that you’re scared. But what in hell’s bells was that, Barn?”

Barnaby side eyes him and grimaces, folding his arms. “I don’t know. I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have put you in danger like that.”

“You put yourself in danger too, you know.” Howdy sighs and relaxes his grip on the steering wheel. “We’re of no use to Wally if we get ourselves in a crash. What would he say?”

“Whatever he’d say would be hypocritical,” Barnaby says before he can think better of it.

Howdy glances sharply at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“He..” Barnaby’s voice fails on him, and he swallows hard. “He was in an accident.”

Howdy is silent for a full few seconds before he exhales a thin, pained sound. “Oh, Walls…”

He must not know what else to say, which is good and well, because Barnaby doesn’t either. A long few minutes pass of silence. Headlights of passing cars on the other side of the freeway flash over them before plunging back into darkness. The dials on the dash glow. The check engine light is on. They’ll need to get gas in order to make it home.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Howdy says. He’s tapping the steering wheel again. “It’s likely just a few scrapes and bruises, at worst a broken bone. Nothing Wally can’t handle, and certainly nothing to be concerned over.”

Barnaby can’t bring himself to agree. Maybe… maybe if Wally was driving slowly… but that wouldn’t matter if someone crashed into him with enough force. Home is a large, sturdy vehicle, but it isn’t invulnerable. Wally certainly isn’t.

Without the distraction of driving, all Barnaby can think about is the what ifs. Yeah, what if he’s only a little bit hurt, but what if it’s worse? All of the worst images Barnaby can think of roll through his mind like a messed up movie reel.

Wally dead on the scene, caught in a hunk of twisted metal.

Wally, choking on his own blood in an ambulance, dying en route to the hospital.

Wally flatlining on a metal table.

Wally’s small body covered with a sheet-

“Almost there,” Howdy says, slowing at a stoplight. It bathes them both in red. Barnaby didn’t notice when they got off the freeway.

Barnaby squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead to the cold window. After a moment, a slender hand rests on his thigh and squeezes. It’s such a small, stupid thing, but Barnaby breathes a little easier.

Despite the drive down the freeway feeling like it took hours, the drive through city streets to the hospital passes in a blink. Before Barnaby knows it the car is spiraling up to an upper floor of the parking garage. The floor is mostly empty - Howdy pulls into a spot right by glass double doors.

Barnaby gets out a split seconds before Howdy, staring at the pristine white walls just inside the doors. In a moment he’ll find out if it’s not that bad, or if he’s about to have the worst night of his life. He’s been to a hospital twice. The last time was for Howdy, but he went with the knowledge that it was only a precaution. The other time was for Mama’s health scare.

That had been terrifying. The waiting, the wondering, the too-bright hallways and the staff’s rigid smiles. It ended well, but it had still been horrible, and hospitals took center stage in some of his recurring nightmares. Barnaby never wanted to see another loved one in a hospital bed again.

Looks like he doesn’t have a choice.

Howdy comes around from the driver’s side and lays a hand on Barnaby’s shoulder. “If you need a moment to-”

“Nah,” Barnaby says, his voice rough. He nods and adjusts his sleeves. “Better rip the bandaid off.”

They go into the sterile maze. The bright overhead lights dazzle Barnaby’s eyes after being in the dim parking garage, and he grimaces at the strong odor of antiseptic and floor polish. Howdy makes a beeline for the nearest receptionist and talks to her in rushed, low tones.

Barnaby shuffles after him, rubbing his shaking hands together and eyeing every person in scrubs that walks past. Something beeps somewhere. He thinks he hears someone crying. This is a place without color, art, or happiness.

“This way,” Howdy says, walking past him and tilting his head at the elevator. Barnaby follows, feeling like a lost puppy dropped at the side of the road.

A nurse gets into the elevator with them and politely smiles before staring at the floor counter and pretending they don’t exist. It’s fine with Barnaby. If he has to make small talk right now, he might actually snap. The man’s pink scrubs are almost an eyesore in the harsh lighting.

The elevator dings, and they all get out on the same floor. Howdy reads door plaques and wall signs like a hawk, his head turning on a swivel as he reads everything at lightning speed. Barnaby nearly has to jog to keep up with his hurried pace.

Howdy changes direction without warning and heads straight for a door at the end of a short offshoot hallway. Barnaby reads the sign next to the door.

[can’t remember if it’s icu or the other thing, research later]

It’s bad.

The waiting room is small - longer than it is wide, and there’s a woman sleeping in a chair in the corner. It looks nicer than the emergency room, or where Barnaby waited to see his mama. The benches have colorful cushions, and the walls are a pastel green instead of white. There’s an abstract geometric painting on the wall next to the woman.

Barnaby slowly takes a seat on stiff cushions, watching Howdy talk to the receptionist from afar. He nods and pats the counter before joining Barnaby. He sits close enough that their legs press together.

“Someone will get us up to speed as soon as there’s news,” Howdy says. “I tried to pry some more out of him, but he wouldn’t give up another word.”

Barnaby nods, staring down at his hands. His nail polish is already chipping, despite Julie painting them only last weekend. Barnaby picks at the bright red on his pinkie until Howdy pulls his hand away and enfolds it in both of his own.

When Howdy takes a deep breath, Barnaby finds himself mimicking him. Their gazes meet - Howdy’s is unflinching, and steady. He smiles and runs his thumb over Barnaby’s knuckles, soothing the nervous trembling, and Barnaby is struck by how darn grateful he is to have Howdy with him.

If he had to do all of this alone… Barnaby doesn’t think he could. Either he’d have gotten himself into a crash to join Wally, or he would still be sitting in his car, staring at the hospital doors. He doesn’t have the courage. But Howdy does, and Barnaby loves him for it.

For once, Howdy lets the time pass in silence, though after a long stretch of indeterminable time he gets up to pace. The bench cushions are high quality, but they start to feel uncomfortable. Barnaby doesn’t dare go for a walk. At least they’re not the usual waiting room chairs - he’d rather stand than try to fit into those plastic, narrow things.

At some point the woman in the corner wakes up. She startles seeing two strangers in the room with her, but quickly ignores them. Barely a few minutes pass before she leaves, mumbling something about coffee. She doesn’t come back. Barnaby spends a while wondering why - did she go home, or wait somewhere else, or did she receive news in the halls?

Howdy sits down again and starts typing furiously on his phone. When Barnaby gives him a curious nudge, he quietly explains that he’s texting the group chat. Barnaby feels a twinge of guilt at that. He completely forgot to let everyone know that there’s a… situation. Who knows if any of them will see it until morning.

Message sent, Howdy gets up to pace some more. His rhythmic gait gives Barnaby something to focus on, seeing as the clock on the wall is silent, and the receptionist seems to be sleeping. Barnaby could probably pass time on his own phone, but every second spent distracted is a second he might miss someone coming to tell them…

What? Tell them what, exactly? That Wally is okay? That he can receive visitors?

That he didn’t make it?

The door opens, startling Barnaby to his feet. Howdy scurries over from the far side of the room and rests a steadying hand on Barnaby’s lower back. A woman clad in blue scrubs enters, reading something on a clipboard. There are shadows under her eyes, and she looks beyond exhausted. Barnaby can sympathize.

“Mr. Beagle?” the doctor asks, looking between them. When Barnaby nods, she smiles thinly, gaze flicking briefly to Howdy. “Hi. I’m Dr. Allen. Before I disclose any sensitive information, I’d like to confirm what your relation to the patient is.”

The question gives Barnaby pause. He’s always had a difficult time putting his and Wally’s relationship into simple terms, because it’s anything but. Wally is his best friend, his dearest companion, the man he lives with and can’t imagine being without.

“He’s my partner,” Barnaby settles on, because it’s a good umbrella term. Partner can mean a lot of things, and people don’t usually pry for specifics. “We’re as good as family.”

Dr. Allen writes something down on her clipboard. “No worries, I’m not going to kick you out if you’re not - you’re his emergency contact for a reason, after all. It’s just basic information that I’d like to have on hand.”

“Course - so how is he?” Barnaby cuts straight to the chase. He’s not in the mood for niceties.

“Well, Mr. Darling is certainly giving us a run for our money,” Allen sighs. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but I believe he’s gotten through the worst of it.”

“He’ll make it?”

Allen offers another tight lipped smile. “We’re doing our best.”

Barnaby has seen enough hospital dramas to know that we’re doing our best means no promises, prepare for the worst. Howdy must feel the tension gripping him like a vice, because his hand slips from Barnaby’s back to his hand.

“What are his injuries, if I may?” Howdy asks.

“I’m not sure-”

“Please. We’d rather know than wonder.”

Allen looks between them and sighs again. She flips a page on her clipboard. “Unfortunately, there was a bit of time between the crash and when emergency services were called. Between blood loss and the near-freezing temperatures, Mr. Darling developed mild hypothermia.”

Wally was dying, cold and alone in the wreckage of his home for who knows how long before anyone came to help. Barnaby sways in place, and Howdy helps him sit down on a bench instead of the floor. Allen looks apprehensive.

“Keep going,” Barnaby rasps. He needs to know.

Allen doesn’t look happy about it, but she continues. “Mr. Darling also suffered several low-grade lacerations from shrapnel, some fractured ribs, a compound fracture in his left tibia, and currently unidentified damage to his right hand and lower arm.”

Barnaby swallows a mournful sound. That’s fine, it’s fine. Broken bones heal - Wally will be painting again in no time.

“He also developed an intracranial hematoma. It’s been treated, but we won’t know the extent of the damage until Mr. Darling wakes up.”

“What is that?” Howdy asks before Barnaby can figure out how to speak again. “Intracranial hematoma - tell me if I’m wrong, but that sounds like a head injury.”

“It is - in layman’s terms, it’s a brain bleed. Head trauma can cause bleeding inside the skull, which puts pressure on the brain. We caught it as quickly as feasibly possible, which should raise his chance of a full recovery.” Allen flips the clipped page back into place. “There may still be lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet. I’ll be forward with you - this is one of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive.”

Allen goes on to offer platitudes that Wally is a fighter, and easily answers the flood of questions Howdy has about the mentioned injuries. It all sounds distant. Underwater. The room is too small and the air is stale - are the vents working? Is there a window they can open?

In a blink - and yet the conversation lasts ages - Allen promises to come back with more information as soon as she has it. She smiles one last time and leaves.

“Barn?” Howdy sounds muffled. “Barn, are you alright?”

What kind of question is that? Of course Barnaby isn’t alright - his best friend is dying, likely on this very floor. There’s a chance he’s already dead. Barnaby might have already lost him, he just doesn’t know it yet.

Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive.

One of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time.

Mild hypothermia - brain bleed - lacerations - fractures.

Lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet.

We’re doing our best.

“He hung up on me, the little bastard-”

Barnaby is up and out the door before he registers moving. He staggers down the hallways in a blur, everything swirling together into a mess of sight and sound as his lungs struggle to get a full breath. He bypasses the elevator and takes the stairs down to the level they parked on.

The cold air does nothing to help him breathe. Barnaby chokes on it as he leans against the rough wall grasping at his chest. Howdy is there immediately - he must have been on Barnaby’s heels the whole time.

“Talk to me, Barn,” Howdy pleads, a hand on the back of his neck and the other over the one Barnaby has on his chest. “What is it - you’re not having a heart attack, are you? Tell me you aren’t, I can’t handle that right now.”

Barnaby doesn’t know. Maybe? He feels like he is. He can’t breathe. He tries to say so, but the ragged gasps his breathing has devolved into doesn’t allow it. Howdy must know something he doesn’t, because he doesn’t run to get a doctor.

“How can I help?” he asks instead.

“Don’t - don’t - know,” Barnaby wheezes.

“Okay, alright, don’t worry, Barn, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Let’s try, ah - what were the steps? I didn’t exactly write them down, though in hindsight I should’ve - that’s not the point! It was… what a time to take after Eddie’s memory-”

It shouldn’t be helping, but Howdy’s constant stream of words grabs Barnaby’s attention. He manages to inhale nearly a full breath before it stutters back out and he’s struggling again.

“Breathing!” Howdy says. “Yes, that was it - Barnaby, I need you to focus on me. Copy my breathing.”

He sucks in a slow, dramatic breath through his nose and exhales just as slowly through his mouth. Barnaby catches on and tries to mimic him, but-

“Can’t, I ca-an’t,” Barnaby says. His chest hurts.

Howdy presses their foreheads together. “Yes, you can. Come now, Barn, in… out. Simplest thing in the world.”

It doesn’t feel simple, but Barnaby tries. It feels like forever before he manages a full inhale. He butchers the exhale, but Howdy praises the minor win before launching right back into measured breathing.

Barnaby finally manages a slow inhale and exhale, and suddenly it feels like the pressure filling his chest has vanished. He slumps against the wall, worn out. He puts his hand over Howdy’s mouth in the middle of another dramatic demonstration.

“You’re alright now?” Howdy says, peeling his hand off. Barnaby nods, and Howdy leans next to him with a whoosh. “Thank the stock market - I was starting to get light headed.”

It takes another few minutes for them to catch their breath. Barnaby straightens enough to rest his head on Howdy’s shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne and homemade laundry detergent. Howdy cups the back of his neck and massages the tense muscle there.

“This will all turn out okay,” Howdy promises. “Wally is stubborn - I think we both know that well enough. By this time tomorrow we’ll be moving forward.”

Barnaby wants to be that optimistic, but this is real life. For all they know, moving forward means making funeral arrangements. His breathing stutters and he forces it to even out before he can start hyperventilating again.

A car pulls into a parking space with a gravelly sound. Barnaby pays it no mind until Howdy makes a surprised noise - Barnaby looks up, and his stomach churns.

Frank, Eddie, and Julie are all getting out of Frank’s car. They’re all in various states of dishevelment. Frank’s hair is a mess, and he has what looks like Eddie’s company jacket thrown on over his pajamas. Eddie is in little more than a shirt that says male? lol, more like mail! and boxers - he’s even wearing slippers instead of shoes, and his hair flops over his forehead in soft tufts. Julie’s hair is still in curlers, and though she’s wearing shoes, she’s in a too-long shirt over sweats that don’t belong to her. They’re paint-stained.

They rush across the parking lot, all worried faces and tired eyes. They’re already asking what happened, is Wally okay, Sally is getting Poppy, they should be here soon, has there been any news-

Barnaby lunges at the nearest trash can and vomits.

#IM SORRY FOR ANY HOSPITAL/PROCEDURAL INACCURACIES IM NOT TRYING TO BE ACCURATE AT THE MOMENT #except for the injuries. those are realistic and i did my due diligence. read a lot of first hand accounts! medical pages!#ohhhh this was so cozy to write #i mean. not as familiar as actual on-screen injuries but yk #its been too fluffy in here.#this is a mild example of my usual tastes and habits when it comes to fic & fiction #WHUMP CENTRAL BABEYYYYYY #i like it messy and painful!!! Lets Fuckin Go!!!!#this is a prime example of me not being able to shut the fuck up when writing #my scenes & convos just go on and on and on and on....#but yes! enjoy! the Crash arc is very thoroughly planned out in my head and lately its one of my favorite things to imagine before bed <3 #bedtime stories can be fictional characters going through horrible injuries & emotionally hurting each other #snippets from the bog #i will repeat what i have said multiple times before #i take the comic relief character. i hurt the comic relief character #i could have posted the little carnival half-scene. i could have #but ive been feeling stressed and caged and i need to let out some steam #and this is how i do that. controlled fictional violence <3

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cartoon-lovers-world · 1 year

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If you ever feel like you put too much whump/emotional package in your Encanto fic, just remember a few things:

This cutie pie never got to enjoy his ceremony, aka the night of his life, and was afraid of 'not being special', oh and let's not forget that he was almost crushed by a door, and he's five

This girl, spent all her life being perfect, and was going to marry a man she never loved for the sake of her family

On the other hand, this girl spent her life seeing the man she loved with another girl, and not just any girl, but her cousin, and couldn't do anything about it

Oh, let's not forget that Luisa literally worked without rest for the sake of being 'helpful', and was prolly stressed 24/7

Hold on, there's more

Bruno literally didn't expect to receive a hug from HIS MOTHER, and also thought it would be better to live in the walls even after everything is fixed, to sum up, he thought it would be better if he wasn't there

Let's not forget that Mirabel was literally surprised when HER SISTER hugged her, like, c'mon. Is this normal for siblings? Sure. But for Mira, that's totally a surprise

Oh, i almost forgot, our weather queen here had to hide her feelings and be in a good mood 24/7 in order to please everyone for like, 45 years

Boy literally was struck by lightning, like, imagine how hurtful it is to get struck by lightning then shift into, i don't know, 3 people?

Last but not least, the lovebirds. Who never got to enjoy parenthood together, or experience their happily ever after. One was murdered just after his kids were born, and the other watched him getting murdered in front of her eyes, and had to raise three kids on her own, for fifty years, all while making sure their magic never dies

So never be worried that your story has too much whump :)

#Encanto #Abuela Madrigal #Pedro Madrigal #Pepa Madrigal #Bruno Madrigal #Isabela Madrigal #Dolores Madrigal #Luisa Madrigal #Camilo Madrigal #Mirabel Madrigal #Antonio Madrigal #Mariano Guzman #Don't worry to put whump in your stories guys #I tried to make this based on canon things from the movies #So it'd be more realistic #Wow the last one rhymed good

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skyward-floored · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 8: Outnumbered, (alt) Betrayal

I originally gave up on today’s prompts because they were annoying but after I’d written this whole fic I realized outnumbered kind of works actually so! Regular prompt and an alt were used today ✌️

Read on ao3

Warnings: oh boy. Uh, mildly suggestive, dehumanization sort of..? Kind of human-trafficking vibes, but it doesn’t exactly occur. There’s some alcohol. Also a bit of being drugged. And mistreatment of fairies. ...I think that’s it.

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A faint pink glow guided Hyrule, Warriors, and Time’s steps through a town in the captain’s time, a jingling that Hyrule knew was born out of nervousness accompanying the light.

The fairy led them all through the town, further and further away from the center and towards the unlit stores and quiet docks. The night only seemed to grow darker, and Hyrule found himself keeping closer to the other’s sides, a feeling of apprehension he couldn’t ignore making his stomach clench.

Right as he was about to ask if the fairy really knew where she was leading them, she zipped down a side street, sparkles trailing behind her, and finally bobbed to a stop.

Hyrule looked up, and grimaced.

The fairy had led them to a building with its windows still lit despite the late hour, her dark pink light catching on a crude portrait of a great fairy holding an overflowing flagon of ale. Faint laughter filtered through the cracks in the door, and Hyrule thought he caught a whiff of alcohol.

Oh hooray, a tavern.

Hyrule gave the picture on the sign a look of distaste, but before he could say anything, the door abruptly swung open. Two men walked out, and the three heroes, ducked around a corner so as not to be seen. A hiccuping laugh came from the one man, and the other slapped him on the back as they stumbled away, neither walking straight.

“So this is where you saw the men take Proxi?” Warriors whispered as the revelers disappeared from sight. The fairy jingled an affirmative as she poked her head out from his scarf, practically shaking with fear.

“Mm-hm. Th-they put her in a tiny bag, one way too small!” she squeaked, sounding terrified. “And she’s not the only one, they had lots of other fairies! I followed them here, but I couldn’t find anywhere to get inside without being seen, and... and I didn’t want to get caught as well.”

She sniffled, and Warriors gave her a gentle smile from where she’d perched on his shoulder.

“It’s alright, we’ll get her and the others back,” he assured, but the fairy still seemed nervous, her wings fluttering anxiously.

“You should get somewhere safe, if these people want fairies you’ll be in danger here,” Time warned, and the fairy quivered in fear. “We don’t want anyone else getting caught. Who knows what they’re doing in there.”

He glanced at Hyrule as he spoke, and Hyrule sighed, knowing the older hero was wondering if he should stay back or not. Time and Warriors were both aware he had fairy blood, and Hyrule could see why they would be concerned, but he wasn’t going to stay back just because of that.

“They won’t know I have fairy blood, and I’m not planning on telling them,” Hyrule said quietly, and glared back at the sign. “And I’m not sitting this out.”

Time nodded with a sigh, and Hyrule thought he caught a flicker of worry in his eye before he turned back to the fairy.

“What’s your decision, little one?”

“I-I’ll stay hidden with you,” the fairy replied quickly, and Hyrule could tell she wasn’t keen on leaving the three of them. She obviously felt safer around the heroes, and Hyrule couldn’t blame her.

Fairies being kidnapped was never a sign of anything good.

“All right, well, looks like we’re going in,” Warriors sighed, and Time nodded, straightening.

“Looks like it. We may want to split up though, I believe we’ll attract less attention that way,” Time said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “Perhaps I can go in, and you two can follow together?”

Hyrule and Warriors nodded. He didn’t really think it mattered much, but if Time thought that was best, then who was he to argue?

Warriors suddenly raised a hand and began to muss his hair up a bit, making it look more scruffy. Hyrule stared as the captain then kicked some dirt off his boots, running it through his hair and making his blond seem more of a sandy color. Then he tucked his scarf inside his bag, and pulled out a cloak instead, nicely made, but in a dark enough weave so as not to attract attention.

“I’m the local hero, Traveler,” he said at Hyrule’s confounded look, “I don’t exactly blend in.”

“Oh! Right,” Hyrule said sheepishly, feeling foolish for not realizing what the captain was doing. He thought he’d... well, he’d honestly had no clue what he was doing.

Time hid a smile as he left their hiding spot and casually strolled into the tavern. A small burst of sound leaked into the alley with the opening of the door, then was silent again.

“You should be fine,” Warriors directed at Hyrule as he made sure their fairy was tucked safely out of sight in his cloak. “I would be shocked if anyone recognized you or Time... but if you have a cloak you might want to put it on.”

Hyrule nodded as the captain finished off his disguising, and pulled his own cloak tight around himself, looking at the tavern with no small trepidation. It didn’t seem like the sort of place he wanted to hang around, especially based on the drunken laughter that occasionally filtered through the cracks in the door.

He’d had very few good experiences in bars, and had a funny feeling this one would be no different.

They waited a few minutes to distance themselves from Time a bit more, and then Warriors walked over to the door, Hyrule following resignedly.

“Well here we go,” he grumbled, and pushed open the door before Warriors could, the captain following him into the noisy place.

Hyrule tensed, half expecting all sorts of horrible things as they entered, but... nothing seemed out of place. There was a strong smell of alcohol, sweat, and water damage from the nearby docks. The seats were mostly filled despite the late hour, and barely a head turned when Warriors and Hyrule walked in. The large woman manning the bar did glance at them, but then went back to wiping her counter, glaring at a man who spilled a few drops of his drink.

It just seemed like... a normal bar.

“Are we sure this is the place?” Hyrule muttered, and Warriors shrugged, looking around.

“If they’re keeping fairies for some reason, they wouldn’t do it in the open,” he murmured back, then plastered a casual smile on his face. “Let’s see what we can find out.”

They shoved their way to a clear table, Warriors easily blending in with the atmosphere. Hyrule followed suit, and they weren’t bothered as they ordered some drinks and sat down. Hyrule spotted Time across the room from them at a different table, but Hyrule knew better then to stare at him too long and attract attention, and he kept his gaze away.

Instead he studied the atmosphere of the tavern, wincing a little whenever the general noisiness upturned for whatever reason. The place wasn’t as rowdy as some places Hyrule had ended up inside, but it certainly wasn’t quiet, and uneasiness was still churning in his stomach.

He wasn’t sure if it was merely worry over the captured fairies, or something else... but something about this place was making the hair on his neck prickle.

“The men at the table next to you,” their fairy friend suddenly spoke up, just loud enough for Warriors and Hyrule to hear, “they’re the ones who took Proxi, I recognize their faces!”

Warriors nodded, and casually looked around the room while Hyrule flicked his eyes over at the men the fairy had indicated. They were a group of four, with varying appearances, but all of them looked shifty to Hyrule, covered in scars with weapons at their hips.

They were discussing something in low voices, and Hyrule casually leaned over, straining his ears.

“...thing bit me,” one man was saying, looking mad as he rubbed his hand. Hyrule could see bandages peeking from under his sleeve. “And it smarts too, this better have been worth it.”

“It will be, she says the buyer pays extra for the blues. It was lucky we found that one earlier,” a thin man said in a calming voice. “Though even just the pinks we’ve got in the back’ll be enough to set us up for life.”

The others seated at the table grinned, and Hyrule glanced at Warriors, looking to see if he’d heard. By the grave expression on his face, it was clear he had.

“I wonder what the buyer does with them anyway,” the first man said as he sipped at his drink. “Who’d want a bunch of fairies?“

Hyrule felt a flicker of indignation.

“Sells ‘em to doctors or something probably, who cares?” another drawled, taking a large draught of his beverage. “‘S long as we get paid.”

“Ah, but have you ever taken a good look at some of them? If they were a bit bigger, I think I’d want a few,” a man with scars all over his arms said. He smirked. “I saw a Great once, and if the little ones are anything like that... well, sign me up.”

The table burst into laughter, and anger rose in Hyrule’s chest as they began arguing about what the most attractive feature they’d seen on a fairy was, growing more and more descriptive— and crude— as they went.

One of them said something particularly lewd, and they roared with drunken laughter, Hyrule’s face growing hot with fury.

He was about to leap to his feet, but Warriors put a hand on his arm, keeping him from getting up. Hyrule nearly threw him off as he heard another one of them laugh again, feeling himself begin to shake with rage.

How dare they?

“Traveler, fighting these men won’t help us figure out what’s going on,” Warriors said in a low voice, and pulled Hyrule back down. “We need to be patient.”

“I’m not going to sit here and let them talk about fairies like— like that,” Hyrule hissed, but Warriors didn’t move. “Captain let me up, don’t you care—”

“It won’t change anything to confront them. They obviously don’t have the fairies with them, and fighting them might wreck any chance we have of getting them back,” Warriors said firmly, something sharp in his voice.

Hyrule finally looked at Warriors’ face, and realized the captain was just as angry as he was, blue eyes cold with rage. Somehow knowing that Warriors was equally outraged by the discussion made his own anger cool a bit, and he stopped trying to pull out of his hold, slumping in his seat.

“Fine. Then what’s the plan?” he asked, hunching his shoulders when the men at the table next to them laughed again.

“I’ll try and get some more information from our... friends, here, while you see if you can get in there,” Warriors explained quietly, tilting his head towards a curtained off doorway. “They said they had the fairies in the back, I’d assume that’s where they meant.”

“I saw them through the window earlier, they definitely went back there,” their fairy peeped from Warriors’ cloak, sounding even more scared.

“Fine. Good luck,” Hyrule murmured, and slipped into the crowd before Warriors could reply.

He made his way over to a shadowy spot next to the door, jostled and bumped nearly the entire way. Squeezing past a particularly large man, Hyrule tucked himself in the corner and waited patiently for an opportunity to slip through the door. He glanced over at Time while he waited, and saw that he was chatting rather amiably with the woman at the bar, an easy-going smile on his face.

Well hopefully he’s doing something useful, Hyrule thought to himself, still angry at the conversation he’d overheard. He knew Warriors was right about not fighting yet, but listening to them discuss fairies like that had lit a rage in him that wouldn’t be going away any time soon.

It’s no wonder fairies tend to hide from Hylians.

A barmaid finally walked past him into the back room, and Hyrule silently followed her past the curtain, finding himself in a dark storage room.

It appeared to be mostly kitchen items, extra food and barrels of what Hyrule assumed was alcohol of some kind. There were no fairies in sight, and Hyrule frowned as the barmaid left, looking around the room. It seemed like every other storage-type room he’d seen of this kind; messy, somewhat dirty, and no sign of anything illegal.

Well... not obvious ones anyway.

Hyrule began combing the room, his heart thudding in his chest. The bad feeling he had was even more intense now, and it made it difficult to focus on finding anything out of the ordinary. He kept having to hide when the barmaid returned multiple times, but he continued to look, aware that the longer he was back here, the more likely it was he’d be caught.

He was nearly on the verge of leaving and seeing if Warriors had had better luck, when suddenly he realized the crates in the corner were stacked oddly, like nobody ever actually wanted what was inside them.

Hyrule quickly went over to the stack, and noticed the faint outline of a door behind the crates, so similar to the wall it was nearly impossible to see unless you knew it was there.

Ah-hah.

Hyrule pushed the crates aside as quietly as possible, wincing at the creaking they made, then carefully turned the knob and slipped inside.

And nearly fell to his knees.

The room had no windows, but it didn’t need them, the inside lit by the countless jars lining the walls, all crammed to the brim with fairies. Several of them had at least three in one jar, a few filled tight with even more, and Hyrule couldn’t do anything but stare at them all in horror for a moment.

Most of the fairies were fluttering around in the jars, some swirling in more panicked circles, but some were lying worryingly still at the bottoms, their glows faint. The distressed magic from all of them was enough to make Hyrule’s head spin, chimes ringing in his ears, and he nearly tripped when he finally stepped forward.

How could someone do this?

“Traveler?”

He turned around at the whisper, and saw Warriors slip inside behind him, looking grim.

“Those men didn’t have anything to say to me, they must have thought I just wanted in on the money. I don’t think... oh. Farore preserve us,” he whispered as he looked around, and Hyrule swallowed.

He felt sick to his stomach all of a sudden, and barely noticed as Warriors stepped fully into the room, looking around in horror. The fairies noticed their presences then, and the chiming in the room grew even louder, frantic and hopeful as they realized who they were.

”Is that Link?”

“No, it’s his friend! Brother!”

“It’s Link and his friend!”

“Brother! Fairy kin!”

“Are you here to get us out?!”

“Brother please save us!”

“Brother!”

“Link!”

“Everybody quiet! Are you trying to bring the enemy in here?!”

At the bossy chime, the other fairies quieted down, and Hyrule looked around for the familiar voice that had spoken. One of the few blue glows in the room caught his eye, and Warriors perked up.

“Proxi!”

“Link!” she said with a happy jingle, and Hyrule smiled as Warriors reached up to gently take the bottle she was trapped in. “You’re here to save us?”

“We are,” Warriors assured, cradling the bottle. Hyrule swallowed back his nausea and joined his side, frowning at the sight. Three other fairies were pressed inside of the bottle with Proxi, and she herself was near the bottom, her blue glow dim.

“...Are you okay?” Hyrule asked in concern, and Proxi hesitated.

“She got hurt when they captured us,” another fairy said quietly.

“You’re hurt?” Warriors said sharply, and Proxi let out a dismissive jingle.

“Oh I’m fine, can you get us out?” Proxi asked a little impatiently, and Warriors sighed, then nodded, tugging at the cork.

It didn’t budge though, and no matter what Warriors did it refused to come out. Hyrule tried then, but he didn’t have any luck either, and they looked at each other in dismay.

They didn’t want to hurt the fairies, so they couldn’t try breaking the glass. Melting it or using anything heavy was out of the question as well, as were most methods Hyrule could think of, but how were they going to free all of the fairies if they couldn’t even open the jars?

“I think they must be magically sealed,” Hyrule said morosely after they’d tried everything they could think of. “There’s no way this cork is this strong without some help.”

“I don’t like what that means for this whole operation,” Warriors murmured, still carefully holding the bottle. “If they have enough resources to get so many magically sealed jars... this might be bigger than we thought.”

Hyrule swallowed, his stomach still unsettled.

“So what do we do?”

“Fetch Time, I suppose,” Warriors sighed. “See if he has any ideas. We need to tell him we found the fairies anyway, and I don’t see us figuring anything out any time soon.”

“He probably has an item or something that just opens bottles,” Hyrule said with a faint smile. “Or a mask.”

Warriors almost smiled back. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Someone’s coming!” a fairy by the door suddenly squealed, her voice shrill with alarm. Warriors carefully set the jar containing Proxi and the other fairies back on the shelf, then dove behind a discarded crate with Hyrule, the both of them ducking down as much as possible as the door slid open.

“...saw someone by the storage room, and those guards were in earlier. We better start shipping out tonight,” a voice said, and footsteps tromped into the room. “...Ugh, this place always makes my head hurt when we’re full.”

Hyrule pressed tighter against Warriors’ side as the voice drew near, trying to make himself smaller. The crate really wasn’t a good hiding spot, but there was nothing else in the room big enough to shelter behind.

Multiple sets of footsteps moved over to their side of the room, right next to the crate they were behind, and Hyrule nearly stopped breathing, forcing himself to stay still. Warriors swallowed, and Hyrule could feel his heart thudding where his head had ended up on his chest.

“Well you won’t have to deal with it much longer,” a different voice drawled, and Hyrule recognized it as one of the men who’d been at the table. “Once we load these in the hold you’ll be fine.”

It was silent for a minute, and Hyrule found himself holding his breath.

“Besides, we have other business to take care of.”

The crate Warriors and Hyrule were tucked behind suddenly lit up like a flare, a pink so dark it was nearly red flashing above them.

Hyrule was nearly blinded by the light, but when he looked up in shock, he saw the fairy that had guided them to the tavern chiming and flashing a deafening alarm, showing exactly where they were hidden.

Before Hyrule could even reach for his sword, he and Warriors were yanked out from behind the crate and restrained, unable to escape. They both kicked out and struggled, Hyrule even trying to bite the men that had grabbed him, but they were grossly outnumbered, and quickly subdued.

Both were tied up and shoved against the wall, but Hyrule only had eyes for the fairy who had come to them in tears earlier because she’d seen Proxi be kidnapped. She was floating right next to one of the men who they’d overheard at the table earlier, and a sickening feeling rolled through Hyrule.

“How could you?” he asked, anger and disbelief warring inside of him. How could a fairy fall so far to betray her own kind like that?

The fairy’s glow dimmed.

“They said they would hurt my sister,” she whimpered, and Hyrule felt a brief stab of pity.

“If you’d told us the truth, we could have helped you,” Warriors cut in with a grave look, and the fairy turned away.

The other fairies on the walls had been chiming frantically throughout all of this, Proxi’s voice shouting the loudest of them all, and making a truly deafening racket that only grew when Hyrule and Warriors were tied up. The men were obviously growing sick of it, and the one with the scarred arms abruptly drew a knife and pressed it to Hyrule’s neck, then looked around at the fairies.

“Shut up now, or he loses his life.”

The fairies went dead quiet.

The scarred man waited a second, then withdrew his dagger, placing it back into a holder at his waist. “Thank you. I would’ve hated to get blood on the floor.”

“Have you no shame?” Warriors snapped. “What you’re doing here is cruel, you can’t put that many fairies in one bottle without endangering their lives!”

The men laughed, and one looked Warriors up and down.

“Great, a knight with morals. Do we kill him?”

“Nah, look at his face, he’s a handsome one,” someone else spoke up. “Bet we could get good money for him downriver.”

Warriors slightly paled, but his cold expression didn’t change.

“What about the kid?”

“I’m not a kid,” Hyrule said, and didn’t flinch from the scarred man’s gaze when he strode up to him. “And you’re going to regret every single thing you’ve done here today.”

The man chuckled. “The only thing I’m going to regret today is that I didn’t make more money then I’m already going to.”

He leaned right up into Hyrule’s face, and the traveler still glared at him despite how his heart was thumping. His eyes trailed across his face, pausing when they got to his eyes, and he studied them in silence for longer then was normal.

“...Take them both. We can figure out what to do with them after we’re on our way,” he said as he leaned back, a deceptively easy-going smile on his face. “I think there’s more to them then meets the eye.”

He looked directly at Hyrule when he spoke, and the traveler’s blood ran cold.

He knows.

Warriors gave him a wide-eyed look, but then cloths were shoved over both of their noses, a sickly smell coming off of them. Hyrule struggled not to breathe, knowing it would be bad if he did, but he hadn’t had a chance to take a deep breath.

Time had better notice we’re gone soon, he thought desperately, watching as Warriors began to slump next to him. Or we’re going to be in serious trouble.

Something struck his chest, and Hyrule gasped in spite of himself, breathing deeply of the sweet smell of the cloth. His head immediately began to swim, and he took in another breath without thinking. A voice said something above him, and Hyrule slumped against Warriors’ side as his senses began to leave him, one last flicker of desperation fighting to keep him awake.

He couldn’t let them do this he... he couldn’t...

Hyrule’s vision swirled into a black void, and he fell limp against Warriors’ shoulder, totally unconscious.

Time was their only hope now.

#this will be continued on another day :]#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu hyrule #lu warriors #lu time #linked universe fanfic #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #day 8 #alt prompt #betrayal #outnumbered #writing from the floor #I’m picking on Hyrule’s magic/fairy ties again sorry my guy 😔#this is only sort of whump but #well #I got caught up in the story alright I admit it #the next part will definitely have whump though hehe

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shywhumpauthor · 1 year

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A Whumpee who is so touch starved that they will do literally anything for just a ghost of contact but who also hates being touched for whatever trauma reason, so they’re stuck in this hellish limbo between their desire to just be held by someone and the awful prickling feeling they get whenever someone so much as brushes against them.

Bonus points if their master/caretaker/teammates/whomever within the context has no problem being affectionate but they just won’t do anything unless they are literally asked or something of that sort.

This opens up a lot of potential for some really soft emotional scenes

(prompt 12)

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just-a-few-prompts · 7 months

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“How can he be so calm!?” they yelled, shaking with barely restrained fury.

“It would- it would make so much more sense if he was angry, or happy, anything while he hurts us. But there’s- there’s nothing!”

They turned to their companion, breathing in tearless, choked sobs. “How could he be so indifferent?”

#dialogue prompt #whump prompt #whump idea #whump inspiration #captive whump #multiple whumpees #scene prompt #story prompt #writing prompt #prompts #It was an idea from a dream with no name

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befuddled-calico-whump · 11 months

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Riot Kings, page 141.1

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septnautical · 11 days

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"I heard you shout. Nightmares again?"

I think this could fit schneep and Marvin?

(Used this as an opportunity for a big reveal of some new stuff for Marvin! Happy Mermay!!)

Another night- another horrible nightmare plagues Marvin’s mind. They always feel so real…

This one is… different though. He’s staring at… a version of himself. Himself stuck in his warper state- those bright pink alien eyes staring straight through him. He watches his other self get stiffer- become more robotic- and he feels himself following after. He panics- wanting to fight the sensation but his body is locking up. The warper him just barely tilts his head towards Marvin before speaking.

“Why are you denying what we are?”

“W-What?!” Marvin stammers in fear.

There’s no emotion on the other him’s face, “We are not like the other hybrids. We are not organic, we are not human. We are machines, made to serve a purpose. Why do you keep denying what we are?”

“Because I’m more than that!” Marvin shouts back, “Warpers may be machines but I… I'm me! I’m Marvin!”

“Your feeble attempts to cling to your humanity are making you weak,” The warper him says, “A human mind has so much potential. So much to unlock. You could be more powerful than any warper ever made. Maybe even on par with the architects. Yet you turn away from what you could be. Why?”

It suddenly warps so it and Marvin are face to face, pink eyes meeting teary blue.

“Are you afraid, WH-005?”

And for a moment… the voice sounded just like Zeke’s.

Marvin shoots awake and gasps, pushing himself up in the sand to shakily try to breathe. Fresh water over his gills seems to calm him down as he grips over his heart. His… heart that he can see through his chest- beating and pumping blood. But, he feels so disconnected from it. Like his body was turning into metal. And it scared him to his very core.

He yelps in surprise and fear as he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. Then, he sees a goggled face and relaxes some. It’s just Henrik…

“I heard you shout…” The stalker hybrid says quietly, “More nightmares?”

Marvin is quiet but then slowly nods. His voice cracks a bit as he mumbles, “…t-they just keep getting worse, Hen… I-I…!”

Henrik is quick to wrap up the younger brother in a hug and shushes him gently. “It is only a dream, Marvin… they cannot hurt you.”

The warper mer is quiet in his arms for a few beats, trying to find comfort in his embrace. But the dream still lingered like poison in his mind. He pushes himself out and swims upward. “T-That’s just it, Hen! It’s… it’s not just a dream… I-it’s things I’ve been worried about- worried that I’m… I’m too different f-from…!” He cuts himself off as he bites his lip, trying not to let tears linger in his eyes.

“M-Marvin what are you-?” Schneep tries to say. But Marvin hurriedly swims past him, towards the mouth of the cove.

“I- I need to look for answers…!” Marvin says quickly then warps away before Henrik can even get up to chase after him.

———

Marvin appears in the lost river and he blinks in confusion. “…why… am I here?” He asks, his voice echoing slightly in the dark cavern. He shudders, holding his arms tight around him. He hates it down here… here is where Zeke-

You want to find answers, right? A thought echoes through his head. And with the thought comes a feeling. Pulling him forward. Like an instinct. A need.

Marvin trembles, his tails juddering in place. But, maybe there were answers here somewhere. He shakes his head and swims after the feeling, going towards the strange alien-like arches that lead to his destination.

Though, whatever this feeling is… it’s not leading him to where Zeke had him. That was a small white suit wreck- a crude Alteran attempt at making warpers themselves… at least from what he can remember. It was all really fuzzy. But now… this is leading him to a really scary looking building. One that it seems even the white suits don’t touch. Probably because it looked like it was destroyed by… something. Something big. And the entire thing was submerged underwater. Which served Marvin just fine.

Still- looking at the strange glowing green structure hidden amongst the darkest parts of the Lost River sent shivers down the warper’s spine. But, he swallowed his fear and swam inside.

Inside was a confusing labyrinth of architecture he had rarely seen. Strangely glowing and… there were so many things locked behind glass structures. Marvin swam into an open room and gasped as he saw fuana specimens tacked onto displays. He felt sick as he saw a rabbit ray… and a huge egg that kinda reminded him of Anti.

He quickly swam out of that place- seeing massive claw marks scratched into the walls and dents of damage. But soon enough he entered a place that felt way too familiar… yet like nothing he had ever seen before.

It was horrifying… an expansive room filled with- warper parts. Several parts just left in construction- an inactive warper discarded and thrown on the floor, leaving that horrid green cage open. Just like the one that Zeke kept him for weeks, back in that wrecked Alterra copy. Clearly it had been a poorer copy of this. This… this is where the original warpers must have been made.

Seeing this all has Marcin’s heart pounding wildly, his skin raked with goosebumps. Still… this place had to have the answers he was looking for, right? The answer to what he was… was he human? Was he a machine? Was he too different from his brothers? …looking around this place though, he’s not sure this has the answer he wants to hear.

As he swims forward into the lab he tries to look around for something… he’s not exactly sure what. Surely there must be information in here… like a PDA or something?

When suddenly, his tail brushes against some kind of dark cube with glowing green lines- and lights and machines start to glow and whirl around him. Marvin freezes and whips around to look- only for some of those green metal bars and wires to crash into him and hold him in place. Marvin instantly starts to panic and fights against the cage, “no no!! Not again! L-Let me go!!”

He tries to warp but whatever this stuff is made of is suppressing his powers! He feels panicked tears welling up in his eyes and tries to struggle out more, using his claws to try to get out but the cage grabs his arms and pulls them taunt to the side. Ringing is starting up in his ears, he left his mask at the cove! He can’t lose himself here! But he feels his second pair of eyes trying to open, feels his warper instincts trying to claw their way to the surface through his panic.

One of the 4 pronged fabricators creaks loudly across the ancient ceiling as it comes to rest in front of Marvin. A blue light washes across his body, scanning him. Then, a robotic voice garbles out, almost too glitched and corrupted to understand:

‘Warper agent active but incomplete. Processing power not at full capacity.’

“What?! W-What does that mean?? P-Please just let me go! I’m not just a warper I-I’m-!” Marvin sobs. But the machines don’t listen. The fabricator arm zooms around Marvin- then latches onto his neck, inserting sharp tips under his armor.

‘Detecting damage in miniaturized phase chip. Warper agent’s self-repairing technology impaired. Reactiviating-‘

A sharp shock goes through Marvin’s nerves as his back arches and he lets out a strangled gasp of pain. Something in his blood seems to pump faster, feels… different. The… the ringing… is it getting… quieter?

‘Self repairing technology back online.’

Then, the fabricator whirls and then soars over his head, latching attachments against his skull and digging in. He screams bloody murder and tries to thrash against the pain but the cage tightens around him- holding him still.

‘Expanding processing power of Agent’s brain. Please stand by.’

The computerized voice says- now clearer as if talking directly into Marvin’s mind.

Then, there’s nothing but bright blinding pain as something pushes into his skull and electricity fills up Marvin’s whole body. He’s not sure if he’s screaming or not- he feels completely detached from his body. All he can feel is the pain as something is pushed into his mind.

When he next wakes up he’s laying down on his back on one of the tables inside the warper facility. He doesn’t even remember passing out… he groans and holds his head. It’s aching and pounding. But then as he looks out- something in his vision has changed.

He sees- words. Human words. But he can fully read and understand them now. Everywhere he looks he sees things start to get highlighted in blue, like they’re being scanned before information pops up to explain it. Just like a white suit machine. Marvin screams and tries to scramble away but- he can’t escape it! It’s all he can see!

He curls up and holds hands over his eyes, sobbing hysterically in fear. “W-What is this?! W-What’s happening to me?!”

Then, he stiffens slightly and pink blooms in his eyes as words start to fill his mind. It hurts- it hurts and he tries to fight it but there’s just urge to just- repeat the words! Say them outloud- he needs to he’s programmed to-

“Warper agents' brains and central nervous systems been digitally augmented with advanced processing power and remote communications.” Marvin says in a robotic drone, eyes glazing over slightly as the information slips from his lips.

Once he’s done, the pink fades from his eyes and the pressure lightens as he gasps. His limbs begin to tremble again, no longer stiff and robotic. He claps his hands over his mouth and chokes on a sob. That fabricator- it did something to him! Did it make him even more like a warper? More like a machine?!

Marvin rockets off the platform and back out into the rest of the facility- the rest of its freaky secrets blurring around him in his panic. The second he feels like he can warp again he does- crashing into the wall of the cove with a loud thud.

Soon enough Jackie comes into view and tries to help Marvin up, “Marvin?! Marv what’s wrong? Are you okay?!”

The touch is electric, it’s too much- it feels like Marvin’s nerves are on fire! He pushes Jackie away from him and curls up, “D-Don’t touch me!”

Jackie looks hurt, “What? Marvin-!”

More bodies start to swim closer, Marvin can feel Jamie’s tentacles and hear Schneep’s panicking. Another hand tries to touch him and he shoves it off. “Stop please just- stop…!”

“Marvin, I need to see what is wrong…!” Henrik tries to say, “Is your head hurting? Do you need your mask?”

“M-Maybe we should call for Danan?” Chase suggests shakily.

Marvin tries to look out at his brothers- and he gasps as he sees his vision start to scan them. Messages pop up, showing their designations. No no- Marvin didn’t want to see those! He whimpers and the others tense as they see flickers of pink in his eyes.

“Anti, get Marvin’s mask, quickly!” Henrik shouts. The sea dragon hesitates then grabs the mask and hurries over to hand it to Marvin. “Here,” Anti whispers, looking slightly worried.

But all Marvin can see is Anti’s designation- SE-004. And the notes of ‘return to HQ at all costs.’ Marvin chokes on a sob and curls up as much as he can, digging claws into his head as he shouts out, “no no! G-Get- GET AWAY FROM ME!!”

As he shouts this- suddenly, his mask and any lingering tech around the cave start to glow with blue light. Then, they start to float in the water despite their weight. The boys all watch this in awe. Until- the objects all shoot off in different directions, causing even more crashing sounds.

Marvin dares to look up, his eyes glowing blue now instead of pink. The others stare at him with confusion and a bit of fear.

“M-Marvin…” Schneep whispers, “…what did you do?”

#huffle tales #Mermay 2024 #whump requests 2024 #sorry it’s late :(((#but great way to start off Mermay!!#this is me trying to figure out how to make Marvin more magical #and also from lots of subnautica research I did :3 #eeee excited to see what y’all think!!#warper Marvin #warper magic #henrik von schneeplestein #reaper jackie #septnautical main story

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ayushsan · 8 months

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You wanted to kill him too.

The Killing Vote, Ep 06

#the killing vote #kdrama #park hae jin #park sung woong #whump #asian whump #my posts #i fucking screamed when that cyber lady stopped mu chan from punching him #let us seokjoo's face afterwards #but again #mu chan wouldnt have done it #he hesitated #i wanted to see what would seok joo's reaction be #he looks like he wouldnt mind he would understand #aghh these two #the story is frustrating idc for it anymore #but i wanna know what happens in the end

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whumpwillow · 10 months

Text

Demon's Haven 11

woo!! okay this is the chapter I've been waiting for, I'm so excited to post it 💚💚💚

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masterlist

warnings: blood, past torture, description of wounds

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Dressed and dry, Haven led the demon over to her bed where they could both sit. She’d fetched a collection of bandages and gauze and whatever else she could find from the bathroom, leaving the door open so the demon could still keep her in his sights and wouldn’t launch into a panic. He seemed to find comfort in her presence, or what she thought was more likely, he just didn’t want to be alone. He probably would have taken comfort in anyone’s presence regardless of who it was. She didn’t know why the thought of that filled her with such disappointment.

She spread out her collection on the multicolored blankets, then sat down beside the demon and inspected his wounds once more. They’d begun to bleed again, especially the fresh lashes. Blood seeped from them in a steady current, creating ribbons that trailed down his back. Still, it was much better than it had been when he’d been filthy with grime and dried blood so that Haven couldn’t tell how bad the damage really was. Clean, the wounds weren’t any less grotesque, but more manageable.

Haven pressed a cloth to the demon’s back to try and stem the bleeding. She waited a few minutes like that, feeling the demon’s heat under her fingers even through the cloth. She removed her hand yet the cloth stayed firmly in place, and began unwrapping a roll of gauze. Peeling away the cloth from the demon’s skin elicited a sharp intake of breath that caused him to scrunch his face in pain.

“Sorry,” Haven said.

“S’alright,” the demon replied, voice slurred from exhaustion.

She wanted to finish this quickly so he could rest—was tempted to lie down right now as well—but she didn’t want to do anything haphazardly. He’d been through enough. She could at least take proper care of him because if she was going to invite a demon into her home, she was going to commit to it and treat him as she would any guest.

Except she’d never had a guest who’d been tortured in Hell before. Semantics.

Haven began wrapping the bandages around the demon’s midsection, working her way through covering those ghastly stripes. She found herself sighing, looking at them. Silver, the demon had said. Silver made them permanent.

“Are you okay?”

The demon’s voice was quiet, slow, careful. Nothing like the high and desperate pitch of the past few days where he’d begged her not to hurt him, words spilling out of his mouth in stuttered gasps like he couldn’t get them out quick enough. Haven felt herself exhaling a dry and humorless laugh.

“You’re asking me if I’m okay?”

“You’re sighing.”

Haven shook her head. If she hadn’t summoned the man herself, she would have had a hard time believing he was truly a demon. Here he was, exhausted and in what she could only imagine must be terrible pain, weakened to the point where he couldn’t even walk without her assistance. After being tortured. In Hell.

And he was asking her if she was okay.

A smile crept onto her face, unbidden. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Ah.”

It was silent for a beat. Haven continued her work, covering up too many lashes to count on his back, then wrapping his bruised shoulders and tying the whole thing off. She’d already used up an entire roll of gauze.

She began to work on the smaller wounds on the demon’s arms, deciding she’d skip his fingers for now and wait until she had something better suited than wide strips of cloth. She’d been pondering what to do about his bruised wrists when he spoke again.

“Are you upset?”

He didn’t look at her as he asked the question. Instead, he elected for staring straight ahead, gaze softened to the point where Haven had to wonder if he was really seeing her room at all.

“Of course I am.”

His head snapped to the side. Gaze sharpening, focusing. He was back in the room now, in the present, fearful, ever fearful.

“I—”

“Not at you,” Haven said, interrupting him before his thoughts could spiral. Before he could start begging for mercy and leniency for having done nothing at all. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

The demon blinked at her a few times, processing. He tilted his head to the side a bit in a way that Haven felt was far too cute an action to belong to a creature borne from Hell, then opened his mouth as if he were going to speak. He didn’t though, and closed it. Opened it again. Finally turned his head away from her and resumed staring intently at her bedroom door. Haven finished wrapping one arm and moved onto the next, having decided to use extra padding around his wrists given how deep the bruises went. They’d be there for a long time.

“Why are you sad?” the demon asked after a while.

Haven passed her thumb over a deep purple bruise on his bicep and he flinched, to which she apologized and tried to wrap as delicately as she could. A large gash intercepted it. She couldn’t leave the wound unattended, though it was hard to maneuver the bandage around his arm without holding onto the bruised skin that surrounded the gash.

“Because you were hurt,” she replied.

The demon turned his head just slightly to the side so that Haven could see only a slanted angle of his face, still shadowed by his wet black locks.

“You don’t know me.”

“Does that matter?”

A gasp. He turned fully to face her, his body twisting in such a way that the gauze fell out of Haven’s grasp and unwound. Before she could even feel annoyed at him for it, she saw the look on his face. His eyes were wide and wet, tears already beginning to pool in their depths. He swallowed once, twice. Blinked.

That was his downfall, that one. He’d been clearly trying not to cry, but the single blink had released the built up tears so that they spilled down his cheeks. He looked at Haven with some unrecognizable expression, something so tragic that she had to take him into her arms.

Haven drew him close and wrapped her arms around him. She threaded one hand through his still-damp hair and laid his head to rest on her shoulder.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she murmured, repeating the phrase just for the sound of her voice and hoping that it would be enough to soothe him.

The demon didn’t try to hold back anymore and sobbed openly. Broken cries tore from his throat, all pitchy sounds and half-drawn breaths. Haven rubbed her thumb back and forth through his hair, trying to ground him in the moment. His body shook something fierce, tremors rioting through him.

They stayed like that for an indiscernible amount of time, as if the very concept were water flowing through their fingers. The two of them, in their tired state, fell back onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Haven kept an arm around the demon and a hand in his hair, and he rested his head on her shoulder. The rolls of bandages lay around them.

“I need to finish wrapping your wounds.”

“Mmnh.”

The demon’s eyes had closed. Haven again felt a pang of jealousy at how beautifully his lashes overlaid on his cheeks.

Neither of them moved.

“I don’t want you to bleed out.”

“Can’t.”

Haven sighed at his response. The demon nuzzled further into the crook of her neck. She canted her head so that it touched his.

A thought occurred to her.

“You never told me your name.”

A flinch. The demon’s body tensed against hers enough for her to realize just how much she had gotten him to relax previously. Seemed a shame that all that progress would go to waste.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Haven added. “I just thought it would be nice to have something to call you. I’m Haven by the way.”

“Haven…” the demon whispered, so soft that she wouldn’t have heard it if they hadn’t been pressed together. He said her name with such reverence that it almost made her shiver. He said it like a blessing. Like a prayer.

The irony wasn’t lost on her.

The demon sighed and untangled himself from her. He sat up, though it was a poor imitation of the pose. He practically bent double, his back curved with his head hanging low, arms limp with hands clasped loosely in his lap. Haven watched him while propped up on her elbows, waiting for him. He seemed to be gathering his nerve, or perhaps, coming up with a clever lie.

No, that was ridiculous. Why would he ever need to lie about who he was? Not unless he was—

“Envy.”

The demon said his name the way a man would when confessing to a sin on the gallows. Haven drew her head back in shock.

Envy. One of the seven deadly sins.

A demon prince of Hell.

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(taglist in reblogs)

#whump #whump writing #my writing #willow writes #original work: demon’s haven #demon whump #demon whumpee #witch caretaker #oc envy #oc haven #there it isssss #he finally gets a name!!#i mean i know yall knew his name from before but now haven knows it and its the first time its been acknowledged in the story #and by god typing tags in the tumblr desktop is ASS #anyway im v excited about this chapter #last of the comf for a bit. time for pain

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