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#febwhump
psychologeek · 2 months
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Red Hood
DAY 24: "i'm doing this because i care about you" ALT 10: last man standing
[from Who am I (to disappear))]
Maybe he didn't think it through.
Possibly.
Just, you know, the tiniest bit.
Drugging all the baby heroes to sleep, using aerosol, was a brilliant idea. He'll give it to himself.
Also using his old codes.
Which, honestly? He didn't really think it would work.
Still: great execution. Pun might be intended.
Anyway.
Kid obviously still up in the kitchen, probably working on the post-mission report or some other bullshit.
( The best thing about being dead? No. Fucking. PAPERWORK .)
Sitting with a mug of coffee and
(Is that Zesty? The kid really mixes those poisons together? 
Nuh, of course he would. Like the sleepless workaholic bird he really is.)
They talk, and he already prepared some FUCKING AWESOME monolouge. Vicios and snob and all that. And he beats the kid. Bat won’t take it seriously otherwise. Kid fight as good as he gets.
And then there’s something—
( the worst part? he doesn’t even remember what )
and the Green is all he sees, and–
(No. The worst part is when he sees a bleeding head full of black hair. The worst part is seeing a body, lay down in the bottom of the staircase, as the blood spread around. The worst part is knowing that he did it. That he's just like that fucking clown.)
His alarm beeps. Someone’s trying to enter via Zeta-tube.
(He can’t help tha kid. 
Because it’s a goddamn kid, Jason. 
What’s wrong with you?)
He can’t help the kid, but maybe someone else could?
He release the block he put on the Tubes, and head to the transport room through the secret passage in the walls.
He can't even remember how he got back to Gotham. How he made it to the safehouse. 
All he knows is washing his hands in the rusted sink and staring at a shattered mirror he still sees the abyss and the monsters is inside, now, and his fist–
And everything is red, red, red round him.
Tag bc you may like: @envysparkler @shinekocreator @jasontoddsguns
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linecrosser · 1 year
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Febwhump2023 - No.11 - Fever
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candy8448 · 2 months
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For @occasionallyprosie 's amazing fic: A Halo of Black and Red
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Drawing time: 45 mins
I wanted to show him covered in blood like in the fic but it distracted from the actual art and i wanted to be able to see it so here is both! (I also wanted to include both the black and red blood)
This fic is so good, i was rereading it and just got this image in my head and had to immediately draw it. Legend going crazy was terrifying but also just... so good.
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girlinlotsoffandoms · 2 months
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day nineteen - ptsd
notes: for those who wanted a follow-up to 'presumed dead' and 'survivor's guilt', this one's for you
TW for (another) plane crash
read on AO3 or below
Trauma was a beast. It didn’t discriminate against who it affected or how, it just did. Trauma could (and would) change every aspect of your life. Trauma could make you unrecognizable.
Kelly Severide was completely different after the plane crash than he was before.
To the untrained, unfamiliar eye, Kelly seemed fine. He did his job to the level of excellence that was usually associated with him, he still hung out off-shift at Molly’s with the rest of the crew, he still taught classes at the Academy, and he still spent the rest of his free time with Stella. Those who knew Kelly, however, knew better.
They were aware of the nightmares and sleepless nights, how he often isolated himself in the firehouse, how he was quieter than usual, and how he was still attending regular therapy appointments of his own volition despite already being cleared by the CFD’s psychologist; they saw it all.
It has been six months since the plane crash and Kelly’s friends and teammates still struggled to find a way to help him. In the initial days after the accident and Kelly’s return to Chicago, the CFD chaplain and psychologist stopped by the station to help them all through the shock and trauma. The further removed from the situation they got, the easier it became to return to “normal”. 
But not for Stella. And definitely not for Kelly. Their “normal” died when the plane went down and now, they were grappling with what their new normal would look like.
It was a challenge they faced every day.
… … …
Kelly was having a good day—a good week—for the first time in months. He’d been sleeping better, was more talkative, and had even started teasing Capp again. It was a welcomed sight for his wife and teammates. 
But all good things must come to an end, as had been the usual for a while now.
It all started when Squad was called out with Squad 7 to a rescue on Lake Michigan. Dispatch had reported a crash and they assumed, at first, that a few boats had collided. Pulling up to the scene, they quickly learned that was not the case. 
There, slowly sinking in the water of Lake Michigan, was a small plane. One of the wings had already sunk below the waterline and the rest of the plane was sure to follow soon. There was no time to waste; if there were still survivors, they needed out as soon as possible.
Cruz, Capp, and Tony shared a look before looking at their Lieutenant. This call was going to be a hard one, one that was sure to stir up some very unpleasant memories. If he needed to sit this one out, if he needed them to step up, they would with no hesitation and with no judgment. Even the guys from Squad 7 shot a look to Severide–news of the plane crash and Kelly’s almost demise had quickly made the rounds through the CFD, as had the after effects on Kelly. The CFD rumor mill was strong and things like that tended to spread fast.
They all watched as Severide took a deep breath and steeled himself. In a surprise to no one, Severide jumped right into action and started dishing out orders and directions. Within seconds there were Squad divers and boats in the water heading towards the plane. 
… … …
It was a hard rescue, physically and emotionally. The damage to the plane was worse than they expected and of the six passengers on the plane, three were still alive but only one made it to the hospital alive. It wasn’t until after all the bodies and rescuers were out of the water that all of the victims of the crash were in the same family.
The ride back to the firehouse was a quiet one; no one spoke, no one made the usual jokes to help lighten the mood as they normally did after rough calls. There was a heaviness in the truck, memories of a situation so similar just a few months prior stirring up all too familiar feelings of grief that the loved ones of the victims lost today would be feeling.
When they pulled back into the station, Cruz, Capp, and Tony all climbed out of the truck as soon as it was parked. They were almost to the common room before they realized Severide wasn’t following them. Turning to look back at the Squad truck, they noticed Severide was still sitting in his spot in the passenger seat, staring off into space.
“Should we?” Capp asked, gesturing towards Severide and the Squad truck.
Cruz sighed and shook his head. “Give him a minute and we’ll send Stella out to talk to him.”
They continued into the common room where the rest of their teammates were.
“Hey! Squad’s back!” Mouch called out. “How was the call?”
The members of Squad sighed and collapsed into the first seat they could find. They were bone tired, not just from the physicality required during the rescue but the emotional drain as well.
“That well huh?”
“A plane crashed into Lake Michigan,” Cruz answered, blankly. “Six victims, all members of the same family. Only one made it to the hospital alive and it’s touch and go.”
The rest of the team sat up quickly in their seats at the mention of a plane crash. Stella, specifically, looked ready to throw up. All the fear and emotion from six months ago came flooding back at the mere mention of a plane crash. “Where’s Kelly?”
“He’s in the truck still.” Cruz started but before he could finish Stella was out of her seat and rushing to the truck bay.
The others watched her leave.
“How is he?” Boden asked, fully prepared to call in replacements for both his Squad and Truck lieutenants.
“He was great at the scene—collected and professional as always.” Tony answered.
Capp continued. “He kind of shut down in the truck on the way back though. Then again, we all did.”
“It shook him up more than he wanted us to see,” Cruz added. “And now that he doesn’t have a rescue to focus on, I think it’s all hitting him.” 
Boden nodded. He couldn’t imagine what the Squad Lieutenant was feeling. “I’ll call in a floater for Kidd.” He looked at Cruz. “You okay to lead Squad for the rest of shift?”
“Yes Chief.”
… … …
Stella knew Kelly needed to go home after that call. She knew he wouldn’t be in the right headspace to continue the rest of the shift. She would’ve been more worried if he’d tried to fight her and Boden on the decision but the fact that he accepted being sent home without so much as a word told Stella the call had affected him far more than she realized. 
Kelly didn’t say a word the entirety of the ride home or the trip up to the loft. He barely made it in the front door before dropping his bag and heading to take a shower. 
Stella didn’t push or try to get him to talk. She knew he’d come talk to her eventually; she could see it bubbling up just under the surface. 
She tried to keep the nerves at bay while waiting for Kelly to get out of the shower but as ten minutes turned to thirty, Stella became even more worried. She made her way to the bathroom and knocked on the closed door. “Kelly?”
She heard the shower still running but didn’t hear a response from Kelly. Opening the door, Stella entered the bathroom where she found Kelly on the floor of the shower, pushed up against the glass wall with his knees to his chest. Despite not being in the water’s direct stream and the water still being hot, Kelly was shaking. 
Stella grabbed a towel, quickly turned the water off, and knelt down in front of Kelly. She draped the towel around him and it was then that Stella realized Kelly wasn’t shaking from the cold–he was shaking from the hyperventilating sobs wracking his body. Recognizing a panic attack, Stella moved closer to Kelly, the knees and legs of her jeans now thoroughly soaked from the shower floor, and grabbed his hand. “Kelly? Hey, focus on me. I need you to breathe..”
“I - I can’t.” Kelly choked out. 
“Yes you can,” Stella nodded encouragingly. She moved his hand to her chest. “Focus on my breathing.”  
It took several agonizing minutes but Kelly finally managed to get his breathing under control. When Kelly was ready, Stella helped him dry off and get changed and sat him on the couch with a cup of coffee while she quickly ducked into their bedroom to change herself. 
She joined Kelly on the couch and her heart hurt to see his hands still shaking. Stella just hugged him close, vowed to be there for him whenever he was ready to talk, and prayed this was just a blip in his recovery and not an entire setback.
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dragonsarecool · 3 months
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Febwhump Day 12 - Semi-Conscious
A/N: Marty's head injury from his arrival in 1885 turns for the worse. An alternate opening to Part III.
Seamus was well and truly at a loss.
The strange man who had (seemingly) come out of nowhere and collapsed onto his fence had been in his home for two days, and apart from a brief attempt to stand immediately after the accident, was still yet to regain consciousness.
If anything, he seemed to be growing worse, as Maggie confirmed the lad was now running a decent fever. She'd replaced the cool cloth on his forehead multiple times over the last few hours, yet he continued to remain oblivious to the outside world as his skin grew warmer by the hour. They'd managed to get some fluids and a tiny bit of soup into him, but he otherwise remained stubbornly unconscious. Even an introduction to Maggie's most powerful bath salts wasn't enough to rouse him, and given Seamus knew firsthand how sore one's sinuses were after exposure to them, he realised this man's condition was serious and was showing no signs of improvement.
It hadn't surprised either of the McFlys that the man was muttering various pieces of nonsense in his sleep. Both had seen their fair share of raging fevers and the delirious state of mind that came with it. What had surprised them was the young man's persistence usage of a certain name, and how he'd been screaming it in utter anguish.
Seamus had had to stop him from falling out of the bed during one of his hallucinations. The boy kept raving about a bolt of lightning, pleading for a 'Doc Brown' to avoid it. He yelled and swore with an energy that almost seemed unnatural.
Seamus had never seen a man in such distress, and quickly realised he'd never forget it.
How the man had screamed himself hoarse as he sobbed and begged for his imaginary 'Doc' not to do it.
How bloodshot and swollen his eyes had been on the rare occasions when they were open.
How young the man truly seemed as he cried for his mother, apologising for a deed that was never revealed.
They'd finally managed to sit down for a meal in the early hours of the third morning, though the exhaustion plaguing both of them meant they ate slowly and in relative silence. It hadn't much of a discussion for both Seamus and Maggie to agree that the doctor was desperately needed.
However, Seamus decided it was time to share a thought he'd been experiencing since the man began his delirious shouting. "I've been wonderin', Maggie," He spoke between mouthfuls, "if he's talkin' about the blacksmith?"
Maggie snorted. "What? Emmett Brown? He can't possibly know him, Seamus!" She snapped, bouncing baby William on her lap as she took another mouthful of soup. "Look at his clothes! He's clearly not from around here. Maybe he's got a family member called Brown or something."
"Aye, I know. But I just…" Seamus was at a brief loss for words. "…I just gotta feeling that calling 'im is the right thing to do."
Maggie sighed deeply, realising she was about to indulge her husband yet again in one of his 'feelings'. Had she been in a more ideal state of mind, she probably would've said no. "Alright, Seamus, alright. When you've finished eatin', go see the doctor, and get 'im to fetch Emmett in the mornin'."
"Cheers, love." Seamus took a deep swig of his water. Hope this is a good feeling…
*****
The last person Doc had expected to see on his doorstop at seven AM was the town's doctor, carrying his briefcase and looking anxious. He brushed off his workshop gear, still covered in dust and dirt from the previous day's work. "Not open yet I'm afraid! Is there a problem, sir?"
The doctor adjusted his glasses and sighed. "Yes, sir. It's a bit of an unusual one, Mister Brown. I'm here on behalf of the McFlys."
Doc's stomach dropped. I haven't talked to them for a while! "Y-Yes? What-"
"Seamus left a note on my office window at some unholy hour this morning. They've been tending to a very unwell young man at their farm for a few days, and they seem to think he's related to you somehow," The doctor stated. "I haven't examined him yet as I've only just seen it, but I'm told he's been unconscious for sometime, and keeps saying your name."
It can't be him.
"Surely he means another Emmett?" Doc spoke nervously.
It can't be.
"No, no. Seamus was insistent that it was you."
It can't be! How the hell did he end up at the McFly farm of all places?!
"H-How old did you say this man is?" Doc realised he was stuttering, and prayed the doctor hadn't noticed his anxiousness. Please don't be him please don't be him-
"Not entirely sure, but they described him as fairly young-looking. Early twenties at most," The doctor fiddled with his tie, unfazed by Doc's jumpy mannerism. "Apparently he was sportin' the weirdest outfit they'd ever seen. Some sort of…pink jumpsuit…thing. They had to change him out of it as he was sweatin' so badly."
Dammit! Doc had to lean against the doorframe to stop his legs from giving out. Damn that kid…Goes directly against my orders and then nearly kills himself on his ancestor's farm. "And he's still at the farm?"
"Sure is. Seamus's got nothing to carry him in and he's in no state to ride into town," The doctor stood back, extending his arm outwards. "Can I assume you're intending to accompany me?"
Doc had already adorned his coat and hat before the doctor could finish speaking. He pushed past the physician, a steely gaze of determination etched into his face as he mounted the nearest horse. Marty McFly, don't you dare die on me…
*****
The ride to the McFly farm was forty-five minutes of pure hell for Doc.
Not that he minded riding horses; if anything, he thoroughly enjoyed having the wind rustling through his hair while witnessing one of the most efficient animals on the planet in action. What he would've appreciated was having some sort of background noise to distract him from his thoughts.
I don't know if it's a good thing or not that the doctor hasn't examined him yet. If he was seriously injured I doubt they would've come for me so soon. But anything could've happened to him! Scarlet fever, dysentery, influenza, infection, head trauma-
He was grateful for the interruption as the doctor called ahead to the McFlys, with Seamus waving frantically at the front of the house. It surprised Doc how exhausted the farmer looked, and it did nothing to ease his worries.
Doc barely acknowledged either of the McFlys as they were welcomed inside and led towards the 'mystery' young man. He had to restrain himself from running straight to Marty's side, instead observing with the McFly ancestors from the corner of the bedroom as the doctor began his examination.
He felt nauseous just looking at Marty.
Doc had never seen a person so unwell. The fact it was his best friend made it all the worse.
Marty's ghostly-white skin was slick with sweat, visible even in the candlelight. His hair was wet and matted in places, sticking out at uneven angles that would rival the hairstyles of the punks in 1985. As flushed as his cheeks were, Doc could see how much weight had fallen off them in the few days Marty had been here. Kid, what have you done to yourself?!
It only took a few minutes of examination for the doctor to produce a diagnosis. "He's definitely got a serious concussion. I'd call it a traumatic head wound, to be honest, especially given what Seamus told me about the fall. Plus this wound on his scalp has a nasty infection in it."
That's it? The words almost fell from Doc's mouth in disbelief. A concussion and infection? He looks like he's five minutes from death!
"I cleaned it as best I could, but…" Maggie trailed off, clearly feeling guilt in being unable to improve Marty's condition.
"You did the best you could, ma'am," The doctor reassured her. "If neither of you folks had found him, he'd likely be dead. In saying that though, if he doesn't start regaining consciousness this morning I'd like to move him into town for more intensive care."
He might as well be in this time period. Doc's thoughts quickly soured as the gravity of the situation set in. "How did come across you folks anyway?"
He never got the answer, for the room was suddenly filled with a glorious sound.
"…Doc?"
The voice was so hoarse that if the others hadn't heard it as well, Doc would've been convinced it was a hallucination. He dashed over to Marty, clasping the young man's clammy hand in his own as he felt his heart pounding in his throat. Damn…I gotta come up with a name for him!…Who's that Western guy Marty keeps referencing? Eastwood? "…Clint? Are you with us, son?"
"Is he family of yours?" Seamus asked tiredly. "Seems pretty fond of ya."
It took Doc a moment to conjure an answer. He gave a brief nod before gently stroking his fingers through Marty's hair. "We're so close that he might as well be my son." Good thing Marty's so out of it…I don't think I could admit it to his face.
Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Seamus nodded and wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders. "We'll leave ya be for a while, Mister Brown. You don't mind if we steal some rest for ourselves?"
"Oh goodness, yes! Please, please go and sleep," Doc said hurriedly. "You've done so much for him already."
"I'll go set myself up to clean that wound, Mister Brown, but you're more than welcome to stay with him," The doctor grabbed his briefcase and headed for the kitchen. "Shan't be long."
No sooner than the door closed did Marty stir again. "Dad?…" He whispered weakly. His head lolled to the side as his eyes fluttered open, staring at Doc with a glaze that told him he still wasn't fully lucid. "Dad?"
At least you're awake. That's good enough for now. Doc smiled and patted the young man's hair comfortingly, checking that the others had indeed left the room before answering. "No, Marty. Not quite, but close enough."
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topgunruinedme · 1 year
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Screaming in Silence
Summary: If anyone asked Jake how four words had impacted his life, he wouldn't have been able to tell them.
FebWhump Prompt - Day 12: "Can you hear me?".
//
No one questioned Jake about his tattoo, he knew it was weird. It was unusual, worrying for people who didn't understand it. He had been asked to see a psychologist and he had seen the odd looks people give him.
But no one knew the significance behind those four words. The four words that had changed his life forever. The four words that had been the first thing that wasn’t shouted in abuse at him.
From the cop who gently pulled him out from under his bed and wrapped him in his own jacket.
‘Seresin’
The man who saved his life, who took him away from his abusive foster home, who adopted him and gave him a life he had once thought could only happen in a fairy tale. 
It all started with four words. “Can you hear me?”.
It started when he was 7. Hiding under his bed terrified as the police raided the house, his foster parents were screaming and flailing making a fuss. 
Jake held his breath as a pair of black boots stopped In front of his bed. He pressed himself back further against the wall. The shine of the flashlight the man was holding was pointed at the floor.
He watched in bated breaths as the man knelt down carefully and sucked his head under the bed.
Jake stared at him terrified, his chest caving under the stress of breathing and his heart pounded as every instinct in his body told him to run. To fight, to escape this hell he was trapped in. 
“Can you hear me?” The man asked gently with a small smile, he seemed generous perhaps if Jake was compliment he would receive less of a beating.
With a jolty head movement he nodded in his cramped space under the bed.
The man looked around before moving back, providing him more space between them.
Ensuring he didn’t feel crowded, Jake realized in awe.
“Hey bud, can you come out for me?” He asked softly, Jake watched the man lower the flashlight to see him more clearly. It was pointed away from him but the light still made him wince.
The cop grimaced “Sorry buddy, I can’t do much about that. I have to be able to see you”.
He shifted so he was down on his stomach copying Jake's position, urging the boy out softly, both of them attempting to ignore the yelling and sound of things crashing in the other room. It was slightly muffled, as the man extended a hand out to him.
Jake flinched, yanking himself away from the man watching the man tentatively for any movement that could hint towards the man hitting him. He found none. 
The man patiently waited for Jake to examine him before Jake shook his head at him, his eyes filled with terror, no he couldn’t go with him. They would take him, it would be worse, so much worse.
“No?” The officer asked “That's alright we can stay here”. He seemed almost laid back, keeping his hand extended out as an olive branch as he rested his chin on top of his hand just watching. Waiting. “My name is David Seresin, I’m an Officer for LAPD. What’s your name?”
Jake shifted uncomfortably “Jacob” he said quietly biting down the the feeling of a car to heavy tongue and cottonmouth,
“Jacob” David tilted his head “That’s a nice name, so you like it?” 
Thinking through all the abuse and names his fosters had screamed at him, he shook his head nervously. 
David smiled calmly at him “Would you rather me call you something else?”
“Jay?” He requested hesitantly. He had always been ‘Jacob’, ‘that boy’, ‘Foster’. He had never had a nickname before.
“Alright Jay, why don’t we get you out from under there now yeah?” David smiled, wiggling his fingers enticingly.
Hesitantly Jay reached out clawing their hand together letting David lead him out from Under the bed watching the man’s slow calculated movements carefully as the man helped him stand. Shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around him. It was heavy on his shoulders far too big, then again he was far too small for his age.
“Come on kid, let’s get you out of here” David wrapped an arm around him protectively as he led him out of the house that had housed his own personal hell.
He let David walk him out to a new leaf off his life. The better half, the half where David took him in and encouraged his love for flying. It was a slow process but he was there, every event, every graduation without fail, right up until he got shot in the line of duty. 
Jake stood in front of David’s body laying on a slab, his hand pulled back the sheet and brushed the stray lock of hair off his fathers check.
David always hated how wild his hair was, he was cold to the touch. He had gone out saving a friend, a colleague. Just as he would have wanted too, he had saved another person. 
It all started with 4 words, “Can you hear me?”.
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I hate myself for I said that I wanted to write a short ff and after 2500 words I’m still at like 25% of the story
BUT FEAR NOR CRIMINAL MINDS ANON IM WORKING
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silvercaptain24 · 1 year
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Aka, I'm trying Febwhump! Twelve prompts, spread throughout the month! LET'S DO THIS THING
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walterkov · 2 months
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Черная весна / Black spring (2022 - ... ) → @febuwhump 2024 day 29: not allowed to die ►
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psychologeek · 2 months
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Wild Hearts (pt 4)
Day 27: Clothing swap / Clone DAY 22: "you weren't meant to be there"
Part 1 Part 2 part 3
There's a baby in her arms. Jazz can feel her, but can't let herself look down.
There's (a clone, a daughter) in her arms, and explosion in the background and she's not sure what's happening or what's going on or -
Focus
There is a child in her arms, and Jazz need to focus right now, because that child needs her. No matter who she might be, the kid is helpless and hurt and Jazz can't freak out. Not yet. Not until they reach safety.
There's a kid in her arms and blood on her hands and her ears are still ringing and she can't really think-
But there's someone else who needs her first.
So she takes a deep breath. Lock the panic away in that box in the back of her mind, right with things like "being fifteen" or "The Incident" or-
She finally let herself look down, and look at the toddler in her arms.
She's so small, she thinks. How could they do that?
She reach the car she brought, hidden by nature and just a touch of ectoplasm.
There are clothes she can change into.
There are things she can do to-
(Erase every single memory, pretend it never happened.)
But there is a child in her arms, in a collar and white little straight jacket. There's a shivering toddler in her hands, covered with blood and ecto and things she doesn't want to think of. There's a baby she put on the back seat as she take of those cursed things and wipe the dirt off her little body, the best she could. Take the clean shirt she kept in the car and carefully dress the little one, covering scars and wounds and layers of pain.
There is a daughter that opens her eyes for the first time, and her lips shiver as she cry
"Mommy?"
(Like it? I have more mini-fics in this au. And full size fics on ao3. )
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linecrosser · 1 year
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Febwhump 2023 - No.3 - Muzzled
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candy8448 · 3 months
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Febwhump with baby legend (alttp)
Day 10: killing in self defence
Warnings: finger bitten off, killing
Link's heart raced like a rabbit, he spat out mud and tried to twist around, the knight's bare hand falling into his mouth. He bit down as hard as he could.
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girlinlotsoffandoms · 3 months
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day one - stab wound
notes: hi friends and welcome to febwhump 2024 or sev whump as I've been calling it. that's right, 29 days where I hurt or torture everyone's favorite squad lieutenant!
read on AO3 or below
It was a calm night at Molly’s, something the members of Firehouse 51 desperately needed after the past few shifts they’d had. The first cold snap of the season had brought snow and ice along with it, causing multiple car accidents and house fires that made for hectic shifts.
The entirety of 51’s second shift, even Boden, had made it to Molly’s that night. They all wanted to relax with a beer or two before heading to their homes for two days of well-deserved rest. The only one who hadn’t made it to Molly’s yet was Kelly, who’d met at the Fire Academy with the other instructors. Stella expected him soon though, he’d texted her when he left the Academy and told her he was heading over.
The relaxing night everyone so desperately wanted was promptly ruined when the door to Molly’s burst open and a young woman, barely over 21, ran into the bar. Her hair was wild, and mascara-stained tear streaks painted her cheeks, but the most alarming thing to everyone in the room was the bright red blood staining her hands.
“Help, please!” She cried from the door. “Someone call 911!”
It was those magic words that made everyone jump into action. The members of 51 sprang to their feet and ran towards the girl. Brett and Violet reached her first, immediately followed by the others.
Brett and Violet started checking her for injuries. “What’s your name sweetie?” Violet asked.
“M-Meagan.”
“Hi Meagan,” Brett said with a smile, trying to calm the girl. “Can you tell us what happened? Where are you hurt?”
Meagan shook her head. “No no no, it’s not me. You have to help him!”
“Help who? What happened?” Stella asked.
“My friend, Ava, and I were walking home and one of the guys from the bar down the street was following us, harassing us. He grabbed Ava’s arm and started being aggressive with her. Then this other guy runs up, pulls him away, and stands in between us and him. He told him to leave but the guy pulled a knife and he just…. he stabbed him!” Meagan explained, a fresh round of tears running down her face. “Ava’s in nursing school, she started applying pressure but he needs help!”
Boden pulled the phone away from his ear, 911 dispatch still on the line. “CPD and an ambo are a few minutes out.”
“Let’s go,” Herrmann ordered. He grabbed the first aid kit from behind the bar and led the group out of Molly's and into the chilly Chicago night.
It didn't take them long at all to find what they were looking for. There on the ground, on the other side of the street, was their victim. The closer they got though, they realized their victim wasn’t just a good Samaritan who tried to help someone in need.
“Oh my god,” Stella exclaimed. “Kelly!”
Stella sprinted the last few feet and dropped to her knees by Kelly’s side. Her eyes roamed over his body and her stomach dropped. Stella had never been one to be squeamish but the sight of her husband’s blood pouring onto the sidewalk made bile rise in her throat.
Out of the corner of her eye, Stella saw Ritter helping Ava up and Brett and Violet beginning to try and help Kelly but her focus was solely on Kelly. His eyes were glassy, and Stella could tell he was fighting to stay awake.
She moved closer to his head and laid a hand on his cheek, trying to keep his attention. “Hey, Kelly, stay awake ok?”
“Stell-“ Kelly started, quietly.
“Shhh, I’m right here,” Stella shushed him gently. “Don’t try and talk ok? Help’s on the way.”
“Girls?”
“They’re ok,” Stella said, a sad smile on her face. “You saved them.”
At Stella’s assurance that Ava and Meagan were safe, Kelly lost his hold on consciousness.
“No, no, no, Kelly!” Stella yelled, panicked. She tapped his cheek but Kelly didn’t respond.
Stella turned towards Brett and Violet, hoping for some reassurance, but the grim looks on their faces did the opposite. “What-?”
“The bleeding won’t stop,” Violet growled, frustrated. She tossed the bloodied gauze to the side, where a terrifying pile of soiled gauze had rapidly grown over the last few minutes.
Brett’s hands replaced Violet’s with fresh gauze, but it quickly began turning red. “I think the knife might have hit his spleen,” she said grimly.
“Where the hell is the ambulance?!” Stella cried.
“They’re pulling up now!” Cruz called from the street. He and the others from 51 had formed a barrier around their downed teammate and friend, keeping the curious masses away from the scene.
Sure enough, the street was soon bathed in sirens and flashing red and blue lights as the ambulance and a few CPD cruisers arrived. The paramedics made quick work getting Severide stable enough for transport. They loaded him into the ambulance, Stella climbing in right after. 
“Stella,” Boden called from the doors of the ambulance. “We’ll meet you at the hospital as soon as we can.”
Stella gave a curt nod and turned her attention back to Kelly. Boden closed the ambulance doors and thumped it twice, signaling it was good to go.
The ambulance took off, lights and sirens blaring toward Med, leaving the shell-shocked group of first responders behind, drowning in a sea of red and blue and concern for their friend. 
… … …
It was barely controlled chaos in the ambulance. Stella had taken over applying pressure to the wound while the paramedic got Kelly hooked up to the monitors and an IV started.
No matter how much pressure Stella applied, or how much she begged and pleaded, the bleeding just wouldn’t stop. Her husband, the love of her life, was bleeding out right in front of her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. This was not how their story was supposed to end–after everything they’d been through, this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. 
Tears fell from Stella’s eyes. It’d been a while since she acted as a paramedic but the knowledge hadn’t left her. She knew Kelly had lost a lot of blood…was still losing a lot of blood. He needed surgery and transfusions and a hospital and he needed it fast but Stella knew there was no guarantee even that would be enough to save him. 
Her mental and emotional turmoil was interrupted by the paramedic taking over holding pressure on the wound with fresh gauze. 
Stella moved away towards Kelly’s head. She grabbed one of his hands, squeezed it, and leaned in close to him. “Don’t leave me, Kelly Severide. Don’t leave me.”
… … …
Stella had been alone in the waiting room for almost half an hour when the rest of 51 rolled in. They spotted Stella immediately and quickly hurried to her side. Brett and Violet, both now free of Severide’s blood, sat on either side of her and wrapped their arms around her.
“Any update?” Brett asked gently.
“They’re still working on him. Maggie said she’d update me as soon as she could.” Stella answered flatly. She was numb at this point. “Are Meagan and Ava ok?”
“PD took their statements and escorted them back to their apartments.” Boden shared, looking at Stella carefully. “Physically, they’ll both be fine. Mentally and emotionally, well…they’ve been connected with some resources to help them with that.”
Stella nodded. She understood that; they’d all be pretty messed up mentally and emotionally for a while. Seeing someone you love, a friend and teammate, bleeding out on the pavement will do that. 
“What about the asshole who did this?” 
“Cameras in the area caught the harassment and the stabbing, along with the guy’s face.” Mouch chimed in. “The officers on scene are looking for him and Trudy called Voight, so now Intelligence is involved as well. They’ll get him.”
Nodding, Stella went to say something else before jumping out of her seat at the sight of Maggie entering the waiting room.
“How is he?” Stella asked desperately. 
“Dr. Marcel took him into surgery a few minutes ago. Scans confirmed the knife hit his spleen,” Maggie explained gently. It was always hard when a first responder was hurt but the entire Med team had soft spots for the firefighters of Firehouse 51. “He’ll be in surgery for a few hours. If you want to move up to the surgical waiting room, I’ll have someone keep you updated.”
“Thanks Maggie.”
 … … …
It was several hours later, long past midnight, when Stella and the others got the news they had been desperately waiting to hear: Severide was out of surgery and would make a full recovery. 
Dr. Marcel had been able to save his spleen but they’d be keeping a close eye on Kelly in the ICU for a few days to make sure no more bleeding occurred. Kelly also had to have several blood transfusions, so he’d be weaker than normal as his body recuperated. 
He’d be off work for a while and would need PT and a lot of rest but he would heal. 
Everyone in the waiting room was relieved, the stress of the night falling off of them. Stella once again had tears streaming down her face only this time, they were tears of joy. 
“Thank you, Dr. Marcel.”
“You’re welcome,” Dr. Marcel said. He hugged Stella briefly then stepped back. “He’s in recovery now but they’ll be moving him to a room soon. Visiting hours are over but we’ll make it so you guys can see him for a minute. Stella, you’ll be able to stay overnight with him but the rest of you should go home and get some sleep.”
There were nods all around. After years as first responders, they were all seasoned pros regarding hospital and visitation guidelines. They were all just grateful they’d be able to see Severide.
Stella was thankful she was automatically given the green light to stay with Kelly in the ICU. She was prepared to do whatever it took to stay with her husband, hospital rules and visiting hours be damned.
… … …
It was a quiet night in Kelly’s ICU room. After seeing Kelly and saying goodbye to Stella, the other members of 51 headed home with the promise of returning later that day. Stella had settled into the chair by Kelly’s bed, grabbed his hand, and waited for him to wake up.
She ended up falling into a fitful sleep, the uncomfortable chair and constant interruptions from medical staff coming in to check on Kelly keeping her from getting more than an hour or so at a time. It certainly didn’t help that every time she closed her eyes, she saw her husband bleeding out in agonizing detail.
Those images were why she forced herself to stay awake, downing cups of crappy hospital coffee to try and avoid that nightmare as long as she could. She’d lived through it once; she didn’t want to experience it again. 
It was, however, because of that very real nightmare and the fear and anxiety surrounding it, that Stella was wide awake when Kelly started moving the hand she was holding.
“Kelly?” Stella’s voice was gentle, but the emotion still rang clear. She stood from her chair to be closer to the bed, still gripping his hand. “You with me?”
The wait seemed painfully slow but eventually Stella was rewarded with the sight of Kelly’s beautiful blue eyes. Stella smiled her first real smile in hours as happy tears filled her eyes. She moved her free hand up to Kelly’s cheek. “There you are. How do you feel?”
Still groggy from a combination of blood loss, anesthesia-induced sleep, and pain meds, all Kelly could do was groan in response to Stella, making her chuckle. “That well, huh?”
“Yeah,” Kelly grumbled, his voice thick from being unused. Stella quickly poured him a cup of water and held the straw to his lips so he could drink. After a few sips, Stella took the cup away to keep him from overdoing it. “Meagan and Ava. Are they okay?”
“They’re fine, babe. You saved them.” Stella tried to keep her voice from cracking but the longer she looked at Kelly she was reminded of what had happened and she couldn’t stop the tears from falling. “You scared the hell out of me. Seeing you like that I thought…. I thought I was going to lose you.”
There wasn’t much Kelly could say because he knew how close he’d come to dying, to leaving Stella behind. Telling her he was okay wasn’t the best bet, given how horrible he felt, so he went in a different direction. “I’m sorry I scared you. I just, I saw that asshole messing with Meagan and Ava and I knew I had to do something. I just thought he was drunk… I didn’t think he’d have a knife.”
“I know.” Stella squeezed his hand. “You’re a good man Kelly Severide and I love you so much but please, don’t get stabbed again.”
“I will try my hardest not to,” Kelly chuckled, but it was quickly cut off by a groan.
Stella rubbed his arm soothingly and hit the call button on the wall behind his bed. He’d been awake long enough without a nurse or doctor coming in to check on him and it was clear to Stella that he needed some pain meds whether he said so or not. She could see it in his eyes.
It didn’t take long for a nurse to enter the room and Dr. Marcel followed soon after. He was pleased with what the monitors were showing and how Kelly’s incision looked. Dr. Marcel wasn’t ready to move him out of the ICU just yet, but things were looking promising. They hooked Kelly up to a pain pump so he could give himself a bolus of pain meds when he needed it.
With pain meds on board, Kelly fell back asleep quickly. Now that she wasn’t crippled with worry, Stella felt lighter. There was still fear and anxiety lurking in the shadows and she was sure the memories of last night would stay with them both for a long time, but Kelly would be okay and they would deal with it together. 
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baubeautyandthegeek · 2 months
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Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,//By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore. – Verna/Tamerlane Usher
A/N: Day 18 for @febuwhump again.
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“Oh, Dear Dove…” Verna’s voice is a purr, her eyes dark even as she looks over the fallen woman. Tamerlane is shuddering, too weak to move, too tired to even try. She has not yet done what cannot be undone but Verna can see, can scent the blood in the air, the fear in her eyes and then she knows. She knows too well. Unspoken pains from father to child, Tamerlane’s eyes are glassy, close to the edge of closing. “You must eat, dear one…” “Just kill me.” Three small, tired, words. Three words Verna would have laughed to hear mere months ago, but then she had learnt why Roderick had put her already tender life on the line all those decades ago. Then she had known she would not fulfill this one, she would change it, somehow. Bill had proven the perfect replacement. Rough, overly aggressive in ways she sensed were not unusual. Now, she thinks, she can never let this happen. “Is it that bad, Dove?” There’s mirrors smashed around the room and Tamerlane refuses to look anywhere but at her face, seeming to flinch from turning her eyes upward. The last mirrors are still whole. A wave of a hand, Verna thinks, all it takes, but she waits instead. “I fucked up… so… so badly…” “The presentation was fine…” Verna lies, it had been almost perfect, in truth, until Tamerlane had collapsed, eyes rolling back into her head, body curling to the floor, soft copper hair falling away from a pale face. She looked dead, then. Now Verna considers her again. “I always fuck it up.” “No, no Dove… No Sweet Girl… No you don’t.” Tamerlane is sobbing now and Verna moves to sit, drags a limp Tamerlane into her lap, tucking her face against her neck, trailing soft nails against Tamerlane’s scalp, stroking circles there. “Oh my Dove… we will have to fix you, now, won’t we… my poor sweet Lovebug.”
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dragonsarecool · 2 months
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Febwhump Day 29 - Not Allowed to Die
A/N: A short look at Marty's thoughts as he returns to 1985 in Part I.
His head fell back as he let out an agonising wail.
Were all of his efforts for nothing?!
The universe certainly knew how to screw with him.
His hands clutched Doc's collar with such vigor that he could've torn the fabric seams apart. He frantically shook his best friend, ignoring how his head flopped uncontrollably. "DAMMIT DOC, WAKE UP!"
He can't be dead!
HE CAN'T BE!
Not after everything we did…!
"Doc…" Marty sobbed. "Don't…leave…me…! DON'T LEAVE ME! PLEASE!"
I can't do this on my own…
"You can't die on me, Doc!" He roared. "DO YOU HEAR ME? YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE!"
This isn't how it's supposed to end!
He couldn't see anything through the thick curtain of tears descending down his face, let alone Doc's lifeless body, so he chose to close his eyes and embrace the sorrow enveloping him. He curled up and wrapped his arms around his legs, hugging himself as he sobbed.
I should've run faster!
Hell, I should've used the damn car that can go faster than me!
Should I have come back before he even showed up to the mall and waited for him?!
A hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder, and he could've sworn his soul left his body. "HOLY SHIT!"
Marty whipped around, his jaw falling open. "…Doc?!"
The scientist smiled as he nodded, removing his hand from Marty's shoulder. "I heard you, and I'm not going anywhere." He began unzipping his jumpsuit, pulling it aside to reveal a bullet proof vest decorating his frame.
Son of a bitch! Marty finally realised there was no visible blood; the logical part of his brain was spiralling with questions. "But…how?! I never got a chance to tell you!…"
Doc reached beneath the vest to reveal a very familiar piece of paper. It had yellowed considerably and was taped in multiple places, but Marty recognised it all the same. The young man grabbed the note and unfolded it, revealing his own writing had been impeccably pieced back together. Surprisingly, the ink had barely faded, although the logo for Lou's Cafe was looking a bit worse for wear.
But what about all the damn space time continuum bullshit?
He took a moment to compose himself, wiping his eyes on his shirt. "What was all that talk…about screwing up the future? The space time continuum?"
"Well," Doc whispered. "I figured, 'What the hell?'"
Marty found himself laughing heartily. He tossed the note aside as he threw his arms around his best friend, allowing joyful tears to run freely down his cheeks. Both men embraced each other tightly, ignoring the damp ground, the icy chill in the air, and the fact both of them were shaking violently.
There was a lot that still needed to happen. After all, Doc had thirty years' worth of questions he could ask now that the timelines had synced up. And judging by how distressed the young man in his arms was, there would be a lot of talking to come over the following days.
But for now, they celebrated each other's company in the parking lot, with Einstein barking happily next to them.
Their future still lay ahead of them, and no one could change it now.
A/N: And that concludes Febwhump 2024! Thank you to everyone who's been following along and leaving comments - it's been wonderful reading them and hearing your thoughts! Glad to hear people enjoyed my take on bashing poor Marty.
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silverutahraptor · 2 years
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For the febuwhump prompts-Madara to Izuna-‘let me see them’ ie his eyes. Probably an obvious one but theres never enough Izuna whump
Thanks for the prompt! Here’s your triple drabble (300 words exactly!), Anon!
And just to set the mood, here’s a manga cap from Chapter 386:
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It was devastating to see his brother like this. Izuna was used to all manners of injuries—to all the kinds of agony men could inflict on themselves and others—and even to illness, of course, but this was different. 
This was the creeping, corrosive migraines brought on by the Mangeykō Sharingan. And as always Izuna could do nothing, nothing, as he watched the first signs overcome Madara once more. A tightness around his eyes. Fingers twitching erratically. His famous temper first becoming louder and then almost lethargic. 
When Madara started squinting and flinching back from even the softest of words, Izuna knew it was time to shepherd him somewhere quiet with the windows shuttered. Time to postpone any meetings and to take the ones too urgent himself, him and Hikaku running interference with the rest of the Clan in the futile hope it wasn’t too obvious.
And then Izuna sat at his brother’s bedside and waited while his brother and Clanhead tossed and turned and screamed and wept. 
He wanted nothing more than to use his own Sharingan to layer a gentle genjutsu onto his brother, to lure his mind into a dreamless deep sleep without the near-constant pain.
They had tried that in the beginning, once.
After only a few hours Madara had woken up again—with the headache back threefold.
This wasn’t something Izuna could fight.
No, he could just sit and wait and offer prayers to Amaterasu for a solution that didn’t exist.
And then, days later, when Madara had recovered enough to sit up, always, always came those damning, dreaded words without fail.
“Let me see them.”
Of course there was one solution, wasn’t there.
Izuna forced his mouth into the facsimile of a smile and obediently leaned forward so Madara could look at Izuna’s own Mangekō Sharingan.
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