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cemeterything · 1 year

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we want to know about your near death experiences, please tell us of your near death experiences

erm. gonna put them under a cut in case it's too much for anyone lol (since it's kinda personal, i'm not going to pull my punches in describing how i felt, and i know not everyone's comfortable with discussions of death and near-death)

- took nearly 3 days to be born because my mom refused a cesarean and was nearly a month premature. don't know if this one counts because i was a baby but apparently they were pretty worried about my chances of survival towards the end and when i was born i was sickly and in a lot of pain for months.

- fell down the stairs multiple times when i was a kid, suffered several concussions and fractures and developed vertigo that gave me a phobia of heights i eventually grew out of. again not sure if this counts since i barely remember it but i do remember the feeling of cracking my head once and boy it's not fun. it's like cracking an egg but the egg is your skull. also remember having a lot of dreams of jumping off the top of the stairs and my consciousness separating from my body and watching it fall because of this.

- nearly drowned because i swam too far out to sea on holiday and got caught up in a massive tidal wave (it was the baltic sea in poland, on a very windy day, and i was 8 years old and an idiot). i'd just accepted that i was going to die stuck in this current i couldn't escape and given up on being afraid, embracing the cold dark tidal embrace of death, when the wave very gently set me down in the shallows and i was so at peace that i almost forgot to sit up and breathe. left a big impression in me. i did not tell my parents what happened because i was okay with it and didn't want to upset them or deal with them fussing over me or giving me hell for taking stupid risks when i didn't need it.

- got hit by a car on my bike and flipped over the hood. was fine except for bruises and scrapes but while in the air briefly freaked out and thought i could see a halo of fire around the driver's head (probably the sun shining through the rear window).

- nearly died of dehydration while infected with a very nasty bout of flu that kept me in bed for 2 months straight. i passed out on the floor of my kitchen while trying to lift a cup to pour myself a drink and would have probably at the very least ended up with severe complications if my cat hadn't wailed over my body until my mom woke up and found me lying there. while passed out i had this horrible nightmare that i was god reincarnated in a mortal body and got really upset because i didn't want to be responsible for the entirety of humanity because it was too much and i was only 15. was extremely relieved when my mom revived me and explained that i was just really fucking sick. ended up in hospital with an iv in my arm to prevent my body from shutting down on itself until the flu burned out enough for my own organs to stop fighting me.

- tombstoned off the lighthouse in the bay with some sort of friends and very fucking narrowly missed a shelf of rock that would have shattered me to pieces if i hadn't twisted out of the way moments earlier. as it rushed towards me i very much saw my life up to that point flash before my eyes and was really disappointed by how little i'd done with it. didn't actually do much about it for a while though because i was a depressed unmedicated teenager in a bad living situation. pretty sure that kid would be amazed by how far i've come since then though.

- pretty sure i only survived a bus crash because moments before it happened i felt this urge to stand up and did. if i hadn't my head would have gone through this metal bar on top of the seats and my neck probably would have been broken.

- got lost in a woodland area by google maps once and got so dehydrated from the heat and blood loss (due to trying to cut through thorn bushes when i got desperate enough to get scared) that i started hallucinating this shimmery figure i couldn't look at directly following me and chasing me every time i started to give up (somehow i just knew that letting them touch me would be very bad, but they didn't feel malevolent? i was scared but i didn't get the impression that they wanted to hurt me, just that it would be a consequence of letting them touch me). got rescued because i screamed so loud that some passing hikers heard and went in and pulled me out of there. again not sure if this one counts as near death but i was wandering in there for hours and felt like i was going to die.

#death #injury #unreality #<- for discussion of hallucinations #drowning mention #car crash mention #might delete this idk if im comfortable with sharing it but we shall see lol

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drjohndisco · 3 months

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Title: Waves

Pairing: Fern/John (established relationship)

Word Count: 300+

Warnings: mentions of death, incorrect assumption of suicidal ideation.

Summary: In a quiet moment John finds out more about Fern.

[A/N] Fern died when they drowned, so that's why they have that unidentifiable connection to the sea.

‘What are you doing up here?’ John asked.

Fern was sitting with their hands held tightly to the rock of the base’s balcony railing, swinging their legs slowly.

‘You know that feeling you get when there’s a high ledge, and they can't help getting an urge to jump?’ They replied, not turning towards him. Their voice tinged with a slight sense of melancholy.

‘...What?’ He asked.

‘Like,’ Fern continued. ‘I have to imagine it’s like how you feel when you’re piloting a plane; flying a million miles high. Away from everyone. The plane keeps you safe, but you can’t help but wonder. What if…’

‘Fern, please don’t.’

‘Oh, no! It’s not like that.’ They clarified hurriedly, hearing the desperation in John’s voice.

‘I don't want to die again, that certainly wasn't a pleasant experience the first time. It’s just…the legacy of The Ancients is so overwhelming. Like it’s pressing down on me. But then, when I look at the ocean, it’s,’ Fern sighed then. ‘Well, I don’t know, really. But, whenever I feel unsteady or alone, it balances me. Acts as an anchor.’

‘I see.’

(He did not.)

‘No, you don’t, Sheppard.’ Fern laughed, seeing right through him. ‘You don’t even properly understand what an Ancient is. But, if you come over here, maybe you’ll understand what I mean about the rest of it.’

So he wandered over to where they were seated, now standing close enough to them to hear the soft sound of the waves.

‘You’re cold. Do you want my jacket?’

‘Yes, please.’ Fern said.

John then shrugged his jacket off and wrapped it around their shoulders.

‘Thank you.’ Fern said, moving their left hand over and placing it on top of his. ‘Can you feel it now?’

(He could. It was like he could feel it in his bones.)

‘Yeah, I can feel it now.’ John agreed, smiling. ‘Thank you, Fern.’

(How had he ever gone without this back home?

How had he ever gone without them?)

#oc x canon #my writing*#🎡#not 100% happy with this but it is what it is #i say 'established relationship' but tbqh at this point they're just fucking #drowning mention #suicide mention #death mention

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hiddens-studio · 3 months

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So I was working on my AU featuring the guy ever; Descole. But like halfway through I realized it was kinda similar to @teenytinyapprentice 's ghost!Luke au, so I drew him too!

I'm a huge fan of that au (and all of Tyler's Layton art tbh) so why not!

I feel like if Spirit!Descole and Ghost!Luke ever met, it would probably be the most awkward thing ever.

#professor layton #ghost!luke #Ambrosian King Au #ghost #jean descole #tw death #child harm #blood #drowning mention

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mofsblog · 7 months

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(CW suicide) Does anyone else think TF like definitely tried to kill himself during the 10-year time period where Graves was in jail? No, like this has been an interpretation of mine for so long. It's just sooo. I feel like TF's absolute grief and guilt during that time period doesn't get talked about enough and like understandable because in the main lore it's only vaguely alluded to and implied and never really explored but like. If you think about it, you can not tell me this man did not cry himself to sleep for months if not years

Like it's fact that Graves got locked up (something TF probably blames himself for), which is already bad enough but then you take into account how TF has pre existing trauma surrounding abandonment because of his folk leaving him and I don't know about other people but I feel like a very common feeling when you're traumatised or hurt is being afraid you're going to put someone you care about through that so TF probably took it twice as hard because he felt like he "abandoned" Graves in prison. All of that guilt gets like 50% worse if you count the implication that TF has been in love with him for a long time and was self aware about it so now it's also guilt from "fuck I doomed the man I love because I couldn't save him"

AND THEN IT GETS EVEN WORSE WHEN YOU CONSIDER THAT, HE DID TRY. He did try to break him out. And that trying lead to at least 3 of their crewmates/friends getting killed. No like I can not state how absolutely devastating that period probably was for TF. The survivors guilt from Graves being imprisoned, the guilt from the fact he got their entire crew killed trying to save Graves, the fact that it's canon he never spoke to anyone about it and held it in for years

All of this concluding in this line that I've always found interesting

Like I could already go on about how his identity and name change seem to have happened right after the last of his crew died and how it's really likely he changed everything about himself to distance himself from everything that happened and how it was probably too painful being himself because of the guilt and grief

But what I find interesting is the mention of the river and how it's implied this name change happened after he visited and left the river. Now there's a high chance I'm looking too much into this and this is mainly my own headcanon and interpretation but how likely do you think it is he changed his whole identity because he failed a suicide attempt (in which he probably tried to drown himself) and using a different name and identity was the second closest thing he could do to stop being himself and existing as himself

No, like I'm sorry, but it's the fact he went to a river despite not knowing how to swim after thinking the man he was pining after was abandoned by him and TF put him through the exact pain he had to go through, not to mention the isolation and beatings TF just sentenced him to by "letting him get captured" AND THATS ON TOP OF THE ACTUAL AT LEAST THREE FRIENDS/CREWMATES HE ACTUALLY GOT KILLED IN AN EFFORT TO SAVE HIM. and then the fact he literally had zero outlet during all of this. I don't know, I just feel like it's a solid possibility. TF's repression of his emotions through his nonchalant and playful attitude tends to, in my opinion, make people overlook how badly the whole thing probably affected him and I feel like that's a bit of a shame because there's so much angst potential there

Anyways I'm normsl about the league of legends gambler guy

#SORRY IVE BEEN PLAGUED BY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS FOR A WEEK STRAIGHT. i jusy think hes neat and deserves happiness and the world #twisted fate #tobias felix #tfgraves #Malcolm graves #<- didnt focus too much on him but hes mentioned quite a lot and integral to this sooo. also hes getting his own post later #league of legends #lol #suicide mention #drowning mention #tf just strikes me as the kind of guy who seems chill and well adjusted and then one day without any warning you find out he killed himself #he needs therapy so bad #im glad he got his hubby back at least

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quecksilvereyes · 10 months

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i find it very funny that people are like oh rich people are gonna die going to the titanic wreck to gawk at other dead rich people as if they didnt prioritise saving first class passengers. as if the ship's crew wasn't there. as if the entire third class didnt exist.

#titanic #drowning mention

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useless-moss · 1 month

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Whumpee who's almost drowned multiple times before developing a fear of having water on their face meets whumper who is aware of this fear and waterboards whumpee.

#yes this about them #vigcup #httyd #httyd rtte #httyd viggo #httyd hiccup #httyd whump #drowning mention #fear of water #could also be dagcup #so #dagcup

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lovenpeace-pkmn · 8 months

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We should start an urban legend that the castle is haunted. That would be funny.

#perhaps we can say it is the ghost of someone who drowned in one of those stupid water features...#connie post #pkmn irl #pokeblogging #pokemon irl #drowning mention #castleposting

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umbraastaff · 1 year

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Barry sits up with a gasp the second he's awake, and regrets it instantly. The nausea and headache catch up a second later with the momentum of a semi truck, and he nearly blacks out a second time.

"Fuck," he groans. He's sitting on his bed, not out adventuring. Somehow.

You've gotta stop doing that, says the voice in his head.

"Thought I was... with that party. In that underwater cave." He remembers the water rising. Remembers how holding his breath was starting to hurt. "Thought I was gonna die."

And yet here you are, the voice says, helpful as ever. (Actually, that's unfair. It usually is genuinely helpful. Mostly.) That was a few days ago. You blacked out. The others got you out.

"And... knew where our hideout was?" Barry asks, looking around at the cave he inhabits. Maps on the walls he doesn't remember making, books on the shelves he doesn't remember reading. Home sweet home.

No, you've been awake on and off. I got you to come back here once I was sure you could make it on your own.

"I don't remember any of that," says Barry. As usual, a near-death experience has triggered his unidentified illness, whose symptoms include spending several days half-comatose with zero fucking memory of any of it, and waking up feeling like death.

You should drink some water, the voice in his head says.

Barry reaches slowly for the glass on the cave floor. It's still about half full, from a presumably recent time that he refilled it and drank from it and forgot. "I think this adventuring stuff is bad for my health," he says.

Well, one of these days we won't have to anymore.

Barry almost wants to ask why "one of these days" can't be "today," but experience and a feeling like a hole in his chest suggest he doesn't repeat that mistake.

(He already knows, anyway. His heart does. Even if his mind doesn't.)

Don't worry, it says. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you.

#wip wednesday saturday #taz balance #the murderbot diaries #trapped in active depart #barry bluejeans #mine #wip #drowning mention

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phoenixyfriend · 1 year

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For the mashup ask game:

If you're in the mood for an angsty one, could you have a go at 71 (24 hours to live) and 28 (proposal fic) please? Preferably involving Ahsoka?

If not, then maybe 79 (anger born of worry) and 54 (secret relationship) for Rexwalker/RexAniDala?

Not really sure on what you ship so if these don't work for you dw, honestly your writing is amazing so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ yeah

Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP: Send me two (2) tropes from this list + a ship and I’ll describe how I’d combine them in the same story.

This ask meme is from over a year ago. Please don't send new prompts.

Ahsoka 71. Twenty-Four Hours to Live 28. Proposal Fic

NGL having a bit of trouble with this one but I think this would have to be a mission fic.

Let's say Anakin's in trouble, sometime after the Wrong Jedi arc. He's been put in a Deadly Trap of the "room slowly fills with water" variety, and it's going to be too high in about 24 hours. IDK who put it together. Probably Maul, to fuck with Obi-Wan, because most of their enemies wouldn't use Anakin as bait in that way, they'd either go for a political hostage negotiation (Dooku), torture them personally (Ventress), or just straight up kill them (Grievous). Maul, however, would leave Anakin alone to get slowly dead in order to taunt Obi-Wan.

However, Obi-Wan can't get away to actually, you know, save Anakin. (Sheev rejected the request, in order to push that wedge of 'Obi-Wan doesn't really care about me' that he's been driving between Anakin and his Master.)

Instead, the clone of your choice is sent, and they find Ahsoka to help (or she finds them; maybe Maul decided to taunt her too? IDK). Rex is a good standby, but in this case I'm feeling like Fives or Echo might be better? Up to the reader.

So Ahsoka and her partner go off on the rescue mission. There are many near-misses. One, perhaps both, almost die at one point or another. There's a kiss and a confession.

They rescue Anakin, barely, and then rest on the floor, all of them covered in water and panting and very relieved that their General doesn't need mouth-to-mouth.

Clone of your choice leans over Anakin's body, grabs Ahsoka's hands, and asks her to marry him.

She's about to say yes, but--

"SERIOUSLY?! RIGHT OVER MY ALMOST-DEAD BODY? AT LEAST LET ME HUG MY PADAWAN FIRST." except with a lot more spluttering and cough, both from the Aghast Horror and the almost drowning.

#star wars #the clone wars #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #darth maul #rexsoka #fivessoka #echosoka #shipping #phoenix answers memes #drowning mention #death mention

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lydiahosek · 4 months

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Reconnection

[My contribution to the @inklings-challenge Christmas challenge, and a follow-up to my 2022 story "Connection". Thank you for hosting and merry Christmas!]

“…Hi everyone. Merry Christmas! At least, it should be Christmas by the time you get this. Right now it’s November 15th.”

In fact, it was December 27th when Arlo Connors’ transmission reached his family back on Earth. The first days had been spent by the Connors with the vague concern for him that always regrew in the back of their minds between messages. In a consolatory sort of coincidence, though, it arrived smack in the middle of the annual Christmas party, and the entire extended family (minus two strep-stricken cousins at home in bed) gathered and hushed to hear his voice.

Ever the dutiful son/brother/grandson/nephew/cousin, he first addressed the high points of the last transmission he received from them. He wished Jessamine well in her audition for the role of Claire in her school’s production of String Bean Salad Summer, complimenting the snippet of “One Tiny Seed” she had sung into the receiver. Jessamine shifted in her seat – she had ended up in the ensemble and was still a little stung about it. He advised Aunt Sybil on the glitch with her smart microwave that she had described. Sybil had to be stopped from bustling off to the kitchen to try the repair at that very moment. He congratulated Tim and Nadine on their one-year anniversary. They smiled and clasped hands – he would be an uncle in five months and didn’t even know it yet.

“Everything up here is going mostly according to plan. The biology team says the plants aren’t doing as well as they thought – something to do with the artificial atmosphere. But Alonzo and the rest of the techs’ gadgets are all working fine. A few might even get adapted for commercial sale…We passed Pellonia about a month ago. For once everyone just dropped what they were doing and stared. It looked like a big, cloudy orange. I tried to take a picture, but you know. It’s not the same.

“The big news is that I actually took a spacewalk last week.” Arlo described the simple but urgent malfunction with the ship’s thruster that required his direct attention, the process of being dressed in the spacesuit, and the combination of wonder and dread that filled his heart as he moved along the edge of the ship, his tether to it, to humanity, no wider than a garden hose. Several of his audience hung on his every word with little technical understanding but agonized suspense, forgetting that the account itself was proof that his time outside the ship had ended without incident.

“It sounds silly, but I kept thinking of the first time I jumped off the diving board at Uncle Harold’s pool. The same sense of something exciting, somewhere new to explore, all by myself, but also having to be alert, not get lost in it or…disaster. I was talking about it with Val…that’s Valeria Munroe, if Mom still has the article with the group picture saved…What am I saying, of course she does.”

Hetta had already whipped out her comm pad, opened her “Saved” folder, and retrieved the news article announcing the mission with its accompanying photo of the entire crew. She hovered her cursor over a few different faces before a text box appeared over one with the title “Valeria Munroe” and a brief biography. She smiled to herself and nodded. “She’s pretty.”

“Mo-oomm!” Arlo’s siblings chorused on his behalf.

“Anyway, it got me thinking, and I know it’s really early to say this, but…this trip’s going to be my last.”

A wave of confused, dismayed whispers swept through the room, followed by one of harsh shushing.

“I…I had always thought about the things I had made that I was sending up there…up here…that something my hands had touched was going to be sent past other planets and asteroid fields and onto worlds I had never seen and couldn’t even imagine. And even more than the pay bump and the…I dunno, ‘prestige’ as opposed to being a ground guy, I wanted to see for myself what I was working for. And now I have. And it’s not like…I don’t regret it, but I know I can’t maintain it. Just like I couldn’t stay outside any longer than it took to do what I had to do. It was beautiful, I was closer to it all than I’ve ever been, but the connection back was so thin, just like…sorry, I…”

Here they heard an unintelligible voice in the background and Arlo’s, muffled, saying “No, I’m fine.”

Then his voice was clear again. “I, um…I really miss you. I guess, is the point. And the sky and the trees and…traffic and barbecue smoke and those crummy slushies from Burger Beanie.” He made a noise between a laugh and a shudder. “More than anyone else here does, or did, it seems. The ones who’ve made a career out of this. Maybe they were like this too their first time and just forgot, but…I don’t want to forget. So…yeah.”

Hetta could be heard sniffling off to the side. “Mom,” one of Arlo’s sisters cooed softly, placing a hand on her arm.

Arlo clapped his hands loudly. “So! Now that I know that, I am going to try to strengthen my connections to whoever and whatever I can up here. And you will hear about it all! Sorry this message is so short, but I promise the rest won’t be. ‘Cause when I’m back down there, for good…I don’t want to forget, either.”

He left them with a few more pleasantries, Christmas wishes, and words of love, and then the room was silent. It remained so for the better part of a minute, until Sybil offered to start slicing up the gingerbread cake.

Someone hit the “Play” icon on her comm pad, and peppy, harmonic voices resumed singing. Gradually new conversations began, and gradually they were about topics other than the absent son/brother/grandson/nephew/cousin/uncle-to-be. He would hear all about them, though, in about two months. The best gift he could get, as he and those below continued the wait till the mission's end for the best gift he could give.

#inklingschallenge #Christmas #family #homesickness #pregnancy mention #drowning mention #genre: space travel #story: complete #my writing #short story #science fiction #my ocs #reconnection

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son1c · 1 year

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from bad to worse!!!!!!!!!

#wip #drowning mention #going insane really truly

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hiddens-studio · 1 month

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I drew this shit instead of sleeping anyways I'm gonna play Subnautica goodby e

#professor layton #jean descole #descole #professor layton series #drowning mention #question mark?#this isnt ambrosian king au #they're just underwater #drown asshole drown

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crabussy · 1 year

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#death mention #drowning mention #tumblr polls #what even is this.......

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distinctlywhumpthing · 1 year

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In League — A Lucky Blunder, part III

Masterlist

Summary: (Continuing part I & part II) Wyatt has saved August from being tortured interrogated and taken him under his protection. He soon discovers something to be gained from his gang's blundered revenge pursuit, though not what he would have expected. Beta read by @alittlewhump!

CW: Late-19th century, explicit language, kidnapping/abduction, murder (by drowning) mentioned, dehumanization/classism, indentured servitude, skewed power dynamics, carewhumper/sympathetic whumper, fearful August running his mouth.

“Tea?” Wyatt refilled his own cup from the still-warm pot and passed it to August. He had no sooner let go than he had to catch the other boy’s shaking hands to help keep the cup upright. August turned crimson, fighting shy of eye contact while he huffed through his nose, trying to steady his hands.

Finally, he tipped his head in a nod for Wyatt to release him. He kept his gaze fixed on the tea as he brought it to his lips. His knuckles were raw, fingernails dirty and chewed to the quick. He took paltry sips of the tea as if at any moment he might return to find it boiling. Or perhaps he expected to have it slapped away.

Wyatt needed a cigarette. He moved slowly so his intentions were plain as he crossed the room to use the matches by the bedside instead of those in his pocket. He was keenly aware of August watching his every action out of the corner of his eye, no more relaxed with his would-be captor out of arm’s reach. Wyatt stayed away nonetheless while he smoked, letting his eyes trace the faded wallpaper as if it held his interest. It was starting to peel again in one corner. The previous owners had done a poor job laying it but it was better than the whole room being greying white-wash.

He left the second half of the cigarette to burn out in the ashtray on the desk when he returned to his chair by the fire. August thanked him again when he relieved him of the empty cup and waited until Wyatt had sat back in his chair before he did the same, wincing as he did.

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen.” He ran two fingertips along his brow, pushing his hair to one side. Some of the strands were still sweaty from the ordeal in the cellar.

“Liar.”

His eyes snapped back up to Wyatt’s, their earlier fire reignited. “And you?”

“One and twenty,” Wyatt answered, unable to keep a smile from playing at his lips or his tone devoid of amusement. “Your turn again.”

August had gone red in the face, his boldness only a fleeting impulse. “Sixteen, sir.”

Now they both knew age had nothing to do with his continued use of honorifics. August plainly intended to employ any means that might gain him the slightest pardon. A habit when such subtleties typically weighed inequitably on one's survival.

“And you’re not guilty of the spying as they claim? You weren’t the one who ran and warned Keats?”

“No, sir.”

Wyatt leaned forward and dropped a hand on August’s shoulder, earning an almost-imperceptible flinch. “Now, you wouldn’t dare tell a falsehood to the only one showing you kindness in this wolf’s den. Would you, little lamb?”

The boy gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing. “N-no. No, sir. I swear,” he said, shaking his head. “I swear to the Almighty Lord. It was the other boy—he-he started before me.” He held Wyatt’s eyes, though he was clutching fistfuls of the bedcover in his lap.

Wyatt let him hold his breath for a heartbeat longer. “All right, I can see that you’re in earnest.” The boy relaxed a fraction and then another when Wyatt released his shoulder. “But you’ll have to come up with something better than that nonsense for future. It’s no wonder they didn’t believe you, going on all pious like that.”

He furrowed his brow and bit the side of his chapped lip. “I swear…on the grave of my dearly departed mother?”

Wyatt cocked a brow. “You’ve met your mother then?”

“I must have, however briefly, to have been born.”

“Cheeky. But it’ll do.”

The boy flushed at the slight approval.

You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar, Midge always used to say. Wyatt stifled a smirk. Maybe this case of mistaken identity would prove fruitful after all.

“How did you wind up in this situation, mixed up with Keats?”

“I-I was in the workhouse long as I can remember,” he said carefully, watching Wyatt’s reaction. He kept his face impassive; he'd already guessed as much. The boy carried himself like someone accustomed to being treated as less than a whole citizen. “When I was ten, I was sent to work in a household in the country as a boot boy and then as a hall boy. I was there four years. Could have been an apprentice footman if I’d stayed…”

Many were so desperate to leave the harrowing conditions of the workhouses, they undertook indentured servitude, or else they were funneled into it with no choice in the matter. Given his age at the time, the latter was more likely in August’s case. Wyatt nudged him back to the matter at hand, “Keats?”

“Ah. His Lordship passed on and the heir was…my service was gambled away. The game was fixed. He made certain to tell me that afterwards—Keats—he always would have won me.”

“So he sought you out? You do look tremendously similar to the boy they believe you to be.”

“Mas—” August deflated a little at the misstep before correcting, “Mr. Keats has a type, sir.”

Wyatt reached to lift a lock of August’s auburn hair between his fingers, it was beginning to curl into waves as it dried. “So I see.”

August blinked up at him meekly.

Quite the shift from the feral boy in the cellar. Wyatt wondered if he would be quiet or quick-witted or still volatile when he wasn’t threatened or in pain. What might he do if he were handed a shilling or a pound to do with what he wished? Perhaps in time, he could find out.

“Tell me, what happened to Keats’ other boy then?”

“He—he’s dead, sir. Keats was—was finished with him…” He pulled the covers closer, shrinking into the armchair. “We’re just…strays, he says…born strays so we should d-die like strays, too—”

On one hand, he could relieve August of having to recount the specifics but on the other, he didn’t want to prematurely dam this flow of information about his rival.

“—I was there. He begged but he didn’t fight. They didn’t even tie his hands—” He looked down at his own, lying in his lap, voice growing distant. “Just—just put in the bricks and then—and then—”

“All right, all right.”

August looked up, his eyes wide, almost like he was surprised to see Wyatt still sitting there. “In—in the water. I saw he was fighting—” He was panicking now, struggling against the tide of the memory. “In the water—he—he—I saw him—I saw—”

If he were any of the other boys, Wyatt would have given him a quick slap across the face to arrest whatever fit he was having. But August looked so delicate before him, cheeks hollower than they should be, though swelling on one side from being hit earlier. He was peaky where he should have been rosy, trembling like he couldn’t get warm, and had purple shadows akin to bruises beneath his wide eyes as though in a painful state of exhaustion. Wyatt put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

He gripped Wyatt’s forearm with both hands, suddenly resurfacing to the present. “Please, sir, just keep me. I’ll be good and helpful and anything you wish. Keep me in the cellar for the others, I’ll take it well—”

“Jesus, lad—”

“—Please, sir, just don’t put me out. I beg of you. He’ll—” A sob racked his thin frame, spurring a cough that sounded even rougher. A souvenir from the workhouse that some of the other boys shared. He lost his breath but pushed on hoarsely, “he’ll kill me, sir. Please, please, I know you’re the better man. If you won’t have me, just shoot me properly. Anything but—”

“August—”

“Please, sir,” he whispered. “I don’t want to die like that—” And then he was overcome, sobbing and begging incoherently as he clutched onto the older boy who held his life in his hands. Both knowing these were roles they’d found themselves in before.

“Hush, all will be right,” Wyatt soothed. He pulled him out of the chair, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him steady on his feet. August leaned into the half-embrace, fingers moving to grip the lapels of Wyatt’s jacket. Wyatt moved them across the room to the window.

It was on the back of the house, overlooking the muddy, little patch Midge pretended was a garden. A generously bowing fence boxed it off from the identical squares on either side and the alley before the next row of houses.

The window latch was loose and stubborn at the same time. Wyatt had to use two hands to get it to release. He worried he was holding August too firmly to gain use of his right hand but the boy only made himself smaller, folding closer and quieting himself as he did.

Finally, the window came open. It was a good size, which meant it let in a god-awful draft, but for now it was just right. August turned to look out, sniffling, his breath still ragged.

The sun was set but the sky had yet to turn dark enough to reveal the stars. It wasn’t so much fresh air as it was cool air and more of it. The city smoked just as much as the rest of them, exhaling from chimneys, old coal-burning stoves, and countless cigarettes held out for her to taste on the streets, in the alleys, and leaning out windows. As the air and noise of the city filled the room, it felt for all the world like they stood outside instead of surrounded by four walls and covered by a roof.

August let go of Wyatt’s jacket, slipping his fingers back inside the bedcovers and pulling them closer around his shoulders. Wyatt followed his lead and moved his arm onto his shoulders, less of an embrace and more of a casual stance he’d take with any of the others. He was surprised—and belated to make any catch—when August slid out of it, sinking to his knees in front of the window.

Wyatt crouched beside the smaller boy, checking to see if his eyes were becoming unfocused. “Do you need to lie down?” Perhaps he should check if he was becoming fevered, the wound at his side—

“No, sir.” He sniffled. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Is it too much? I can close—”

He shook his head. “No, sir. It’s—I’m afraid—afraid—of falling, sir.”

His chest tightened. “August.” He lifted the boy’s chin with his fingers. His eyes shone, full of tears reflecting the light from the street and the bright rising moon above. “I’m not going to push you.”

“I know, sir,” he whispered but a tear slid down his cheek and he had to bite his bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

He moved his hand to his cheek and August leaned into the touch, making a soft sound in the back of his throat. Wyatt was surprised by how much he wanted to stop August crying, stop him hurting. How much he wanted August to believe the words coming out of his own mouth and not just say them to please. What it would take to earn this boy’s trust. What it would mean if he could. His heart raced as if he were staring down the barrel of a gun himself. “I’ll not shoot you either. No one’s going to hurt you. No one’s going to lay a finger on you.”

“I—” August’s voice cracked and he shook his head, doubling down on keeping his lips pressed together to keep from crying as more tears fell from his eyes.

“You’ll be safe here, August. I’ll make certain of it.” The weight of his words pressed against his chest but he drove on, emboldened by the way it felt, the way it sounded, to make these promises, and the way August looked at him as he did. “You have my word. I swear, I’ll keep you safe, little lamb.”

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#carewhumper #sympathetic whumper #dubious caretaker #defiant whumpee #scared whumpee #prisoner whump #captivity whump #whumpee afraid of caretaker #whumpee thinks caretaker is whumper #power dynamics #killing mention #drowning mention #indentured servitude #historical whump #hurt/comfort

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