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jasmines-library · 7 months

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Tried and True

WHUMPTOBER 2023 DAY FOUR: Prompt - Hiding an injury.

Fandom: Batfam/DC/Young Justice

Summary: During a fight with Bane you get critically injured but leave it hidden from your brothers. When they find out, it's a race against time to get you back to the safety of the manor. Warnings: Bullet wound, blood loss, near death experience, surgery, cursing. Word count: 2.8k Note: I'm super excited about this one. That's all i'm gonna say :)

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Bane fired three shots down the alleyway. They ricocheted off the bricks, clattering to the ground with a metallic ping. Dick Grayson hid crouched behind the lip of a building overlooking the alleyway, his mask pulled tight over his face. He watched with cautious eyes, surveying the villain before him. You were hunched over on the opposite side of the street dual daggers pressed firmly into the palm of your clammy hands. Damian and Jason lingered nearby, Tim opted to survey with his older brother. He had his bo staff hooked under his arm, ready to draw back and swing at any second.

“I know you’re out there little birdies.” Bane sung, drawing out his steps as he paced the length of the alley. “Why don’t you come out for a little chat?”

He fired another round of bullets, this time up into the sky. Your little brother cast a look at you from your left, you held out a warning hand.

“Nightwing?” You asked into the coms quietly, careful not to draw unwanted attention. Even though Bane was outnumbered 5-1, he was still extremely powerful and if he caught one of you off guard, you would be in some deep shit.

“We need to wait until he gets to the end of the alley. There’s a fork. We can flank him from both sides.”

The five of you watched intently as he walked, monotonously slow. When he was a mere few steps away from the end of the alley, Nightwing gave the signal and the five of you sprang into action, disguised and protected by the thick plating of your vigilante suits each specified to fit your needs.

Landing roughly on your feet, you jumped from the building, reading your daggers in front of you. Your brothers formed a circle besides you, trapping bane between the three exits. He grinned manically.

“Finally! I thought I was going to miss out on all the fun.”

He hoisted his gun up onto his shoulder and eyed the five of you up. The look on his face was mad; cynical. His eyes glistened beneath his mask as they settled on Robin. He fired, releasing a fresh wave of bullets, but the youngest was small and quick enough to slip away, behind a crate.

With his back turned, Red Robin took his chance to make a move on Bane. He swung his staff in an arc, swiping at the giant's feet in an attempt to knock him to the ground. He wobbled, but spun around and knocked him out of the way, sending him flying into a nearby pile of junk.

“Red!?” You called out through the coms.

There was static as he shuffled around, coughing slightly as he tried to recover from having the wind knocked out from him. “All good.”

You moved next, Robin at your side. Using the walls, you propelled yourself towards Bane, trying to swing your dagger and lodge it anywhere on his exposed chest, only to have to skid across the floor as he swung his arm out to hit you. Although you weren’t successful, Robin had managed to get in a well placed slice along Bane’s torso. He had been aiming for the thick tubes which pumped him full of venom, but he wasn’t so successful.

The five of you went many rounds with Bane, swinging, slicing and dodging as you tried to get the upper hand on the giant man. Though despite being outnumbered, he had still managed to get his own in on the five vigilanties. Red Hood was suffering a twisted ankle, and Robin had a trickle of blood running down the side of his temple where Bane had managed to strike him.

“Raven!” Nightwing hollered “Flank left.”

You retreated back round the alley with your eldest brother, twisting and navigating in the dinginess to flank him from his other side. When you returned, he had Tim pinned up against a wall, gasping for air and flailing, his feet struggling to scrape against the floor. You picked up your pace, feet slapping against the concrete. You swung, leaping high into the air and bringing your daggers down in a large sweeping motion, it lodged itself in one of Bane’s tubes, staunching the flow of venom pumping into his veins. You rolled across the ground and onto your feet, skidding against the asphalt as you dodged another swing that caught Robin instead. Nightwing was suddenly flanking from Bane’s otherside, cutting off the rest of the venom’s flow. Pulling Robin to his feet, he raised his katana.

With a signal from your brother cracking out over the coms, you gripped your daggers tighter, shifting them into a more comfortable grip in front of you. The humming of Dicks escrima sticks filled the alley. There was a beat, then you all charged, using bane’s weakness to your advantage. He took a large slice across his abdomen and a shock to his body. He roared, releasing a round of bullets into the brick. Dropping like a sack of flour the five of you pressed your body to the ground, trying to dodge the lethal pieces of metal he flung your way. And that was when you felt it, a raw indescribable pain that radiated across your body above your right hip. You stifled a cry, biting your lip beneath the cover of your mask. Your breath shuddered as you rose, trying to ignore the dark red patch that bloomed across the front of your suit. You readied your daggers, trying to conceal the wound with your arm. You were hoping that the cover of the darkness would help disguise it from your brothers.

From his place on the ground, Jason fired at bane, distracting him from Tim, who swung his bo staff again at his feet, this time bringing him to the ground. Stepping forwards,you pressed your dagger to his neck, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to get the message across. He howled and grunted as Nightwing and Red Hood made quick work of securing him with rope they had stored on their suits, then delivering a quick blow to his head to render the giant unconscious.

Nightwing took a step back and sighed, dropping his twin fighting sticks to the ground. “Is everyone ok?”

There was a chortle of agreement between the comms. You sheathed your daggers in the hosters at your hip, groaning as your fingers brushed against the pulsating wound.

“Call B, tell him we have Bane.”

“Copy.” You said, flicking through the channels on the comms to call your father. He answered gruffly, signifying that he would be on his way on his way over as soon as he could. You heard the rumble of the batmobile in the background.

“B’s on his way.” You told your brothers, changing the coms back. “He’ll be here soon.”

You glanced down at your stomach, still oozing blood, crossing his arms in front of you, trying to hide the growing patch and keep some pressure on it. You could feel the warm, stickiness against your skin clinging to the fabric of your suit. You couldn’t feel the exit wound, piercing the back of your flesh. Just the thought of the bullet still lodged inside of you made the pain worsen tenfold. You just had to hope that you would get back to the manor in time to stitch yourself up.

~~~

Left, Right. Left, Right.

You had never been more glad to see the silhouette of the wayne manor, illuminated by the lights from the many windows that had been left on whilst you were out on patrol. You were trudging back slowly with your brothers after finishing up on patrol and ensuring that The Bat had bane secured and was taking him to Arkham. Your steps had grown sluggish, your vision doubled and your breaths uneven as you tried to keep up pace with your brothers, only to end up falling behind anyway. Your whole body ached, but nothing compared to the stabbing pain near your hip. You pulled your hand away from where you had been discreetly keeping pressure on it. Your head spun as you took in the sight of the blood dousing your hands.

Left, Right…

Not much further now. You told yourself as you forced your body to keep pressing forwards. Home was so close but felt so so far away. You made your shaky legs push on, but with your hazy vision you swayed on your feet.

Dick turned around, noticing your absence besides him.

“Raven?” He asked, stopping in his tracks. His panicked tone alerted the rest of the boys.

You were leaning on a nearby fence, trying to regain your composure.

“I- I’m fine. I just need-”

Left…

Your body gave out beneath you as you tried to push yourself away from the wall, you were swallowed by a blinding pain; hot and inflamed as you collapsed in on yourself. Jason, the closest to you, rushed forwards before your body could collide with the hard asphalt. He laid you down tenderly so that your head was lying down on his lap. Dick was by your side patting down your body for the hidden injury, followed quickly by the other two.“Raven?” Damien stared at you with wide eyes.

“Shit.” Dick cursed when his hand skimmed the tear in your suit, pulling it back with his fingers coaxed in your blood.

You cried out in pain, eyes flying wide.

Damien gripped your hand tightly, wincing at your pained expression when Jason hastily tore your mask away. He wiped away the tears which stained your cheeks.

“AH!” Your face twisted when Dick ripped apart the fabric of your suit to get a better look at the wound; circular and ugly, only around the size of a penny, but it was already an angry shade of scarlet and was leaking more blood than you though you had in your body. The fabric which had matted with your blood tugged at your skin. You squeezed Damian’s hand tightly.

“R, what happened?”

“...Shot.” You forced out.

Jason reached around the back of your suit searching for an exit wound then cursing loudly when he failed to find one. “It’s still in there.”

Dick cursed. “Okay. Tim?”

The boy looked up meekly.

“Grab the emergency pack, we’ll need tweezers, bandages. Something for the pain.”

“On it.”

“Damien? Call Alfred, tell him we need help, stat.”

Hesitantly, the Wayne let go of your hands and scrambled to get his phone. Tim was rushing back over with the supplies.

“Y/N? This is going to hurt okay?”

You nodded feebly, head lolling around in Jason’s lap.

“Hood, keep her awake.”

Jason took your head in his hands and angled it up to face him. Your eyes were fluttering closed.

“Hey, look at me, keep ‘em open kid.”

Your eyes opened in fraction as you listened to your older brother's words, though you were in a pained daze, only registering the pain in your side.

They would never forget the inhuman scream that pushed its way past your lips as Dick dig the tweezers into the wound. The pain was indescribable as your fingers clawed against the ground. You writhed in Jason’s hold, squirming away from the onslaught of pain. Dick cringed.

“Tim, keep her still.”

His hands were like cold vices on your arms as he pinned you down, trying to keep you still as his older brother rummaged through your body. Your screams had morphed into horse shouts by the time he finally got the bullet out. But then came the burst of agony as he pushed his hands down as hard as he could on your wound. You whimpered.

“I know. I know Y/N I’m sorry.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you began to lose a grip on consciousness. Black dots danced in your vision.

“Hey. Stay with us!” Tim patted your face. “We need to move fast.

Jason leaned you up against his chest so his brothers could wrap the bandages tightly around your stomach. Damien had returned, informing them that Alfred was on his way. Once the bandages were secured, you were laid back down in Jason's chest, eyes fluttering. Damien returned to holding your hands, rubbing his thumbs back and forth across the flat of your hand.

“Stay awake, Raven. Talk to us.” Tim prompted.

You were silent for a horrifying moment, before muttering out a few words. “...I’m sorry.”

“No. None of that. You’re gonna be fine.”

“I love you all.”

Your breaths were becoming shallower and you struggled to get the air you needed into your lungs. The black spots began to take over your vision.

“We love you too, Y/N. So, so much.”

You hummed contently. Your body had begun to go numb.

A dear ran down Damien’s cheek. You reached up to wipe it away as your older brother had done to you mere minutes ago.

“It’s okay.” You hushed. “It doesn’t hurt bad anymore.”

The two eldest vigilantes swallowed thickly, sharing a wide eyed glance between each other. That was when Alfred turned up, and the next minutes went by in a blur. The boys could do nothing more than watch as they whisked you away into surgery, praying that you would pull through.

~~~

Dick watched as you began to stir. Your face twitched and you shifted uncomfortably. He had his much larger hand wrapped around yours, and had done for a few hours, insisting that he stay with you. You were his baby sister after all. Bruce had tried to send the other to bed, but like Dick, Jason had insisted that he should be allowed to watch over you too. Bruce was about to protest, but he couldn’t dismiss the distraught look plastered on Jason’s face. He had no doubt that the youngest two were lingering around somewhere, minds too full of opposing thoughts to let them succumb to the sleep that their bodies begged them for. Damian had kept trying to sneak in before being dragged away by Bruce.

The room had been silent for a few hours as they watched your chest rise and fall. The surgery had been hard on your body, and for a while no one was sure that you were going to pull through. Albeit there you were lying pale but showing signs of waking up, on your bed.

Alfred and Bruce were frequently in and out of your room where you lay hooked up to all sorts of machines that made Jason cringe. His head was resting on the side of your bed by the hand that Dick wasn’t nursing. His eyes had begun to droop shut as the early hours of the day crept around, when you shifted the let out a pained whimper. When he turned his head, he was greeted by your striking eyes.

He scrambled off of the floor and into the chair that had been pulled up by your bed. “Y/N? Hey.”

“Boys?” You blinked, your head still groggy from the anaesthesia.

The eldest boy gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah kiddo. We’re here.”

Trying to sit up, the tug on your stitches elicited another cry of pain. Instinctively, both boys helped you sit up.

“Take it easy, little bat.” Dick told you as you gingerly pushed back the sheets. Your hip was bound tightly in a white bandage. “He got you good.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jay pressed. “You could have…”

“I-”

You were cut off by the sound of the door shuddering open and a pair of your ‘not so little anymore’ brothers' heads peeking around it. They were hesitant, glancing around the room until you gave them a gentle smile.

“Y/N,” Damian rushed into the room, wrapping you tightly into a hug.

“Hey Dami.” You murmured into his ear.

He was suddenly ripped away from you by a grinning Tim who chided “Hey, be careful with her, you demon spawn. It’s my turn.”

You chuckled as he pulled you desperately into his arms.

“I’m so glad you’re okay Y/N/N. I was so scared.”

You frowned, hoarse voice breaking as you spoke. “I’m sorry-”

“Damian.” A haggard voice sounded from somewhere in the hallway. It was followed by a pair of heavy set shoes. “How many times do I have to tell you to get back in bed-”

Bruce stopped abruptly at the sight of his children crowded before him. His eyes were clad with dark bags and his hair was unkempt on his head.

“Hi Dad.” Your voice was barely a whisper, but he heard it nonetheless. Pushing past his sons, he was at your side in less than a second.

And that was when the reality of the whole situation hit you. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

“Dad. I’m sorry. I- I wasn’t thinking.”

“Shh.” He hushed. “This isn’t your fault. This is no one’s fault but Bane’s.”

“But-”

“Listen to the old man for once little bat. All that matters is that everyone is still together.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY THREE ⛤ DAY FIVE ->

🏷️ Taglist:

@senjoritanana

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pratchettquotes · 3 months

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They say that the prospect of being hanged in the morning concentrates a man's mind wonderfully; unfortunately, what the mind inevitably concentrates on is that, in the morning, it will be in a body that is going to be hanged.

Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

#moist von lipwig #going postal #discworld #terry pratchett #clarity #self awareness #mortal peril #near death experience #concentration #attention #unfortunately #the prospect of being hanged in the morning #oneliner

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sleepymccoy · 2 months

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Here's a fun poll! Which of my near death/coulda died if it had gone worse experiences have you also had?

#poll #polls #near death experience #ish #anyway im fine

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zep-zep-blog · 3 months

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Vox x fallen angel!gn!reader

Genre: Fluff, angst (but not heart wrenching)

Cw: Fighting, mention of death, threat/mention of killing

☼Divine Intervention☼

Reader is a fallen angel and it takes a near death experience to confess their feelings for Vox.

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You were an angel, a very good one at that. Helping human souls and climbing the ranks, gaining 2 more pairs of wings and becoming a seraphim. All of that made you proud to fly around heaven, greeting new souls and old. But, Sera was weary of you, ofcourse she was, you were exactly like another seraphim centuries ago, outgoing and full of dreams that didn't fit the mold. She feared that you would suffer the same fate and suffer you did..

Sera was right. She knew you were vibrant and had the same hopes of heaven that Lucifer had. She watched you fall just like he did, the title of seraphim torn from both heavenly entities.

The wind howled around you as you screamed, arms out stretched for Sera, Emily, anybody to help you, save you. But, it was too late. Your title, your halo, everything you worked hard for since your death was striped as the sky began to darken to red. Now there you lay, the warm sidewalk of the pride ring. Hell, the one place you forced yourself to hate in fear of falling and yet you fell anyway. Your wings curled around yourself, a small attempt to protect yourself from the sinners walking by. They paid you no mind, like a pebble on the ground. You soon gained the courage to pick yourself up, you looked down at your heavenly clothes that were once glowing and white, but now they were torn and no longer glowing. Your wings were the same, now dirty from laying on the ground. You didn't feel the weight of your halo, figures. You were no longer an angel, a fallen one, the second to fall from grace.

You slowly started to cope with the loss of your title, taking baby steps to fitting in with the sinners around. That's when you met Vox, the tall, tv demon. He didn't see your dreams as a burden or wrench in the gears like Sera or heaven did. He saw them as opportunities for shows, scripts, hell even fashion ideas for Velvette. He offered you a job and place to stay, asking you to be his writer for his channel to broadcast all over Voxtech. That soon created to building blocks of your flourishing relationship, soon you both had child like crushes, but were unable to act upon these feelings. Vox feared that if he opened up, the other overlords would find a weak spot. You never said anything in fear of rejection and hate, surprising how falling from grace can affect you sometimes.

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Extermination day. The most dreaded day in hell. Angels sent from above to exterminate sinners for a day. There Vox sat, reading your text over and over again, 'Be back soon!'. It was sent almost half an hour ago and the security guards were done with waiting, starting to close off the building for the event. He starts to worry, his charismatic mask starting to crack as there was no sign of you.

Meanwhile you were rushing down the streets, hiding and avoiding angels. You couldn't die from them, atleast you thought so, but you didn't want them to see you. They would humiliate you for sure, so you tried your damnedest to get back.

Suddenly a sting cold hits right inbetween your shoulder blades and you fall with a yelp. A smug laugh filled your ears and you knew immediately who was behind the muffle cackle. Lute, an angel that once looked up to had just struck you down.

"Y'know, when I saw you fall I felt bad. The almighty [Name] seraphim, now nothing more than a fly in a spider's trap." Lute spoke, disdain evident in her voice as she dug her foot into your lower back, her spear against your throat. "Just like Lucifer." She spat, applying more pressure, causing you to yelp again.

You tried everything in your power to knock her off, even expanding you wings to try and gain some ground, but she had the upper hand. Both strength and weapon.

"GET OFF THEM!" A shout echoed through the street. You and Lute look up to see Vox, who had slipped out at the last second to find you. As he quickly approached, knocking Lute off of you. He then continued to block her attacks, taking a few hits of her spear. After a few minutes the clock chimed, signaling the extermination to be over. This caused Vox and Lute to freeze, Lute flew off with a scoff and Vox ran to you. He helped you up, bringing his arm to your waist and your arm to his shoulder to help you walk back.

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You sat on the bathroom counter as Vox cursed under his breath at the cuts and scraps on your legs. If only he had been there sooner, kept you inside and not ket you, if only..he had been better. Ofcourse that's what he thought. You're mind raced at what Lute had said, it was exactly what everyone thought of Lucifer. Now it was what everyone thought of you, nothing special, a failure.

The word failure repeated in your head like a broken record, causing tears to well in your eyes. This caused Vox to stop, frozen at the fear that he had dome something wrong.

"What's wrong? Did I apply to much pressure? Did-did I-" He gets cut off by you hugging him, your grip tight as you try not to cry. "Hey..hey, it-it's okay." He akwardly patted your back, he wasn't used to comforting someone, hell he didn't even know if he could.

"I'm so, so, so, sorry.." Sobs fell out of your mouth as you garbled out an apology. Vox was shocked, sure you were angel, but to apologize for nothing that you caused? "Hey. Don't apologize dammit. You did nothing." He said sternly, "But-but I went out.." You rebuttaled, but he was having none of it. He shut you up quickly with a kiss, shocking you, but you didn't complain. You leaned into it to, making out with him, feeling his hands go to your back. You yelp as his hand grazes over the wound inbetween your wings.

"Are you okay?" He breaks the kiss, waiting for your response. "I kinda got..stabbed," You say hesitantly, wiping your tears and sniffling. "YOU WHAT!"

Vox wrapped uo the rest of your wounds, paying extra attention to the stab wound. He placed the last bandage and hesitantly placed a kiss on it, making you shudder. You then noticed the cuts on his arm from the fight and this makes you worry. "You're hurt. Why didn't you tell me?" You ask, grabbing ahold of his arm. "Doll, I'm fine. Just some nicks, they'll heal." He blows your concerns off, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it. You huff, "Atleast let me put bandaids on them."

You place bandaids along his arms and hands, giving him a smile when your done. "So..do you want to date me?" He blurted out, finally opening up. This is probably the first time you've seen him. The real him. Not the cocky tv show host, not the power hungry overlord, just him. You smiled and nodded, kissing him.

You two spent the entire night cuddling, your wings wraping around like a blanket. You can and will spend eternity with eachother. And if it weren't for the divine interference of Lute and the extermination you probably wouldn't have confessed your feelings.

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Hope yall enjoyed! ^^

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel #gn reader #x reader #Vox x gn reader #near death experience #fallen angel

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adrift-in-thyme · 2 months

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Febuwhump Day 12: Semiconscious (Warriors & Time)

Ao3

CW for poisoning, vomiting, blood and injury, and a near death experience

————————————

He stopped seeing clearly long ago.

His surroundings are no longer distinctive shapes. No, they are mere colors now, smeared and edged in the glare of lantern light. It is as though someone poured oil out on the street and left it to be trampled.

Warriors stumbles over something substantial and nonexistent. Another wheezing breath tears out of his lungs. Everything tips sideways and he goes with it, tripping over his own feet. He collides with a lamp post, frightens a blurred figure, garners murmurs of “inebriated” and “not right in the mind.”

He doesn’t care. Not much is bothersome, he’s quickly realizing, when you can’t breathe.

Wildly, he glances around. The buildings lean right, then left, their glowing windows seeming to leer at him. The inn…he has to find it. That is where his brothers await, that is where he can get help.

Warriors gulps in air and gains nothing from it. The ground tilts. He goes down, bile rising in his throat. He has already vomited up everything his stomach contained. But his body is desperate, desperate to rid itself of whatever is killing him.

So, it tries again.

He comes up feeling no less dizzy, no less sick. If anything, it is worse now. When he shoves to his feet, his vision goes abruptly dark. For a moment, he is certain that this is it. This is when he collapses, surrendering to the bitter embrace of oblivion. But then it screams back into a mirage of shifting shapes and nauseating shades of vibrancy.

“Captain?”

Warriors blinks rapidly. Someone is standing before him – a woman he thinks. The visible edges of her expression convey worry.

“Are you well?”

He grins and it feels wrong. Lopsided, clumsy, sharp…a grimace more than anything else.

“Not to worry. ‘M fine.”

“Oh.” She frowns now. Or at least, he thinks that she does. Drunk, her silence screams. Irresponsible. “O-oh alright, then. Goodnight to you.”

It’s good a thing, his mind assures him, as Warriors gazes dazedly at her retreating form.

It’s a good thing that they think you’ve drank too much. Better than them knowing. Safer.

…yeah. Safer.

He is certain he’s going to be sick again. His lungs rise and fall, and nothing comes of their efforts. The ground churns like the sea in Wind’s Hyrule. If only it were warm here like it is on that beautiful beach. But no. Here it is icy cold.

He shivers, stops the failure of his equilibrium with a nearby wall.

Just find them. Find…find your brothers.

Darkness tinges his vision again, spreading like an ink blot on cloth. It grows from left to right, and he lists sideways, drifting towards it. Something catches his boot on the way over. He stumbles, fails to catch himself, crashes down in a tangle of long limbs and thick fabric.

“Oh, look what we’ve got here!”

Giant forms move in the borders of his waning sight. Warriors stares up at them, icy heat prickling the back of his neck and head. Everything smells and tastes of iron. Everything hurts.

“It’s the princess’s favorite little errand boy!”

Something flat and harsh connects with his cheek. Warriors’ head snaps sideways. He chokes, coughing blood onto the pavement.

Get up! His instincts screech. Get up and fight!

He ignores them. It’s so easy to do that now. They are usually so loud, so boisterous and unignorable, hardened and loudened by years of experience.

It’s nice to silence them for once.

“He don’t look so good. Looks like somebody already got a hit on ‘im.”

“Poison?”

“Seems like it. He reeks of something rancid and it ain’t whiskey. His breathin’ ain’t right either.”

“Well, then.”

A hand fists in his collar. The next thing he knows, the ground is falling out from beneath him. He hovers somewhere above it, gazing obliviously at the space before him. Something is there – or maybe someone – but he can’t make out their features.

“He’s all lonesome out here. Might as well finish what they started. It’ll be easy.”

He should be afraid. He’s not.

Warriors feels nothing now except pain. Well, pain and the curious sensation of drowning. Strange, he doesn’t remember seeing water anywhere around here. But maybe he’s simply floating in it, unknowing, unseeing. That would certainly explain how cold he is.

His body slams back into the ground, and what little wheezing breaths he had managed to garner abruptly flee. Dull panic slices through the haze for a split second – just long enough for him to grab a wisp of air. Then, it’s back, a fog as thick as the stuff hovering over Time’s Lost Woods.

Unavigatable. Unbeatable.

For once, he can’t win this battle. For once, he has an excuse to succumb.

And he’s not one for giving in – his stubbornness is practically unmatched – but throwing in the proverbial towel now…fills him with relief.

“Go on boys! Gut him!”

The words reach his ears, but he hardly hears them. And he certainly doesn’t comprehend. Everything is so very far away…

It’s odd how without oxygen the world grows soft.

His head flops sideways. Lazily, he blinks into the indistinct expanse of Castle Town. The colors run together more than ever now. He can hardly tell them apart anymore.

Its beautiful, he thinks, with a loopy smile. Like Arty.

The soft shink of deadly metal surrounds him. Pain streaks through his abdomen. He coughs. Blood spills down his chin and drapes his tunic in crimson. It is wonderfully warm.

Again, metal strikes. More blood, more warmth. More pain.

His eyes flutter. There is not much to see now. But darkness is beginning to be replaced with dazzling light.

It is as beautiful as Castle Town…maybe even more. It beckons him, envelops him like a hug.

Come, it whispers, in the voice of his mother, come to me, dear child. Rest.

Somewhere, someone screams.

Warriors smiles and it is a soft, gentle thing. He starts to step forward.

“No!”

Hands grasp his wrist, as small as a child’s yet, much too calloused to be. Warriors dares to glance over his shoulder.

Mask stands there, his green clothing even more vibrant in the world of white. Tears have turned his large blue eyes the color of Warriors’ scarf. His lip trembles, despite the way he has it between his teeth. And while his grip is strong, his expression is a rapidly crumbling wall.

Warriors feels the tug again, the call from the endless light. He needs to go. He wants to. Sweet Hylia, he wants to.

“Sprite…”

“You-you can’t!” Mask shouts, stepping closer. He is shaking, Warriors realizes. The child who has faced monsters larger than himself armed with nothing more than a cocky grin and a slingshot is shaking. “You can’t leave me!”

The tears fall and smudge the markings that have now appeared on his face. Shades of blue and red trickle down his cheeks.

Warriors blinks and suddenly, the child’s hands are drenched in blood. He gasps, stumbling back. But Mask holds on.

“Sprite, I’ve got to go,” he says, desperately, because he must see that he can’t remain here. It’s time…isn’t it?

“No. It’s not.”

Mask ducks his head, as a sob tears at his tiny body. Salty water plunks onto the ground. It sounds like raindrops.

A downpour on a sunny day. A child curled beneath his scarf, grinning mischievously. A beautiful woman laughing, face upturned to the sky.

A tear slides down Warriors’ own cheek.

“Oh, Link…”

“Please,” he croaks, soft now, vulnerable. Broken. “Please, don’t leave.”

A single eye meets Warriors’ two. A face marked by a war god crumples, every year, every battle, every loss written in the tears streaming down it.

The captain moves closer. The light seems to dim now, lessened by the aching in his heart. Time…Time should never look like that. If he could reach him, maybe he could make that pain go away.

Time drags in a trembling breath. Crimson-drenched fingers fist in Warriors’ scarf like he did so often as a child.

“I need you, big brother.”

Warriors take another step and another and another. He can’t stop now. The decision seems plain. Whatever is behind him, wonderful though it may seem, is not yet for him. Not when Time is looking at him as though he is his entire world and then some. Not when he can hear them now — the faint pleas of the other heroes.

His brothers. His family.

He reaches out, fingers brushing Time’s cheek. The hero’s breath hitches as he leans into his touch.

“I’m right here, Sprite,” the captain promises. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

With a sob, Time falls into his arms. Warriors closes his eyes and buries his face in his shoulder. And as they cling to each other, the endless white surrounding them comes crashing down.

#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump day 12 #blood tw #injury tw #poisoning tw #near death experience #linked universe #linkeduniverse fic #lu warriors #lu time #whump #angst #trin writes #ohoho this was a fun one to write #I just love writing near death experiences for some reason XD #and picking on wars of course #that’s always a joy

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madametamma · 1 year

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Maddie has a near death experience when an invention blows up on her. Her soul was suddenly thrust from her physical form and time slowed down to a snails pace as she watches her body very slowly being thrown across the lab.

Death appears to causally explain everything.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t the day I take you. I’m just here to walk you through your memories. This is just the whole ‘life flashing before your eyes’ bit. We’ll go over your human existence, a second will have gone by in the real world, and you’ll be right back in your body only remembering all of this in flashes. The general aim is that you’ll go back to your life with a different perspective on things”

They try to show Maddie her life ‘Ghost of Christmas past’ style but during the tour of memories Death slips and calls her Danny.

“Sorry” they respond. “I’m used to dealing with THAT Fenton.”

Maddie wants to know what that’s supposed to mean but Death is casually illusive on the subject, constantly trying to bring the woman back on task, focusing on her own life

“Huh? Danny? He’s just a guy I know. Anyway...”

“Don’t worry about it. Lot’s of people have near death experiences. Let’s stay on track.”

“This is about you. Your turn this time, Maddie. Focus.””

Maddie only becomes more and more concerned over her son, and Death just won’t give her a straight answer. Whenever Danny is apart of the memory, she takes notice of her son’s depressed look, subtle injuries, and how frustrated she is watching her past self not react to anything off about her son at all even when it’s obvious something’s wrong.

Often Danny would wander off somewhere on his own and Maddie tries to follow him.

“You can’t do that.” Death explains. “We’re in YOUR past. You can’t go off to see what he’s doing. You’re not apart of that. If you want to see what the kid is up to, it can only be through moments when you were together.”

At first Maddie tries to do things Death’s way, but it seems like Danny is only getting worse every time he reenters after going off somewhere, leaving her with more questions.

Eventually Maddie can’t take it anymore. She tries to ditch Death and follow Danny.

“No!” Death Warns “If you stray too far, I can’t guarantee this will ONLY be a near death experience!”

#Danny Phantom #DP #Maddie Fenton #Fic prompt #ghost of Christmas past #near death experience #You can imagine Jack in this situation instead of Maddie if you want #Or any other character you think would fit #You can imagine any other ghost in Death's position as well

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morgansunflower · 2 months

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My Sweet Boy 2/2

Requested by @fanfiction-24824

Bruce Wayne X Wife! Kryptonian! Kent! Reader

Warnings:suggestive content, explicit language and angst

Words:1315

Arthur's notes! Part 2 of my sweet boy! Conner is a clone of Batman and Y/N. Early! Adopted Tim. Jason didn't die by Joker but was severely injured. Third P. O. V

Reader and Clark recover from Doomsday's attack.. During which Jason continues to struggle to feel he is not a burden and decides it's best he leaves the only family he's ever loved

Conner was now living on his own and married to M'gann. Dick was no longer in Gotham as he was in Bludhaven. A little boy boldly tried to steal Batman's tires which led to the Wayne's adopting him. Only a year after that did they adopt Tim after Jason befriended him and discovered the poor child was being neglected. Then soon thereafter Y/N was pregnant and had her first child Damian.

Jason had only recovered physically from the bombing and Joker's brutality.. He tried to be strong but felt fragile. He wants to fall apart and be held by his parents.. Though he buries his fears down once a threat arrives to hurt those whom he loves.

When Dooms-day came to earth and the mad monster finally fell to the ground. Bruce along side his family search through in the debris from the brutal altercation. They were looking for both Kent siblings. Deep inside Bruce's heart was in agony with a similar fear he did when he searched for his son.

.....

"Clark" she cried seeing her brother laying there only a few feet away, just as battered as she was.

Both the Kryptonians suits were torn and they both had been deeply bruised. The broken bones of the two siblings nearly mirror each other. She cries in pain, crawling to him and then tried scooting closer to him. He turned his head to her.

"Y/N" he gasps overcome with relief

He began to crawl to her wincing as he breathes heavily. They finally made it to each other as the twins both softly smile to each other.. Tears fall down both of their faces. He holds her hand listening the first heartbeat he ever heard.

"MOM!! UNCLE CLARK!!" Conner cried "DAD THERE OVER HERE!!" he shouts to Bruce

"LOIS THEY'RE HERE!!" Bruce shouts to his sister-in-law

Bruce began running to the Kryptonians along with Lois who was running behind him

.....

Inside Wayne Manor upstairs in the bedroom of Mr and Mrs. Wayne. On the large bed, Bruce's eyes begin to slowly open. The sunlight shun through the windows to their bed, to his wife's sleeping face. He looked to his wife who laid sleeping by him.

Her knuckles were bandaged from the thin layer of skin that had been damaged from repeatedly punching the tough skin of Doomsday.

Had it not been for both Kryptonians one of the the Kent siblings would have not made it out alive.

Back at the Kent farm Clark was recovering just as his sister is, from their near death experience. Lois doted to him in any way she could.

After checking on his mom which of course led to his hair being pulled by his baby brother. Tim carried a cup of hot chocolate for Jason, while walking to his big brother's room. He knocks on Jason's door.

"hey Jay. I got you some hot chocolate.." Tim waits.. "Jason?!"

He knew Jason would be furious if he just opened the door and let himself in.. Though what if he's having another panic attack? What if he's not ok? What if he needs help?

Tim accepted that angering his brother was worth it, just to ensure he's OK. He opened the door. He's not in his bed, not in his chair and he's not in his bathroom. He's not out on the balcony. He takes a deep breath and puts the mug of chocolate on his brothers nightstand.

Tim calls Jason.. Repeatedly as it continues going to voice mail. OK he can panic now. Tim runs to his parents room

"mom! Dad! Alfred!" he yelled

The door opens as both Bruce, Y/N and Alfred whom was holding Damian. Hurry to their loved one.

"son what's wrong?" Bruce asked him directly

"J-Jason's gone and he won't answer my phone calls" Tim blurted out his throat shaking

Y/N gasps "Tim don't panic baby we will find him" Y/N promised "he probably went out to get some fresh air" she ensures Tim, unable to even believe her own words.

She began to try to listen for his heartbeat that wasn't near her. She listened more carefully but unfortunately it caused her mind to race and her head aching to a harsh throb. The pain caused the injured Kryptonian to wince. Bruce looks to her face, studying her clenched jaw and weakened breath.

"you're in pain"

"...no I'm not...." she lied

"you are going back to bed to rest. We will find Jason without you overexerting yourself"

"dammit!" she cursed furious that he was right "please find my baby" she begged now in tears

Bruce gives her a sweet kiss and then bolts to the Bat-cave. Bruce called both his oldest sons. Dick quickly went to Gotham but not quite as quickly as Conner.

Conner knew his brothers well enough that he knew their Heartbeats individually. So finding his brother wasn't too difficult. He touches his intercom telling the family, that he found him. He sits next to his little brother. He needs to get him back home, but first they need to talk.

"you don't have to be strong all the time Jason.. I don't know if you're going to fully ever be OK.. But you can't let the fear run you or trick you into believing running is the right thing to do. You gotta let people in. You have let your family in.."

"I know.. I just hate being scared all the fucking time" Jason cried "I feel so small Conner. Like I'm back in that--" he sighed heavily Conner gently rubbed his back to comfort him "I know there trying to be there for me and I want to be OK but--" he lightly shakes his head "but I don't want to burden them or mom and I just want it to be over... She almost died Conner... How can I tell them how damaged I feel, when she is in pain to"

He softly sighed "it's OK that you're not OK and they will understand. Just so you know.. I know how you feel"

"it's hard to sleep.." he admits and then stammered by his, statement. He used his hand to dry his runny nose from his emotions "what are you talking about?" he looks to his older brother seeing his past reflection of trauma.. He, truly understands.

Conner takes a deep breath in and out preparing to express his pain "well back in.. Cadmus.. When I messed up or didn't do well enough in their eyes. They weren't exactly kind or understanding with my results. I still struggle with feeling like I'm back in that pod sometimes.. It helps to think about things that calm you down and when that, doesn't work listening to music.. And if even that doesn't work you can lean on Mom or Dad" he shrugged "or anyone of us. We're family we gotta stick together especially when we've been through so much. You are never ever going to be a burden to any of us. We, love you Jason don't forget that"

"I know I just thought if I left.. It'd be easier on everyone.. I'm sorry you go through this to.. I knew you went through shit but I didn't.. I didn't really get it"

"it's not your fault you didn't know Buddy..." Conner rubs his forehead and stands, offering his hand to Jason "c'mon let's go home everyone is worried about you especially Mom"

"oh no!!!" Jason exclaimed in guilt, he was so worried about burdening them, he didn't think of how much he worried them "I'm in such deep shit"

Jason takes Conner's hand standing onto his feet with his brother.

"it's alright and cool it down with the cussing kid" Conner said ruffling his hair as Jason snickered.

"thanks Conner" Jason softly said

"what are big brothers for?" he smiled hugging his little brother.

#Bruce Wayne X Wife! Reader #Kryptonian! Reader #conner kent(young justice)#Conner Kent is Conner Wayne #Batfamily #Early adopted Tim Drake #baby damian wayne #Conner Kent #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd didn't die #Jason Todd #near death experience #Doomsday #Death Of Superman #clark kent x lois lane #protective batfamily #Batman #Batmom #Batmom! Reader

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shepherds-of-haven · 2 months

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Me: omg I love the SoH ROs so much all I wanna do is daydream about them

Me, daydreaming about them: what if they almost died... What if they're bleeding out... What if the MC is bleeding out...

Unfortunately they're all blorbos now, which means I want them to suffer (affectionate)

Which brings the question, in a near death situation, which one of the ROs goes for a dramatic one liner and which one tries to actually say something meaningful?

Blade: he isn't one for drama so I feel like he just wouldn't really think, "i'm dying so this may be my last chance to say something," and would just be like "you... need to get out of here..." (always thinking of the other person), but if he did think he was dying, he'd try to say something meaningful!

Trouble: I don't think Trouble thinks he can be killed for real so he'd probably not even notice the severity of his own wounds, like "I'm fine, stop fussing over me and help [someone else wounded] or get after the enemy or etc.!!!" Not necessarily being nobly selfless like Blade, just sort of not aware how close he is to death and so isn't thinking about it/taking it seriously

Tallys: if she actually thinks she has a real shot of dying, she's staying calm and composed for the other person's sake and is going to fade away with quiet dignity, but she's definitely going to exchange some of the most heartfelt, gut-wrenching, meaningful words anyone's ever heard in their life on her hypothetical deathbed

Shery: I think she'd be sort of panicking and hysterical and trying to think of something meaningful to say, but it'd probably come off as menial, like "Make sure to look after Caine, and... please look after my plants..." Like frantically trying to go down a checklist and sort of being confused and panicky rather than having the wherewithal to actually say what she'd want to say in that kind of situation!

Riel: he'd be extremely calm and would be dishing out instructions on how it's going to go down and what's going to happen next. Basically getting his affairs in order in an efficient and tidy way as he's like literally bleeding out lol, by his composure alone you wouldn't think he was wounded! Basically the exact opposite of Shery, and it would only be in the final few moments of consciousness that he could stop being totally "logical" and he'd get quiet and be like, oh. this could actually be the end. In which case he'd try to sneak in something heartfelt and striking and poignant, but he'd probably have expended all his energy on the first part and would lose consciousness halfway through, so no one would know what he was going to say, and he "wouldn't remember" when he woke up lol

Chase: I think it really depends on the situation... he's been in so many near-death scenarios that he's gotten out of perfectly fine that it's a bit hum-drum for him now, so if it's a simple matter of "oh no i've been shot and i'm bleeding out" he'd probably go for the quip or the dramatic one-liner purely to put the people around him at ease or get them to crack a smile, but if it's like a "oh I'm already dead and there's no way anyone's going to save me except by literal intervention of the gods", maybe he'd say something more meaningful?? It really depends on who's with him and how lucid he is, though!

Red: he'd try to be bracing and good-hearted about it so as to not worry anyone or sabotage himself while he's down (he's of the mindset that if you embrace/accept death too preemptively, you're more likely to die, whereas if you act like it's going to be fine, there's a higher chance that, like, placebo effect will somehow help you pull through), so he'd be like, "Don't worry, haha, I've had worse..." *is bleeding out from a gut shot* "YOU HAVE??" "Well, no, but it hardly hurts..." I think if he genuinely thought it was too late for him, he'd say something meaningful, but it would take a lot for him to get to that point lol

Ayla: I feel like she'd just be pissed and not accepting the gravity of the situation, like, "Why are you all looking at me like that, I'm fine??? Blood replaces itself, you are being dramatic" So she probably wouldn't "waste time" on being sentimental when she can just WILL herself to get better, but if it got to the point where she thinks it's genuinely over, she'd abruptly get scared, emotional, tearful, and she'd probably choke out something vulnerable, like "I don't want to go like this..."

Briony: I think she'd be in shock and would behave similarly to Shery where she would just be saying whatever was racing through her mind, so it could possibly be meaningful and vulnerable, like "I always wanted to... [x]" or it could be somewhat nonsensical or brushing the whole thing off, like "It's just a scratch, I just need to rest, make sure that so-and-so is seen to because I saw that they were limping..." (thinking she's just going to pass out now)

Lavinet: I think she'd be very noble and dignified and graceful in near-death, like she'd arrange herself very beautifully and would be lying there in some infirmary bed with her hair spread out across the pillow as so-and-so clutches her hand and weeps and she murmurs to them to not to worry and tells them "her last words" in a delivery and meaningfulness straight from a dramatic novel

Halek: I think the first time he'd say something so flippant and stupid, like "Holy shit, getting shot is such a pain" -> 😵 (passes out) and if he had the luck of waking up again he'd be like "oh my god those could have been my last words" and he'd take it more seriously the next time and try to think of something more meaningful beforehand lol

#Shepherds of Haven #angst #sort of #it's more silly than anything but there you have it!#all characters #hypothetical scenario #near death #near death experience #dying

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weirdstrangeandawful · 5 months

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TW: near death experience

Waking up the morning after you’re supposed to be dead is an experience. Whumpee rocks their body this way and that, trying to discern if the ache in their bones is a hangover from everything that happened or a warning. Maybe death’s just running late today.

#whump #whump prompt #near death experience #I’ve had a Week

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urlocalwhumper · 5 months

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whumpee has a very close brush with death or dies temporarily (and is resuscitated or resurrected/revived by magic or scifi means)

and caretaker soon finds that the only way they can get any decent sleep anymore is laying with their head on whumpee's chest. the steady pulse of their heartbeat acting as a constant reassurance that they're okay, they're still here.

and then one day caretaker wakes up to silence.

#whump #whump prompts #character death #(potentially!)#(whumpee could have just gotten up. or caretaker shifted in their sleep and couldn't hear the pulse as well from the new position)#(if you wanna give them a momentary panic but have everything turn out ok)#resuscitation #resurrection #near death experience #caretaker x whumpee #mine

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witchofthesouls · 5 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/witchofthesouls/728309614022623232/guys-let-me-talk-about-this-new-au-in-the

Could we possibly get a expansion on this post please? Before we got isekaied, what was our relationship with Sentinel? I’d imagine if we had a newborn and he chased us down it would be something like conjux? It also seems he is very possessive if he launches a whole manhunt, but I guess that could be a normal reaction to seeing a carrier fling themselves out of the balcony.

There's a reason why it's called Fight-or-Flight, and apparently even Cybertronians have it.

One moment you're staring into Sentinel Prime's face, then the next you're falling.

The wind whips, and you can't even see the ground from this high up. The skyscraper is a height beyond what humans were/are/will be (?) capable of as you fall through the hazy smog and see the horizon of metal, gleaming and reflective with rainbow hues.

The movies didn't do the planet justice. None at all.

Something clicks in your new head and body, and you twist over to fall parallel to the building. Hands, large and thick and so unlike your own with unfeeling segmented armored plating, dig into the building. You feel nothing, even as you jerk; feet doing the same, digging hard enough to start a trail of sparks.

You feel rather than see a change in your hands and feet, your body thrums as well, and in the corner of your high definition vision, there's an overlay of your frame with various highlights. Metal screams as you leave jagged scars, and you slowly decelerate enough to land hard on a ledge.

Apparently, Cybertronians do have their own architectural designs, like gargoyles.

And you now sport a set of thick talons on each metal finger and blades at the tip of your nonexistent toes like an assassin or a spy from a movie.

There's no other chance to think what kind of body you're currently inhabiting as your new ears prick and shift over. You can't help but swivel in the very direction, and your vision zooms in. In the distance, a few jets are speeding their way.

A strange wave of calmness settles over you, and, once more, your body just moves without your input.

You move behind the metal guardian, palm flat on the empty wall, and your hand sends out a pulse. A map suddenly appears, confirming no immediate biosignatures. Those newfound talons then thrum and superheats into a harsh white to dig deep into the metal, cutting into it with no resistant, smooth like butter, to make a hole large enough to shimmer through it.

In a strange, hysterical note, you place back the wall piece. Careful to realign it, and the cuts simply disappear as if never made.

Whatever came over you, then leaves, and you sag down. The adrenaline (do these metal people even such a thing?) suddenly bleeds out of your entire frame, plating clicking shut as you press into a corner because what the hell!?

And you have no idea what else to do when the map pulses and flares as a pathway is marked out.

It's a persistent prod, tapping in your mind in various pop-ups that easily flow into it. You have no choice at this point. Either wait for another mecha to find you or follow the map.

You take the second option, hoping to find a way out without tipping off more people.

Terrified as doors slide open to reveal empty hallways of nothing. Not even decor or signage. You realize the blades retracted as you try to keep the noise minimal as you pass by entryways.

If it isn't for the active map and its directions, you would take your chances with the jets rather than stay in these never-ending bland halls of a liminal space. There's no noise but a constant low hum. Not even vaulted cameras, but maybe the security tech is a whole other beast.

The alien version of a Google maps guides you to a fucking wall of all things. You try to walk further, just to have the damn thing blare a huge warning that makes your transferred soul make a mean attempt trying to escape its newest home.

Of course, you back track, feeling up the black expanse of the wall, searching for a clue or a hidden mechanism, trying and failing to trigger that pulsing search.

You give into the frustration and kick the wall, and your damn foot sends out that pulse.

There's a room.

You find that it's easier to access your superheated talons and make quick work in creating a new door.

It's a spacious room with no windows and many weird pod-like structures dotting the area. Dark and empty.

You carefully pick your way, mindful of the automation on the floor as you go to the corner, led by the map and instinct.

There, in an active pod of shimmering bioluminescent lights, is something squirming behind the opaque cover. You have no idea what prompted to poke the sac, but you did.

It disintegrates in a curtain of faerie light.

Whatever vague hope you had about an item for an escape is immediately dashed by the sight of two tiny things inside the space-crib-pod-thing.

The room is a nursery. A space nursery.

They're nothing like the supposed baby robots in the movies. These two are reminiscent of a human infant. Rounded, short limbs with a large torso and head. Their bodies are far simpler than all of the adults, and even their faces lack complex overlapping plates and indentations and crests. Soft. They look so soft and malleable compared to everything on the planet.

Colorless in a dull, matte grey with thick, milky optics. One starts warbling like a bird, blindly reaching out, and you can't help but lean forward as the small face ripples, like a pebble in a lake, it vibrates across their body before shifting back to a pristine state. The other is whistling air, optics shut, audials flicking, and Jesus Christ, that's ridiculously cute!

You crouch down, reaching out to help the other flip over to their belly, and you have no idea what happened because a sharp pain erupts in your chest.

A ghostly hand had reached inside and ripped out all your circuitry to replace the hollow space with molten lava. You're burning from the inside, and you can't escape the scorching heat that grabbed your new heart in an agonizing fist.

You're vaguely aware of slamming into the ground, weighed down, and hands? A lot of hands, but the floor is blessedly cold enough to give a moment of relief.

There's crying, and you're being pried open like a cheap 90s toy, but instead of switching out dying batteries, something gets jacked into you. Your side cramps hard, and you try to roll, but you're being crushed and held. There's a strange sensation of something injected, crawling across your physical frame and flowing into your head. A cascade of pop-ups overtake the warnings across your vision, faster and faster until it pixelates and completely shatters into prismacolor blackout.

You're gone.

_______

Ratchet curses as he forces open a sparking chassis with a travel bar and brute force, rerouting coolant lines and pulling out blackened circuitry as he delves into the burning out spark.

Sentinel relaxes. When that medic swears, it's okay. When he's quiet and focused, then...

The Prime stares at you. Even in forced stasis, there's a grimace on your now visible features. You're young as well. Between mechling and adult with the relatively few overlapping plates of your face.

For a half-starved, near-death Wilder, you're beyond lively.

Sentinel was upstairs to give your last rights. No matter Star Saber's misgivings, it's the proper thing to do, especially those that are Primal-descent.

And what a discovery that was! One of the newsparks with a mark of Prima, found nearby you, weakly crying under the meager protection of rockshade and a tattered cloak. And your glyphs of Vector and another Prime. Unknown or forgotten carved neatly in the high arches of your cheeks.

(He isn't alone now.)

Either you have incredible mods, unique sigma abilities, or no sense of preservation. Perhaps a combination because you managed to escape to get to this hidden NICRU without miminal detection, but collapsed by the combined backlash between your abilities and (re?)claiming the foundlings.

You're an idiot, he thinks fondly because he remembers the makeshift fuel-split directing Energon into the newsparks. A skilled idiot.

Then, he becomes aware of Ratchet's commands to transfer out to a critical care center clashing with High Brow's orders to stabilize and take to stockades.

"No." He cuts firmly, letting Ratchet’s apprentice tap into physically restraining your frame.

An immediate flow of counterpoints met his comms as Sentinel carefully puts the howling foundlings by your side. He knows Ratchet will have words, but the two hiccup down to fretting chirps and whistles.

Those options will take you out of his direct purview, and Sentinel intimately knows that many will directly oppose a Wilder walking free in the city-state. You would disappear quietly and easily, especially if word of your lineage spreads.

Sentinel will kill several steel-flizzers with one detonator.

He produces the visor, cracks fixed, and slots it gently back onto your face. The fewer that know your face, the better.

"This is my Intended." He announces, and Sentinel savors the sudden stillness from everyone before the tsunami of action swept everything away.

He can almost hear the screams of the Council and his own High Protector from the distance.

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jasmines-library · 6 months

Text

Hidden On The Inside

WHUMPTOBER DAY 21. Prompt: “Near death experience” Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: During a hunt, you take a nasty hit which at first seems fine, but it's what's hidden deep under the surface that creates a problem. (I get it, i suck and writing summaries.)

Warnings: Internal bleeding, hospitals, surgery.

Word count: 1.5k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

You were a force to be reckoned with when it came to a fight. You were a strong and fierce opponent with an even stronger will. You had always been a fighter. Like Dean’s, your temper would flare up quickly in the face of any kind of challenge or injustice, and you typically responded with physical aggression.

You had been a hunter for many years, having grown up in the life much to your dads disapproval. When you were finally old enough, and after a lot of convincing, you were finally allowed to join your Dad on small hunts in the area. A ghost here, a vampire there. It was always the same routine—they'd enter a town, slip up, you and your dad would hunt them down before returning to the motel for some take out. But, one day when you were in your mid-twenties, your dad never made it home. It was that night that you met the Winchesters. They had given you a shoulder to cry on that night. It was a strange, yet kind gesture; to give a grieving stranger somewhere to feel safe. The three of you were thick and thieves after that night. You lived and hunted together and soon you began to feel as though a missing part of you had been filled.

The three of you were hunting a pack of wolves. Child's play. But these wolves were abnormally strong, and it took almost all of your strength to push them back and kill them, but they were wearing thin too, and soon there was only a small handful of them left. One charged, baring its teeth at you. They two of you scuffled; quickly locked in a fight. As the fight dragged on with neither of you making much progress, the two of you tired quickly. But then in a flurry of moves, your opponent landed a series of punches and finally managed to fling you into the wall in a fit of rage. You hit the wall hard but didn’t make a sound. You just gritted your teeth and shrugged it off; you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of you. As the fight went on, the blows came harder and faster, with neither of you giving an inch. Until finally, he slipped up and you managed to jab him with your silver blade.

“Are you okay?” Sam questioned as he sauntered back over to you after tossing the match onto the bodies. “I saw you hit the wall pretty hard.”

You rubbed the back of your neck dubietly. “Yeah. I’m fine. It was just a little unexpected.”

“Are you sure?” He drew in his eyebrows, creating little wrinkles on his forehead.

“Positive.”

When you told Sam that you felt fine, it wasn't completely a lie. At the time, you did feel ok, a little sore, but ok. Though as time went on and the world sped around the Impala, you began to feel off. You ignored it, of course. You hadn't been injured that bad, you assured yourself. Nothing could be wrong. You had endured much worse and been fine, yet the uneasiness continued and a dull ache began to grow throughout your body as your skin paled.

“You okay back there sweetheart?” Dean asked, glancing back at you in the rear-view mirror when he noticed your absence in the conversation. Your silence was loud.

“Peachy.” You hummed, avoiding his gaze. You knew you looked into his eyes he would know exactly what was up. It was like a 6th sense of his.

“I’m only asking ‘cause you look a little pale.” He added.

“I skipped breakfast this morning. It’s probably just that.” You shrugged “Quit worrying, Dean.”

He was right to worry though, because the moment you stepped out of the car, a wave of nausea hit you and you lost your footing slightly. Sam picked up on your stumble.

“Woah. Careful Y/N. Are you sure you're okay?”

“I’m fine, Sam.”

He eyed you slyly. You weren’t one to be clumsy. Sam followed you closely as you hauled yourself down the steps of the bunker, much slower than usual as you fought the unease that contaminated your body. By the time you reached the bottom, a sheen of sweat had broken across your forehead, and you were short of breath, panting against the pain in your abdomen.

You had barely made it halfway across the room when the lightheadedness kicked in and you had to grab the table to keep you from doubling over with your vision. Taking a step forwards and letting go of the table, your body swayed, causing bile to rise in your throat. You had just about stumbled to your room by clinging onto the walls when another wave rolled over you causing your legs to buckle and your body careen to the side and hit the ground with a groan of pain. You clutched at your stomach.

Your vision swam as you lay there in a dazed state, fading in and out of your pain laced world. You weren’t sure how long it was before your heard footsteps escaping down the hall.

Sam knocked on the door. He hadn’t heard from you since the three of you arrived home over an hour ago and he had begun to grow worried. You didn’t look well at all when you forced yourself out of the impala. Your skin was paler than usual and clammy and alongside that your footsteps were all out of beat. When there was no reply, sam asked for you but his words went through one ear and out of the other, not even stopping in your mind.

He pushed the door open and froze at the sight of your body sprawled out across the cold floor. Your chest barely rose and fell.

“Shit.” Sam dived forwards, dropping his bags on floor. “Y/N?” He patted your face lightly, but all you did was groan.

Gingerly, Sam eased your arms away from your stomach and rolled up the hem of your shirt. What he saw made him gasp. From your chest all the way down your abdomen, were deep purple bruises.

“Dean!”

His older brother raced into the room at his brother's cry of distress, staggering to a stop when he saw the state of your body.

“Get the keys.” Sam ordered, before scooping you up into his arms.

The two of them made it to the car in record time. Sam manoeuvred himself into the back with you, as Dean made his way to the drivers side and started the engine. In typical Dean fashion, the car was going too fast, but neither of them cared. Sam held you close to remind you that everything was going to be alright even if you weren’t completely coherent. Dean focused on the road, cursing every red light they hit. At some point, he gave up stopping.

When the Impala peeled into the parking lot Sam rushed inside carrying you still, Dean followed close behind. The two were frantic as they called for help which didn’t seem to come quick enough. It was a blur as the hospital staff took your fading body and rushed you into surgery.

Dean’s leg bounced as he waited for the nurse to return from your hospital room. The pair of them hadn’t moved in hours, waiting anxiously for.. well anything.

When the moment finally came and called out your name, they didn’t waste any time in going to meet her. And then came the news.

“Miss Y/n has suffered severe internal bleeding. The doctors have managed to stabilise her with surgery, but she will need to stay in observation for a while.”

Dean let out a sigh of relief.

“You’ll be happy to know that she is awake and asking for the two of you.”

The nurse didn’t have time to say anything else because the two brothers had already left and flung the door open.

“Oh Y/n/n…” Sam breathed when he saw you, hooked up to a multitude of machines. Despite your tired eyes, there was still a soft grin on your face.

“Hiya Sammy.”

He took your hand. “How are you feeling?”

“A little sore. Whatever drugs they have me on are working miracles.” You let out a small chuckle. “I keep telling them I’m fine, but they won’t let me leave.”

“You’re not fine. Y/N.” Dean said sternly. “You’ve just come out of emergency surgery. You need to rest.”

You were silent.

“I hate hospitals.” You murmured. They reminded you too much of your failures.

“I know. It’s just a few more days and then I’ll take you home.”

“Okay.” you sniffled.

Sam ran his hands through his hair. “God, Y/N you had us so worried.”

“I’m sorry. I thought it was nothing, I really did.”

“It’s okay.” Dean reassured. “You’ll be alright. That’s what matters the most.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 20 ⛤ DAY 22 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

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